The research institute’s headquarters laboratory was located on the ground floor of the building, extending hundreds of meters underground. It housed hundreds of elite test subjects bred for reproduction, as well as tens of thousands of ordinary test subjects. Each test subject was assigned a small observation chamber, where they lived during periods not devoted to training or experimentation.
The technology for manufacturing these observation chambers was provided by a technician who had defected from the PBB Armaments Design Institute. Aileen treated him with the utmost respect and did everything in her power to ensure his safety while he remained a fugitive from the PBB.
The observation chambers he invented utilized composite materials found in military tanks, creating a one-way glass armor that was so sturdy and thick it could not be broken from the inside and was extremely difficult to destroy from the outside. According to current tests, it takes two MMP missiles to completely destroy an observation chamber; ordinary firearms and ammunition cannot cause even the slightest damage to it. The only way to open the observation chamber is to use the pre-set iris lock.
All researchers have life chips implanted in their bodies to monitor vital signs. When a researcher’s vital signs undergo drastic changes, an alarm is triggered.
The observation pod of the Immortal Undead lit up with a green light. The system indicated a successful match and began unlocking. The transparent armored door slowly slid open to one side; due to the weight of the material, it moved very slowly.
The severed hand outside the pod dropped the blood-stained eyeball it had been clutching and waited quietly in front of the control panel, its blood-soaked fingers tapping lightly on the edge.
On the other side of the laboratory, the floor was covered in splattered blood. The researchers’ bodies lay scattered haphazardly in pools of blood, their necks snapped in various positions. One researcher’s right eyeball had been completely torn out, leaving only a hollow, blood-dripping socket.
The lab’s alarm blared shrilly, and the lights switched to red, flickering in the dimly lit room. The deafening noise caused the test subjects in the other observation chambers to grow restless, growling and ramming their bodies against the sturdy armored doors.
Security personnel clad in bulletproof vests rushed into the lab, fully armed. In the flickering red light, they saw a severed hand crawling across the control panel, its index and middle fingers tapping the edge of the screen in turn. Though it had no body, it appeared to look down on them with an air of arrogant confidence.
At the security captain’s command, the team opened fire on the severed hand. Yet the hand proved astonishingly agile, using its fingertips to crawl rapidly between the wall and the computer, dodging the bullets. Suddenly, it leaped upward, tracing an arc through the air, and grabbed one of the security guards by the face.
The guard let out a terrified scream and rolled on the ground, trying to shake off the severed hand clamped tightly against his face. Like a face-hugger, the hand’s fingertips exerted immense pressure, digging deep into the bones of his face and tightening relentlessly until, with a “crack,” it crushed the guard’s skull.
The severed hand dropped to the ground, snatched the AK-47 from the dead guard’s hand, and pulled the trigger, firing wildly in retaliation. The entire security team fought with all their might against a single severed hand, yet they were still slightly outmatched.
At that moment, a guard behind the riot shields shouted, “Liquid nitrogen capture net ready, clear the way!”
The security guards in front immediately stepped aside. A stream of liquid nitrogen shot from the cannon, exploding near the severed hand. In an instant, white mist filled the air, and the temperature in the entire laboratory plummeted. The thermometer on the wall dropped rapidly, and a chill rose from where the liquid nitrogen capture net had exploded, causing a layer of frost to form on the floor and walls.
The severed hand and the AK were frozen solid together, unable to move an inch.
The security captain finally breathed a sigh of relief and pressed the walkie-talkie: “Target subdued. Come up and handle the aftermath.”
“Hehe.”
A ghostly laugh suddenly rang out in the silent laboratory. As the white mist from the liquid nitrogen cannon dissipated, the glass-armored door of the Eternal Undead Observation Chamber swung fully open. A ghost draped in white cloth slowly emerged; a simple smiley face had been drawn on the cloth with a marker.
The undead creature extended its right arm—now reduced to a stub emitting black smoke. The frozen stump on the ground quickly thawed, shook off the droplets of water, and, clutching an AK-47, leaped onto the undead’s right arm, fusing seamlessly with it.
The immortal undead raised the rifle’s muzzle and chuckled lightly, “Let’s play.”
The security guards were horrified and scrambled backward. The security captain, overcome with terror, grabbed his walkie-talkie and stammered, “The Eternal Spirit has gone berserk! The liquid nitrogen containment net can’t subdue it! Requesting backup! Requesting back—”
His voice cut off abruptly.
The sounds of breathing and heartbeats vanished from the room.
The lab echoed with the ghost’s maniacal laughter.
——
After watching the surveillance footage sent by her AI assistant, Elaine’s face had turned from livid to pale. Across from her, Xiao Yang remained oblivious to what had happened at headquarters, his fingertips tapping lightly on his resignation letter as he took a sip of lemonade whose ice cubes were nearly melted.
“Ms. Ailian, what’s wrong?”
Ailian took a deep breath, ran her slender fingers through her red hair, and closed her eyes for a moment with her head bowed. The weariness and haggardness of the years had finally left permanent marks on her radiant face; without makeup, the frown lines between her brows were particularly pronounced.
Several minutes passed, and Xiao Yang was growing impatient. He knew Ailian would never let him go, which only made him more anxious.
“Where do you plan to go?” Ailian gathered her composure, straightened her back against the chair, and asked in a hoarse voice.
“I have friends in Italy.”
“You are not allowed to leave the country. We’re in a precarious situation right now; it would be very dangerous for you to go.” Ailian spoke with absolute certainty, as if there were no room for negotiation.
Xiao Yang merely smiled faintly. Indeed, the research institute’s funding was about to dry up, and future supplies of the serum were in jeopardy. Other countries and organizations that had already purchased test subjects were not receiving the promised after-sales support or serum supplies. Once the buyers’ patience ran out, they would undoubtedly take measures to protect their own interests. Leaving the country at this time would clearly be unwise for Xiao Yang.
“Return to the Lingqi Manor. It’s cut off from the outside world; it’s very safe.”
“Oh?” Xiao Ye’s eyes sparkled with a smile, yet a clear look of disgust slipped into his gaze.
Aileen pulled out a set of keys and placed them before Xiao Ye, her tone leaving no room for argument: “You are not allowed to leave the country. This is the greatest concession I can make. As for what you plan to do once you’re back, that’s up to you.”
Xiao Yang paused, hesitated for a moment, then slowly picked up the keys from the table. They were the keys to the armory in Ailian’s villa.
“Get out.” Ailian took the resignation letter he’d placed on the table, glanced at the packed suitcase on the rug by the bed, stood up, and walked out.
“The bodyguards will see you out. I’m going back to work.”
——
The Snow Castle in the Lawrence Mountains.
In the lavishly decorated European-style hall, Qishenggu leaned back on a leather sofa, idly fiddling with the feathers on a small fan. Out of boredom, he snipped a peacock feather from his own tail and stuck it onto the fan’s surface.
The little ghost sat on the carpet, clutching a glass hourglass, staring blankly at the swinging clock on the wall. The ancient hands pointed to twelve o’clock noon; the small door on the clock slowly opened, and a ballerina emerged, playing a tinkling melody.
The imp instantly brightened up, his little face, as pale as opal glass, flushing red: “Nix’s hands… are truly skillful.”
“Yes. Come sit up here; the floor is too cold.” A long-haired girl was also sitting on the sofa, a pair of dragonfly wings hanging from her back. Holding a violin, she gazed tenderly at the little imp on the carpet.
“Hmph… too bad he’s using them in the wrong place.” Qishenggu contemptuously tested the peacock feather fan he’d just attached. “He cut open his chest, took out his own heart, and made a replica modeled after a ceramic one—he’s still polishing it to this day. Ahem… humans really do have wild imaginations. Oh, can he even be called human? Being able to replace worn-out body parts at will—that should make him immortal, shouldn’t it? Cough, cough…”
Qishenggu couldn’t be bothered to chat with a munchkin whose speech was slurred, and he was bored out of his mind. Fortunately, there were quite a few mature test subjects in the castle; though their abilities were somewhat lacking, they could at least provide some conversation to pass the time.
“Nix is such a good person. It’s already generous of him to take us in,” ” The Dragonfly test subject said worriedly, “Nix has been working for so long—I hope his body is holding up. I’ll go bring him a cup of coffee.”
“Don’t bother with him. If you mess up even one step, he’ll just blame you.” Qishenggu coughed twice, then turned to complain that the little wraith had stoked the fire in the fireplace too high.
Dragonfly still poured a cup of coffee and brought it to the puppet master’s workshop. A tattered ceramic doll sitting on the workbench lifted its head sluggishly, staring at her with hollow eye sockets.
The puppet master, wearing glasses, was using the tip of a pair of tweezers to carve the ceramic heart cast from a mold.
The heart’s structure was extraordinarily intricate; every ventricle and every minute blood vessel had to be carved by hand, making it an immense undertaking. The dollmaker was so absorbed in his work that he couldn’t even spare a glance at the person who had entered; if he looked away, he would struggle to find the exact spot where he had left off carving the blood vessel, and thus be unable to continue.
Dragonfly carefully placed the coffee cup where it wouldn’t be easily knocked over and prepared to step back out.
The chandelier above suddenly swayed. Dragonfly looked up alertly. In that instant, it seemed as though something heavy had slammed into the castle’s outer wall, causing the floor and walls to shake violently.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Dragonfly grabbed the coffee cup she’d just set on the table to prevent it from spilling. Scalding hot water splashed onto her; she bit her lip, enduring the pain as she looked around, unsure of what had happened.
The Puppet Master also sensed the commotion outside the castle, but he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t tear his gaze away from the ceramic heart, and couldn’t even speak aloud for fear his fingers would tremble.
“Buy me one more day,” the Puppet Master said in a whisper, a fine bead of sweat glistening on the tip of his nose. “That is my only request.”
Dragonfly stood frozen for a moment, then quietly slipped out of the workshop, closed the door behind him, and hurried after the dolls and test subjects racing down the corridor, dashing toward the castle’s balconies, each planted with Juliet roses.
Looking down from above, at least a hundred grayish-white test subjects were crawling out of the pristine snow, gathering around the castle.
The doll-like figures, dressed in elaborate costumes and clutching firearms, leaped one after another from the balconies, charging out into the courtyard to engage in a fierce battle with the surging grayish-white test subjects.
Dragonfly froze; she had never witnessed such a scene. Although she was a test subject herself, she was naturally weak in combat and existed primarily as fodder; suddenly, she didn’t know what to do.
Just as she was struggling to shield the frightened, crying juvenile test subject beside her and comfort it, a streak of gold and blue light flashed overhead. She looked up to see Qishenggu gliding down from the highest point, her gold-and-blue peacock tail feathers unfurling in the air, as a pale golden protective shield completely enveloped the entire castle.
“What kind of brat is this?” Qishenggu pulled two pistols from beneath the hem of her cheongsam, one in each hand, and with precise aim, shot down the experimental subject that was crawling along the wall.
“Attributes, swap.” The ghostly imp climbed to the top of the castle, turned the glass hourglass in his hand upside down on the ground, and as the sand inside began to flow backward, the snow outside the courtyard suddenly burst into a raging inferno. The grayish-white test subject, submerged in the snow, was scorched by the flames, letting out a piercing scream as it rolled on the ground, trying to extinguish the fire on its body.
The Imperial Crocodile used its massive body to brace against the courtyard gate, and a layer of sturdy crocodile scales spread across the entire wall.
The Dragonfly stared at them in bewilderment. Suddenly, Qishenggu turned and glanced at her, tossing a gun her way as his striking eyes narrowed slightly.
“Come down and help out, you freeloader.”
Dragonfly instinctively fluttered her delicate wings and flew out onto the balcony, catching the gun with both hands—it felt heavy and scorching hot.
She looked back and saw experimental subjects who had reached maturity leaping one after another from the balcony, clutching their unpracticed weapons with one or both hands. Dragonfly could faintly hear their whispers.
“Protect Nix.”