Danli Sai Palace was now surrounded by the bomb squad. All guests were protected inside, and no one could exit easily. Yet, Ru Cheng, always under Xiao Xun’s surveillance, had taken advantage of the chaos, slipped under a vehicle, and once the bomb squad fully entered the palace, emerged and drove away.
Xiao Xun raised his sniper rifle, closed one eye to look through the scope, quickly calculating wind, vehicle speed, and distance, adjusting the aim for a perfect shot. He whispered, “Shall we stop him?”
Bai Chunian squatted on the beam below the signal tower, observing. “He seems to be trying to flee, not meeting anyone. Take him out.”
Just as Xiao Xun prepared to pull the trigger, another shadow appeared in the scope.
“It’s him—the suspicious and dangerous target I mentioned earlier.” Xiao Xun stood firm, keeping perfectly still.
Following the rifle’s aim, Bai Chunian saw an omega in Red-Throat Bird armor and a bird-head mask moving lightly along the wall.
The way this omega defied gravity resembled Lan Bo’s movements—but unlike Lan Bo, who relied on electric-generated magnetic adhesion, needing both hands to assist and his tail to balance, this omega moved along the vertical wall as if walking on flat ground.
“No pheromone leakage—doesn’t seem like a differentiation ability,” Bai Chunian murmured, chin in hand. “Then it must be a symbiotic ability—perhaps from a reptile or insect lineage, ‘wall-walking’.”
“Reptile or insect…” Bai Chunian recalled a list from Red-Throat Bird mercenaries. No members had reptilian glands, so it was likely insect glands.
As he pondered, the situation changed drastically. White mist, thin as cotton, floated through the air. The delicate strands drifted down onto Ru Cheng’s van, gradually covering it. The vehicle accelerated, but the speed slowed until it was forced to stop. A snow-white silk cocoon slowly formed.
Ru Cheng panicked, pushing the door open to escape, but the instant he jumped, white threads coated his face. He screamed, struggling like a moth in a web, until he was completely immobilized, wrapped into a humanoid mummy of white silk.
The wall-walking omega observed coldly, holding his old, scratched rifle. The rifle’s stock was wrapped in a bundle of white silk, occasionally wriggling slightly.
Careful observation revealed that the humanoid mummy on his back was also cocooned in white silk—but this one was meticulously wrapped. Ten long, distinct fingers, a slender and muscular build, and even the facial contours were remarkably refined.
“Pheromone detected—Mandala flower scent. He just used J1,” Xiao Xun muttered cautiously, aiming the sniper at the omega. “Level should be high. Elite member?”
Han Xingqian considered. “Special ops experimental subject. Photograph him and send to the technical department to retrieve his data.”
Bai Chunian photographed the omega and sent the image to the tech department, also sharing it with the “Crawlers,” who knew more about experimental subjects.
He sent a message alongside the photo: “I thought you weren’t supposed to come out and cause trouble?”
The Alliance tech department replied first: “Preliminary search identifies the target as Special Ops Experimental Subject No. 211, ‘Golden Thread Worm,’ gland prototype Darwin Spider.”
According to experimental coding rules, 2 represents insect-type glands, 1 represents 1/10th mimicry—usually manifested in the eyes. Other fractions manifest in tail, tail and ears, wings, or lower body. The last digit indicates the main ability type: 1 for movement restriction abilities.
The Crawlers replied: “Golden Thread Worm isn’t one of ours. He’s still in cultivation and cannot communicate. He indiscriminately kills his kind and has a bad reputation here. Extremely dangerous. Even you must not underestimate him.”
Xiao Xun shivered as he listened, his hairs standing on end.
He looked nervously at Lan Bo, perched on the signal tower beam, eating cake. If the food intake value was unique to experimental subjects, could it be that Lan Bo…?
As Xiao Xun hesitated and edged toward Han Xingqian, Bai Chunian’s gaze fell on him again, seemingly casual but piercing all the same.
Under those eyes that seemed to see everything, Xiao Xun instinctively tucked his tail and pressed his legs tightly together.
Bai Chunian slightly lifted the corner of his mouth, saying nothing. Observing that the Golden Thread Worm merely lingered at a distance without further action, he had the tech department connect him to the president.
Yan Yi: “Speak.”
Bai Chunian: “A dangerous experimental subject is loitering near Danli Sai Palace. Should we temporarily change the mission target?”
Yan Yi: “I’ve received the data from the tech department. I’ve already requested support from the PBB military base. The anti-terror and peacekeeping forces are en route. Your target remains unchanged.”
Bai Chunian ensured his own safety with the president’s permission and then headed toward the secondary mission objective.
The goal of the secondary mission was to intercept the cargo. The Red-Throat Birds used the Danli Sai Palace attack as a distraction, drawing police attention, but the real objective was to cover a shipment in M Port, likely for a deal with Research Institute 109, transporting experimental materials.
Bai Chunian had memorized the M Port map in advance. To transport the cargo, the route would inevitably go through the port and then the mining railway crossing Linbin Mountains. The tunnels were long, branching, and secluded—perfectly avoiding urban security checks.
As the bomb squad cleared Red-Throat Bird terrorists inside Danli Sai Palace, Bai Chunian occasionally glanced back. The Golden Thread Worm seemed neither to pursue them nor to attempt rescuing comrades.
After all, an experimental subject in cultivation with communication barriers already giving up by wearing the Red-Throat Bird uniform was a major concession. A cultivation-phase experimental subject generally wouldn’t cooperate with anyone, consciousness still immature.
Driving, Bai Chunian put on anti-glare sunglasses, pressed the accelerator, and led the team toward Linbin Railway, murmuring, “The Red-Throat Bird boss is clever—he got a cultivation-phase experimental subject to join his organization.”
Cultivation-phase subjects are entirely self-centered: they devour anything nearby when hungry and lash out when angry, much like Lan Bo at the start. They cannot understand speech or express thought. As the food intake rises, nearing maturity, communication and comprehension gradually improve.
“Right,” Xiao Xun, usually silent, picked up the thread. “I once saw their leader as a child—a tall alpha wearing a bird-beak mask with a red stripe around the neck. He emitted no pheromones; I don’t know his gland type, probably avian.”
Bai Chunian glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “You’ve seen him?”
Xiao Xun nodded. “The Lingti family has always kept contact with the Red-Throat Birds. Outwardly, the Lingti family seems clean, but inside, they’ve been complicit for years.”
“That’s interesting intel,” Bai Chunian snapped his fingers. “I’ll give you credit for that.”
“What else do you know?” Bai Chunian asked, eyes unreadable in the mirror.
Xiao Xun hesitated, unsure whether to speak. He had every reason to believe that the food intake value marked experimental subjects, yet only Lan Bo displayed it. Perhaps Lan Bo had deliberately embedded himself as a mole among them—and his obvious romantic relationship with Bai Chunian made Xiao Xun wary of revealing anything.
Even if Bai Chunian believed him, what if he already knew and was protecting Lan Bo? Could Xiao Xun be silenced—or worse, could Bai Chunian himself also have this unique value?
After much hesitation, Xiao Xun resolved to tell Han Xingqian privately later.
Han Xingqian had long noticed that the little dog harbored secrets. Seeing him stoic yet tail-tucked was mildly amusing.
Leaving the urban area of M Port, the high-rise buildings thinned, replaced by small houses and vast farmlands. The paved road gave way to a bumpy dirt path. Luckily, they were in an off-road jeep prepared by Lu Shangjin—bumpy, but still fast enough.
After less than forty minutes of high-speed driving, the Linbin Mountains loomed ahead, with the old transport railway cutting through overgrown grass, leading into a deep tunnel.
Bai Chunian placed Lan Bo, Lu Yan, Bi Lanxing, and Xiao Xun at the tunnel exit, then drove to the entrance, hiding the jeep behind a small cliff overgrown with weeds. He and Han Xingqian crouched near the tracks. Smoke from an old locomotive rose in the distance, causing the rails to tremble and kicking up stones and dust.
Bai Chunian lightly nudged Han Xingqian with his elbow.
Han Xingqian glanced at him. Bai Chunian held an unlit cigarette in his mouth, idly scraping it with a lighter on the ground. He casually remarked, “I guess the little dog noticed something. That ability of his is almost like mind-reading.”
“Ah,” Han Xingqian replied calmly, eyes on the approaching train. “Planning to come clean?”
Bai Chunian shook his head, watching the ground.
“That’s classic commander paranoia—always expecting the worst and prone to persecution delusions,” Han Xingqian said dismissively. “I’ll teach him not to blab later.”
The train entered the tunnel. Bai Chunian seized the moment, leaping from the grass, hands gripping the edge of a carriage. He swung his body onto the narrow ledge, balancing effortlessly along the barely-a-foot-wide rail—a feat difficult for most, but trivial for him.
Han Xingqian lightly stepped on the stone wall, using an ability to hover briefly in midair before landing between two cargo cars. The gust stirred four Red-Throat Bird members guarding the cars, who raised their rifles and moved along the exterior to investigate.
Han Xingqian braced himself against the doorframe outside the carriage. Snow-white spiraled horns erupted from his forehead, the tips radiating silver concentric waves invisible to the naked eye. The four guards in range of the waves immediately went limp and collapsed into a deep sleep.
The Pegasus gland’s symbiotic ability, “Somnolence,” a healing-type power, only affects targets below his own differentiation level. Those hit by the horn’s waves instantly fall asleep, experiencing analgesic and soothing effects within a three-meter radius centered on him. Targets can only be awakened by the horn’s waves; otherwise, they remain asleep indefinitely.
Bai Chunian landed beside him, crouched, and stripped two of the guards’ uniforms, tossing a set to Han Xingqian. They quickly changed into Red-Throat Bird attire and headgear, took their IDs and comms, and tossed the incapacitated guards from the train.
Standing, each armed with a QBZ rifle, they patrolled slowly inside the carriage.
The train held over a hundred people. Some stayed in passenger compartments resting during shifts, while others guarded their assigned cargo carriages. The cargo they were to intercept, as per the president’s briefing, was inside these carriages.
As the train entered the tunnel, dim light filled the carriages. Under Han Xingqian’s cover, Bai Chunian moved silently among the cargo, finding fifteen titanium-alloy safes—two per carriage, each two meters tall, one meter wide, guarded by six personnel.
Their earpieces crackled with static. The leader issued a new update:
“Intel: The Danli Sai Palace attack failed. IOA agents are searching for us. Move to Level 1 alert, prepare to eliminate IOA agents. Target photos have been released.”
Bai Chunian checked their radios; electronic screens displayed their images, blurred from the Danli Sai Palace operation. Only their build and hair were recognizable; faces were unclear.
“What kind of device makes blurry ID photos? We’re rare enough in proper attire,” Bai Chunian muttered.
Han Xingqian replied calmly, “It’s a wanted poster—what do you expect?”
Bai Chunian chuckled softly. “Of all the terror organizations that hunted me, they took the worst shots. The Yujiu Group captured the best, which is why I left them intact.”
Han Xingqian glanced at the time. “Three minutes until we exit the tunnel.”
Bai Chunian checked the rifle magazines. “Let’s move to the control room.”
The pair reached the control room exterior. Han Xingqian induced sleep in the two guards at the door. Bai Chunian, rifle in one hand, signaled him to breach.
Inside, the Red-Throat Bird leader in charge of this cargo transport was nervously communicating with superiors, accompanied by a dozen guards wielding submachine guns.
The leader, Lang Shide, wore a nameplate bearing his identity. He wiped his sweaty palms, whispering warnings:
“That IOA agent, the white lion alpha—recently killed the Kraken experiment in the Caribbean—we lost millions then. Now he’s targeting our cargo. We cannot let him survive.”
“He’s moving with five operatives; except for the merperson, all are unknown. No reckless moves. If the situation escalates, implement contingency: abandon cargo if needed, but don’t let IOA agents gain the upper hand.”
While he spoke, the locked iron door suddenly opened, a fist-sized hole appearing in the handle, seemingly forced from outside. A small cylinder rolled in, clanging softly.
“Intrusion!” Lang Shide shouted.
The cylinder exploded, bright flashes and piercing buzzing chaos filling the room. Guards shielded their eyes, firing submachine guns blindly.
Bai Chunian and Han Xingqian rolled inside during the brief gaps between bullets. Bai Chunian cleaned out any personnel not affected by the flashbang, while Han Xingqian removed his mask, exposing his luminous white horn. His waves put everyone in the room into instant sleep.
Lang Shide, seeing Han Xingqian’s face, yelled into his radio: “IOA agents are on board, in the control room! Protect the cargo! Reinforce and eliminate IOA agents!”
Bai Chunian raised his rifle at Lang Shide’s head, pulling the trigger—but the bullet did not hit. An invisible wall intercepted it.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the impact point, but quickly healed. Lang Shide was sealed behind an impenetrable barrier at the control panel; Han Xingqian’s Somnolence could not affect him.
“Diamond Alpha, mineral-type gland,” Han Xingqian explained. “He isolates himself in theoretically amplified micro-crystals—my waves can’t reach him.”
Unable to attack, Lang Shide could still fire outward. Han Xingqian retreated as Red-Throat Bird members surged toward the control room, surrounding them.
Bai Chunian whispered into the comm: “Xiao Xun.”
A cool voice responded, “I’m in position. Environmental data complete.”
Han Xingqian guarded the door, buying Bai Chunian time.
Bai Chunian rolled up his sleeves and punched toward Lang Shide’s diamond barrier. “Think you’re harder than me?”
A dense aroma of brandy-like pheromones emanated from Bai Chunian. Infused with his J1 ability, the steel-hardened punch struck the slanted window edge. The diamond wall cracked but did not break.
Lang Shide sneered, turning his rifle. “Stacked stone walls—how many layers can one punch pierce?”
Bai Chunian leapt back, calm, giving Lang Shide a final, brotherly smile.
At that moment, a sniper round entered at an angle through the cracked window, passing through Bai Chunian’s fracture. The round, reinforced by lingering brandy pheromones, pierced three layers of mineral barriers, driving through Lang Shide’s skull from front to back.
Static hissed through the comms as Xiao Xun spoke coldly: “Target confirmed.”
Minutes passed as the train continued through the long tunnel. Finally, a glimmer of light appeared ahead. The train emerged from the tunnel, the carriage gradually brightening.
Inside the control room, Bai Chunian had adjusted the train to slow it down, timing it so the entire set of carriages would come to a complete stop once fully out of the tunnel.
As the train decelerated, over a hundred Red-Throat Bird members gathered, trapping Bai Chunian and Han Xingqian inside the control room. Though the two were high-level operatives, facing a torrent of gunfire from hundreds of terrorists offered no advantage. The room had no easy escape; even Bai Chunian needed team coordination to respond against overwhelming numbers.
Beneath the tracks, vegetation had grown wildly. In the barren center of the line, only one patch was overgrown with grass. The soil under the rails was loose, and black vines writhed underground.
Just as the train was about to exit fully, the front rails emitted a sharp crack. Thick black vines shot up from the earth, snake-like tendrils climbing onto the slowing train. The engine was ensnared by tree-trunk-thick toxic vines, halting on damaged tracks. The vines pressed into the windows, releasing corrosive toxic smoke where they touched, forcing the terrorists to leap out to resist.
Outside the valley, the vines had already formed a vast net. The once-slowly writhing tendrils suddenly sprouted thin, rigid thorns, intersecting and violently piercing any life that impeded their growth. This was the M2 differentiation ability of the Arrowwood Tree, “Tian Jing Di Ci,” making escape impossible even for insects under the thorn canopy.
Bi Lanxing perched atop a cloud pine overlooking the valley. Toxic vines sprouted from his ten fingers, spreading throughout the valley.
A crimson double-petaled flower bud sprouted atop a vine reaching into the sky, blooming instantly. From its center, Lu Yan dashed downward, holding an Uzi in each hand, sprinting along the vines toward incoming gunfire.
Trailing him was a residual afterimage—also dual-wielding Uzis—mirroring his attack.
The Lop-eared Rabbit’s gland M2 differentiation ability, “Four-Dimensional Split,” a summoning-type power, manifests the self from the fourth-dimensional timeline into the three-dimensional world. To observers, it appears as infinite duplicates, but each is a real entity with identical offensive capability. Damage to one affects all others along the timeline, including Lu Yan himself.
With his current gland energy, Lu Yan could maintain the M2 ability for only six seconds—but those six seconds proved decisive. In that span, Red-Throat Bird members faced dozens of heavily armed rabbit entities charging at them, suffering massive casualties.
From a hidden vantage, Xiao Xun observed that the experiment carrying the spider-silk mummy had followed.
Bai Chunian and Han Xingqian had already cleared most of the cargo carriage guards when an urgent message from Xiao Xun arrived: the experimental subject Jinlvchong was closing in on their position.
“Just a mid-stage test subject,” Bai Chunian radioed to Lan Bo. “Intercept Jinlvchong for us; I want to see what’s in the boxes first.”
Before he could act, a message from the crawler interrupted: “Domino just arrived at M Harbor. Wait for him; don’t engage Jinlvchong lightly. He’s not simple—wait for Domino.”
Lan Bo, disdainful of human combat, saw Jinlvchong as a convenient challenge—mid-stage test subjects often liked to assert themselves.
Despite carrying the heavy spider-silk mummy, Jinlvchong moved swiftly. As he neared Bai Chunian’s carriage, a blue light flashed. A humming electromagnetic pulse sounded, and Lan Bo landed, tail tip raised, the blue-red tail flicking provocatively in the air.
Jinlvchong paused. His expression was obscured by a mask, only visible as he tilted his head toward Lan Bo, awkwardly saying, “Open it… no, open it.”
Lan Bo noted a verbal challenge from a worthy opponent.
Jinlvchong slowly raised his gun at Lan Bo, repeating, “No, open it.”
The young man’s voice sounded soft and slightly shy, roughly in his twenties.
Frowning, Lan Bo radioed Bai Chunian: “He won’t let us open the boxes.”
“No, open it,” Jinlvchong repeated, increasingly agitated, firing a shot at Lan Bo.
The electromagnetic pulse allowed Lan Bo to dodge swiftly, but the bullet still grazed his arm, leaving a shallow cut. For an experiment subject, it was negligible.
Lan Bo casually wiped the blood, leaving the wound unhealed, still bleeding.
Studying Jinlvchong’s gun, Lan Bo realized it was a standard AK74, but the stock was wrapped in a spider-silk cocoon, visibly enclosing something that twitched.
“His gun… something’s wrong. I’m out,” Lan Bo muttered, rolling into a defensive ball and retreating.
Bai Chunian pressed his lips together, stopping Han Xingqian from opening the boxes. “Don’t open them yet. Looks like there’s a living creature inside. Call HQ to send a helicopter for transport.”
A signal wave reflected off the valley cliffs, striking Han Xingqian’s horn. His face froze. Grabbing Bai Chunian’s wrist, he threw him clear of the carriage, leaping out himself. At the moment they cleared the car, the safes behind them detonated.
The colossal explosion shook the entire valley. The Red-Throat Bird had rigged the safes with self-destruct devices—they knew escape was impossible, choosing to destroy the cargo and all evidence.
Bi Lanxing’s vines had tightly encased the last safe, but the blast obliterated most of the protective growth. The box was breached, leaving only half of a charred carcass.
Jinlvchong stood, gun in hand, staring blankly at the smoke-filled valley before slowly walking away.
The acrid, black smoke lingered, and Bai Chunian stared numbly at the ground littered with tiny corpses.
The train had been transporting white lion cubs. The sealed safes were filled with oxygen and aerosolized nutrients; once opened, the cloned cubs would die from lack of oxygen.
“Randi… randi…” Lan Bo crawled across the floor, gathering the little lions into his arms. “Nali klexiu?” (How could this happen?)
Han Xingqian tried to repair the oxygen supply in the safes, but the equipment had been shattered and was unusable for the time being.
Some of the cubs that had survived the blast squirmed awkwardly on the floor. Bai Chunian staggered over, crouched, and carefully picked up one of them. The little lion’s soft paws and mouth were pink and pudgy, twitching in his palm.
Bai Chunian’s eyelids reddened. Instinctively, he released calming pheromones. The tiny, kitten-like creature sniffed the soothing scent, nuzzled his fingers, and finally went limp in his hand.