Bai Chunian slowly tightened his grip on the scythe. The long shaft, nearly as tall as he was, braced against the ground. The moment he clenched it, a hum of electricity rang out. Blue lightning surged through the blade, washing away its original blood-red hue. At the same time, the fish-pattern markings on his shoulder pulsed in resonance, electric light flowing in sync. Even the fishbone and mineral ornaments at his ear glowed faintly.
He had never seen this weapon before—yet in his hands, it felt perfectly natural.
More familiar than any gun he had trained with countless times.
Lan Bo lifted the tip of his tail and gave him a light push. “Goon. (Go.)”
But Lan Bo himself didn’t move.
He coiled around a protruding stone pillar on the cliffside, hands braced against the rock. His black claws dug deep into the stone to anchor himself, tail swaying lazily as he watched the battlefield with calm confidence.
After landing, the Golden Silkworm sealed off every approach with tough spider silk, preparing to retreat along his original path.
Bai Chunian leapt.
When the blade touched the silk, it rippled like water—then instantly sliced through the dense, sticky threads.
The Golden Silkworm had clearly underestimated the weapon. Carrying the mummy, he jumped back—but Bai Chunian swept the scythe in a wide arc.
A crescent of cold blue light flashed across the Golden Silkworm’s chest.
A numbing chill scraped past his skin.
They landed apart.
The Golden Silkworm clutched his chest—where a deep, bone-exposing gash cut across him. His bulletproof vest and the webbing wrapped around his body had been cleanly severed.
Blood surged out, atomizing into mist-like strands of silk that spread across the barren forest.
The Golden Silkworm’s fingers trembled slightly as he controlled the mummy to steady him. Struggling, he forced himself to stand. For experimental subjects, as long as there wasn’t widespread infection, even severe wounds could heal rapidly—but this time, the injuries on his body showed no sign of closing at all.
Even Bai Chunian, as the wielder of the scythe, was astonished. He couldn’t help running his hand along the long handle of the crackling blue weapon and muttered into the communicator, “This thing is insane, honey. Why didn’t you ever bring something this good out to share with everyone?”
“No one else can use it.” Lan Bo lay sideways on the cliff rock, propping up his head as he looked down at the battle. In his eyes, the outcome was already decided.
Han Xingqian observed the scene carefully. In all his years of research, he had never encountered anything like this—but his mentor, Professor Zhong, had once proposed such a possibility in a paper titled On the Relationships Between Glands: Union, Fusion, Symbiosis, and Dominance.
From the Golden Silkworm’s case, his gland and the spider gland connected to his firearm were in a union relationship. Their compatibility reached one hundred percent. The Golden Silkworm intentionally protected that gland, and the gland willingly contributed its ability to him—two independent entities working in perfect union.
But what Lan Bo and Bai Chunian were displaying was clearly different.
It was evident that Bai Chunian now carried Lan Bo’s attributes—a rare case of ability bestowal.
Han Xingqian glanced up at Lan Bo, whose breathing had slowed. If nothing unexpected happened, Lan Bo’s mobility was likely severely reduced—he could only remain where he was.
Professor Zhong had boldly compared this kind of dominance relationship to that between a deity and a messenger—the messenger serving as a medium to carry divine power.
As long as two independent glands could form one of these four relationships, the power they could produce would far exceed ordinary cooperation. One plus one becoming greater than two was proof of it.
—
Xiao Xun lay on the ground. The high fall had left his internal organs aching dully. Han Xingqian injected him with a painkiller. The PBB Thunder Support Team was already on standby at the harbor—they likely had a doctor capable of treating fractures.
Han Xingqian’s J1 ability, Endurance Reset, could only restore what wasn’t physically damaged. Internal injuries could be healed instantly, but a fracture counted as structural damage—it couldn’t be reset, only stabilized with basic bandaging.
As the dull pain in his organs eased, the darkness clouding Xiao Xun’s vision slowly receded. Gritting his teeth, he reached out, grabbed his distant sniper rifle, pulled it close, and with effort reloaded and chambered a round.
Han Xingqian stood beside him, hands in his coat pockets. Aside from quietly releasing soothing pheromones scented like larkspur to ease his discomfort, he didn’t interfere.
Snipers were precious assets—expensive to train, highly valued within any team. Han Xingqian had expected Xiao Xun to stay down and wait for rescue. But the sight of this mud- and leaf-covered “puppy” struggling to get back up impressed him.
He grabbed Xiao Xun by the waist, lifted him, and swiftly slipped into the dead forest, scanning the terrain. “Pick a spot.”
Pale-faced, Xiao Xun pointed to a steep, towering rock platform. “There.”
Han Xingqian carried him up with agile movements and set him in position. Xiao Xun lay prone, aiming his scope at Bai Chunian and the Golden Silkworm.
“The president said we absolutely can’t let the Golden Silkworm get near the harbor,” Han Xingqian said, sitting down and jotting notes in a small notebook. “There’s an anomalous detection radar under the Lesha Tower—it can locate experimental subjects.”
Xiao Xun focused through the scope, tracking Bai Chunian as he fought. “I won’t let them get close.”
Han Xingqian lingered on the subtle wording—them—then patted his shoulder. “I’ll go disable the radar. Hopefully I make it in time.”
Xiao Xun remained motionless, one eye closed against the rifle, calmly reporting into the communicator: “In position. Three o’clock direction, 132.35 meters, cliffside. Awaiting orders.”
Han Xingqian exhaled slowly, jumped down from the rock, and drove toward Lesha Tower.
—
The Golden Silkworm was weakening, gradually falling into a disadvantage.
Meanwhile, Bai Chunian grew more and more fluid with the scythe. Lightning flickered through his dark irises, the blue in his pupils becoming increasingly vivid. He carved into his opponent’s flesh with near-mad ferocity, occasionally letting out uncontrolled laughter.
With every sweeping strike, spider silk burst from the Golden Silkworm’s body. In mere seconds, his clothes were shredded, his flesh torn open with gaping wounds—none of which would heal under the scythe’s cuts.
Their battlefield shifted constantly, occasionally sweeping others into danger. Everyone else could only retreat again and again.
Threads extended from each of the Golden Silkworm’s ten fingers, linking to every joint of the mummy. With the slightest movement of his fingers, he could control it with precision.
He twitched his fingertips.
Just as Bai Chunian charged forward, the mummy slammed into him from behind at an angle.
The long scythe was knocked off course. Its blade shifted direction—flying straight toward He Suowei.
Two centimeters from his nose—
Bai Chunian caught the shaft.
At that instant, He Suowei had already instinctively activated his J1 ability, Total Lunar Eclipse. But the moment the scythe touched it, the moon-disc shattered instantly.
He Suowei froze, stepping back in disbelief.
Everyone thought Bai Chunian had completely lost control, rampaging blindly across the battlefield.
But Lan Bo didn’t think so.
He remained calm, without the slightest trace of panic.
—
Gravely wounded, the Golden Silkworm was caught in the mummy’s arms. It held him protectively, gently stroking his head in comfort. The gland connected to his rifle released soothing pheromones with a faint opium scent, slightly accelerating the healing of his wounds.
In truth, every one of those movements was controlled by the Golden Silkworm. The mummy was nothing more than a puppet—convincingly playing the role of his protector.
Bai Chunian approached him, speaking in short, simple sentences:
“Stop resisting. Come with me. I’ll take you to see the president.”
The Golden Silkworm looked up at him blankly. The beaked mask on his face made him seem almost absurd—but through it, Bai Chunian saw a pair of eyes brimming with tears.
“Uh…” Bai Chunian shifted the scythe into his right hand and cautiously reached out, trying to calm him. “The president definitely won’t kill you. I don’t want to kill you either.”
Lu Yan lay half over the edge of a rock, craning his head anxiously to watch them. Bi Lanxing had vines wrapped around his waist to keep him from falling.
Bai Chunian had forbidden them from approaching the Golden Silkworm. That rifle was far too dangerous—any non-experimental subject hit by it would have their blood instantly explode out of their body. He would never let the trainees take that risk.
The Golden Silkworm slowly raised his head. When he saw Lu Yan’s rabbit ears, he froze for a moment—as if the scene exceeded his brain’s ability to process, leaving him utterly confused.
Bai Chunian seized that moment of distraction. His left hand hardened into steel, and he lunged for the Golden Silkworm’s neck. He already had a gland inhibitor ready—if he could just inject it into the back of his neck, he could completely subdue him.
But the Golden Silkworm’s reflexes were unnaturally fast.
Just as Bai Chunian was about to touch him, the Golden Silkworm fired a quick shot straight at his throat.
If his throat were pierced and couldn’t heal, Bai Chunian would suffocate to death.
A sniper round struck with perfect precision—colliding midair with the Golden Silkworm’s bullet.
Bai Chunian immediately abandoned the grab, flipping backward to land. The sniper round that had saved him embedded itself squarely into the Golden Silkworm’s right eye socket.
Blood burst across the beaked mask.
But Xiao Xun’s bullet was an ordinary one. The Golden Silkworm let out a cry, and his eye regenerated almost instantly.
Still, the shot paid back the earlier injury—the one that had destroyed Bai Chunian’s left eye.
Lan Bo’s pupils narrowed into a vertical slit. Curling his lips, he praised into the communicator with delighted mischief, “Katen (puppy), I love you.”
The intense pain startled the Golden Silkworm. He turned and ran, crashing wildly toward the harbor while laying down webs to block pursuit.
Bai Chunian chased after him.
Han Xingqian contacted him: “I’m destroying the anomalous radar. This thing is ridiculously sturdy—it’ll take at least four hundred endurance resets to disable, and there are two units here. Even if I stall, I’ll need at least ten minutes.”
Bai Chunian frowned. “He’s heading for the harbor. The president is there. That gun is too dangerous.”
Han Xingqian replied, “The radar is extremely sensitive. The moment you enter its range, you’ll be detected.”
“Let it detect me.” Bai Chunian leapt onto a dead tree, then silently sprang to the cliff wall. “What can it do to me?”
Han Xingqian: “Lu Yan, Lanxing—stop him.”
Lu Yan: “I don’t dare.”
Bi Lanxing: “Me neither.”
Han Xingqian: “Lan Bo, stop him.”
Lan Bo laughed lazily. “He wants to protect that rabbit—that annoys me a little. But I also want to see what they can possibly do to him in front of me.”