Even after the IOA agent team withdrew from the valley, He Suowei did not give the order to pursue. Instead, he turned back to check on his team’s injuries.
With the IOA team’s assistance, most members had only suffered minor scrapes and light wounds. Only one had their arm completely blown apart, and another had died on the spot.
The squad assigned to intercept the Red-throated Bird had finished clearing their targets and were rushing back to regroup.
He Wenxiao reported, “Captain, the Golden Silkworm is about one hundred meters ahead. Ammunition is sufficient, no casualties in the squad. Awaiting orders.”
He Suowei’s expression was grim. While bandaging the member who had lost an arm, he said, “We’ve taken casualties. You and Wenyi come back and assist. The rest keep a distance and follow the target.”
“Yes, sir.”
Not long after, the He brothers took a shortcut through a narrow crack in the cliff to return faster, squeezing through and emerging covered in dust.
Seeing the severely injured teammate, He Wenxiao immediately dropped his pack, knelt down, and injected him with adrenaline. After disinfecting his hands, he began treating the severed limb.
But he himself wasn’t in good condition either. Though he had no visible wounds, his face was deathly pale.
Their squad had encountered one of the Red-throated Bird leaders—Huang Ci, an M2-level magnetism gland user. Not only could he interfere with electronic devices, he could attract all metal objects. When grenades exploded, they triggered iron fragments the enemy had buried beforehand. He Wenxiao had covered his teammates in time—but fragments of metal were now embedded in his own body.
The injured teammate, trembling from pain, clutched He Wenxiao’s arm tightly. His lips were bloodless as he whispered, “I’m fine, Vice Captain… I can handle it.”
He Wenxiao squeezed his other hand. “Base tech is advanced. Prosthetic bones work well.”
“The Thunder Support Team is on the way—they’ll be here soon,” He Suowei said, leaning back against a dead tree, silently smoking.
Bai, if you keep pushing forward… even I won’t be able to save you.
—
Because of his injuries, Xiao Xun didn’t relocate. He remained hidden on a cliff two hundred meters away, lying prone, perfectly still like a statue.
From the moment the He brothers appeared, he had shifted his crosshairs onto them, activating his J1 ability—Universal Dashboard.
After completing his scan, he moved the crosshairs back to Bai Chunian.
In reality, Bai Chunian had never left his sniping range.
He was herding the Golden Silkworm in a specific direction—a tangent path just outside the circular detection range of the anomalous radar.
Meanwhile, Lan Bo’s position was drifting closer and closer to the harbor where the president was located. The two of them were not moving together.
But Xiao Xun didn’t waste energy analyzing their intentions further.
He focused quietly on the target in his scope, waiting for Bai Chunian’s command through the earpiece.
There are always people like that—unstable, fond of pranks, overflowing with emotion and energy—yet still capable of making others feel at ease, grounding them with a strange sense of reassurance.
The Golden Silkworm desperately tried to break into the harbor.
But every attempt was cut off by a flash of cold blue light from Bai Chunian.
In his mind, Bai Chunian calculated the radar’s scanning range—
—and with a sweeping strike, forced the Golden Silkworm more than twenty meters outside its detection zone.
Han Xingqian hid near the harbor, repeatedly resetting his endurance at high speed, a fine sheen of sweat forming on his forehead.
Military equipment was famously durable—built to last. Completely destroying two radar units in a short time was unrealistic.
Sweat clung to Han Xingqian’s lashes as he spoke in a low voice, “Both radars are halfway reset. Detection range has shrunk to a one-and-a-half-kilometer radius. Scan accuracy is reduced—they can’t identify specific experimental subjects anymore, only numbers and positions. But they’ve noticed the malfunction and are repairing it. Once they replace the parts, the radars will be fully operational again. You’ve got three minutes to finish this.”
“Got it.” Bai Chunian pressed his earpiece. “Lanxing—there’s a swamp at my one o’clock. You and Lu Yan circle around.”
The area was surrounded by barren trees. The Golden Silkworm’s threads had spread endlessly through the forest—he could move freely along even the thinnest strands. This terrain gave Bai Chunian no advantage.
Only the salt marsh about a kilometer from the harbor was suitable for an ambush.
After several exchanges, Bai Chunian’s stamina hadn’t dropped at all—the energy he used came entirely from the scythe in his hand.
The Golden Silkworm, however, was severely injured. With the heavy mummy on his back, his strength was failing. He pushed forward toward the harbor on sheer will alone.
Bai Chunian stopped attacking. Instead, he followed lightly through the branches and shadows, watching him closely, probing his intentions, occasionally throwing out verbal jabs.
“Hey, man, stop running. Big shots are holding a meeting at the harbor—if you go, you’re just asking to die.”
“Who are you looking for?”
“Yan… Yi.” The Golden Silkworm answered coldly.
“What do you want with our president?” Bai Chunian raised a brow, stepping onto a distant branch. “I can take you to him. Come with me.”
“I… don’t trust you.” The Golden Silkworm forced out each word.
“You hurt me.” Bai Chunian clutched his chest. “We’re the same kind. Trust me—I call the shots.”
“Get lost.” The Golden Silkworm angrily raised his gun and fired.
By now, Bai Chunian had already figured out the weapon’s range, rate of fire, and spread. He dodged lightly, slinging the scythe across his back and sticking close behind him.
“What do you want with our president? I can pass the message along, at least. What’s your name?”
“Give him… something important.” The Golden Silkworm fell into thought, muttering, “I… don’t remember… my name.”
Experimental subjects in the cultivation stage already had impaired cognition. With Bai Chunian constantly forcing him to think, his mind grew more and more chaotic.
Blocked by another sweep of the scythe, he stumbled straight into the swamp.
The humid air quickly beaded water along the spider silk. Weighted down, the threads lost their lightness, becoming far harder to control.
The Golden Silkworm leapt into the trees. From this angle, he could already see figures at the harbor. Among the guards in ornate uniforms, he spotted the president—and charged forward recklessly.
Just as he reached the cliff edge, about to leap—
A sniper round flew in silently from a kilometer away, slamming into his rifle and knocking him backward.
From the swamp below, black vines suddenly surged upward, hardening into toxic arrow-poison wood. Dense, towering growth formed a cage around him like a forest of lethal stakes.
The final constraint was in place.
“You’re done,” Bai Chunian said. “Pull out. Get out of his range. Mission complete—take Xiao Xun back for treatment.”
The Golden Silkworm clenched his teeth, fingers twitching to manipulate the threads—then suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back, as if a scythe had torn through him.
The mummy had been strapped to his back the whole time. If his back was injured, the mummy would have taken the damage first.
He didn’t hesitate.
In desperation, he pulled the mummy off and held it, clumsily checking to see if it had been cut apart.
But the mummy was completely unharmed.
And his back wasn’t injured either.
By the time he realized he’d been tricked, Bai Chunian’s scythe was already pressed against his throat.
“That was my companion ability—pain deception,” Bai Chunian said calmly. “I never destroy what someone loves most.”
He grabbed the rifle’s barrel, wrenched it away, then seized the Golden Silkworm and slammed him to the ground.
The Golden Silkworm froze—
Then took a heavy blow to the abdomen.
Bai Chunian, one hand in his pocket, scythe tucked under his arm, stepped on his stomach with a faint smile and kicked him twice. He held the communicator near his mouth, letting He Suowei hear the man’s cries.
Only when He Suowei said, “Enough,” did Bai Chunian stop.
The Golden Silkworm coughed up blood and lay there, resigned. With difficulty, he pulled the mummy into his arms, curling around it without moving.
“Man, you really know how to make trouble for me.” Bai Chunian sat on the horizontally floating shaft of the scythe, grabbed his hair roughly, and lifted the IOA Free Bird badge on his chest in front of the beaked mask. “Open your eyes and take a good look at this.”
The Golden Silkworm bumped against his chest. He didn’t understand the badge—but he could smell the lingering pheromones of President Yan Yi on Bai Chunian.
Lu Yan, watching from a distance, couldn’t stand seeing Bai Chunian’s harsh treatment of a captured enemy. Having just gone through SERE training, his empathy for prisoners hadn’t faded yet.
Holding a gland inhibitor, he jumped down from the valley’s height and tried to persuade him:
“Brother Chu, that’s enough, okay? Let’s just put this on him and take him back.”
The Golden Silkworm turned his head toward Lu Yan and stared blankly for a long moment, as if recognizing something.
Lu Yan didn’t dare approach. He hid behind Bai Chunian, peeking out with half his face, rabbit ears drooping over his eyes so only a narrow slit remained. Trying to sound fierce, he bluffed, “What, memorizing my face so you can get revenge later? Looks like you haven’t been beaten enough!”
The Golden Silkworm silently crawled forward a couple of steps, hugged the mummy tightly—
Then, with reluctance, held it out toward Lu Yan.
Everyone knew there was a corpse wrapped inside those threads. Lu Yan stiffened, hands pressed awkwardly against his chest, refusing to take it.
So the Golden Silkworm… knelt.
“Ahhh—there it is! Emotional blackmail!” Lu Yan’s rabbit ears shot straight up as he pointed at him. “What are you trying to do?!”
Bai Chunian shoved him. “If he’s giving it to you, just take it. Why make such a fuss?”
Lu Yan stumbled forward from the push—right into the mummy’s arms.
It was far softer than he expected. The spider silk wrapping was smooth, almost like fine silk bedding. There was no smell of decay, only a faint scent of opium flowers.
So, suppressing his intense discomfort, he reluctantly took the mummy into his arms.
The Golden Silkworm shakily found his rifle again. Bai Chunian kept a close eye on him, ready to stop him at any moment if he suddenly tried to shoot Lu Yan.
But instead, the Golden Silkworm slowly knelt, placed the rifle flat on the ground, and carefully pushed it toward Lu Yan.
Awkwardly, Lu Yan held the mummy in one hand and picked up the rifle with the other. The mummy was limp and uncooperative, like it had no bones at all, and since Lu Yan was small in stature, the body was far too large for him to handle properly.
“I have… chips.” The Golden Silkworm rolled up his sleeve, revealing the arm of a young omega. At his pulse was the Red-throated Bird’s emblem.
“In my body… many chips.” He slowly listed different parts of himself. “Bombs… trackers… if I stay… danger. Red-throated Bird… revenge.”
Bai Chunian had experience communicating with experimental subjects in the cultivation stage. From these fragmented words, he pieced together the meaning.
After purchasing him, the Red-throated Bird had implanted tracking chips in his body. He couldn’t disobey the boss—no matter where he fled, they would find and drag him back. There were also micro-bombs inside him, used to torment and threaten him.
“I… will go back.” The Golden Silkworm lowered his head, clutching his wounds as he struggled to walk away. “Thank you… President.”
Bai Chunian watched his back. “I have a way to make them unable to find you.”
The Golden Silkworm stopped.
Han Xingqian’s voice sounded in his ear: “They’ve repaired the anomalous radar. Ten seconds to reboot… eight… five…”
The countdown hit zero.
The radar reactivated—and the Golden Silkworm was instantly exposed within its detection range.
“Let’s go.” Bai Chunian withdrew with Lu Yan.
—
At Port M, several military helicopters were gathered. Across from them was a black Lincoln.
In the back seat, an alpha sat with his military cap tilted crookedly. The whites beneath his eyes showed faintly, giving him a slightly unsettling look. He seemed young, but perhaps due to old injuries, his back was slightly hunched. The tassels on his uniform were tangled together, his collar left carelessly open. One hand rested against the car window, long, slender fingers tapping lightly against the door—decorum meant nothing to him.
The crow omega in the driver’s seat, Du Mo, asked softly, “Warden, should I open the door now?”
The warden shrugged and chuckled. “Wait. Look over there.”
Du Mo followed his gaze upward.
At the very tip of Lesha Tower, a deep-blue mermaid was coiled.
“I thought having that overprotective IOA president here was already trouble enough. Didn’t expect a siren who hasn’t shown himself in seventy years to appear too. This is clearly meant for me to see.”
He smiled faintly.
“Taking anyone away from here today won’t be easy.”
Suddenly, the anomalous radar detected something unusual and began sounding an alarm.
The warden turned his head to look.