Bi Lanxing asked, puzzled, “Why would they do that?”
Bai Chunian stared at the floor, lost in thought until the smoke ash burned his fingers, pulling him back. He spoke softly: “Molten glass naturally drips into water under gravity, forming high-density teardrop shapes called ‘Rupert’s Tears.’ The head can withstand heavy pressure, but the tail is extremely fragile. One of a merfolk’s abilities is like this: when stimulated, it enters a spherical self-healing state. No one can open it from outside unless they sever the tail tip, violently ending the self-healing and forcing it to expose itself through extreme pain.”
This wasn’t a secret; many merfolk studies documented this ability.
“If you don’t open it, how do experiments work? They need blood samples, tissue samples, test drug tolerance, measure destructive capacity and injury limits, high and low temperature thresholds, stamina, and abilities. All require the subject’s cooperation,” Bai Chunian recited matter-of-factly, as if recalling what he had for dinner last night, listing experiments Bi Lanxing had never encountered.
“You seem to know this very well.”
“Not everyone, unlike you, is a young master who knows everything,” Bai Chunian said, idly peeling a cigarette filter apart, passing the time. “It’s just an exam. Your dad even got a bodyguard for you.”
“Right, some people are just lucky,” Bi Lanxing replied, snuffing out the cigarette on the floor. “Lu Yan is one of them. I could let him do whatever he wanted, and Uncle Jin overthought it. Even without you, I could’ve carried Lu Yan to victory.”
Bai Chunian let out a soft chuckle. “Makes sense. When I was seventeen, why didn’t I think that way? I kept plotting revenge, thinking for a long time about how to beat him into fish-ball hands when I saw him.”
On the way to the hospital, Bi Lanxing sat in the back seat watching the scenery. Lu Yan rested his head on his lap, curled up asleep, rabbit ears covering his eyes.
Lanbo sat in the passenger seat, holding his tail tip, blowing on it and then putting it in his mouth, like humans licking a cut finger to ease pain.
Bai Chunian drove, extending a hand toward Lanbo. “Give it to me.”
Lanbo hesitated, then placed his hand in Bai Chunian’s.
“Not that,” Bai Chunian said, gently squeezing his hand. “The tail.”
After a long pause, Lanbo carefully set the saliva-coated tail tip into Bai Chunian’s palm.
Bai Chunian’s nuchal glands released calming pheromones, spread through his sweat into his palm, enveloping the tail tip.
Lanbo let out a contented “Mm,” relaxing and nestling in the passenger seat, eyes half-closed.
Bai Chunian examined the tail tip in his hand. About ten centimeters from the end was a faint line; the scales at the tip were newer and softer—regrown after being cut.
For a merfolk, losing ten centimeters of tail was as painful as a human losing both legs. Even though the tail could regenerate endlessly if the bone wasn’t damaged, the conscious pain remained unforgettable.
Three years ago, Research Institute 109 sent researchers to purchase special ops test subjects, claiming it was for observation and exhibition, promising optimal living conditions. They stipulated selecting the one with the highest combat rating.
This triggered a week-long frenzy among the subjects—all desperate to escape the sunless prison. Since the institute guaranteed to cover losses from deaths during selection battles, no one restrained the chaotic free-for-all among the bioweapons.
A week later, only Bai Chunian and Lanbo remained alive in the transparent ecological tank—but only Lanbo was taken out alive. Bai Chunian’s chest had been ripped open by a merfolk’s claws, his internal organs and intestines spilled across the floor. After being sutured, he endured two full weeks of recurring infections before finally being sold as a “toy” at a low price to perverse wealthy collectors.
It wasn’t until Lu Shangjin saw his potential at an underground fight club that he was bought back home. Yan Yi provided him with a clean set of clothes. That Friday, Lu Yan returned from boarding school, but Bai Chunian didn’t go out—he stayed on the stairs, watching them watch TV together on the living room sofa.
It seemed that over the past three years, Lanbo hadn’t fared much better at Research Institute 109. Bai Chunian felt a small relief, though an odd, lingering discomfort remained.
“This isn’t your fault,” Bai Chunian thought, pressing Lanbo’s tail tip briefly to his lips.
The kindergarten was only fifteen minutes from the hospital. Before arriving, Bai Chunian drove around the perimeter to scout, then suddenly stopped, staring at a cluster of foam in an outdoor sink.
The others in the car also noticed it. The foam looked like someone had squirted a large blob of soap and stirred it up in the sink. After a moment, the foam twitched, slowly slithered out, and bolted.
Bi Lanxing had already sent out vines to catch the leaping foam, netting it like a fishing catch. Lu Yan and Lanbo got out, holding the struggling foam down. Two large eyes appeared within the mass.
Clearing the foam revealed an Omega in armored uniform, chest plate labeled with the team name “Mo A Ma.”
Bai Chunian couldn’t help but snort. “Mochan Omega—masking with bubbles as camouflage. Too bad it was the city map; in the forest map, no one would’ve found you for a week. Where are your teammates?”
Mochan Omega shook off the foam from hair and clothes, hugging their knees and sitting obediently. “They’re behind you.”
Before the words left their mouth, a piercing scream erupted from behind—a horrifying, high-frequency noise that seemed capable of physically piercing eardrums. The hospital’s glass windows instantly shattered. Lanbo curled into a ball, rolling back into the car; even Bai Chunian felt a turbulent wave in his mind and momentarily blacked out.
From the shade behind a tree, another long-haired Omega in the same team uniform appeared, half-hidden behind the trunk, emitting ultra-high-decibel shrieks.
Bellbird gland j1 ability: Sonic Destruction—continuous high-decibel noise to interfere with enemies’ hearing and sound-based systems.
Though a low-level gland ability, normally harmless to Bai Chunian, the Bellbird’s shriek pierced even the top-tier White Lion, causing a severe headache despite his species-level and rank-level suppression.
Bai Chunian rubbed his temples and scanned the area. Another brown-haired Omega scaled the wall and jumped down. Ordinary-looking, almost unremarkable, yet Bai Chunian could sense its pheromones—a Sea Spider Omega.
Sea Spiders were tiny and inconspicuous, avoided as prey by most animals, and had no natural predators.
Sea Spider gland j1 ability: Suppression/Counter—levels the playing field by neutralizing rank and species-based suppression.
Mochan Omega took advantage of the distraction to break free from the vines, snatching a few inhibitors from Bi Lanxing and Lu Yan before fleeing.
“This is an all-Omega team?” Bai Chunian groaned. An all-Omega team, lacking Alpha-level strength and abilities, relied on stealthy, irritating tactics rather than direct attacks.
Bai Chunian felt a twinge of frustration, forced to deploy his own differentiated abilities against a few troublesome Omegas—how humiliating.
Suddenly, a black-haired, gold-eyed young Omega jumped from the hospital’s second floor. Phoenix-shaped eyes adorned with a teardrop mole, exuding a darkly seductive aura.
“I’m the captain of the Mo A Ma team.” The Omega twirled a handgun in their palm before walking slowly toward Bai Chunian, pressing the muzzle against his lower abdomen with a faint smile. “I’ve calculated that you’re safe for the next hour. The Search Gang is running wild; no need for mutual destruction.”
Crow gland j1 ability: Death Precognition—predicts the survival of targets within one hour.
“So,” the black-haired Omega raised the gun, tapping Bai Chunian’s belt, a smirk tugging at their lips:
“Team up, little brother?”