“This is Doctor Han Xingqian from the IOA Medical Association. The IOA special operations team successfully confronted and defeated Experimental Subject No. 218—the ‘Pastry Chef’—after it had entered its deterioration phase. We’ll now invite Doctor Han to give us a brief overview of what happened.”
The medical experts of the PBB Thunder Support Unit sat gathered around the conference table, focused and attentive, as Doctor Charles handed the laser pointer to Han Xingqian.
The specialists seated at the same table came from various countries, speaking different languages, so Han Xingqian had no choice but to conduct the entire explanation in English.
He stood, gave a slight bow, and brought up his PowerPoint presentation on the screen. It displayed a series of bloody images—but to doctors, such scenes were nothing out of the ordinary.
“The Pastry Chef’s deterioration was triggered by an injection of an AC enhancer. The AC enhancer was injected into the gland at the back of his neck. Once the drug took effect, the bee-type experimental subject—originally only at 10% mimicry—underwent full mimicry, evolving completely into a bee form. Its overall size expanded nearly tenfold, it lost control of its behavior, and exhibited intense aggression. It can be said that this is the final form of a special combat weapon.
“After deterioration, suppressors no longer work, and human weapons cannot harm him in the slightest. We concentrated our fire on the gland at the back of his neck. Even with severe gland damage, the Pastry Chef was still able to move and possessed regenerative abilities. In the end, he was killed by Bai Chunian, head of the Special Operations Investigation Division, using an annihilation ability. In other words, no other method has yet been developed to completely kill an experimental subject in the deterioration phase.
“The patent for the AC enhancer is held by Hummingbird Aileen from Institute 109. I attempted to replicate a sample, but the effect could only last for 24 hours.”
A doctor raised a hand to ask, “How long does it take from injection to full deterioration?”
Han Xingqian replied, “Sixteen minutes. During this period, the subject has not yet lost consciousness, but the body is already undergoing full mimicry and beginning to display destructive power. We define these sixteen minutes as the ‘manifestation phase.’ During this phase, the subject has not yet entered an invincible state—destroying the gland at this stage will kill it.”
“Is this process irreversible?”
Han Xingqian nodded. “At present, no method has been found to reverse deterioration. However, I’ve brought blood samples and tissue sections from the Pastry Chef for everyone to study.”
Doctor Charles took the lead in expressing thanks, and the doctors soon moved to the laboratory, beginning their research and discussions based on the materials Han Xingqian had brought.
Most of the doctors working with the Thunder Support Unit were senior figures in their fields, each with notable achievements. After exchanging ideas with them for an entire morning, Han Xingqian felt an unprecedented clarity in his mind.
After lunch, seeing no sign of Bai Chunian, he went to the training field for a walk to observe how the trainees were doing.
The trainees were running obstacle drills. As Han Xingqian approached, he saw Bai Chunian lounging casually against a sandbag, calling out loudly as if no one else were around, “Last round! Get your energy up—whoever finishes first won’t have to fold their blanket tomorrow morning.”
The PBB soldiers paid no attention to Bai Chunian’s promise. They were already used to strict uniformity and didn’t consider that much of a reward. The IOA trainees, however, were different—upon hearing Instructor Bai, each of them surged forward with renewed vigor.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” The whale shark captain standing beside Bai Chunian rolled up his sleeves, ready to argue.
He Suowei sighed helplessly. “What kind of reward is that? Aren’t you encouraging them to break the rules?”
Bai Chunian twisted open a bottle of mineral water, draped an arm over He Suowei’s shoulder, and took a sip. “It’s not that they don’t want to fold blankets—they just want to be different. Your PBB unit values obedience. Our IOA agents value independence. Different training goals. No point arguing about it.”
After speaking, Bai Chunian raised his voice again, adding, “Oh, and Lan Bo doesn’t count in the rankings—don’t compare yourselves to him. You can’t beat him anyway.”
He Suowei laughed in exasperation. “Why the hell are you grouping him in with the trainees?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Bai Chunian spun a lighter between his fingers, the flame flickering on and off, while his gaze remained fixed on Lan Bo. “I want him to gain a bit of human warmth.”
He turned and spotted Han Xingqian. “Oh, you’re here.”
Han Xingqian asked, “Have you picked your candidates?”
Today wasn’t a routine training session. The team leaders were selecting suitable trainees to interact with experimental subjects.
“Yeah. We’re picking Yu Xiaocheng on our side,” Bai Chunian said.
The whale shark captain chose a sailfish alpha, and He Suowei directly pointed to someone.
“The rest of you can go rest. Lan Bo, come here.” Bai Chunian beckoned.
Lan Bo jumped down from the electric net and landed neatly in Bai Chunian’s arms.
“Tired? Come sleep with me tonight.”
“Hen.” Lan Bo clearly still held a grudge from earlier, turning his head aside. “No. I’ll sleep in the sea.”
“Really? You won’t come sleep with me?” Bai Chunian looked at him with clear, innocent eyes, as if he hadn’t been the one acting shameless earlier that day.
“….” Lan Bo’s face remained cold, but the fine scales on his tail brushed unconsciously against Bai Chunian’s palm—a sign of arousal.
“Don’t you think they’re actually kind of fun?”
“A little.”
Carrying him, Bai Chunian walked over and introduced him to the team leaders. “This is my partner, and also a high-paid sparring companion hired by the IOA—an A3-level devil ray humanoid omega, Lan Bo. You should know him. Experimental Subject No. 857, ‘Electric Ghost,’ ranked in the top ten on the world’s most wanted list.”
“E-Electric Ghost…” Wei Lan, the whale shark, swallowed nervously, silently sweating over the argument he’d had with him earlier that morning.
He Suowei frowned. “Huh?”
“I’m married. I’ll explain later,” Bai Chunian said, extending his hand. “Experimental Subject No. 9100, ‘Divine Envoy.’ Nice to be working with you all.”
Wei Lan blurted, “Damn—you’re the Divine Envoy? You were number one on the world’s most wanted list. The major pulled strings to have your name removed later.”
Bai Chunian turned to He Suowei. “Why aren’t you surprised? That’s not the reaction I was hoping for.”
He Suowei shot him a glance. “Be whoever you want.”
They followed Han Xingqian to a fully enclosed underground training facility.
The PBB military base had taken custody of fourteen experimental subjects from an international prison, each confined in separate rooms. The rooms were fully equipped with independent bathrooms. While not luxurious, they were at least not treated harshly.
Both the PBB base and the IOA belonged to the peacekeeping faction. They opposed war and opposed the circulation of super-weapons like experimental subjects. However, over the past several years, research institutes had already created and sold over a hundred thousand experimental subjects. Completely eliminating them would go against their original principles.
The major’s idea was to attempt peaceful communication with them and ultimately achieve coexistence.
But most of these experimental subjects resisted communication. Aside from some still in the developmental stage who could barely speak, the rest were mature individuals who were arrogant and longed for freedom. Releasing them all at once was unrealistic—so they could only be handled one by one, in sequence.
Under the joint supervision of several team leaders, they released the first experimental subject into the enclosed field—No. 7115, a red-tailed hawk experimental subject named “Hawk.”
The first digit “7” indicated an avian-type gland, the middle “1” represented 10% mimicry—ocular mimicry—and the final “15” signified a predatory-type ability.
He had already entered the mature phase, though his differentiation level was relatively low—only J1—making him a suitable starting point.
Hawk was escorted out of his room by several fully armed personnel. Wearing handcuffs, he scanned his surroundings with distrust, his eyes filled with hostile defiance.
Bai Chunian ordered his suppressor and handcuffs removed.
It had been a long time since Hawk had experienced the ease of being free from a suppressor. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, feeling the gland’s energy flow back through his body, repairing injured bones and tendons.
“What do you want me to do?” Hawk finally spoke. “As long as you let me out, I’ll agree to assassinate a few enemies for you.”
Bai Chunian replied, “Funny coincidence—we want you not to kill anyone, not cause chaos, and to learn some rules of human society.”
Hawk froze for a moment, then let out a mocking laugh.
“Learn human things? I’m not interested.” He sat down on the ground, unmoved. “I possess advanced weapons technology in my mind. I don’t need to learn anything from weak creatures like you.”
“Weak creatures, huh.” Bai Chunian tilted his chin. “Xiao Cheng, you’re up.”
Yu Xiaocheng nervously rubbed his hands together. Aside from assisting in rescue operations at Enxi Hospital, he didn’t have much real combat experience to show for himself.
Seeing that an omega had stepped forward, Hawk found it even more amusing. Not just him—even the team leaders nearby doubted Yu Xiaocheng’s chances. After all, his opponent was an experimental subject. Without a level advantage, an omega would have difficulty winning.
But reality proved otherwise.
The moment Yu Xiaocheng entered the field, he activated his J1 ability—Tentacle Anemone. It was an extremely rare symbiotic summoning-type ability. With it, Yu Xiaocheng had consistently ranked among the top three trainees of his generation.
With the golden anemone assisting him, it was effectively like having two combat units on the field. The anemone handled poison control, while Yu Xiaocheng focused on direct offense.
Anyone attempting to approach Yu Xiaocheng would inevitably be ensnared from behind by the anemone’s tentacles and injected with toxins. Against any close-combat opponent at the J1 level, Yu Xiaocheng held a decisive advantage.
Hawk specialized in rapid close-quarters combat, but he couldn’t get close to Yu Xiaocheng. Unable to use his strengths, he was almost completely suppressed.
The team leaders watching exchanged quiet remarks.
“Not bad.”
Wei Lan slung an arm over Feng Lang’s shoulder and whispered, “Heh, a little clownfish.”
“Pretty impressive,” Vice Captain Feng said, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, his gaze admiring. “I told you—IOA omegas are fierce.”
Hawk assumed they were trying to kill him this way. With no other choice, he lay on the ground and stopped resisting—but Yu Xiaocheng suddenly halted.
He slowly opened his eyes to find Yu Xiaocheng’s face right in front of him. Squatting beside him, Yu Xiaocheng softly asked if he had gone too hard.
A human omega—his cheeks faintly flushed, long eyelashes, and a cute appearance.
Hawk stammered, “Uh… no…”
Bai Chunian waved his hand and crossed the name off the list. “7115 Hawk will be assigned to Yu Xiaocheng. Next.”
The second subject brought out was Experimental Subject No. 324—the Formless Stalker.
The Formless Stalker had a high rank and considerable strength, making him difficult to deal with.
However, the moment his suppressor and handcuffs were removed, he raised his hands in surrender, eyes lowered, and said calmly, “I’m willing to promise not to kill humans indiscriminately, not to disrupt order, and to study diligently.”
Bai Chunian had already expected that he wouldn’t resist. Resting his chin on his hand, he looked at him. “What are you holding?”
The Formless Stalker clutched a magnetic card in his hand. Lowering his head, he walked up to Bai Chunian and showed it to him. Bai Chunian reached to take it, but he held it tightly and refused to let go.
It was just a cafeteria card from the military base—usable for meals, nothing more.
The name printed on it read: “Xia Xiaochong.”
“Yesterday, the major gave it to me. He said the money on it would last me a long time,” the Formless Stalker explained softly. “Before that, he asked my name. I didn’t have one, so I just made one up.”
Most experimental subjects weren’t very familiar with human language conventions, and naturally couldn’t tell how silly such a name might sound.
Bai Chunian didn’t laugh. He only said calmly, “Is having a name a good thing? For example, if you acknowledge this name, I could erase you into a glass bead at any time.”
“It doesn’t matter. I just want to be a little closer to him.” The Formless Stalker shook his head lightly, fingers twisting around the card. “Can you help me buy a notebook and a pen? I don’t have anything to repay him with. The wall beside his desk is very bare—it needs a solemn painting. The cafeteria lady said they don’t sell paper or pens, so I couldn’t get any.”