Across from the PBB military base, adjacent to the research zone, stood a high-end residential complex. With the military base’s affairs not particularly busy lately, Major Xia usually returned here to rest.
The spacious, classic duplex design exuded an antique charm. The first-floor balcony opened onto a Soviet-style garden courtyard, where a pavilion was surrounded by artificial hills and flowing water. Every guest who visited praised the major’s impeccable taste.
However, the decor of a slightly smaller bedroom on the second floor was strikingly different from the rest of the house, resembling more of a child’s room. The walls were covered in pale yellow crystal-patterned mosaic tiles, a soft woolen rug was laid beneath the bed, and a small wooden round table stood beside it—the perfect height when sitting on the rug. On the table lay a neatly arranged, fully completed jigsaw puzzle.
A slender omega sat on the carpet, holding a whiteboard marker and carefully writing numbers on the crystal tiles on the wall, stroke by stroke.
Xia Jingtian knocked on the door: “Little Bug? Can I come in?”
The Invisible Stalker immediately turned his head toward the door and replied, stuttering slightly: “Yes, yes, of course.” Realizing he’d stuttered, the Formless Stalker lowered his head; the chameleon tail hidden beneath his pajamas curled up and turned pink.
Xia Jingtian walked in and sat down on the carpet: “I just finished assigning tasks and came over here to rest. A kid’s room is so bright—a bright room really lifts your spirits.”
He wasn’t wearing his military uniform today; his casual attire made him look several years younger.
The Invisible Stalker pressed his lips together and nodded.
He knew this was a room the Major had specially arranged for him. He liked it very much, but he was also worried he was causing the Major too much trouble.
“Hmm, are you doing a Sudoku puzzle?” Xia Jingtian examined the grid of numbers filling the wall; each digit was written as neatly as printed type.
“You’re really smart,” Xia Jingtian praised sincerely.
The Invisible Stalker lowered his head, twirling the hem of his pajamas with his fingers. “The researchers say so too. They say I could make counterfeit money, fake artifacts, and fake collectibles.”
Xia Jingtian ruffled his hair comfortingly. “If you’d grown up here from childhood, you’d be a mathematician by now.”
The Invisible Stalker cautiously lifted his head. “I don’t want to be a mathematician.”
“Then what do you want to be?”
“I want to be a pianist. Music is so joyful. When I hear a piece played, I can see the colors of the melody. The Croatian Rhapsody is orange, and ‘Adele by the Water’ is pink.” The Formless Stalker’s spirits sank. “But I can only copy—I can’t create.”
Xia Jingtian smiled. “As for the piano, I can teach you to play.”
The Formless Stalker’s eyes lit up.
“But I didn’t start learning when I was little, and I’m not a trained musician, so my technique is a bit lacking… Still, I can teach you the basics. Once you’ve got the basics down, I’ll find you a teacher to teach you music theory.”
“Thank you… You’re so amazing—you can do everything.”
“Oh, no, I just picked it up out of boredom over ten years ago.”
“Did you learn it for ‘him’?” The Formless Stalker looked up at Xia Jingtian with wide eyes.
“…I suppose so. But learning it cultivates one’s character and helps calm the mind—it’s been worth it.” Xia Jingtian gave his hair a firm ruffle. “Kids always ask such grown-up questions.”
The Formless Stalker’s soft hair was ruffled into a mess, but he didn’t mind. In a soft, earnest voice, he said, “Music filled with emotion transcends technique and knows no hierarchy. Please teach me.”
Xia Jingtian looked into his clear, wide eyes and smiled.
The phone rang. Xia Jingtian picked it up, glanced at the caller ID, and without hiding it from the Invisible Stalker, answered the call.
Bai Chunian said from the other end, “Um, Major, I’ve got a bit of a mess on my hands here. I’m really sorry—it’s a rare opportunity for exchange training, and yet I keep missing sessions.”
Xia Jing Tian: “It’s fine. I know IOA has a lot on its plate, and you’re working hard. It’s no big deal here. We just received orders from higher-ups today—a suspicious submarine leaking waste has been detected. Dr. Han has already taken a team to investigate the situation.”
Bai Chunian chuckled, “It would be even better if you could lend me a few more people… And that Wuxiang Stealth… uh, Xia Xiaochong, I need his help.”
“You’re really pushing your luck. Well, you talk to him then.” Xia Jingtian handed the phone to the Wuxiang Stealth.
“Alrighty then.”
Wu Xiang Qianxing took the phone, his fingertips lightly fiddling with the buttons of his pajamas. After listening to what Bai Chunian had to say, he quietly lifted his eyelids to look at Xia Jingtian: “Can I go?”
Xia Jingtian straightened the collar that had slipped to one shoulder: “You can. But you have to follow orders. Don’t let me down.”
“I’ll make sure to wear the suppressor properly.”
“No need to wear it. I trust you.”
The case involving the suspected dumping of waste by a submarine in the Pacific was initially discovered by fishermen out at sea. Recently, many of the fish they had caught were deformed, and even freshly caught fish did not appear to be alive. The fishermen filed a complaint with the local government, which wanted the issue resolved as soon as possible and therefore requested that the military step in to handle it promptly.
Since the operation was relatively low-risk, it presented a good opportunity for field training with new recruits. Dr. Han led several IOA trainees and a few PBB team members to the coast for an on-site investigation.
Before arriving, Han Xingqian and several experts from the Thunder Support Team speculated that radiation might be a factor. To be on the safe side, they had the trainees wear protective suits as they walked along the rocky shoreline, using detectors to check the air and water quality.
The water’s acidity level here is slightly higher than normal.
Han Xingqian led the way with the instrument in hand, while Xiao Xun followed closely behind, notebook in hand, taking notes.
A diver dispatched by the PBB surfaced and handed Han Xingqian a sample of debris recovered from the wrecked submarine on the seabed.
Han Xingqian held up the clear, self-sealing bag to examine it. Drawing on his extensive experience, he determined that these were skeletal remains left over from cremation.
Tan Yang leaned in: “What is it?”
Xiao Xun replied softly: “Cremated remains, for short.”
Tan Yang: “Oh…”
Han Xingqian pinched a small amount from the sample and called Tan Qing over: “Take a look.”
Among the Hydrogen-Oxygen Twins, the Alpha youth possessing the Hydrogen Gland has an M2 ability called “Reduction,” which can restore certain residues and ashes to their original form. However, its scope is limited: it can only restore inorganic matter under one cubic meter and organic matter under one cubic decimeter.
The skeletal ashes in Han Xingqian’s hand were restored into a piece of flesh about one cubic decimeter in size. With a single glance at the cross-section, Han Xingqian could tell it was part of a human leg, with blisters forming on the skin.
“Ah, a burn?” Tan Yang’s eyes widened as he rested his chin on his hand and speculated, “So that must have been caused during cremation.”
At that moment, Xiao Xun, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up: “It’s frostbite.”
“That’s right,” Han Xingqian nodded. “Liquid nitrogen frostbite. This person was incinerated into ashes after suffering liquid nitrogen frostbite, then loaded onto the submarine and dumped.”
“Hmm.” Tan Yang felt a bit embarrassed. “Xiao Xun, you’re so smart—you know all this.”
Xiao Xun looked impassive. “It was covered in the biochemistry class on Aphid Island. There were diagrams in the PowerPoint presentation.”
“Oh, right.” Tan Yang had a sudden realization. “Come to think of it, you always listened so intently in bio-chemistry class. The rest of us were dozing off, but you were the only one staring intently at Instructor Han until the bell rang. That’s why your bio-chemistry grades are so good.”
Xiao Xun was momentarily at a loss for words. He wanted to shut Tan Yang’s chatty mouth, but it was already too late to act.
Han Xingqian leaned in slightly and asked him, “Is that so?”
Xiao Xun: “…Um… because I felt the knowledge from the biochemistry class would come in handy, so…”
Han Xingqian’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Good boy.”
Xiao Xun pressed his lips together, watching Dr. Han turn back to continue his investigation and testing. His tail shot up and wagged furiously, whipping so hard it stung Tan Yang’s hand as he stood behind him.
Han Xingqian placed the residue samples, meat chunks, and some water samples into the containment box. After leading the trainees back, he and the experts from the support team dove straight into the lab, not emerging until evening.
Xiao Xun was waiting for him outside the lab, leaning against the wall with a takeout dinner from the cafeteria and a thermos of warm water in his hands. As soon as Dr. Han emerged, he called out to him.
“Wait a moment.” Han Xingqian hurriedly patted his shoulder. Without pausing to take a sip of water, he licked his dry lips, then grabbed his laptop and found a spot to crouch down. Furrowing his brow slightly, he made an urgent call to Bai Chunian.
Bai Chunian answered the video call, and his face immediately appeared on the screen. There were a lot of people around him; behind him, numerous police officers were bustling about, and the collapsed ruins of the Shaojin Mansion, destroyed by the explosion, stood not far away.
“Hey, Han? I’m with Lan Bo right now, checking out the situation at the mansion. It’s chaos here, and there are a lot of reporters crammed in.” The background noise was too loud, so Bai Chunian put on his headphones. “Hold on, I’ll find a quiet spot and then you can talk.”
Han Xingqian looked at him with unusual gravity: “I’ll make this quick. We’ve detected and extracted a dangerous substance from the samples taken from the submarine at the bottom of the sea—a blue liquid with high volatility. It contains hydrogen cyanide and some mutated viruses capable of causing severe infections in individuals. Our preliminary assessment is that it was manufactured specifically for the test subjects. There are many cremated test subject corpses here, all of which share the common trait of having suffered liquid nitrogen frostbite before their deaths. The situation is still unclear at the moment; we may not have results until tomorrow. Be careful…”
Han Xingqian’s voice cut off abruptly.
He saw it with his own eyes: Bai Chunian, who had been beaming on the screen, froze in place. A layer of white mist and frost spread rapidly from the top of his head, coating his hair and eyelashes. The frost engulfed his entire body, and in less than a second, Bai Chunian had frozen solid before Han Xingqian’s eyes, turning into a rigid snow sculpture.
The next moment, the video feed went black.
Han Xingqian froze, then immediately contacted Lan Bo.
Lan Bo was also near the Shaojin Mansion; he and Bai Chunian had arrived together and had planned to grab a late-night snack after finishing their business, but Bai Chunian had taken a call and vanished without a trace.
Suddenly, a sharp pang struck his chest. A tremor—as if their souls were connected—filled Lan Bo with an overwhelming sense of unease. He pressed the communicator on his ear to call Bai Chunian, but received no response.
“Randi…” Lan Bo frowned, climbing down the collapsed beams of the Shaojin Mansion and searching the ground for Bai Chunian, following the scent.
The cell phone tucked inside his bandage rang. Lan Bo pulled it out, answered the call, and clamped it between his teeth as he followed faint clues along the high-voltage power lines toward a secluded path.
Han Xingqian’s slightly urgent voice came through the phone: “Lan Bo, don’t go there. It’s dangerous.”
“Xiao Bai is missing.” Lan Bo suddenly noticed a strange, cylindrical object half a meter in diameter directly below him, mounted on a wall hidden by tree branches.
Soon, as if sensing Lan Bo’s presence, the cylinder silently swiveled around, its opening pointing directly at him.
“What weapons… they’re useless.” Lan Bo’s lips parted, revealing sharp fangs, as he glared at it with fury. No human weapon had ever inflicted any real damage on him, and Lan Bo feared it not in the least.
“Get out of there!” Han Xingqian roared.
But it was already too late. The cannon barrel rapidly fired a silent shell, which exploded around Lan Bo. Frost instantly froze him to the high-voltage wires, and the surrounding area was immediately plunged into darkness.