On overcast days, darkness falls early. The streetlights on the narrow alley hadn’t come on yet; only the string lights hanging from various shops provided illumination. These scattered lights could barely illuminate the area in front of each shop, leaving the street pitch-black. As evening approached, many shops had already closed early. This street had a poor reputation for safety, with thefts and robberies occurring frequently.
A woman with a graceful figure walked leisurely through the dimly lit street, her shapely figure wrapped in a peacock-green silk cheongsam. In one hand she held a handbag, and in the other, a delicate, dainty feather fan. Her curly hair was pinned up, and a small silk cap on her head had a black veil hanging down, faintly veiling her slightly pale face.
Her high heels tapped lightly against the ground, and the entire narrow street echoed with this alluring sound.
Qishenggu saw several shadowy figures appear in the distance. A few petty thugs sat on stacked, discarded shipping crates, whistling suggestively at her. One even unzipped his pants in the darkness, leering at her as he lewdly relieved himself.
They were deliberately releasing alpha pheromones to harass her; a beautiful woman was a rare sight around here, and they had no morals whatsoever.
Qishenggu snorted lightly as she walked past them. A drop of murky, white, viscous fluid splashed onto the hem of her cheongsam. The thugs exchanged a few lewd remarks, then burst into laughter.
Qishenggu raised her small white velvet fan to cover her mouth and nose, furrowing her brow as she shot them a glance.
The lewd laughter ceased abruptly.
The man who had unzipped his fly discovered with horror that the thing between his legs had vanished. Trembling and unable to believe what had happened, he let out a scream. People were drawn to his agonized cry, only to find that their own flesh was rapidly peeling away from their bones.
In the blink of an eye, only a few skeletal remains in various poses remained on the cargo crates. A gentle breeze swept by, and the bones turned into snow-like sand, drifting away silently.
Qishenggu walked into the puppet shop at the end of the narrow alley. The glass macaw hanging from the wooden beam above the door let out a distant cry.
The puppeteer sat at his workbench, wearing black half-finger gloves, applying makeup to a puppet’s head. Falling pigment settled on his dark brown, buckle-fastened leather apron, while the red blood vessels and bluish capillaries on the puppet’s face looked lifelike.
Seeing Qishenggu enter, the puppeteer did not look up, nor did he pause his work; he merely replied indifferently, “You’re back.”
Qishenggu fished an ancient brass key from his briefcase, along with a stack of forged documents—passports, ID cards, and the like—and tossed them onto the puppet master’s workbench. “Nix,” he said, sounding somewhat displeased, “I thought you sent me to Canada for something legitimate.”
The puppet master chuckled. “What’s not legitimate about it?”
“You have enough money to buy an entire castle, and your forged documents are flawless. With that kind of wealth and capability, why bother hiding it?”
“After spending so many years with the Red-throated Bird, I had to get something out of it—I wasn’t going to work for nothing. I’m not hiding anything; I’ve even handed you the keys, haven’t I?”
Qishenggu coughed a few times. “You must have bled that Red-throated Bird terrorist organization dry before you were willing to leave.”
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” the Puppet Master asked. “How is it there? Is everything still okay?”
“It’s going well. That castle is now like a kingdom of test subjects. Your puppet servants are taking excellent care of those little ones still nursing, and some mature specimens have even mated and produced offspring… My head really hurts.”
The Puppet Master smiled. “That’s good.”
“I’m tired.” Qishenggu sank wearily into the sofa. “I thought back then, when you sent us to IOA to seize the experimental subjects, it was just a whim… cough… You told me I’d meet many companions in Canada… were you referring to those juveniles and the little ones in the cultivation phase? What use do you have for collecting them? These experimental subjects aren’t high-level; without a supply of nutritional serums, they won’t grow into powerful mature forms.”
“I like them. If you had the money, you could do whatever you wanted too.”
“What do you like about them?”
“Their innocence and gratitude.” The Puppet Master placed the doll’s head in the box to air out, then leaned back in his chair to rest. “Creatures like you have long lifespans, great physical strength, low emotional intelligence but high IQ, simple minds, are resistant to illness and death, and rarely fight among yourselves. Wouldn’t it be good to make such creatures the dominant life form on land?”
Qishenggu was momentarily at a loss for words.
It didn’t seem like a bad idea.
“You rescued me from Berner Pharmaceuticals—was that out of self-interest?” Qishenggu asked.
“Well, Di’e told me you two had met at the breeding facility, so I figured I’d rescue you while I was at it. I just didn’t expect to run into the Divine Messenger, Lightning Ghost, that day. What should have been a simple matter turned into quite a hassle.”
“I’m back!” The back door of the doll shop was kicked open. Eris returned, shouldering a shotgun, plopped down on the dollmaker’s workbench, and knocked the bottles of matte varnish askew. “Oh, Big Sister Peacock is here too.”
The Puppet Master helplessly pushed the items on the table further back.
Wangliang, clutching the large hourglass, followed closely behind Eris as she walked in and closed the door.
“Nix… I—got—President Ioa’s itinerary… He’s—going to…” Wangliang was still in his developmental stage and spoke haltingly, which made Eris impatient. She simply finished his sentence for him: “Yan Yi is going to Westminster for a meeting next week. He’s definitely going to bring up the issue of shutting down the Institute and halting the production of experimental subjects again. He’s traveling by private jet. Should we go blow up the plane?”
Wangliang was cut off mid-sentence, and Eris had ruffled his curly hair all over the place, leaving him feeling a bit wronged. He hugged the glass hourglass and fell silent.
The Puppet Master pulled a piece of candy out of the drawer and handed it to Wangliang: “I know you were the one who investigated it.”
“Mm.” Wangliang took the candy, popped it into his mouth with satisfaction, and mumbled, “Nix, I…’ve been upgraded to… M2 level… I have a new ability…”
“Oh? What is it?” Very few experimental subjects in the incubation phase reach M2 level.
“It’s… attribute swapping…”
Wangliang’s M2-level differentiation ability, “Attribute Swap,” allows flames to flow, water to burn, wind to extinguish fire, and non-toxic substances to become highly toxic.
“That’s great.” The Puppet Master handed him another piece of candy. Wangliang obediently took it, cradling it in both hands as he ate it with care.
“Playing the innocent little one.” Eris felt a bit annoyed looking at the Wanyan’s dazed expression. She reached out, grabbed all the candy from the Puppet Master’s drawer, and stuffed it into her pocket.
The Puppet Master looked at Eris: “How did the investigation I sent you on go?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on the research institute just like you said, but it’s all because of IOA causing trouble inside. I even tipped off the institute about their infiltration of the Lingti Clan, yet they still managed to blow up the pharmaceutical factory and destroy all the Danxinning. To save money, the institute plans to mass-destroy a huge number of test subjects—at least thirty thousand of them.”
The Puppet Master’s brow gradually furrowed: “Time and place.”
“It should be in Red Fox City, sometime this month.” Eris hated Red Fox City—it was where her nightmares began.
The computer on the coffee table suddenly lit up, indicating a new email had arrived.
The email contained a scanned copy of an anonymous tip, succinctly stating: “Research Institute 109 will carry out a mass destruction of experimental subjects on the 18th of this month at the Walhwa Pharmaceutical Factory in Red Fox City.”
The email was signed “Love Beam biubiubiu,” and no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t trace the IP address.
The Puppet Master realized at a glance that this was a message deliberately sent by IOA. They had received the anonymous tip but didn’t want to risk deploying personnel to verify its authenticity, so they simply passed the information on to them. As long as it didn’t threaten human safety, IOA would generally not act rashly.
It seemed IOA was still holding a grudge over the previous incident involving the theft of experimental subjects. At the same time, they had noticed the team’s unusual obsession with the subjects. This plan was most likely Bai Chunian’s idea; he held grudges so deeply that he wouldn’t easily pass up an opportunity to get back at them.
The Puppet Master was also somewhat hesitant. Since the test subjects slated for mass destruction wouldn’t possess particularly strong abilities, the guards’ strength and numbers shouldn’t be too overwhelming. But if this were a trap, and given their limited manpower, getting into trouble could easily result in more harm than good.
Yet the prospect of thirty thousand specimens was deeply tempting to the Puppet Master. After all, the current warden of the International Prison was in cahoots with IOA, and Yan Yi’s proposal at the upcoming international conference stood a high chance of passing. Once approved, the research institute would cease production of experimental subjects within the next year, making it extremely difficult to obtain any in the future.
Eris couldn’t be bothered with such long-term considerations. She slapped the shotgun barrel and loaded a round: “Just you wait. They’re just a bunch of little test subjects. I’ll go get them for you.”
“Hmph.” Qi Shenggu leaned lazily back on the sofa, fanning himself with a small fan, having nothing more to say.
The Puppet Master shook his head: “I’ll think it over. You two go back and rest first.”
Qishenggu stood up, grabbed her handbag, and walked out the back door in her high heels.
“Go, go, go—you too.” Eris hoisted the dazed wraith off the bench and shoved him out the door. The wraith squeezed a hand through the doorframe: “My… hourglass…”
“Just get out of here, you’re such a nuisance.” Eris picked up the hourglass and flung it out, sending the petite wraith flying several steps away.
The puppeteer closed his laptop and picked up the doll’s head, still unfinished, to continue painting. The main lights in the room were off; only the three-pronged candlestick on the coffee table burned with a faint flame. The off-white desk lamp illuminated just a small patch of the workbench. The puppeteer bent over his work, the light casting a glow on his profile.
Eris sat on a stool beside the workbench, propping his gun against the floor. He leaned over the surface, watching the puppeteer apply makeup to the doll; the light flickered in his eyes as he blinked.
“Why don’t you go to sleep?” the puppeteer asked.
“I’m not tired. I don’t want to sleep,” Eris said, still leaning over the table.
“If we really decide to go this time, it might be dangerous. Once the mission is over, we might have to leave this place. Do you want to go?”
Eris ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. If you say we’re going, we’re going. You can’t do it without me, can you? I’m your messenger.” He smiled a bit smugly, revealing a row of neat, white teeth with sharp tips.
The puppeteer shook his head. “Never mind, I won’t ask you. Since you’ve got nothing else to do, go help me throw out the trash. We don’t need the stuff in that burlap sack over by the wall.”
“Oh.” Eris agreed cheerfully, jumping up from the stool and walking over to the corner to pick up the dust-covered sack. Inside were the limbs of unpainted, unpolished dolls.
“You’re throwing all of these away?” Eris pulled a small arm out of the sack. “But this one looks perfectly fine.”
“They’re all defective. Some have cracks, some are broken, some are the wrong color, and others have been sitting too long—the weather’s been damp, so they’ve molded.”
“Hmm…” Eris hoisted the sack, went out the back door, and tossed it into the trash heap.
The dollmaker continued applying makeup to the doll’s head; work like this allowed him to completely quiet his mind and think things through.
Before long, Eris pushed the door open and came back in, sitting down on the stool again. This time, he pulled the stool much closer, sitting right next to the dollmaker.
The puppeteer found him in the way, so he glanced up at him and paused for a moment.
Eris’s pale green eyes looked at him mournfully, the corners of his lips drooping into a downward-pointing bracket. But he was essentially a puppet; without sophisticated tear ducts, he couldn’t shed tears like a human.
The puppeteer laughed out loud. “What?”
“I don’t want you to stuff me into a sack and throw me away like trash,” Eris said.
“Why would I throw you away?”
“I don’t know. I just feel like you’ll throw me away when I get old and moldy.”
“I’ve applied oil to your body, so you won’t get moldy.”
“Ah.” Eris felt much more comfortable.
The puppeteer worked in silence, applying makeup to the doll until late into the night. Outside the puppet shop, it was pitch black. Eris sat on the floor, leaning against his legs, her head resting on his knees as she slept soundly.