As Lan Bo’s words, brimming with fury, fell, the suns in the sky shifted and swapped places. six sun-shadows linked in the air. Within the entire range encircled by the phantom sun, torrential rain poured down in an instant, a storm made landfall, and the river’s waters rose rapidly, churning up waves tens of thousands of feet high. Drawn by an invisible force, they were pulled away from the riverbed; tornadoes sucked the currents upward into the sky, and the falling water froze into steel, like ten thousand transparent arrows fired simultaneously, plummeting straight downward.
A3 Ability: Sunlight Path. Drawing water to forge steel, a thousand arrows pierce the heart. Never before had Lan Bo directed such a cruel intent to kill at any living creature.
All escape routes for the Immortal Wraith were sealed off by lightning striking straight down from the azure heavens. In his desperation, he looked up just as a water-turned-steel arrow pierced his skull through the center of his brow. Countless transparent water arrows then pierced his body; the white cloth covering him was riddled with holes, and the sharp points tearing into his flesh emitted a blood-curdling sound of flesh being ripped apart.
The Eternal Wraith plummeted from the sky, his limbs severed into jagged fragments. Covered by the tattered white cloth, he collapsed lifelessly to the ground. The rapidly pooling water washed over his broken limbs and scattered remains, reducing them to scattered fragments in the downpour.
A blue bolt of lightning snaked down from the clouds, striking the wraith’s remains. His limbs were burned black and stinking, reduced to even smaller charred fragments.
Lan Bo’s wrath was like the lightning gathering in the clouds; streaks of purple and blue lightning shot down from the horizon, repeatedly striking the undead’s charred corpse.
The air fell suddenly silent. Behind Lan Bo lay a chaotic tornado that pierced the heavens and earth, and the flickering lightning of a thunderstorm within the clouds.
He drew a strand of Dead Sea Heartstone from Xiao Bai’s collar, forged it into a dagger in his hand, and slowly approached the remains of the immortal undead. The pearl fell into the pile of charcoal ash, unscathed, gleaming brightly.
Lan Bo knelt on one knee, facing the pearl, the dagger in his hand trembling constantly. Dead Sea Heartstone can sever a soul along with the body.
“Go home. The sea will teach you what to do.”
As Lan Bo reached out to touch the pearl, a scrap of the undead’s white cloth lying nearby flipped over.
It was the very piece bearing the simple sketch of a face. As Lan Bo approached, the face on the ground suddenly transformed into a smile: “ “Are you holding back even now, afraid of shattering the pearl and leaving him with no place to be buried?”
Lan Bo startled and quickly stepped back. The shreds of white cloth on the ground, which had been torn to pieces, were drawn together and pieced back together, reconnecting seamlessly. A fragment of glandular tissue lying on the ground rapidly grew, healing faster than the wounds of a test subject.
Relying solely on that single remnant gland, it first grew a spine, then ribs, limbs, and the bones of hands and legs. Flesh and blood rapidly formed, and capillaries and tendons crept over the pale bones.
The immortal specter soared into the sky, turned back to give Lan Bo a contemptuous smile, ran a fingertip over a row of skull tattoos on his neck, and his eyes glowed blood-red.
The immortal specter drifted in the air, picking up a white cloth and draping it from head to toe. Clutching a pearl in both hands, it remained warily at least a hundred meters away from Lan Bo.
“You’re pretty impressive, aren’t you? Want to play?”
Lan Bo looked up at him, but Bai Chunian in his arms had fallen into a deep coma. With every breath, his chest rumbled heavily, rustling like a bellows fanning a fire, while blood gushed ceaselessly from the corners of his mouth and nose. If he continued to tangle with this test subject, there was no telling if Xiao Bai’s body might collapse first. Lan Bo hesitated for a long time, but finally bit her lip and turned away, holding Bai Chunian in her arms and facing away from the undead.
“Leaving already? Leaving right now? Not continuing? Let me take him away—I’m going to gouge out his eyes and break his legs.” The immortal specter held the pearl, his laughter echoing through the air. Waves of sound rippled from his body, causing the nearby leaves to turn gray and wither away with a rustling sound.
“I’ll remember this. You’d better really be immortal. For the next thousand or ten thousand years, I won’t let you have it easy.” Lan Bo took a deep breath, her shoulders trembling slightly. Finally, she walked into the ruins with Bai Chunian in her arms, and their figures vanished.
“Huh? He really left.” The immortal specter watched Lan Bo depart. The simple face drawn on the white cloth drooped, its expression one of utter boredom.
He looked down at the pearl in his hand. Its surface was caked with engine oil and mud, filthy and greasy.
“So dirty.”
The Undead landed in the ruins of the pharmaceutical factory, which had been destroyed beyond recognition. Sitting on the ground, he lifted a corner of the white cloth to scrub the surface clean. The pearl became smooth and rosy once more, with all the grime transferred to the cloth.
The specter held it aloft, its two legs dangling limply in the air, and looked up at him. “Heh heh heh, they don’t want you anymore, do they? Nobody wants you, nobody wants you, nobody wants this big, ugly blob.”
As he swung the pearl back and forth in the air, a layer of mist slowly rose from its surface. The mist gathered on the pearl’s surface, slid downward, and pooled at the bottom, condensing into droplets. The droplets grew larger and larger until they finally fell, solidifying into tiny, pale-white pearls as they hit the ground, clattering to the floor.
“Aaaargh, this is so annoying! No, no, don’t cry.” The spirit fumbled frantically in his pocket, pulling out a half-used pack of tissues. He tore off a sheet and pressed it against the pearl’s surface, rubbing back and forth with a squeaky, glass-scraping sound.
Not far away, debris scattered across the ground. Xia Shilu, who had been hiding in a corner ever since Lan Bo appeared, slowly emerged from the shadows.
The ghost didn’t look at him, his shrill voice mocking with a laugh: “You’ve been hiding for so long, I thought you wouldn’t come out.”
Xia Shilu wore a silver mask, his expression hidden, but his voice was cold: “You’ve offended the Siren. I’m not about to wait around to be punished alongside you. A mermaid’s vengeance is far more terrifying than you imagine. Can’t you see? The only reason he hasn’t continued attacking you is because he’s holding the Divine Messenger in his arms.”
“Hehe, I’m not afraid.” The Undead held up the pearl, examining it in the dim light. “I’d rather he killed me. Being alive isn’t exactly a blessing.”
The tracking collars around the Undead and Xia Shilu’s necks lit up with orange lights, emitting a beeping alert. The Institute had deemed the mission complete and was summoning them back.
Xia Shilu said coldly, “We should head back.”
The pearl finally stopped seeping moisture. The Undead carefully placed it in her backpack, using two “53” college entrance exam workbooks to separate the pearl from her water bottle. She let out a shrill cackle: “I’m not going back. Now that I’m finally free, I’m going to some fun places, hahahahaha.”
Xia Shilu was quite surprised, because all along, at the research institute, the immortal spirit had appeared very docile. Even during the deterioration phase, he had behaved politely toward the researchers, accepting everything without complaint, looking completely harmless.
It turned out all of this had been a facade. If not for his consistently obedient and well-behaved demeanor, those researchers would never have felt comfortable letting him out. And it was precisely because of his obedience that he hadn’t been destroyed like the other test subjects who had inadvertently entered the deterioration phase.
“I’m going back.” Xia Shilu also felt that the Eternal Spirit was far too dangerous and wanted to get as far away from him as possible. She turned around and said, “There’s a concentrated infection agent in the tracking collars around our necks. If we stray beyond the preset range, we’ll be killed. You’d better take care of yourself.”
“Hey, don’t go.”
“What?” Kashiro heard the spirit call out to him and instinctively turned around.
He saw that the spirit’s shadow had, unnoticed, crept right up behind him. Its palm rested on the gland at the back of his neck, and beneath its feet unfolded a vast, boundless mirror. A dark-blue ghostly hand reached out from the mirror’s surface and seized Kashiro’s four hooves.
“Let—let go of me!” Xia Shilu struggled in shock.
Four deer hooves were clutched by countless ghostly hands; no matter how hard Xia Shilu struggled, he could not break free from their grip.
The ground beneath his feet was entirely covered by an endless expanse of mirror. With every struggle, he created a fleeting ripple on the mirror’s surface.
The Eternal Spirit’s reflection in the mirror was that of an angel with pure white wings; the reflections of the countless ghostly hands were those of humans pleading for mercy. As the Eternal Spirit spread his arms, the angel in the mirror—crowned with a golden halo—simultaneously spread his wings and chanted with eyes closed.
Within the resplendent golden angelic sanctuary reflected in the mirror, Xia Shilu’s reflection was the only thing that appeared gray and pale, starkly incongruous with the sacred, brilliant golden light of the mirror.
Xia Shilu’s eyes suddenly lost their focus, and his body was slowly pulled into the mirror by hundreds of blue ghostly hands.
The Reaper’s Summoning.
The undead spread its arms wide; the angel’s image in the mirror and the shadow of the immortal undead seemed to swap places. Only Xia Shilu, now a pale, gray figure, rose silently from the mirror, swapping places with her real body, which was struggling desperately.
“The strongest support test subject… come serve me.” The specter let go and chuckled, “If it weren’t for that fish… the one standing by my side today would be the Divine Messenger. He’s far more useful than you. Even weakened to 70% of his power, he’s still stronger than all of you useless fools.”
——
Lan Bo carried Bai Chunian all the way as he ran toward the outskirts of Red Fox City. He removed the communicator from Bai Chunian’s ear and put it in his own, contacting the technical support team.
The support team had lost contact with Bai Chunian for quite some time and was making an emergency call when Lan Bo answered.
“He’s injured and unconscious,”
The team member asked anxiously, “Who are you? Where is he?”
“I’m Lan Bo. He’s in my arms.”
The team member immediately relayed their location to Team B. Team B began dispatching the nearest IOA agents to provide emergency backup and notified the Medical Association to prepare rescue equipment in advance.
As Lan Bo approached the Hongya Expressway exit, a car was already parked by the roadside waiting for them. The driver was a woman; she stuck a hand holding a slim cigarette out the window and waved at them. Her arm bore an IOA steel armband.
Lan Bo shoved Bai Chunian into the back seat and climbed in himself.
The one who came to pick them up was Feng Yue, an Omega from the Search Division codenamed Red Fox.
Feng Yue had several bandaged wounds on her body; she had been in the middle of a mission but came immediately to provide support after receiving an emergency order from the Technical Department. She glanced back at them, a thin cigarette hanging from her lips, and said, “Buckle up. We’re heading back right now.”
“There’s no time. Find the nearest stretch of ocean—somewhere deserted.” Lan Bo wrapped his arms around Bai Chunian, letting him rest against his chest, his palm cupping the boy’s face, which had completely drained of color.
“Okay. There’s a first-aid kit at your feet.” Fengyue deftly shifted gears and made a U-turn, setting her GPS for the nearest coastline. As she adjusted the rearview mirror, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the sorrowful, hollow gaze of the blond youth in the backseat.
She had met Lan Bo a few times at headquarters and knew he was Bai Chunian’s fiancé. Although he was a mermaid omega, he was an extremely proud and aloof man; you could see no one else in his eyes, and he always looked down on everyone.
She’d heard he had ties to the IOA, though only the higher-ups knew the details; she could only speculate. He was likely the leader of some secret organization—some mafia bosses were European aristocrats, and his demeanor certainly fit the bill.
Lan Bo lowered his head, his nose gently brushing Bai Chunian’s forehead, whispering words of comfort in mermaid tongue by his ear.
Bai Chunian’s brows were furrowed, and blood was still seeping from the corner of his mouth. The skin on his neck had been strangled until it was bruised and livid, torn open, with blood seeping into his combat suit.
Lan Bo unfastened Bai Chunian’s combat suit, gently caressing his wounds and using soothing pheromones to aid his healing. His fingertips traced the scars across Bai Chunian’s body, pressing against a protrusion beneath the skin of his hipbone.
He had once embedded the only scale on his body—the symbol of his Siren identity—into Bai Chunian’s hipbone. He had foreseen that this day would eventually come, so he had sustained Bai Chunian’s body with the very soul of the entire ocean.
The embedded scale glowed blue beneath his skin, tinting the surrounding blood vessels with a fluorescent blue that spread throughout his limbs and bones.
Bai Chunian’s complexion had improved slightly; his breathing had settled from ragged to steady. His eyes were half-closed, and he gazed at Lan Bo with a dazed expression, slowly raising a hand to touch Lan Bo’s cheek.
A small, irregular, pale pink pearl that he had been clutching tightly in his palm accidentally slipped out, only to be snatched back into his hand.
“I’m fine. Don’t be afraid.” Bai Chunian slipped the small pale pink pearl into the pocket on Lan Bo’s chest. “I picked it up for you. I wanted you to have it in case you ever regretted it.”
“I’ll never regret it.” Lan Bo pressed his hand against the gland at the back of his neck, which had been chafed raw, and set his face stern, forcing his expression to appear even colder and calmer. “I’m fine.”
Fengyue spotted a suspicious vehicle tailing them in the rearview mirror and whispered, “Hold on tight.” Then, with practiced ease, she picked up a brick from under the passenger seat and pressed it against the accelerator. Standing in the driver’s seat with her other leg braced against the steering wheel to keep the car on course, she grabbed a submachine gun, leaned halfway out the window, and opened fire at the two cars chasing them from behind, blowing out the front tire of one of them.
Lan Bo glanced back: “ “Just mere humans. I’ll take care of them.”
Fengyue held a slender cigarette between her lips, raised an eyebrow slightly, and parted her red lips: “No need. You keep distracting Brother Chu. I’ve got this.” Her slender calf pressed against the steering wheel as she navigated the wide highway, her black stockings and red patent leather high heels glinting in the dim light.
The car picked up speed, but remained under control.
Feng Yue dealt with the pursuers, tossed the overheated submachine gun into the passenger seat, moved the brick aside, and floored the gas pedal, heading toward the coastline.
The car came to a stop by the sea. Feng Yue, submachine gun slung over her shoulder, leaned against the car door, the hem of her trench coat fluttering in the wind as she lit a cigarette with the windproof flame of her lighter in one hand.
Lan Bo hooked Bai Chunian’s arm around his neck and dragged him into the depths of the ocean.
As Bai Chunian was dragged into the water, he felt a momentary suffocation and thrashed about, only to have his hands seized by Lan Bo, who kissed him.
Lan Bo drove the school of fish away and continued to plunge downward, holding Bai Chunian in his arms, until they reached the barren seabed a hundred meters below. There was not a single ray of light here—only the幽 blue glow from Lan Bo’s tail and the blue-glowing jellyfish drifting all around them.
Bai Chunian expended all his strength resisting the pressure of the deep water, while Lan Bo guided him, slowly peeling the collar from his neck.
The skin on Bai Chunian’s neck was nearly raw, a bloody, mangled mess. The seawater stung his wounds, causing him to convulse in agony beneath the water.
“Don’t take it off—I can’t control myself. Lan Bo, if I get worse, kill me. Really, just keep my glands and take them back to the Caribbean. I’ll be with you forever, ah.”
“I won’t.” Lan Bo wrapped his arms around Bai Chunian, pressing his body tightly against him.
The moment the collar was removed, an incredibly heavy, oppressive aura erupted from Bai Chunian’s body. Lan Bo, pressed against him, seemed to freeze over, covered in a glass-like layer.
“Stay away from me. Suppressing this loss of control is painful. Wait for me from a distance…”
“It’s just a minor injury, nothing to worry about.” ” Lan Bo wrapped his fishtail around Bai Chunian’s body, licking his swollen gland to help him release.
This process lasted nearly three hours before Lan Bo swam to the surface with the fast-asleep Bai Chunian, settling on a rock to rest.
Fragments of glass-like material clung to Bai Chunian’s body; where the glass had peeled away, raw flesh and blood were exposed.
Bai Chunian’s complexion had eased considerably; he was no longer coughing up blood, and his condition was stabilizing. Resting his head on Lan Bo’s fishtail, his breathing grew steady, and he nestled deeper into Lan Bo’s embrace.
Lan Bo stroked his damp hair, gazing out at the sea with deep concern.
He didn’t know how much longer this suppression could last. On the day it failed, Xiao Bai’s condition would worsen—would he have to once again take the life of the one he loved most with his own hands?
Or should he let him deteriorate, using his own powers to keep him “alive”—like an immortal specter, mad with delirium, neither living nor dead, wandering the mortal realm?
Which path should he choose?
The sea was calm, not a breath of wind in sight. Lan Bo sat on this desolate rock, gazing silently into the distance. Suddenly, he recalled what Old Man Blue Whale had once told him: the gods are destined to be alone.
After a long while, Lan Bo choked back a sob, and a distant, lingering whale song emerged from his throat. The mournful wail carried for tens of thousands of miles.
Black pearls fell one by one, dropping into the sea as if a string had snapped, splashing into tiny ripples.