In a ward at the IOA Medical Society, Bai Chunian stared intently at the computer screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he issued deployment orders. He pulled out his phone and called Han Xingqian.
“Brother Han, I’m requesting early discharge. There’s trouble outside, and I’m afraid they can’t handle it on their own.”
Han Xingqian refused immediately: “You’ve only just stabilized. Using any of your abilities could cause you to lose control again, and the Medical Society won’t allow you to be discharged.”
“Then I’ll head over to the Technology Department right now.”
“I’ll come pick you up.”
Bai Chunian hung up the phone, turned, and lay down beside Lan Bo, ruffling the hair of the still-sleeping Omega: “You sleep first.”
He hurriedly changed out of his hospital gown, pulled a black tank top over his head, then slipped on the combat pants and short leather boots Lan Bo had taken off. Fastening his belt, he headed toward the elevator.
He stepped into the elevator, and just as the doors were about to close, Dr. Han rushed over, pressed the open button, and squeezed inside.
Seeing him dressed like that, Han Xingqian’s expression turned serious. “I’m not joking with you. You’ve already experienced the pain of suppressing the deterioration—do you really want to go through that again?”
“I’ve got no choice.” Bai Chunian folded his arms and leaned against the elevator wall, looking up at the floor numbers rising on the display. “By the way, didn’t you say that finding the pro-synergistic factor would suppress my deterioration? Have you found it yet?”
Han Xingqian shook his head. “The undercover agents we sent to investigate the major cultivation bases have been returning one after another to report that they found no trace of the growth factor. It seems this serum is far too rare; only the research institute’s headquarters has a small amount left in stock.”
“Headquarters… that’s way too hard to infiltrate,” Bai Chunian said, rubbing his chin. Having fought against Institute 109 for years, the Technical Department had long attempted to identify vulnerabilities in the institute’s headquarters. Unfortunately, the institute’s technical staff were exceptionally skilled, making it difficult for them to crack the data within the headquarters.
“For now, we can only wait for the Chairman’s proposal to pass. Once the proposal to ban the production of test subjects is approved, the International Police Bureau will immediately launch an investigation and raid, seizing all goods, products, and raw materials. The IOA and PBB will also assist in the search, and obtaining a sample of the growth-promoting hormone from there will be a piece of cake.” ”
“Based on the scheduled meeting times, we should have results this week.” Bai Chunian calculated the dates and nodded. “Let’s go—first to the Technical Department.”
The staff in the Technical Department were all busy at their computers, and the team technicians were particularly overwhelmed; the entire open-plan office housing the department was bustling with activity.
Bai Chunian stepped out of the elevator and headed straight for Duan Yang’s office. Crawler was nearby, performing some assistant duties.
If it weren’t for Crawler’s bright yellow hoodie making him stand out, Bai Chunian wouldn’t have noticed him at all. He gave a hurried greeting and leaned against the back of Duan Yang’s chair: “Retrieve the data I just sent you for the six districts.”
“Establish a communication link.” Duan Yang simultaneously activated eight monitors, each displaying real-time drone surveillance footage from different areas. In the footage, grayish-white test subjects appeared, wandering uncontrollably.
Bai Chunian pressed the communication buttons one by one: “Fengyue, the Centipede is heading toward the city center. The drone has dropped a weapon crate 300 meters ahead of you at 180 degrees. It contains a liquid nitrogen capture net. ”
“Copy that.” Feng Yue’s communication signal was intermittent, accompanied by a grating static—clearly being jammed.
“ Lanxing, Lu Yan, the weapon crate has been dropped beneath the pine tree at the cliff’s edge. Lanxing, you’re in charge of evacuating the temple visitors; Lu Yan, go retrieve the weapon crate.”
“Roger.” Upon receiving the order, Bi Lanxing sent a set of Poison Ivy Armor to Lu Yan, and the two sprinted off in opposite directions.
“This Dragon Turtle test subject is way too big!” Lu Yan’s voice was frantic. In the live feed, he was being chased and bitten by the giant Dragon Turtle’s serpentine head. Although he had successfully retrieved the weapon crate airdropped beneath the pine tree thanks to the Dwarf Rabbit’s petite, agile build and speed, dragging the heavy crate made it impossible to weave swiftly through the crevices and branches. Several times, he narrowly avoided being bitten in half by the dragon-turtle’s massive jaws, lined with foul-smelling, razor-sharp teeth.
“Don’t be afraid, run toward the point I marked.” Bai Chunian was monitoring eight different live feeds simultaneously, yet he showed no sign of panic, calmly directing each Search Division agent through voice or text commands.
Lu Yan’s watch map received the target location marked by Bai Chunian. He glanced at the map and noticed a large stone stele on the side of the mountain. The collapsed stele had corrosion pits inside, forming a reverse slope at the edges—an excellent vantage point for a counterattack.
The Dragon Tortoise wasn’t much slower than him; in the blink of an eye, its serpentine head had closed in behind Lu Yan, its forked tongue licking at his tail.
Lu Yan had been running frantically the whole time, gasping for breath in panic: “It’s caught up to me. I can’t escape. It’s too late…”
“Keep running forward. I’ll block it for you. It won’t be able to bite you.” Bai Chunian brought up the drone control panel and swiped his fingertips left and right across the keyboard.
Under Bai Chunian’s control, the drone weaved through the branches of the mountain forest. The lower hatch opened, and it dropped several stun grenades in rapid succession. The precise impact points were all positioned along the path of the dragon-turtle snake’s head. The buzzing sound of the stun grenades forced it to curl its neck to avoid them, and the final grenade landed on loose rock. The rock shattered, loosening the soil beneath the slab. The Dragon Turtle’s legs, as thick as city pillars, crushed the ground, causing it to collapse. Just as its fanged serpent head was about to make contact with Lu Yan, the falling body yanked it out of striking range.
As the ground collapsed one after another, Lu Yan leaped forward, grabbed the edge of the stone stele with both hands, and swung himself into the pit. He opened the weapons crate, pulled out a grenade launcher, loaded it with practiced ease, and fired several rounds at the dragon-turtle, whose legs were deeply embedded in the mud.
The dragon-turtle was riddled with holes; black smoke billowed from its wounds, drifting like fine threads against the wind.
Bai Chunian was not only directing the team of agents led by Lu Yan and Bi Lanxing; he also had a full view of the various crisis situations displayed across eight screens. While operating the drones with both hands to carry out the bombardment, he activated the microphones of the other teams and methodically issued a series of action orders to the remaining units, leaving no one out.
Duan Yang stared intently at Bai Chunian’s fingers flying across the keyboard so fast they were almost a blur, utterly speechless. Although Bai Chunian knew very little about computer technology, his ability to operate weapons was unmatched; Duan Yang had only taught him how to use auxiliary combat drones once or twice.
As a high-ranking member of the IOA, Duan Yang was well aware of Bai Chunian’s true identity. He couldn’t help but marvel that a man like this was simply born for battle. Fortunately, this guy wasn’t on the enemy side; if the opposing faction had a commander like him, it would likely take the entire elite team from the Technical Department to barely hold their ground against him alone. And since Bai Chunian was a computer illiterate, by leveraging his own strengths against the enemy’s weaknesses, Duan Yang might just have the edge.
Crawler stood by the wall, one hand cradling a laptop while the other tapped lightly on the keyboard. “It appears the Eternal Undead is on the verge of losing control. It must be because he hasn’t received a dose of the synergy-enhancing agent in too long; Pearl’s ability to suppress his deterioration is growing weaker. The Undead’s power is simply too overwhelming—wherever his aura reaches, Undead summonings run rampant.”
Bai Chunian turned back and asked, “Do you have detailed information on him?”
Crawler swiveled the laptop toward him. “This is all I have. So far, we only know that the Immortal Undead was designed with the concept of ‘Death’ in mind. The white cloth draped over him is a tool of command—the Undead Cloak. The Undead Cloak can only be used by Pearl to summon fragments of her soul into physical form, known as the ‘Messengers of the Underworld.’”
“Is he truly immortal? How can we kill him?”
“…I don’t know. The records state that the ‘Immortal Undead’ is indestructible; even if reduced to ashes, he can be reborn. His glandular structure is modeled after the water bear—a creature with incredibly tenacious vitality. Given that, it’s no surprise that with genetic modification, he could achieve immortality.” ” The Crawler explained calmly, “You should be able to understand this: the common trait among Messengers is total mimicry, while the common trait among Summoners is immortality—just as the operation of any program relies on certain laws.”
Bai Chunian rested his chin in his hand and pondered for a moment: “Duan Yang, look up Jin Xi, a student in Class 1, Grade 11 at Hongli City First High School. Also, send me his home address, previous addresses, parental information, and school records—everything.”
On the missing person flyer he’d found in Hongli City, he’d seen what that Immortal Spirit looked like before being modified into a test subject. However, the missing person’s flyer didn’t provide much information. Bai Chunian had looked into this student’s background before, but hadn’t had time to dig deeper—besides, there wasn’t much to uncover about a student who hadn’t even graduated from high school yet.
After listening, Duan Yang assigned the task to his technical staff and waited for the data to be compiled: “Jin Xi… what a model student. His grades are excellent, too. I’ll organize it and send it to you in a bit. Oh, he’s been to this tattoo parlor. Kids these days are really wild.”
“I’m going to check out his school,” Bai Chunian said, flipping through the printed materials. “And I’ll stop by his house while I’m at it.”
He glanced at Dr. Han: “Brother Han, if you’re worried, come with me. I don’t think we can skip this. Bring plenty of sedatives. I’ll try not to get physical—it should work out.”
Han Xingqian frowned, thought for a moment, then finally nodded. “I’ll report this to the Medical Association first. Bring Lan Bo along too—he can keep you in check.”
“He’s exhausted. Let him sleep for a bit. We’ll wake him up when we get there. He swam over here anyway, so he’ll be quick.”
After the two drove off, the door to Duan Yang’s office swung open again.
“Damn it, who is it?” Duan Yang hated it when people walked into his office without knocking. He turned around to find Lan Bo perched on the doorframe, half his head poking out, his sapphire-blue eyes scanning the room.
Bai Chunian had taken his pants with him, so when Lan Bo woke up, he had nothing to wear and had to revert to his fish tail. He clung desperately to the wall with both claws to steady himself, scratching the surface until the paint peeled off.
“I’m looking for Xiao Bai,” he said coldly.
“What brings Mrs. Chu here?” Duan Yang quickly forced a smile.
The reptile showed Lan Bo the location: “They’ve gone to Red Fox City. Bai Chunian said to wait until you wake up before going to find them.”
“Mm.” Lan Bo turned to leave, but suddenly heard an alarm sound from Duan Yang’s computer. He turned back to see that the screens embedded in the wall had switched to images of the coast, islands, and the boundless open sea.
Suddenly, a long neck emerged from the sea. A grayish-white plesiosaur neck broke the surface, shook the seawater from its head, bared its sharp teeth, and let out a roar toward the sky.
Crawler quickly captured the image and loaded the analysis data: “Test Subject 302: Plesiosaur, a paleontological genetic reconstruction and also a necromantic summoning entity. Due to its massive size and requirement for an aquatic environment, which resulted in prohibitively high maintenance costs, it was destroyed by the Institute in K031. The Institute’s research was not entirely successful; before experimental subject technology matured, they destroyed a large number of powerful, massive, and uncontrollable subjects. It was only later that they invented mimicry technology. It appears these large experimental subjects served as stepping stones for that technology, and after the Institute destroyed them, they discarded the corpses into the ocean.”
Duan Yang activated his communicator and issued orders to each team in turn: “Team One, contact the Far Seas Mad Shark Unit. Ensure the evacuation of fishing vessels. There is more than one threat; location data has been shared across all devices. Team Two, notify the Alliance Police Department to evacuate residents of coastal cities and seal off all entry and exit points as well as highways surrounding the cities. Team Three, distribute the press release to major media outlets to maintain social stability. Group Four: Remove any panic-inducing comments and videos.”
One of the screens displayed a view of the deep-sea floor. In the dim light of the twilight zone, the silhouettes of mermaids could be seen scrambling frantically in all directions.
The camera captured not just one mermaid, but over a hundred of them scattering in panic, as if being chased by some terrifying creature. Soon, the shadow of a colossal creature emerged from the depths. A torrent of bubbles obscured the camera’s view, and the image shook violently. Almost immediately, the seawater in the frame turned a vivid crimson. The dark shadow vanished, and in the scarlet waters, half a severed fish tail sank slowly, its bleached bones starkly visible.
Lan Bo’s pupils gradually narrowed to slits as he stared coldly at the blood-soaked screen.
The Reptile interjected at an inopportune moment: “King, you have to choose a side now.”