Yan Yi sat before the wide, white-painted wooden windowpanes. He lifted a corner of the curtain and glanced at the soldiers standing at attention, arms crossed and weapons at the ready, guarding the embassy entrance in the night. The midday sky was still fairly clear.
“The results will be out tomorrow. Have you got everything arranged on your end?”
Lu Shangjin sat at the round table, pouring black tea from a petal-shaped teapot into a cup. His double-breasted vest with notched lapels elegantly accentuated the Alpha’s well-defined waist and abdominal muscles. He had just returned from outside and casually draped his coat over the back of a chair, waiting for someone to take it away.
“Don’t worry. Those old bastards who only care about profit are all singing from the same hymn sheet this year. After all, the dismal data from Institute 109 has left them disheartened; they no longer view the test subjects as a surefire arms deal. ” Lu Shangjin undid the button at the bottom of his vest, loosened his tie, and exposed his relaxed, unguarded side to Yan Yi. “Come to think of it, they weren’t our biggest obstacle last year. There was a public opinion poll at the meeting, and when you proposed halting the production of test subjects last year, 95 percent of the general public voted against it.”
Yan Yi sighed. “You can’t really blame them. Last year, the institute’s stock price was still skyrocketing, and the marketing campaign was in full swing. They used a few AI products as a smokescreen for the experimental subjects business. Many had reaped hundreds of times their investment by buying the institute’s stock years ago. Ordinary people jumped on the bandwagon without realizing the danger of the experimental subjects—they just felt it wasn’t their problem. Making a profit was all that mattered. Halting production would have left retail investors losing their entire investment, so naturally they wouldn’t support it.”
“Elaine actually knows how to play the game,” said Lu Shangjin. “They’ve courted a massive number of retail investors specifically to ensure the experimental unit industry remains stable during annual public votes. Plus, the nations that have purchased these units don’t want the secret weapons they acquired—at high purchase prices and with long-term maintenance costs—to lose their value, so they’ll inevitably oppose any changes fiercely. “With the research institute’s scandals coming to light one after another, its reputation has taken a hit. Coupled with its failure to deliver on time and a cash flow on the verge of collapse, it’s hard for them to gain support now. But who knows? Many people don’t understand the full picture and still hold out hope for the institute’s stock price to rebound. This segment of the public remains unwilling to support the production halt.”
“The number won’t be too large. As long as the proposal to halt experimental subject production passes, that’s enough. The rest will have to be pushed forward gradually.”
“Because halting production of the experimental subjects won’t harm the interests of the organizations and nations that have already purchased them. On the contrary, since these biological weapons will become discontinued, the value of the experimental subjects they currently hold will increase. However, if we’re to demand recognition of the legal rights of existing experimental subjects, it will require more time for reflection and observation. On one hand, we need to screen out harmless experimental subjects; on the other hand, experimental subjects in the national arsenal would enter into an employer-employee relationship with the government. Experimental subjects have their own thoughts, and some might not want to fight at all. It’s not impossible that they’d quit to run a small business or become street performers—which would mean tens or even hundreds of billions of dollars down the drain. Pushing too hard would only backfire.
Yan Yi drew the curtains, walked up behind Lu Shangjin, and placed his hand—adorned with a wedding ring—on the Alpha’s shoulder. “You’ve worked hard.”
Lu Shangjin held Yan Yi’s hand and chuckled, “Given our relationship, why are you saying this to me? You’re the one who’s worked the hardest. Once this is over, let’s find some time to go on vacation—I’ve already arranged the destination and itinerary.”
“I’m not in the mood… Yesterday, Cai Bing said Xiaobai has entered the latent phase. Although we’ve managed to control it with the dissociative agent, it’s still nearing a full-blown deterioration.” ” Yan Yi shook his head with concern. “He’s a good kid, but he’s been living in constant fear. I used to feel at ease knowing Lan Bo was by his side, but even Lan Bo isn’t omnipotent. Now we can only hope tomorrow’s proposal passes so we can get the research institute’s fusion-promoting factor out to treat Xiaobai.”
“Alright, once the results come out tomorrow, the Institute will be raided. We’ll find a way—don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, you’re right. There’s always something to worry about with kids.” Yan Yi ran a hand through his hair. “I video-called Qiuqiu at noon. He was all flushed and hung up quickly—looks like he’s with Lanxing.”
Lu Shangjin perked up. “Oh?” He set his teacup down on the table. “Where are they?”
“Judging by the setup, in Xiao Bai’s office.”
“That little rascal! My Tu Qiu is only sixteen, and he already dares to lure her into his room. He’s not learning any better—like father, like son…” Lu Shangjin picked up his phone and dialed Lu Yan. While waiting for the call to connect, he turned to Yan Yi and said, “Let me tell you, Old Bi wasn’t much of a saint in his youth either. It’s a family tradition of theirs to prey on the young—just look at how old Tan Mengcai was… “I’m going to have to teach this cocky little brat a lesson.”
Yan Yi couldn’t help but chuckle. “They were helping the tech department move equipment. They’d just finished and were heading back to the office.”
Lu Shangjin’s hand froze. He hung up the phone, grabbed one of Yan Yi’s rabbit ears, and gently pulled it toward his face. “You’re messing with me. You think this is funny, don’t you?”
Yan Yi leaned forward slightly, his eyes crinkling. “It always cracks me up to see you get so worked up over my bunny.”
“It’s only because bunnies are so clueless and easy to bully. If he were a little Alpha, I wouldn’t worry at all.” Lu Shangjin pulled him into his arms, his towering frame creating a stark contrast with the petite Omega in his embrace.
“I think you’re pretty worried too, Xiao Bai.”
“Hah, don’t even get me started. The person Xiao Bai picked is driving me crazy. Never mind, I can’t count on him to make decisions anyway. As long as he doesn’t get bullied, that’s fine.”
“You still don’t like Lan Bo.”
“It doesn’t matter whether I like him or not. He doesn’t treat me like a human anyway. The main thing is that Xiao Bai is obsessed with Lan Bo. The other day, we were chatting, and I tested his business acumen by asking him how he’d spend ten million.”
Yan Yi rested his chin in his hand as he listened: “What was he planning to invest in?”
Lu Shangjin picked up his teacup and took a sip: “He’s going to the aquarium to buy a few giant scallops for Lan Bo.”
Yan Yi chuckled: “Looks like you’re not going to be retiring anytime soon.”
His phone in his pocket suddenly rang—it was a long-distance call from Xiaobai.
His voice sounded somewhat urgent: “ “Boss, the Eternal Spirit is heading your way. He’s out for revenge against a student. I’ve sent you the details. I’ve notified our agents scattered across Europe and the IOA Paris Branch’s Search Division to prepare in advance, but they’re still some distance away from you. It’ll take a while for them to reach the scene. You and Uncle Jin need to be extra careful… Uh… Cough, I’m not feeling well… I’ll… hang up now…”
“Xiao Bai,” Yan Yi gripped his phone tightly, “How are you?”
A pained gasp came from the other end of the line, followed by Lan Bo taking over for Bai Chunian. A deep, cold voice came through the receiver: “Get out of there. Now.”
Lan Bo hung up first. Yan Yi set down his phone, glanced at Lu Shangjin, and hurriedly grabbed the computer on the desk. Just then, Lu Shangjin suddenly sat up alertly, a translucent pale-blue falcon nictitating membrane appearing on the surface of his eyes, covering and retracting with each blink.
“Yan Yan, come here!” He grabbed Yan Yi’s belt and dragged him, smashing through the window frame and glass as they burst out of the room.
The moment they rushed out of the high-rise and fell from above, the room they had been in suddenly exploded. After a deafening boom, dense, thick smoke scattered out from the gap blasted open in the upper floors of the building, spores mixed within the smoke.
Lu Shangjin pressed Yan Yi into his arms. Just before landing, falcon hunting wings covered in brown spots unfolded behind him. They flapped the air, raising a biting cold wind, skimming tightly across the ground and gliding forward for a long distance through the air.
Yan Yi showed no panic on his face. Under Lu Shangjin’s protection, he opened his computer and transmitted the explosion scene to the technical department in real time.
Within the thick smoke, a gray-white mushroom silhouette could be vaguely seen. The technical department sent back a matching result: experimental subject 602 “Puffball Bomb,” an undead summoning body. Its main body was puffball fungus. Its J1 ability was spore explosion, and its M2 ability was timed spores.
The bodyguards and guards immediately rushed over upon hearing the commotion and formed a tight protective circle in front of them. Yan Yi pointed toward the other rooms: “Go help the police evacuate the people inside.”
The two got into their car. Lu Shangjin smoothly took the driver’s seat and looked back as he started the vehicle.
Yan Yi entered from the back seat, kicked twice at the hidden compartment beneath the seat with his heel. A small hole in the compartment projected a red-glowing holographic password panel upward. After scanning his iris, a vertical door popped open, revealing a heavy silver rifle case.
Inside the case, besides a high-precision sniper rifle, there were also two stockless Uzi submachine guns and two ammo belts.
“Where are we going?” Lu Shangjin asked as he started the car.
“London WS School.”
Yan Yi placed the computer on his lap and quickly reviewed the data sent by Bai Chuinian. Included was an introduction to the immortal undead. In addition, investigation results regarding the Zhong Xi drop incident and Red Fox No. 1 Middle School were also sent over.
In the Red Fox No. 1 Middle School falling incident, the student who caused it was named Zhen Li. A year ago, he transferred to WS School in London, England for middle school. Zhen Li’s father was the police chief of the Red Fox division of the International Police Bureau, and his mother was a well-known local mafia high-level figure who controlled more than ten real estate and timber companies. Evidence showed that Zhen Li’s parents once kidnapped their son’s classmate Jin Xi, using his differentiation ability to revive a student who had died from Zhen Li’s accidental push. The two families reached a settlement, and Zhen Li was exempted from criminal punishment, later being transferred by his parents to WS School in England. Afterwards, Zhen Li’s parents also gave Jin Xi a bank card containing a million as a thank-you gift.
“Immortal Undead, A3-level deteriorated-phase water bear alpha, companion ability Pandora’s Mirror, J1 ability Ship Beneath Angel, M2 ability Death Summoning.” Yan Yi closed the computer. “Brother Jin, we need to move faster.”
“Take a detour to the weapon depot?”
“No. We abandon the car by the water and go in a straight line. Ordinary weapons are useless against experimental subjects. These bullets are enough.”
Light rain began falling from the sky, mist thickening in the air. Raindrops landed on the windshield. Lu Shangjin turned on the wipers and handed Yan Yi an umbrella.
When they arrived at the school, Yan Yi put on a windbreaker, wore a hat, and climbed over the wall to sneak inside. He moved around the school’s pointed buildings, searching for suspicious scents in the air.
A few students walked under the trees in twos and threes, curiously watching Yan Yi as he walked along the path with his windbreaker collar raised, covering half his face.
Suddenly, the ears hidden under Yan Yi’s hat stood upright. He heard a faint, distant cry for help. Following the sound, he looked up—at the farthest point in his vision, on the very top of the pointed clock tower, a student screamed as they fell from the height.
A dull impact sounded. The body smashed onto the brick ground into a soft mass, and sticky blood slowly seeped out from beneath the corpse. Deep in the shattered skull, a bank card was embedded.
The air seemed to freeze.
After a brief silence, the nearest girl to the body let out a hysterical scream. Students across the campus scattered like birds and beasts, shouting as they called the police.
No one noticed that on the clock tower rooftop, a white-clothed alpha youth lay casually by the railing, enjoying the blood flower exploding below him dozens of meters down.
His right arm was reduced to half an upper arm, the severed end smoking black. He raised his only remaining left hand and extended a finger to write in the air. The blood on the ground was controlled by him, slowly forming a line of messy letters: “happybirthday^_^”
The undead excitedly rolled on the ground, letting out an eerie, hollow laugh. Using his only left hand, he lifted a large pearl and said happily, “Big water bubble, I drew you a birthday present. Aren’t you coming out to see it?”
The pearl’s luster had dimmed significantly, and the soul fragments inside it were nearly depleted. It had no intention of responding.
The undead didn’t mind. He hummed a distorted tune and played with the pearl, tossing it up and down in his hand.
Suddenly, he stopped humming. The smile on his face faded as he stood up from the clock tower rooftop and turned toward the slightly ajar door of the attic.
His expression turned cold as he stared at that iron door dozens of meters away. A faint, sweet soft pheromone scent drifted through the air, but mixed within it was an overwhelming oppressive pressure.
He was already in a deteriorated phase. Even if A3-level Lan Bo’s species suppression acted on him, he should feel no pressure at all—so where was this invisible force coming from?
In a moment of distraction, the distant iron door seemed to flicker strangely. A gray shadow appeared out of nowhere on the rooftop.
Yan Yi walked slowly toward him, hands in his windbreaker pockets.
In just a blink, Yan Yi was already dozens of meters closer, yet he seemed to be walking at an ordinary pace.
He was teleporting.
The undead stood up with a cold face, picked up his backpack from the ground, and slung it on. “Who are you?”
“I haven’t finished my business yet, and I don’t really want to fight.” The undead raised his only left hand playfully and dismissively waved it. “Rabbit? I didn’t do anything to you, did I?”
Seeing that Yan Yi did not respond, the undead turned around and left. He had the ability to float through the air, stepping onto the clock tower railing and drifting lightly into the sky.
Unexpectedly, the moment he flew into the air and looked back toward the platform, Yan Yi was already gone.
The undead’s heart tightened. He quickly turned around, but Yan Yi was already right in front of him. The combination of his high-speed bouncing and instantaneous movement ability was equivalent to brief mid-air suspension.
Yan Yi’s long leg swept out violently, striking the undead square in the abdomen midair. The sharp force directly kicked the undead back onto the high platform, slamming him hard into the ground and blasting out a deep crater.
The undead rolled once and tumbled out of the crater, narrowly avoiding the heavy downward impact as Yan Yi reappeared through instant movement and landed with full weight. Looking at Yan Yi—whose coat hem fluttered but whose collar remained perfectly neat—the undead finally sensed danger from his aura and became alert.
“S4… you’re IOA…” The undead laughed loudly. “I’ve never fought an S4-level human before. I’m honored.”
A boundless mirror surface immediately spread beneath his feet. From within the mirror, ghostly hands greedily crawled toward Yan Yi.
The companion ability of the Immortal Undead, Pandora’s Mirror, was similar to Lan Bo’s water-formed steel mechanism. All subsequent abilities had to be executed based on the Pandora’s Mirror in order to unleash maximum power.
Just as the undead was about to reach Yan Yi, a sharp breaking sound came from afar. The undead tilted his head slightly and dodged; a silenced sniper bullet grazed past his cheek, leaving a smoking wound that slowly began to heal.
The bullet struck the mirror beneath his feet and was silently swallowed by the ghostly hands within it.
The undead followed the bullet’s trajectory and looked over. Nearly a kilometer away, within the darkness of a spired structure, Lu Shangjin was concealed, lying prone with one eye closed, providing overwatch for Yan Yi.
“An A3-level peregrine falcon, huh. Not that rare. Come play.” The undead lifted his chin slightly and let out a sharp laugh.
Suddenly, the mirror beneath his feet became blurred and faint. A few seconds later, the Pandora’s Mirror shattered and disappeared.
The undead frowned, gritting his teeth as he glanced back toward Lu Shangjin. The last time he encountered a “heavenly horse” that could negate positive enhancements had already disgusted him—now another A3 with nullification ability had appeared.
Yan Yi walked toward him with steady, calm steps and asked coldly, “The intel I received says Xiao Bai’s deterioration was caused by you. Is that correct?”
The undead tilted his head and smiled. “Yes.”
“You have a compound linking agent, correct?”
“Yes. If you’ve got the ability, come take it.” The undead shook his backpack.
He flew toward Yan Yi, but suddenly his body stiffened, as if bound by an invisible force. A wave of weakness rose from his gland and struck directly into his brain.
Lu Shangjin lay quietly at the sniper position, observing through his scope, his eyes covered by a falcon-like membrane.
The A3 peregrine falcon ability—“Enhanced Membrane”—instantly nullifies all abilities of targets below his level; reduces abilities of targets at the same level to 30%; reduces abilities of targets above his level to 50%; and instantly nullifies all companion abilities regardless of level.
Though Lu Shangjin’s suppression ability was powerful, its duration was extremely brief. Such a high-consumption ability could not be activated continuously, requiring cooldown between activations. Only a high-speed striker with extreme mobility could perfectly coordinate with him—using peak speed to stay in constant close-range engagement, then retreating when suppression ended. This kind of coordination required years of refinement, and even the strongest opponents would find themselves overwhelmed by this near-far pressure combination.
The Immortal Undead was no exception. Although the gap between an A3 deteriorated experimental entity and an S4-level advanced human could be considered negligible, a sniper constantly restricting his movement from afar—while simultaneously stripping his abilities—combined with Yan Yi exploiting every moment of suppression to appear instantly in front of him, left him repeatedly wounded.
The undead was overwhelmed by Yan Yi’s instantaneous movement and high-speed afterimages. Cuts and bullet wounds appeared across his body one after another. If not for his strong vitality, he would have already lost a life to Yan Yi’s attrition.
Yan Yi was also observing him. Although the undead was heavily restricted and had little chance to counterattack, his regeneration speed was too fast, making it impossible to land a fatal blow. The situation was a frustrating stalemate where neither side could truly finish the other.
Finally losing patience, the undead tore off the white cloth from his head and draped it over the floating pearl beside him, muttering, “Come out. I want to see whether that peregrine falcon’s suppression only works on one target.”
But the pearl did not respond and did not manifest its full form.
The undead frowned and lifted a corner of the cloth. “Hey. Are you deaf?”
The dim, roughened pearl reluctantly spat out several water bubbles. The elongated bubbles formed two lines of text: “Don’t call me. I can’t win.”
The undead was so furious he nearly jumped.
Another wave of suppression hit. Yan Yi suddenly appeared behind him, gripping his jaw with his left hand while holding an Uzi in his right, firing directly into his waist. A full magazine of bullets tore through his abdomen, sending black smoke pouring out of the wound.
The suppression ended. The undead staggered and drifted away, but his lumbar spine had been shattered by the bullets. His body bent and folded in a grotesque, fractured posture while still floating in midair. A new Pandora’s Mirror spread beneath him again, and ghostly hands lunged toward Yan Yi. Yan Yi leapt away with a light push of his toes; one hand shot out and grabbed his ankle, only to be blown apart instantly by a precise sniper round from afar.
In the distance, Lu Shangjin remained crouched at his sniper position, silently watching through his scope. Rain and mist soaked his clothes completely, water trailing down his neck, yet he remained perfectly still. His finger on the trigger showed no tremor. Every movement of Yan Yi was clearly within his crosshairs.
The undead finally understood the situation was turning against him. His twisted body emitted cracking bone sounds as the shattered spine regenerated piece by piece. Straightening again, he tilted his head and looked at Yan Yi with a dead, hollow gaze. His lips curled upward as he spoke in a raised, distorted tone:
“Is dragging this out fun? You might want to look behind you.”
A thunderous impact followed.
Yan Yi turned back to look. Far away in the mist, the iron tower seemed to have been snapped in half at the waist. His brows furrowed tightly as he scanned the surroundings. Within the distant fog, many gray-white experimental entities appeared, their silhouettes spreading through the city and wreaking havoc.
“Why are you doing this?” Yan Yi raised his gun, aiming at the undead’s head.
The Immortal Undead spun once in midair and laughed lazily. “Unfair? Before I died, people demanded a way out of me. After I died, I returned them death. I can’t control it. Wherever I go, the dead will open the path for me. That is their respect for the god of death.”
Seeing Yan Yi’s expression change, the undead laughed as if watching a delightful comedy. “The longer I stay here, the more undead gather. If this city falls, you’ll have to take responsibility.”
Yan Yi knew clearly that they could not delay any longer. His gaze swept over the undead, searching for an opening. The situation had erupted too suddenly; they had left in haste and lacked proper equipment. There was no communicator between him and Lu Shangjin—they could only rely on subtle movements of their pupils to signal each other.
Even the slightest shift in his eyes could be clearly captured under Lu Shangjin’s extreme visual acuity. Through his scope, Lu Shangjin calmly watched him and slightly adjusted the muzzle following Yan Yi’s gaze. The crosshair lifted to just above the undead’s left shoulder, and his index finger gently squeezed the trigger.
A sniper round tore through the air.
It calculated the undead’s position and movement precisely. At the instant the undead sidestepped, the bullet pierced the strap of the backpack hanging from his shoulder. The strap snapped, and the bag was flung away.
Yan Yi flashed forward through the dense, seaweed-like ghostly hands and, before the undead could reach out, grabbed the backpack.
The undead grabbed the other strap with his only remaining hand. The zipper ripped open with a tearing sound. Inside spilled scattered items: mock exam practice books for college entrance exams, scrap paper, markers, and a syringe gun containing the compound linking agent.
The undead seized a marker pen, while the injection gun landed in Yan Yi’s hand.
He roared in fury. “Give it back!”
Yan Yi weighed the injection gun in his hand. “Put on a suppressor yourself before you come ask for it.”
He slowly retreated to the edge of the rooftop and leapt off.
As he fell, a black bird-like shadow swept beneath him and caught him midair.
Lu Shangjin flapped his powerful wings, carrying him into the darkening sky of heavy dusk clouds. Yan Yi sat on his shoulder, legs hanging down, and glanced back at the undead with a cold look.