Bai Chunian held his communicator and squatted down, scratching his hair: “Alright, check what’s on your side first, see what you can do.”
The Puppeteer leaned slightly forward: “What’s going on?”
Bai Chunian took out a spare communicator and handed one to him: “I think the inspection area is split into several types. Combat-type experimental subjects go to the combat test zone, intelligence-type ones go to the intelligence test zone. There may also be auxiliary test zones and command test zones. When researchers were present on the observation floor, they would assign subjects based on category. Now that the lift isn’t controlled, it’s probably random.”
“Eris and Lan Bo are both combat assault types, so they were sent to the combat zone. Things like Null-Penetrating Stalker types would go to intelligence.”
He spread the map on the ground and pointed: “This whole area is the inspection zone. It’s stacked vertically, so I ignored the functional layout.”
Professor Lin Deng only annotated it as “inspection zone” without further detail.
The Puppeteer looked at the communicator Bai Chunian gave him. In truth, he could communicate with Eris because he had installed a micro communication device in Eris’s ear. But he still put on the communicator, thinking Bai Chunian was constantly probing their true capabilities and would not easily fall for tricks.
The Puppeteer walked to the lift and looked at the sealed door. The lift interior had already been engulfed by cremation flames, so returning the same way was impossible.
He then checked the entrance of the combat test zone. It was tightly sealed with a silver layer. He brushed off dust and examined it with his monocle, confirming it was a synthetic material.
Bai Chunian put away the map and touched the wall blocking the entrance. In the center appeared a line of laser numbers:
“Current punch force: 0kg. Average punch force: 0. Punch count: 0.”
“It’s a punch force machine. Probably you have to break through it with brute force.” Bai Chunian exhaled and threw a punch.
Boom.
The numbers changed:
“Current punch force: 586kg. Average punch force: 586. Punch count: 1.”
The numbers flashed red, triggering an error warning.
Bai Chunian shook his wrist. That punch was already about eighty percent of his power.
The Puppeteer slightly raised an eyebrow. Even a strike over half a ton was still not enough?
Right. Only elite experimental subjects selected from top breeding bases could reach the research institute headquarters. Their physical stats were monstrously high.
Bai Chunian then tried another method, pressing his fingers against the surface and activating bone hardening, attempting to pierce through.
But the wall did not move at all.
The Puppeteer, examining through his monocle, slowly said: “This is artificial carbon nitride material, β-C3N4 structure. Crystal hardness exceeds diamond. Your bone hardening is not enough. It seems you can only break it by hand.”
Bai Chunian scratched his numb wrist again: “I’m not a combat assault-type experimental subject. Why don’t you try? You’re A3 too.”
The Puppeteer shrugged slightly: “I’m not an experimental subject.”
“I always lose arm wrestling to Lan Bo. My design isn’t for brute force; I’m a guidance type. I don’t like violence.” Bai Chunian sighed. “Oh right, you’re human. That makes it worse.”
“Regarding that, IOA should have already investigated.”
“They did investigate your identity. Red-backed Spider alpha. But I still get surprised. I always assumed all controllers were experimental subjects.”
Bai Chunian continued thinking.
“No. Controllers share one trait: their abilities are naturally granted, not artificially interfered with,” the Puppeteer said.
While they were thinking of solutions, they suddenly heard loud noises from above—bang, crash, screeching, mechanical grinding.
Bai Chunian looked up: “Wife, are you guys smashing doors?”
Lan Bo replied breathlessly: “Yeah.”
Eris’s voice cut in: “What the hell, every time we break a door another one rises. It never ends.”
“You definitely have puzzles there. Look carefully,” Bai Chunian said.
Eris said: “What puzzle? It’s just a bunch of grids.”
Lan Bo added, “There are two pens—capacitive pens. I charged them.”
Bai Chunian touched the solid wall in front of him. There was no grid on it. He took out his phone and checked it again—no signal. Taking a photo and sending the question was also impossible.
The Puppeteer asked, “Can the pen write on the door?”
Lan Bo tried it. “Yes. It can produce black electronic handwriting.”
Lan Bo and Eris actually each had two square grids in front of them, displayed on their respective doors, like two chessboards.
After discovering the capacitive pens worked, Eris grabbed one and scribbled randomly across the grid—hanged stick figures, disemboweled stick figures, beheaded stick figures. In short, stick figures.
Lan Bo, on the other hand, carefully wrote inside the grid: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7… filling the entire board.
Soon, the grid lines flashed red. From a crack in the door, a sheet of paper slowly emerged and drifted down to the ground, where Lan Bo picked it up.
It read: “Report Card. Score: 2, Grade: D. This test is failed.”
Lan Bo frowned. He found that Eris also received a report card. It read: “Score: 1, Grade: D. This test is failed.”
Lan Bo laughed out loud. “Broken rag doll, no brain.”
Eris crumpled his report card and threw it back. “Just one point higher than me. Same D grade anyway. You’re not any better. It’s all failed because you just wrote more numbers.”
Lan Bo folded his report card and stuffed it into his bag. “I’m only three points away from full marks. That’s a very good score.”
——
“Forget it,” the Puppeteer said after listening to the communication channel. He looked at Bai Chunian. “We should focus on solving our side first.”
“Step back.” Bai Chunian rotated his wrist and took half a step back. He took a deep breath and concentrated his strength into his fist. A surge of white brandy-like pheromone erupted instantly. Muscles swelled along his arm, veins sharply raised. A phantom white lion forepaw formed from his fingers to his arm, pausing briefly before striking forward at extreme speed.
Boom!
The wind from the impact lifted the Puppeteer’s coat hem. The Puppeteer silently calculated the force in his mind.
A numb, overstrained sensation spread from Bai Chunian’s knuckles through his entire arm. He grimaced in pain; the skin and flesh on his knuckles tore open, and even bone showed fine cracks.
He gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain to subside as the wound began to heal. He looked up at the changing numbers on the wall.
“Current punch force: 6794 kg. Average punch force: 3691.5. Punch count: 2.”
Nearly seven tons—an astonishing strike force. The Puppeteer evaluated it internally.
The light on the display turned green. From a narrow slot in the wall, a sheet of paper slowly emerged.
The Puppeteer casually picked it up. “Hmm. A report card.”
It was a certificate-like sheet with floral patterns, reading: “Score: 78. Grade: A. This test is passed.”
The reinforced testing wall slowly rose.
Bai Chunian grabbed the report card, scanned it, and said in disbelief, “Only 78 points?” He kicked the wall. “Come down, I’m retaking it.”
On the other side of the communicator, Eris suddenly interrupted: “Huh? Full score is 100?”
Lan Bo, hearing Bai Chunian muttering, silently pulled his report card from his bag, crumpled it, and ate it.
After the striking-force wall lifted, a corridor appeared. The two of them walked forward for about thirty meters.
They thought the test ended there—but in the next room, neatly arranged square blocks of different materials filled the space. The electronic display on the wall read: “Crushing Force Test.”
“… …” Bai Chunian inhaled sharply, then walked over and knocked on the blocks. Granite, steel, cast iron, and even lead blocks.
He sat down on the floor. Sweat dampened his collar as he fanned himself with the report card. “Let me rest a bit.”
Soon, Lan Bo’s voice became tense: “randi, randi.”
“Fire…” Lan Bo’s breathing grew unsteady. “Fire is coming up from the elevator.”
Bai Chunian immediately tensed and looked back toward the entrance. He rushed back along the corridor—and indeed, flames were swallowing the elevator shaft. The heat rushed toward them. The destruction system had not stopped; it was advancing like a countdown, slowly chasing down anyone who lagged behind.
This was a brutal race for survival.
“Help them break the door first.” Bai Chunian said urgently. He ran back. He knew Lan Bo feared fire, and Eris’s body was ceramic and didn’t care about burning, so the Puppeteer wouldn’t rush.
But the Puppeteer wasn’t calm either. He asked softly, “Eris, tell me carefully what’s on the door. Do not omit anything.”
Bai Chunian sharply observed his expression. He didn’t look entirely calm either.
Could Eris’s new mechanical core be fire-sensitive? What material wouldn’t tolerate fire?
No time to think further.
“Lan Bo,” Bai Chunian said quickly, “tell me how many squares per row and per column.”
“Seven,” Lan Bo counted carefully. “Seven in each direction.”
Eris answered, “There’s a small number written outside the grid—175.”
Lan Bo: “Mine too.”
Bai Chunian and the Puppeteer both paused and looked at each other.
“A 7×7 magic square.”
“Fill 1 to 49 so each row, column, and diagonal equals 175.”
“The two grids cannot overlap,” Bai Chunian snapped his fingers. “Simple.”
But they had no pen or paper—they could only compute mentally.
Through the communicator, Lan Bo’s breathing grew heavier, even though he didn’t ask for help. The rising temperature was clearly becoming unbearable for him.
The puppeteer spoke first, breaking the tense atmosphere: “Erisi’s combat chip has burned out. We are here to search for a suitable combat chip.” He extended his hand in a friendly manner. His kind attitude made it seem as if the conflict at Barnard Pharmaceuticals had never happened.
Bai Chunian also naturally extended his hand and shook the puppeteer’s hand: “We are ordered to bring back Mr. Oslov. He is the pharmacist here, and also our undercover agent.”
With their extremely strong psychological endurance, neither side revealed any micro-expression flaws, but neither could see through what the other was hiding.
Bai Chunian smiled and thought: “Bullshit. If they want to find a combat chip, going to a breeding base to steal one is much easier than coming to the headquarters. They’re probably hinting that Erisi currently has no combat ability.”
The puppeteer silently nodded and thought: “A rescue mission with no weapons, only two people acting. Illogical. Speaking of which, among all the ‘messenger-type’ experimental subjects, is the intelligence gap really this large intentionally arranged? Is there any way to improve it?”
But seeing the two of them openly friendly yet secretly competing, Lan Bo quietly scratched his head, trying to remember who Oslov was. Erisi lifted his shirt and checked his stomach, wondering whether the thing he swallowed was really a combat chip.
“It seems this building is somewhat different from expected. If it’s convenient, we can travel together for part of the route,” said the puppeteer.
“Be my guest,” Bai Chunian agreed readily. If they encountered emergencies, having two more A3-level helpers would increase their chances of survival. If necessary, using them as shields would also be convenient, and eliminating two IOA wanted fugitives would also reduce future burden on the director.
Bai Chunian spread out half a map on the ground and beckoned the puppeteer over: “Share your intel. This is the building map we drew.” What he produced was a blank printed map retrieved by Crawling Insect, without Professor Lin Deng’s annotations.
The puppeteer responded with information: “The path through the testing chamber would be better.”
Among the subjects in the White Snow Castle, a small number came from the research institute headquarters. The puppeteer, relying on their fragmented testimonies, had drawn a relatively safe route. After seeing Bai Chunian’s map, he confirmed his plan was correct.
Bai Chunian also became more certain of his own deployment. He stood up, casually took back his severed left hand from Erisi, removed the blue sapphire fish-shaped ring from its ring finger, put it onto his regenerated left hand, and tossed the severed hand into a nearby trash bin.
“Let’s go. Take the stairs down. The testing chamber is on negative fifteen.”
Lan Bo moved along the wall like a swimming creature, his glowing electric-blue tail illuminating the darkness. He still held a grudge against Erisi, but since Bai Chunian chose cooperation, he temporarily let it go. Erisi had no sense of stealth at all and slid down the staircase handrail like a slide, laughing sharply as eerie echoes filled the stairwell.
Bai Chunian and the puppeteer walked side by side downstairs, observing each other from the corners of their eyes. The puppeteer noticed Bai Chunian walked with a catlike, light step; Bai Chunian noticed the puppeteer carefully protected his hands, wearing black half-finger gloves and avoiding unnecessary contact. Beyond that, neither could read much else, both being extremely cautious.
“What do you think happened here?” Bai Chunian asked as they walked. “Researchers and guards are gone, and there’s a massive blackout. Did the company collapse and flee? Why is there no news?”
“We haven’t been inside long,” the puppeteer replied. “We haven’t seen any living people yet. Some areas do have tidal and wind power backup systems; we should check if any machines are still running.”
They arrived at the underground fifteenth floor, where the temperature dropped sharply, bringing a chilling dampness.
There was no light at all here. Even if all four of them stood together, they could not see each other’s faces. Only Lan Bo’s tail emitted a faint blue glow, looking in the darkness like a crawling skeletal spine.
Bai Chunian turned on a flashlight. The beam shone upward to the ceiling. The space was at least six meters tall, and the walls were seamless silver insulation panels with a high-tech feel.
He sniffed and detected a faint trace of blood in the air. He swept the flashlight around but the range was too small; the open area was nearly three hundred square meters and would take too long to search inch by inch.
A faint noise came from the ceiling, like footsteps on wooden boards. Bai Chunian glanced at the others; they didn’t hear it.
Judging from the monitoring equipment in the room, this was the observation platform of the testing chamber, where researchers controlled experimental procedures.
All equipment here had lost power. That was good—at least surveillance was down too, so they didn’t need to worry about cameras.
As Bai Chunian circled the equipment, he accidentally kicked a hard object that rolled loudly across the silent room.
It was a thermos cup. Chairs were overturned, flowerpots were smashed, soil and ceramic shards scattered on the ground, and chaotic footprints were left in the soil.
He crouched down to examine them, sniffing the ground.
Yes—the smell of blood came from the clean floor itself, but there were no visible blood stains.
“If chairs are overturned, it means a sudden incident caused chaos. But normally, even if there were intruders or runaway experiments, there should be blood stains. So it was likely an alarm evacuation. Before that, they might have killed a runaway subject and cleaned the blood afterward,” Bai Chunian analyzed.
That was the most reasonable explanation.
The puppeteer also searched for clues. Near a control console with a knocked-over cup, he took out magnetic powder, sprinkled it over the buttons, and shone a purple light.
Bai Chunian leaned over: “No fingerprints?”
The puppeteer nodded slightly: “None. It’s as if no one was ever here.”
“Damn, that’s creepy,” Bai Chunian muttered. “Even if people vanished, there should still be fingerprints.”
Erisi suddenly called out: “Hey, Nix, come here. I recognize this.”
They walked over. Erisi pointed at the entrance of the testing area. It was a double-door system requiring sequential entry. The electronic lock light was still on.
To prevent accidents during power failure, the testing zone had an independent power system. Backup power used tidal and wind energy, ensuring stable operation.
Lan Bo glanced at the door and said casually: “I’ve done the first test before.”
Erisi also had experience here.
The first test was color-blindness screening.
Lan Bo said: “Red means one person. Green means two. Wrong = incineration.”
Erisi excitedly described his past: he deliberately failed, fell into the incinerator, then killed the staff inside and burned them instead.
The rules were understood: red allows one, green allows two, otherwise incineration is triggered.
“No identity cards, so only this path works,” Bai Chunian said.
Erisi went first. The elevator ascended under red light. Then a second elevator arrived at Puppeteer’s side, where a dried experimental subject attacked. The puppeteer calmly crushed it.
Lan Bo and Bai Chunian also passed through. Lan Bo ended up in the green-lit elevator with a half-dead subject and moved on.
Bai Chunian entered the next elevator alone. The green light appeared; a dried experimental subject attacked him. He calmly dragged it in, and the elevator ascended.
He later killed it upon arrival and found only the puppeteer waiting.
Then Lan Bo reported: “I’m in the intelligence testing area.”
They realized they were separated into different testing categories.
Bai Chunian deduced the system classified subjects into combat, intelligence, and other categories, and sent them accordingly.
They regrouped mentally, but found the exit sealed.
Bai Chunian tested a wall showing strength measurement. He punched it—586 kg, rejected.
He then used full strength: 6794 kg. The system accepted.
The wall opened.
Inside was a second test: breaking material cubes of different hardness.
The puppeteer used a mechanical vibration spike to shatter them. Bai Chunian used a hammer form of his ability. They worked quickly.
While working, both secretly considered killing each other but restrained themselves.
Suddenly Lan Bo reported fire approaching from the elevator—an incineration system advancing.
Time was running out.
They coordinated quickly and solved a 7×7 magic square puzzle using electric pens, successfully passing.
All three groups cleared the test.
But then Bai Chunian noticed something strange.
A severed hand was placed on his shoulder.
He froze.
It was his own hand—the one he had thrown away earlier.