“……”
Bai Chunian silently formed a conclusion in his mind.
Above the inspection tunnel, the green indicator showed the number of people who had passed increasing from one to three. To avoid suspicion, they couldn’t delay any longer. Bai Chunian took Abido’s ID card and quickly stepped into the inspection passage.
The X-ray display showed his skeletal structure—lion ears gently swaying on his head, a tail trailing behind him. The Dead Sea Heartstone collar around his neck and the bell on his tail tip both appeared completely solid and opaque.
After Bai Chunian passed through, the entire room fell silent. On the computer screen, the cursor slowly moved.
It drifted to the “X” in the upper-right corner and closed the X-ray inspection interface.
Above the inspection tunnel, the green indicator showing the number of people who had passed jumped to 5, then 6, 7, 8, 9… and then, all the lighting in the room along with the green display lights went out at once.
When Bai Chunian stepped out of the inspection passage and lifted the lead curtain, everything before him was pitch black.
“Power still hasn’t been restored here?” He paused slightly and switched on his flashlight.
In the shadows beyond the reach of the beam, something moved closer. Bai Chunian reacted instantly, leaping out of the passage. In the chaos, his hand struck a hard object while holding the flashlight, producing a dull thud.
He turned back and illuminated the spot where he had just stood. On the ground lay a researcher in a white institute uniform, face down, head missing.
Bai Chunian crouched to examine him closely. The death condition was similar to the researcher found in the freezer. The severed neck and decaying body were already infested with maggots.
A second beam of light appeared beside him. The Puppeteer leaned down, using a thumb light to examine the corpse. “Time of death is roughly the same as the freezer victim. Livor mortis is concentrated in the legs—he died standing. When Eris moved the reagent cabinet earlier, he was hiding in the gap.”
“What is this place?” Bai Chunian asked.
The Puppeteer swept the light across the wall. A sign read: “Specimen Room Usage Guidelines.”
Lan Bo crawled back from another direction, clinging to the wall. He flicked his tail. “There are five more bodies on the ground. All researchers. All headless. There are also glass cabinets containing specimens.”
“I’ll take a look.” Bai Chunian hurried over.
Along the walls of the specimen room stood many tall cabinets. Through the glass doors, one could see labeled reagent bottles, disposable surgical tools, alcohol lamps, and other laboratory equipment.
The researchers’ bodies were not scattered at their workstations. Instead, they were hidden in various corners, all in defensive, hiding postures filled with fear.
Including the one just fallen, there were a total of six corpses in the room. One hidden under a dissection table had empty liquid-nitrogen capsule shells scattered beside his hand. Another hidden inside a sterilization cabinet had two empty SH suppression agents at his feet, the cabinet door bearing signs of forced entry. Another was locked inside a storage box clutching a submachine gun tightly. Only the one in the center of the room held a flamethrower.
“Hmm…” Bai Chunian examined them one by one. “They resisted, but it didn’t help. So it must have been an experimental subject. Institute researchers are experienced in handling runaway test subjects; mass casualty scenarios like this are rare. The subject must be high level.”
The specimen room contained many long, vertical glass sterile tanks. Each appeared to have an independent power source and backup system to maintain operation during outages and preserve the specimens inside.
Inside the glass tank near Bai Chunian was a body suspended in liquid—a ribbonfish. Its body was scaleless, covered in beautiful silvery guanine sheen. Though lifelike, its eyes had already lost all signs of life.
At the lower-left corner of the tank was a digital display, scrolling text describing its origin and processing history. The ribbonfish had been caught in the Pacific a year earlier. Due to failed modification but extreme rarity, it had been turned into a specimen.
The specimens in these tanks varied in form—some purely animal or plant, others human-shaped.
Bai Chunian looked up and saw Eris standing in front of a glass specimen cabinet, lost in thought. He walked over.
Inside was a human teenager, about fifteen or sixteen years old, white, naked, all body hair shaved. His hands were folded over his chest as if praying in a church.
His eyes were peacefully closed. He looked as if he were merely sleeping. His body was covered in seams—his head, neck, torso, limbs, knees, shoulders, elbows, even fingertips had all been detached and reassembled.
Bai Chunian read the data on the lower-left display. The boy’s name was Adrian, born in Glasgow, England in K017. He was abandoned at a church by his parents and raised by a priest. In K029, researchers discovered his differentiation potential and purchased him from the priest.
Testing showed Adrian’s gland type was owl, and his pheromone was heather. After modification, parts of his gland genes were removed to make him suitable for first-code-6 inanimate experimental transformation.
Bai Chunian bumped Eris with his elbow. “Looks like your nape gland originally belonged to him.”
Eris grinned exaggeratedly. “What nonsense are you talking about? This body was originally mine. It was replaced fifty-three times.” He leaned closer to Bai Chunian, lifting his hands and grinning with satisfaction. “Guess which finger hurt the most when it was cut off?”
Bai Chunian thought for a moment. “Left ring finger.”
Eris looked disappointed. “What? You already knew. Tch.”
Bai Chunian’s gaze drifted past several lion cub specimens curled quietly inside another cabinet. He took a deep breath and moved on with his flashlight, searching for an exit.
The specimen room was large. After walking for quite some time, they finally reached the end. A glass cabinet near the wall had been shattered; fragments were scattered across the floor. A thick plant root had taken hold here, drawing nutrients from the remaining viscous fluid inside the cabinet.
The digital display in the corner had also been destroyed, offering no useful information.
The plant had grown extremely large. Thick branches the size of a thigh extended toward a metal door on the wall. The door was open, but the entrance was completely blocked by tangled vines, making it impossible to pass.
Bai Chunian pushed through the gaps in the branches and peered into the next room. It was also completely dark.
“Eris, go check the previous room with the power switch. See if it tripped. Why is everything so dark?”
“Why should I go?”
“Oh, I get it. You’re scared of the dark. I’ll tell Puppeteer.”
Eris jumped up. “I’m not scared. It’s just flipping a switch.” He turned and walked off immediately.
Eris returned to the entrance of the inspection passage, where the Puppeteer was checking the medicines in the reagent cabinet, and Lan Bo was sniffing corpses while rummaging through their clothing for items. He casually greeted them and turned back the way he came, acting indifferent.
The Puppeteer picked up a bottle of concentrated ammonia, examining it idly as he conversed with Lan Bo.
“That time at the Walhua Pharmaceutical factory, I thought you would go to any lengths to kill the Immortal Undead.”
Lan Bo didn’t even look up. “I would have. After I killed a few eyesores first.”
“But it hurt your envoy. With how vengeful you are, what are you waiting for?”
“It wasn’t only it that hurt Xiao Bai.”
The Puppeteer gave a faint hum of laughter. “No retaliation. That doesn’t sound like you.”
Lan Bo straightened slightly, sitting beside a corpse, one hand resting lazily on his curled fish tail knee. “I want him to have a complete human experience. Otherwise, he’ll always hold fantasies about humanity. He hasn’t been hurt enough yet. I feel sorry for him, but I can only let him go his own way. He’s full of passion—that’s something I was born without, and it’s also why I like him. The secret to immortality is sufficient indifference. You should understand that too.”
The Puppeteer listened, slightly surprised, then pulled a chair closer and sat down, focusing on the conversation. “Experimental subjects being rejected by humans is inevitable. They are few in number but powerful. If their numbers were sufficient, it would be humans who would be rejected—weak, fragile beings with no faith or reverence, ruling the world through sheer numbers, yet still self-satisfied. It’s disgusting to look at.”
Lan Bo lightly twirled a strand of hair between his fingers. “Exactly. Humans were the losers expelled onto land by the sea race millions of years ago. Aside from destruction, they’re useless. A rare few with conscience exist, but their number is negligible.”
The two of them conversed quite happily.
Leaning back in his chair, the Puppeteer rested his elegant fingers on his knee. “It seems our side is more suitable for you. Would you consider it?”
“You don’t understand. His emotions infect me—they make me feel truly alive. How could I disappoint him?” Lan Bo glanced toward Bai Chunian’s direction in the distance. “Compared to what I once wanted, I now hope his passion never dies, his compassion never shifts, and all evil and killing be stained onto my hands instead.” He lazily drew out a dagger and thrust it into a corpse. “I don’t care.”
From the corner in the distance, Bai Chunian called out, “Wife.”
Hearing the call, Lan Bo raised a finger toward the Puppeteer, pressing it lightly against his lips in a gesture for secrecy. His enchanting, slightly sinister features—along with his webbed fingers—carried the bewitching allure of a mythological siren. Then his expression instantly shifted into something pure and gentle, and he slid rapidly along the wall.
“Coming~”