Five minutes later, the consciousness of all ATWL candidates was transmitted out of the testing grounds. Those who had been eliminated during the exam awakened as well, hearts still pounding as they removed their simulation lenses and stepped out of the phone-booth-like chambers, joining the crowd assembling in the open area where they had waited earlier. They would await the announcement of results and star ratings, followed by the final address.
For a time, the air was thick with pheromones of different scents. Teams in uniforms of various colors packed the field. Some cursed in frustration and regret; others clung together and wept.
Lu Yan crouched in a corner with his ears drooping, face buried in his palms as he sobbed angrily at Bi Lanxing. “It was just an exam. If I died, then I died. Why did you reveal your level? My father is going to scold me to death! They do not say it, but they all think I am useless. Now you exposed your level here because of me. My father and your father are both going to think I am a stupid rabbit. My father will regret having only me. Waaah—”
“Stop crying. It is fine.” Bi Lanxing knelt on one knee, cupping Lu Yan’s face and wiping away his tears. “I was not protecting you. It was for the team’s honor. We qualified with a full team. The whole squad earns an additional star.”
“Mm.” Hearing that made Lu Yan feel a little better. Sniffling, he blew his nose into the tissue Bi Lanxing handed him. The tip of his nose turned red, large tears still clinging to his lashes.
When Bai Chunian woke, he found himself leaning in the corner of his small chamber. He sat there in a daze for a moment, hand pressed over his heart. The sensation of his heart being shot through had felt disturbingly real. The abrupt halt of his heartbeat, the sharp burst of pain—after it faded, the hollow it left behind had been filled with loneliness and loss.
He removed the lenses from his eyes and rubbed them, dry and aching. Suddenly remembering something, he pressed his lips tight, pushed open the chamber door, and searched through the adjacent rooms. At last, in a chamber diagonally in front of his own, he found Lan Bo still unconscious.
Bai Chuyuan released soothing pheromones and bent down to lift Lan Bo into his arms. As he did, he noticed a few small, glimmering fragments scattered in the corner—a black pearl with a blue iridescent sheen, and several scales glowing faintly blue.
Only then did Bai Chuyuan belatedly check the chest pocket of his team uniform. Carefully wrapping the pearl and scales in paper during the exam had merely been a simulated action; in reality, those little things had fallen onto the floor of Lan Bo’s chamber.
He gathered the pearl and scales and tucked them securely into his pocket. Cradling Lan Bo in his arms, he asked a staff member for the location of the cleaning room, then carried the merman inside and locked the door. He wiped down a sink twice with a clean rag before setting Lan Bo inside and turning on a row of faucets, letting cold water pour over him.
Lan Bo had been away from water for nearly forty-eight hours. The moisturizing bandages around him were almost completely dry. His pale skin had grown rough and parched. His golden hair fell softly along his cheeks, making the omega look fragile and obedient.
As the cold water soaked into him, color slowly returned to his fish tail. The dull sheen brightened, icy-blue scales shifting faintly with the current.
Lan Bo drowsily opened his eyes halfway, hazy and unfocused. He raised a hand and batted at the water flowing over him, then slowly pushed himself up and leaned toward the faucet, taking a large gulp of water.
Bai Chuyuan rested his arms on the edge of the sink, chin propped in his hands, gently stroking Lan Bo’s hair. “You worked hard… In a little while I will take you to the Alliance Medical Department.”
After drinking his fill, Lan Bo blinked at him and pointed at the faucet. “Gua?”
“…” Bai Chuyuan nearly slipped. He steadied himself and cupped Lan Bo’s face, studying him closely. “You regressed?”
Thinking it over, during the exam Lan Bo had only been forcibly catalyzed into maturity because of the Aelerant serum—but that had been a holographic simulation. In reality, Lan Bo’s growth stage had not changed at all.
After waiting a long time without getting a response, Lan Bo decided on his own solution. He bit off the faucet and began chewing.
Water burst from the pipe, spraying everywhere and drenching Bai Chuyuan from head to toe. Lan Bo lifted the tip of his tail, charged it with electricity, and snapped it against the pipe opening, sparks flashing as the pipe was instantly welded shut.
He glanced back at Bai Chuyuan, then thoughtfully used the tip of his tail to wipe the water from his face. He spat the mangled faucet remnants into Bai Chuyuan’s palm and nudged them with his tail into a little pile, shaping it into a heart.
Bai Chuyuan’s feelings were complicated. With one hand holding Lan Bo’s “heart” of scrap metal and the other dragging the black suitcase he had brought, he let Lan Bo coil around the suitcase as he hauled it along. They returned to the open field to meet their teammates. Lu Yan was blowing his nose so hard that he accidentally blew away the little metal heart in Bai Chuyuan’s hand.
They waited for a long time in the open field, but the examiners showed no sign of coming out to speak. Some candidates grew restless and began arguing noisily.
The loudest commotion came from the team called Wind Howls in Sorrow.
Wind Howls in Sorrow was the family team of the hired hunter clan Lingti Lineage. Each year they selected four young members of age to participate in the ATWL examination. A strong result would elevate their prestige within the family and lead to greater responsibilities in the family enterprise.
The only difference from previous years was that this time, an omega from the Lingti clan had been mixed into the team.
The Wind Howls in Sorrow team was making quite a scene. The surrounding teams instinctively cleared a space, happy to watch a prominent family embarrass itself.
The team’s only omega curled on the ground, covering his head in a miserable posture while the other three Lingti alphas kicked and cursed at him.
Xiao Xun bent over to protect his vital areas, his expression indifferent—as though long accustomed to such unreasonable bullying and humiliation. He said nothing, silently enduring it.
Their alpha captain viciously kicked Xiao Xun in the waist, then crouched and grabbed his hair, forcing him to lift his head. “You sure showed off, did you not? Fourth in points, all missions completed, eleven eliminations. This time you will at least get seven stars, right?”
Xiao Xun was forced to look up, lips pressed thin as he defended himself. “In that situation I could not save you. I was too far away.”
“We alphas needed you to save us? How were you setting up your shots? You managed to get all our assault members wiped out?”
Bai Chuyuan’s attention was drawn by the disturbance. Bi Lanxing noticed his confusion and explained softly, “Hired hunters worship strength. In the family, alphas are always superior. And the Lingti clan values pure bloodlines. Their alphas can only marry Lingti omegas from outside branches, so the omegas of the main family are treated as outsiders.”
“Oh.” Bai Chuyuan rubbed his chin and crouched down to watch Xiao Xun being beaten. Their eyes met briefly. Bai Chuyuan gave him a look that clearly said, Ask me and I will help you. Xiao Xun turned his head away.
The Lingti alphas vented all the anger of their early elimination on Xiao Xun. The alpha captain sneered and lifted his foot, pressing it down on Xiao Xun’s slender right index finger. “If your shooting is that trash, stop playing sniper.”
A crack finally appeared in Xiao Xun’s defiant gaze. His trembling voice betrayed how frightened he truly was. “Big brother, do not—”
Bai Chuyuan casually pulled the tactical dagger tucked into Lu Yan’s belt and flicked it lightly. The blade sank into the ground beside the Lingti alpha’s shoe, bracing against the foot that was about to grind down. “What are you doing? Brothers fighting is nothing. But if you get serious, that is not fun anymore. I am the one who wiped out your team. Why not come settle accounts with us?”
The Lingti alpha snorted and rolled up his sleeves as he strode toward Bai Chuyuan. “I would not dare? Kid, do you know who my father is?” The other two Lingti alphas left Xiao Xun on the ground and moved in as well.
Lan Bo narrowed his eyes, watching their movements. The tip of his tail lifted and flicked as he began charging electricity.
Just as the quarrel threatened to erupt into a full fight, Bi Lanxing stepped forward and grabbed the Lingti alpha who was about to strike. Casually, he gestured toward Lu Yan and said in a low voice, “Brother, give us some face. His father’s surname is Lu.”
“Who cares who—” The Lingti alpha started to scoff, then paused as the name registered. After a few seconds, he choked back his words. His arrogant expression diminished noticeably as he glanced uncertainly at Lu Yan, who was still crouched by the wall with drooping rabbit ears.
“Fine. Looks like you have backing. Just you wait.” The Lingti alpha shot Bai Chuyuan a glare, then turned and left with the other two. As they passed Xiao Xun, he kicked him once more out of spite. “Let me see who will take you once you are out of our team.”
Bai Chuyan walked over, pulled the tactical dagger out of the ground, crouched in front of Lingti, and used the tip of the blade to carve out a string of numbers. One corner of his lips lifted, revealing half a tiger tooth. “Our top three squads cherish talent the most. If you’re interested, call this number.”
Xiao Xun struggled to prop himself up despite the bruises covering his body. Kneeling upright, lashes lowered, he said coolly, “If you want to hit me, you can do it now.”
“No need for that. I actually admire your tactics—disgusting enough to be impressive.” Bai Chuyan idly scratched at the dirt with the knife tip and asked offhandedly, “Can I ask you something?”
“…”
“You’re that good with a bolt-action sniper rifle. Why carry an assault rifle too?”
Lingti replied, “A bolt-action can’t handle close combat. If the enemy gets near me, no one’s coming to save me.”
Bai Chuyan let out a snort of laughter. “To be honest, your close combat skills are terrible. When I got behind you, you didn’t have any ability to fight back.”
“In the future, just carry the heavy sniper.” Bai Chuyan carved two lines beneath the number he had written, then a few seconds later scraped away every trace of it. He stood up, dusted off his hands, and dragged Lan Bo’s suitcase away.
Several staff members hurried past the entrance to the testing grounds, all of them pale-faced. One nearly collided with the suitcase Bai Chuyan was pulling.
Bai Chuyan lowered his head and asked, “Did something happen?”
“T-The questions were tampered…” The staff member stammered incoherently, then shook his head and forced himself to calm down, putting on a composed front. “It’s nothing. Candidates, do not wander around the grounds. Return to the open area and wait for your results.”
The announcement of results dragged on longer than any previous exam. The broadcast crackled repeatedly with static. A full half hour passed before, just as the candidates on the field were growing impatient, the results were finally projected onto the massive sky screen overhead.
First place in the team rankings was taken—regretfully—by the Suibian Dada Squad. Bai Chuyan clutched his chest and stomped his foot in exaggerated shame.
According to the rules, if a four-person squad passed the exam without losing any members, it was considered a full-team pass and each member received one additional star. In the final bonus question, eliminating Experimental Subject 1513 earned every member three additional stars. As a result, Lu Yan earned twelve stars in the exam, Bi Lanxing nine, Bai Chuyan ten, and Lan Bo eleven. The Suibian Dada Squad set a new all-time ATWL team record with a total of forty-two stars, leaving the entire field of candidates staring in stunned silence.
ATWL star ratings would be engraved on the certificate and added to one’s personal file as a mark of distinction. In the eyes of most organizations, results like this carried considerable weight.
The Sougui Squad came in second. After making a phone call, He Suowei shrugged and decided he would take his team back for additional training. The He brothers were still immersed in their tragic deaths, clutching their heads and weeping uncontrollably. The husky did not care much about the results; he ran off to add the little omegas from the “You Have A?” Squad on WeChat. He even tried to add Lan Bo, though the latter clearly did not understand and sprayed him in the face with water.
The “You Have A?” Squad unexpectedly made it into the top three. The three little omegas cheered and hugged each other, taking selfies with the results projected in the sky behind them. Their captain, Du Mo, watched Bai Chuyan, took out a lighter, lit a slim cigarette, and tucked it between his lips. He slipped quietly behind a flowerbed, exhaled a stream of smoke, and pushed the police badge peeking out of his pocket further inside.
The Feng Xiaoxiao Xi Squad survived to fourth place with only one remaining member. The alphas on that team had already stormed off in frustration. Xiao Xun stood alone in the shadows with his backpack on. After hearing the results, he lingered there in silence for a moment before quickly leaving.
Only the top thirty teams were announced. Any team ranked within the top thirty was considered to have passed. Some rejoiced, others were dejected. The teams that failed consoled one another, saying they could always try again next year.
The candidates gathered at the entrance were about to disperse when someone suddenly shouted, “The exam’s over—why aren’t they opening the gates?”
Bai Chuyan tilted his head up. Taking advantage of his height, he looked over the crowd and scanned the surroundings, frowning slightly. Lan Bo, curled around the suitcase, quietly reached out and brushed the back of Bai Chuyan’s hand.
Above the city, the roar of propellers shredded the quiet morning. Several black helicopters approached from the northern sky.
From the helicopter bearing the striking red triangular emblem of the 109 Research Institute, four light machine guns extended outward, all aimed at Lan Bo, who was being dragged along behind Bai Chuyan.
The helicopters carried fully armed capture personnel. Although their orders were to capture the target alive if possible, when facing an extremely dangerous special experimental subject, no one dared take the risk. They immediately contacted headquarters at top speed. “Lost experimental subject, Codename Lightning Phantom, located. No hostile intent detected. Requesting further instructions.”
Headquarters of the 109 Research Institute responded: “Recover immediately.”
Lan Bo arched his back. His fish tail gradually turned red, and several sharp crimson spines rose along his dorsal fin as he fiercely locked his gaze on the helicopters in the sky.
The capture team’s expressions changed. They contacted headquarters again. “Strong hostile intent detected from Lightning Phantom. Requesting immediate reinforcements!”
The candidates who had nothing to do with this violent recovery operation scattered in fright. In the open space at the center, only four people remained.
Bi Lanxing and Lu Yan did not retreat. Lu Yan looked completely confused by the situation. Bi Lanxing seemed to have some psychological preparation; at least on the surface, he did not appear as panicked.
One hand in his pocket and the other holding the suitcase handle, Bai Chuyan looked up at the capture personnel in the helicopter and let out a laugh to himself. “You have got to be kidding. You really think sending two riot-control squads is enough to recover us?”
A rich white brandy pheromone spread from Bai Chuyan’s glands. The first to feel the crushing force of it were Lu Yan and Bi Lanxing standing closest to him. Gritting his teeth, Bi Lanxing pressed a hand to his swollen, aching gland. At this point, the pressure radiating from Bai Chuyan was far beyond a mere J1 level.
But just as his differentiation ability was about to activate, a steady car horn cut through the tension.
A Phantom rolled to a stop outside the grounds.
Its hood ornament was a custom-made soaring eagle. Anyone with a discerning eye could recognize who that car belonged to.
Plenty of candidates recognized the vehicle, though none dared take out their phones to record.
The capture personnel in the helicopters noticed the Phantom as well. Their expressions stiffened as they quietly reported the sudden change to headquarters.
“Huh.” Lu Yan perked up his ears and stood on tiptoe to peer through the Phantom’s window. “I think my dad bought me a little cake today.”