The International Omega Alliance headquarters was located in the center of Aphid City. Its new special agent training base was on Aphid Island, about fifty kilometers from the coast, surrounded by the sea, isolated except for the monthly supply freighters.
The Omega Anti-Hunting Alliance was founded fifteen years ago by former PBB chief agent Yan Yi and senior omegas worldwide. Now the International Omega Alliance, its mission is to protect omegas’ personal safety and rights. Over time, more high-level omegas joined, creating remarkable cohesion, rapidly establishing global influence in just fifteen years.
As the Alliance grew, omegas’ social status rose. They broke free from past labels like “breeding machines,” “decorative dolls,” or “fragile pets.” In K017, under Professor Zhong Caibing, the first L-type barrier vaccines were developed, eliminating omegas’ reliance on alphas and marking a milestone in their independence.
In the past six years, membership expanded beyond omegas, including alphas and betas, some in leadership roles.
Among them, Chairman Yan’s most capable alpha operative also serves as a new agent instructor.
When Bai Chunian stepped off the ferry, he wore aviator sunglasses, a black training vest, leather armor tightening his shoulders with brass clasps, camouflage pants, and mid-calf combat boots, appearing tall and imposing.
He flicked the brim of his black cap and smiled lightly, greeting the two rows of young cadets in camouflage training uniforms lined up along the path.
Every trainee stood perfectly at attention, shoulders taut, eyes fixed forward. As Bai Chunian passed, each raised their right palm, pressing it beneath the left collarbone, and loudly greeted, “Hello, Instructor!”
This gesture extended the PBB military salute, signaling that their hands were weapon-free and that they were absolutely obedient to their superior.
Bai Chunian’s eyes curved kindly as he scanned the two rows of trainees, occasionally patting a shoulder here, an arm there. “Much stronger than the last time I visited. Looks like you’ve been training hard while I was away.”
The trainee whose shoulder was patted shivered, eyelashes quivering, legs momentarily weakening.
Bai Chunian released his hand, strolling on casually, continuing to greet the others.
The alpha boy who had just been patted wobbled on his legs and only regained balance with the support of two nearby omegas. Strangely, no one mocked his courage or composure; instead, murmurs of despair spread quietly: “Old Nie is back… we’re doomed.”
The trainees had unanimously given Bai Chunian a nickname: Ogre Lion Nivemore.
Only two new trainees at the rear stood dumbly, bewildered by the fearful reactions around them.
Bai Chunian strolled to the back, removed his aviator sunglasses, sizing up the newcomers from head to toe, then waved to the lined-up trainees. “Dismissed. Go eat.”
“Thank you, Instructor!” The trainees scattered like birds.
Lu Yan also wanted to eat. His rabbit ears, pinned down by his camouflage cap, perked up at the dining hall bell and sent the hat flying.
Bai Chunian put his hands in his pockets, toe idly scuffing the sand on the beach, and asked casually, “Why are you here?”
Bi Lanxing stood at attention, eyes forward. “Report, Instructor: we’re here to join the Alliance New Agent Training.”
Lu Yan pouted reluctantly. “Me too.”
Bai Chunian laughed. “Could your fathers really bear to send their precious sons to a training base?”
Bi Lanxing’s situation was straightforward—his alpha father was a retired PBB special forces soldier, and children of military parents tend to be tougher. Lu Yan, however, was different: the only son of Chairman Yan, the treasured child of Jin Shang, doted on to the point of being wrapped in cotton.
Bi Lanxing explained: “I showed my rank in the ATWL exam. When I returned home, my father scolded me and sent me here. He said I can’t enter the house again unless I train enough to protect myself.”
Bai Chunian nodded and turned to Lu Yan. “And you?”
Lu Yan looked dejected. “My dad scolded me for holding Lanxing back. I ran away from home. When I heard Lanxing was coming here, I came too.”
Bai Chunian gestured toward the ferry docked at the shore. “This ship only comes once a month. If you leave now, there’s still time. Both your fathers treat me well, so I won’t let anything happen to their precious sons.”
Lu Yan hesitated, eyes on the ferry, lips biting in thought. “How tough could it be?”
“No TV, no phones, no games, no desserts, no weekends, early to bed and early to rise, make your bed, wash the dishes after meals, do your own laundry.”
Lu Yan: “? Can I survive that?”
Bai Chunian smiled, nudging him. “Come on, keep your cuteness intact.”
Lu Yan glanced at Bi Lanxing, who advised, “Go apologize to your uncle and then get back to school.”
“I…”
“Actions speak louder than words.” Bai Chunian grabbed the little rabbit by the back of his collar and lifted him onto the ferry deck. “Go.”
He then instructed the ferry captain, “Have someone meet him at the dock and see him onto the vehicle before you leave.” The captain nodded.
Bai Chunian dusted off his hands, hands in his pockets, and headed to the mess hall, calling Bi Lanxing to follow. Along the way, they checked out some of the basic facilities.
They frequently ran into other trainees. Those who saw Bai Chunian froze, saluted nervously, and then scattered.
Bi Lanxing was puzzled but didn’t show it.
Bai Chunian asked a few questions casually, checking the boy’s academic knowledge: “Do you know why Alliance agents are only alphas and omegas, not betas?”
Bi Lanxing nodded. “It can be seen as a hybrid advantage. Carrying one pair of AO genes differentiates into alpha or omega. Carrying other combinations like AA, AB, OB, OO differentiates into beta. Alpha and omega glands awaken as special beings; beta glands awaken as humans. Betas are ordinary and stable, allowing large-scale proliferation. Without special differentiation abilities, betas rarely enter combat professions.”
“In our textbooks, the ABO differentiation is viewed as evolutionary, influenced by magnetic fields and environment causing gene mutation.”
“But other literature mentions a rebellious school, the modificationist view, asserting ABO differentiation was deliberately caused by humans and they’re investigating the cause.”
Bai Chunian patted Bi Lanxing’s shoulder. “Good. Questioning textbooks is healthy.”
The training base had excellent meals: free, all-day self-service, unlimited portions, with meat, vegetables, soups, fruits, and juices.
After dinner, Bai Chunian guided the young alpha around the island. Initially, it seemed easy, but as night fell and stars blanketed the sky, Bi Lanxing’s legs began to ache.
Walking on sand was harder than on flat ground, and sand seeping into shoes caused small abrasions that turned into sharp, intolerable pain.
The early morning sea remained calm. Bai Chunian sat on the beach, letting the salty wind lift his hair, basking in the warmth of the first sunlight.
Bi Lanxing, however, was far less comfortable. His calves trembled, he was cold, and the night-long walk left red streaks in his eyes. Sleep tugged at him, and he subconsciously hoped Bai Chunian would say, “Alright, you can rest now.”
By the time the morning sunlight blanketed the beach, Bai Chunian yawned. “Alright.”
Bi Lanxing exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.
Unexpectedly, Bai Chunian’s next words came: “Time to practice shooting.”
Bi Lanxing closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and forced out, “Yes, sir.”
Bai Chunian led him to the training base’s shooting range. It was an enclosed facility with a highly efficient ventilation system. Each area was separated by soundproof walls: pistols, submachine guns, rifles, sniper rifles, and high-precision sniper stations.
By six in the morning, the range was already crowded.
Bai Chunian swiped his ID at the entrance and leaned on the small window of the guard booth, idly chatting: “Find me an open spot in the rifle section. Are all the kids really this dedicated, filling the range this early?”
The guard smiled, handing him an access card. “It’s usually not like this. But with you back, none of the little monkeys dare to sleep in a minute longer.” Everyone was terrified of him.
Bai Chunian lit a cigarette. “Is that so?”
He led Bi Lanxing to the rifle section. Every shooting area was alive with the sound of gunfire. Trainees sweated profusely, and their eyes involuntarily darted to Bai Chunian, straightening their posture.
A few observant trainees noticed a new face trailing Bai Chunian, whispered among themselves, and quickly returned to their practice.
Once inside the rifle section, Bai Chunian dragged over a chair and sat down, crossing his legs. “Pick a rifle you’re comfortable with.”
Each station had a weapon wall. Rifles of various calibers and models could be searched on a touchscreen to the right.
Bi Lanxing typed “ACR, any caliber” on the screen.
A drawer slid open, revealing an ACR assault rifle with 5.56mm rounds beside it.
Though Bi Lanxing had good shooting scores at school, the activity required a precise feel. Fatigue and mental exhaustion left him far from peak performance.
Still, with Bai Chunian seated nearby, he forced himself to lift the ACR and aim at the moving target.
A gunshot rang out—his bullet struck the target’s left shoulder.
Simultaneously, a chill swept through Bi Lanxing’s abdomen, followed by excruciating pain. He gripped the rifle, knelt, and then collapsed, clutching his stomach. Darkness edged his vision, dizziness blanking his mind.
It felt like being shot. Instinctively, he reached for the wound—but there was no blood.
Bai Chunian remained seated, legs crossed, calmly observing him. “Don’t be afraid. This is one of my companion abilities: Pain Deception.”
The “Pain Deception” ability: a hallucination-type power that simulates pain to deceive the target’s sensory perception.
“If your bullet doesn’t hit a vital point, my ability will simulate a hit there for you.”
“You can continue. I’ll be with you all day.”
Nearby trainees glanced at Bi Lanxing with sympathy.