Bai Chunian zoomed in to identify the pilot wearing goggles and a headset. He picked up the communicator: “Stand down from level three alert. All clear.”
He stepped down from the detection platform, standing at the shore as waves crashed, slipping on sunglasses to watch the distant sky.
Before the helicopter arrived, Bai Chunian’s phone rang—it was Uncle Jin.
He picked up. On the line, Lu Shangjin’s voice was a little anxious: “That little rascal, Lu Yan… I taught him to fly a helicopter for two weeks, and today, while I went out to see a friend, he just took off in the chopper! Go check on him—don’t let air defense shoot him down.”
It was rare to see Uncle Jin so flustered. Bai Chunian gazed at the slowly appearing outline of the helicopter against the horizon: “I’ve detected a rabbit-themed helicopter.”
Lu Shangjin said, “Ah, yes, that’s the one. I bought a set and had the designer do all sorts of rabbit designs—Dutch, Angora, Jersey rabbits. Now I have a whole nest of rabbit choppers at home. He just took the short-haired lop-eared one.”
“Oh… that.” Bai Chunian thought for a moment. “How about I look after him for a bit? His school’s on break; he can play on the island for a while.”
Lu Shangjin paused. “With his temper, how long would he stay with you?”
“Just treat it like playing,” Bai Chunian replied, already planning to make sure the lop-eared chopper stayed before worrying about anything else.
After a brief exchange with his assistant, Lu Shangjin said, “I’ve allocated one hundred million for you over there—improve the accommodations, maybe even build a dessert shop.”
“No need, Uncle. Our lodgings here are fine.”
“One dorm of forty square meters for one student—can you really call that fine?”
“? Not good?”
Lu Shangjin muttered to himself: “Looks like even a young alpha can’t be raised cheaply… underestimated him.”
“Uncle…” Bai Chunian was momentarily dazed, kicking a shell at his feet.
“All right,” Lu Shangjin said. “By the way, when things calm down and you come back, I’ll let you manage a few idle companies.”
“No, no, I’m not short on money.”
“It’s never bad to learn. You can’t stay in the investigation unit forever—after twenty-eight, being a special agent gets harder. Plenty of young people waiting to replace you. You’re not immortal.”
Bai Chunian didn’t argue, quietly acknowledging.
After the instructions, Lu Shangjin rubbed his nose and told Yan Yi about sending Lu Yan to the training base.
Yan Yi’s tone was far lighter than expected, even a bit pleased: “Let him go.”
The rabbit helicopter slowly approached the island. Bai Chunian led him to the helipad. Lu Yan landed smoothly; the rotors retracted automatically, leaving the lop-eared design hanging by the sides—a uniquely novel look.
Lu Yan jumped off, wearing a flight suit with headset and goggles, looking the part.
Bai Chunian crouched, lazily raising a fist. The lop-eared omega approached, and they bumped fists.
Bai Chunian looked up: “Young master, are you here to hang out with me, or to reunite with that little childhood friend of yours across the ocean?”
Lu Yan tugged off his headset, crouched beside Bai Chunian, tracing the ground with his finger: “They say here it’s not about background, only skill. Is that true?”
“Of course,” Bai Chunian smiled.
“If not… I’ll leave,” Lu Yan said doubtfully.
“No problem,” Bai Chunian replied lightly. “By the way, Uncle Jin transferred another hundred million—he’s worried about your accommodations, wants me to rebuild the training dorms for you.”
Lu Yan waved frantically, scared: “No, no, send it back! Here, I want to be just a normal kid with a few tens of millions.”
Bai Chunian: “…Actually, it could be even less.”
Lu Yan hesitated: “A few million? But then I couldn’t even buy a house… would I get pushed out?”
Bai Chunian handed him a dorm card: “Just say your dad’s self-employed. Don’t say anything else. No one will ask.”
“…All right,” Lu Yan thought, hitting his palm in agreement.
“So… if anyone bullies me like before, can I fight back?”
“You can, but only in the martial arts classroom,” Bai Chunian stood up. “But if you fight, you have to allow others to fight back—rules don’t protect only you.”
“Fine, I want them to hit back,” Lu Yan said excitedly.
He shed his T-shirt and pants from home, removed all accessories, and changed into the training outfit Bai Chunian tossed him.
Walking beside Bai Chunian, Lu Yan noticed the blue fish-patterned markings stretching from his shoulder to chest—not quite a tattoo, faintly scented like white wild roses.
“This… a mark?” Lu Yan touched it in surprise. “Aren’t you an alpha?”
Bai Chunian put on sunglasses: “I’m willing.”
“My dad always told me never to let an alpha mark themselves casually,” Lu Yan said, staring at the markings. “Aren’t alphas usually against being marked by omegas?”
“Who says? I like it.”
The morning martial arts class had many students, highly exhausting and prone to injuries. Two medical specialists—a Samoyed omega and an Elderberry alpha—sat at the round table in white uniforms, sipping tea while treating injured students.
Bai Chunian led Lu Yan inside. The Samoyed omega holding tea smiled innocently: “Instructor Bai, going to play pool tonight?”
“No time, busy,” Bai Chunian waved to the two medics and headed to the bar.
The martial arts instructor, Dai Ling, was smoking at the bar. Tactical instructor Red Crab was off duty today but came to boast about his new prodigy’s tactics.
“Check out our Lan Xing,” Red Crab raised a martini and his phone, nearly sticking it to Dai Ling’s face. “See the timing on that vine! Sometimes I feel there’s nothing left to teach him, but he’s only seventeen, so I’ve been developing new tactics these days.”
Dai Ling blew a smoke ring at him: “Go away.”
“Pretty relaxed here,” Bai Chunian came over, draping his arms over both shoulders. “Ling-ge, a bit of good news and bad news—which do you want first?”
Dai Ling finished a cigarette in three pulls, crushing it in the ashtray. “Bad news first.”
Bai Chunian: “Come on, I said good first.”
Dai Ling shot him a glare. “Yeah, and what choice do I have?”
Bai Chunian tugged Lu Yan over. “Here, I brought you a kid—a fifteen-year-old M2-class lop-eared rabbit omega.”
Dai Ling scoffed, turning to scrutinize Lu Yan.
Lu Yan’s ears perked up. “Hello, Instructor. I’m Lu Yan.”
The surname caught Dai Ling’s attention. He repeated, “Lu?”
Lu Yan quickly added, “My dad sells little cakes.”
“Oh.” Dai Ling gave him a long, appraising look.
Red Crab leaned on his hand, watching for fun. “Hmm, not bad. Too bad he’s an omega. Close combat still needs an alpha—omegas don’t pack much punch. Might as well send him here to learn tactics.”
Dai Ling glanced at him. “Enough already.”
Honestly, Dai Ling didn’t expect much from an omega in martial arts. Even though he himself was an omega, kangaroo glands are far more potent biologically than those of a lop-eared rabbit, which is one of the weakest rabbit breeds, prone to fright and injury.
“Fifteen… too young.” Dai Ling pinched Lu Yan’s bones. “Trained before?”
Lu Yan nodded. “I think I’m pretty good at it.”
Dai Ling hesitated, then picked up a pair of new protective gloves and handed them to him. “Try them. I won’t hit hard. Don’t be afraid.”
Bai Chunian settled into Dai Ling’s seat with a glass of whiskey on the rocks pushed over by a waiter. “Go all out. He’s a good teacher,” he said to Lu Yan.
Lu Yan nodded.
They spaced themselves apart. Dai Ling gestured with his hand, signaling him to start.
Trusting Bai Chunian’s words, Lu Yan didn’t hesitate, launching the first attack.
He was tiny, supple, and astonishingly fast—fully inheriting the speed advantage of rabbit glands. In less than a second, he reached Dai Ling.
Dai Ling, with his vast experience, easily blocked when Lu Yan was about to reach his vital points—but Lu Yan’s fist vanished mid-air, along with him entirely.
Even Dai Ling didn’t see where he went.
At that instant, a silent black hole appeared behind Dai Ling. Lu Yan peeked through, tapping Dai Ling’s shoulder lightly. “No holding back. I’m actually quite skilled.”
Bai Chunian whistled. “Ling-ge, show him some real skill.”
Red Crab’s attention was drawn to the nimble little rabbit too, leaning on the bar to watch.
A spark lit in Dai Ling’s eyes. He tightened his gloves, preparing for the second round. Blood surged, igniting his focus.
Lu Yan knew how to gauge his opponent. He didn’t try a quick school-style finish. Instead, he dodged skillfully while Dai Ling attacked with dense, precise strikes—strikes that would crush an ordinary student in fifteen seconds. Even when Bi Lanxing trained under Dai Ling, he didn’t survive three moves.
Seconds ticked by; Lu Yan remained unscathed.
The spectators could clearly see: Lu Yan dodged every punch, his figure flickering around Dai Ling, never hit.
Red Crab put down his martini, leaning forward, focusing on the boy. “Damn… must’ve maxed his dodge skill. This style will wear anyone out.”
Lop-eared rabbit gland “Supersonic”: 0–100 km/h instantly, sonic speed in 3.2 seconds, supersonic in 6 seconds. Effective radius: 9 meters from activation. Exceeding that requires re-acceleration. Any interruption resets acceleration.
Bai Chunian had never taken Lu Yan seriously; the boy’s mediocre ATWL test performance had fooled even him.
Lu Yan fully neutralized Dai Ling’s first, sharpest offensive round with pure dodging. During Dai Ling’s brief pause, Lu Yan launched his own fierce attacks.
He didn’t overcommit—any hit was immediately followed by repositioning, leaving no chance for retaliation.
Dai Ling soon noticed the limits of Lu Yan’s ability. During their grapple, he deliberately moved him beyond the acceleration range. Lu Yan slowed, and Dai Ling landed a brutal punch to his abdomen.
Lu Yan tumbled but rolled to evade Dai Ling’s follow-up sweeping kick. Six seconds passed in a flash; Lu Yan quickly accelerated again, rivaling teleportation speed. Dai Ling repeated his tactic to restrain him.
The arena drew every nearby student to watch.
Bai Chunian glanced at the clock—three minutes nearly gone.
Lu Yan began showing signs of fatigue. His endurance was weak; he typically aimed for quick finishes and only grappled with strong opponents. He hadn’t trained with either of his fathers much—they were skilled, but busy and tired, and he never demanded their accompaniment.
At school, he’d always held back against peers. Any injury would have caused more trouble.
At a brief pause, Dai Ling pinned him to the ground, holding his neck. Lu Yan’s strength drained; he lay panting heavily.
His eyes rimmed red, he chuckled hoarsely: “So satisfying… Teacher.”
Bai Chunian clapped. “Beautiful.”
Dai Ling helped him up, resting a hand on his shoulder: “Not bad.”
Inwardly, he wished he could immediately add Lu Yan to his household registry, worried other instructors might take him.
Dai Ling released calming pheromones, restoring Lu Yan’s energy, then asked Bai Chunian cautiously: “Any bad news? I’m telling you now—I’m not letting this kid leave again.”
“No need,” Bai Chunian said, finishing the whiskey. “Just wanted to mention—this little rascal is Lan Xing’s partner.”
Red Crab blew out a mouthful of cocktail, laughing until bubbles foamed at his lips. “Well, in the end, he’s still one of our family.”
Lu Yan muttered quietly, “Not really…”
Dai Ling walked over and lightly tapped Bai Chunian’s shoulder, asking softly, “Do you really want me to train him?”
“Relax. You handle him. I’ve got some things to take care of,” Bai Chunian said, exchanging a few words with Lu Yan before pushing the door open and leaving.
He’d been planning to return to his quarters to rest anyway, but there was work to finish first. That night, Bai Chunian returned to the instructors’ dormitory, sank into the leather sofa, and opened his laptop to review the midday news repeatedly.
He picked up a pen and transcribed the merfolk’s speech phonetically into his notebook. Some lines were translated by TV scientists, others he deduced from his interactions with Lan Bo, plus additional research he could access. He clumsily pieced them together into a rough translation.
“aband… banda… a…” Bai Chunian rubbed his hair with the pen cap. “What the hell is that red fish jabbering? So close to Lan Bo—if he dies, he deserves it.”
A few sentences still eluded his understanding.
Spinning the pen, he suddenly called instructor Zheng Yue.
“Chunian, I’m in class,” Zheng Yue answered.
“Do your class. Just get that little brat in your class to come out.”
“What little brat…? Oh, you mean Yu Xiao Cheng? Fine. Where are you? I’ll send him over.”
“Just have him come out. I’ll go myself.”
After hanging up, Bai Chunian rolled up his notebook, preparing to head out—then received a reply from the president.
“Spec Ops Experimental Unit #809, Kraken, has entered the western Atlantic. Detection shows potential landing activity. Provide a reasonable investigation plan before tomorrow night.”