The dim port factory floor was damp, and a man hung suspended from a derelict hoist by steel cables.
The alpha’s hands were bound above him, his toes barely touching the ground. His clothes were soaked in blood and tattered, a cheekbone caved in, clearly broken. His face was a mess of blood and flesh, almost unrecognizable.
Bai Chunian squatted before him, a half-smoked cigarette pinched between his fingers. Smoke drifted from the glowing ember, partially obscuring the bound alpha’s gaze.
The alpha’s knuckles were scraped raw from overuse but healed quickly, leaving no trace. He coughed up a mouthful of blood mingled with saliva, which dribbled down the corner of his mouth.
After traveling overland and by air in recent days, Bai Chunian had landed at Norman Airport and contacted the IOA Alliance’s South American branch. The branch chief, an A3-level highly differentiated armadillo omega, sent agents to meet him. Bai Chunian received weapon support, and before departure, the brisk and commanding armadillo chief instructed Bai Chunian to pass greetings to Chairman Yan upon returning home.
Bai Chunian’s first mission in Kingston was to assassinate a rogue sniper.
During the time Bai Chunian was ambushed by high heat and Lan Bo nearly arrested by the international prison, Chairman Yan had used the opportunity to conduct a thorough purge within the Alliance. During the investigation, a sniper in the Alliance’s bomb disposal division suddenly went missing. Evidence confirmed that an alpha sniper named Rilaf had defected and joined a mercenary organization.
Bai Chunian’s first task was to locate and eliminate Rilaf. The second phase would involve investigating the octopus experimental unit along the Caribbean coast.
Bai Chunian squatted on the floor for a while, then slowly stood and approached Rilaf, using the smoldering cigarette between his fingers to lift his chin.
“I’ve no patience for questions. Return the stolen intelligence, and you’ll be free.” Bai Chunian’s eyes half-lowered, a faint smile playing in the darkness as he stared at him.
The cigarette hissed softly against his skin. Rilaf glared, bloodshot eyes straining, and croaked, “You’re really not human. They were right—you’re like a time bomb.”
“Ah, who said that?” Bai Chunian lit another cigarette, leaning against a nearby container and exhaling gently. He had changed into a practical disguise: black tank top, camo pants, combat boots—the usual combination. A faint blue fish-scale mark lingered on his shoulder.
“You will never be human,” Rilaf shouted hoarsely. “The foolish chairman has been brainwashed by you enlightened experimental units, letting you rise to the top, even advocating for experiment units’ rights in international conferences… He’s no longer worthy of our loyalty. Do you think I’m the only one who feels this? I simply did what others dared not.”
“Monster,” he roared.
Bai Chunian’s fingertips twitched as glowing ash fell onto the back of his hand.
“Say a few more words; after all, these are your last on earth. It’s truly a waste to spend them cursing me.” Bai Chunian gently rested a hand on his shoulder. “Rilaf.”
The suspended body vanished in an instant, compressed by space itself. In Bai Chunian’s palm appeared a blood-red glass sphere. He rubbed it against his clothes to polish it and held it to the moonlight. Encased within like amber was the remnants of a USB drive.
“So it was hidden in the intestines. Damn it.” Bai Chunian muttered, casually tossing the glass sphere into his pocket.
“Target confirmed dead. Intelligence destroyed. Phase one complete.” Bai Chunian contacted headquarters. “Request to commence phase two.”
Yan Yi responded: “Approved.”
The Alliance tech department joined the line: “Monitoring equipment online. Underwater drone control authority transferred.”
Bai Chunian took out a terminal from his backpack, checking camera and mobility functions. The display showed the activation channel switch from yellow to green.
Alliance tech reported: “Control transfer successful. Begin patrolling the Caribbean coast at a vertical depth of one thousand meters.”
Bai Chunian, carrying the microcomputer in hand and backpack on his back, quickly left the port, traveling aboard the South American branch agents’ arranged yacht along the planned route.
The merfolk nest lay exactly within the vertical one-thousand-meter depth range.
Merfolk migrate globally once every hundred years. Along their path, sea life flourishes, dead coral rejuvenates, endangered fish reproduce, and the ocean receives a centennial breath of life.
Seventy years ago, Lan Bo led his people on a global migration and knew the route well.
Unexpectedly, on the return journey, they encountered a mid-ocean ridge volcanic eruption. To buy time for his people’s escape, Lan Bo plunged into the crevices, using his body to cool the lava. Gravely injured, he triggered his self-preservation ability, curling his burnt, shattered body into a ball and rolling it into the trench, nurturing it for seventy years before awakening.
During this time, the new leader enjoyed the prosperity Lampe’s sacrifice had bought, taking center stage openly under the shadow of the former leader.
In the sea stood a strange island, centered on a small reef. All ships entering the area lost their way and eventually ran aground, forming a ghost ship island. For centuries, shipwrecks accumulated here, becoming the hereditary merfolk nest.
Among them, a luxurious French cruise ship floated in the water, its hull torn open, coated with algae and coral. Numerous bioluminescent jellyfish swam around, emanating a terrifying, eerie glow.
The new merfolk leader, a great white shark-shaped omega, had sculpted carpets from vast swathes of bleached, dead coral, sitting on a throne made of this coral. He gently swayed his rough tail, surrounded by shark-shaped alpha guards.
Two young shark-shaped alphas knelt on the weathered coral, extracting the glowing substances from jellyfish in a special manner, gently applying it to the king’s tail.
The white shark omega’s tail, pale and sleek, glimmered with a faint green light, much like Lan Bo’s.
“Siren has returned,” murmured the blue shark alpha kneeling beside the tail, reporting to the king in a soft voice, a hand covering a quiet chuckle. “He’s wrapped in a lot of human bandages, trying to hide the scars from his exile. Honestly, he looks pitiful.”
The mermaid language was ethereal and mysterious, and in the depths of the sea it sounded even more haunting. The surrounding wrecks and the thousands of skeletons made it downright terrifying.
The white shark omega rubbed the pearls decorating his throne. “Wasn’t he fished out by those humans doing experiments? I personally delivered him to his end. Even if they didn’t turn him into medicine, surely lustful humans treated him as a slave. Those land-dwelling beasts like to play like that.”
The alpha applying luminescent liquid on him nodded. “Yes, you’re right. He probably had his mind scrambled. He didn’t even try to stay away, yet he dared to come back and provoke you.”
“But—but half the merfolk went to welcome Siren back,” another alpha added, fanning the flames. “I heard that the golden-eyed seabream who once betrayed Siren for you switched sides again. As soon as they heard Siren returned, they rushed to the shore to meet him—and were torn to pieces.” The alpha laughed, tail quivering.
Another alpha teased, “Once we deal with Siren, maybe the king will let us feast on him. Might even make us live longer.”
“We killed all the blessed offspring of Siren,” the white shark omega said, eyes cold. “Why would he come back now? Apart from the slow, timid elder merfolk, who in the young, strong generation even remembers him? He’s only humiliating himself.”
“Hmph… some creatures just overestimate themselves.” The white shark omega’s gaze drifted into the dark depths of the sea, where a faint blue light gradually approached.
Rising from the throne, the white shark omega swam toward the light—only to find that it had come alone.
Lan Bo moved through the deep sea like a wandering sun, bright blue arcs of electricity illuminating the ocean floor. His fin stars shimmered like gossamer in the water, and thousands of bioluminescent jellyfish followed behind, turning the dark abyss into daylight.
He hovered in front of the white shark omega, slightly above him, looking down.
“Skylla,” Lan Bo called.
A soft glow radiated from him as he descended into the deep. The jellyfish circled him, making the green-glowing tail of the white shark merfolk seem a little pathetic in comparison.
“Siren,” the white shark merfolk smiled, three rows of sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “Back to seek revenge? Seventy years and those wounds never healed, yet three years on land and you’re back to full strength? Looks like the shore suits you just fine.”
Lan Bo remained silent.
The white shark merfolk grew impatient, a rising irritation mixed with fear. “Why aren’t you speaking?”
Lan Bo glanced at the phrases carved into his arm and remembered what he needed to say.
The effects of the AC growth stimulant had long worn off; Lan Bo had reverted to the developmental stage, where cognitive and logical abilities were poor. Though he could still speak fluent mermaid, his processing speed was slower.
So before reverting, he meticulously etched all critical points onto his arm with fragments of shell, filling the scratches with sand to prevent healing:
“Exile the traitors.”
“Prepare the palace for the queen’s arrival.”
“Love Bai Chunian.”
The first two phrases were in the unique script of the merfolk; only the last three characters were in human writing. Lan Bo could easily recognize the merfolk script, but it took him a while to figure out the last three Chinese characters.
“Love… little kitty,” he muttered to himself.
He stood before the white shark merfolk, lost in thought, organizing the logic of events in his mind.
From the white shark merfolk’s perspective, however, this was entirely different—a deposed leader hovering in front of him, silent, eyes coldly fixed on him.
The white shark omega’s frustration mixed with a hint of fear. Upon taking power, he had replaced all the administrators with carnivorous merfolk in humanoid forms. They had always mocked Lan Bo for occasionally eating sunken plastics and fishing nets. Since his ascension, all merfolk were forbidden from eating sunken debris and forced to consume meat—either corpses or humans—at will.
Thus, most carnivorous humanoid merfolk supported the new leader wholeheartedly.
At the white shark merfolk’s command, the merfolk surged toward Lan Bo. Most were sharks, each with razor-sharp teeth and strong, serrated tails. They tore at him furiously, leaving the same humiliating scars on his back as three years ago.
Blood stained the waters crimson; scales and flesh were torn, and the stench of blood filled the area.
The white shark returned to his throne, resting his chin on his hand, watching the spectacle with a smirk. “Still weak, just like before. After all, you’re nothing more than a manta ray humanoid.”
“Sever his thin tail. I want to tie it to my throne,” he commanded.
Gradually, the blood mist cleared. Lan Bo remained floating, unmoved, staring at him.
The flesh torn from him regenerated rapidly; the exposed bones were covered with sinews and blood vessels, the shredded fins restored to pristine condition.
The white shark’s eyes widened in astonishment.
Though the merfolk leader was formidable, his narrow-minded, short-sighted subordinates could not have anticipated the existence of special operations experimental subjects. Even in the developmental stage, such an experimental body’s regenerative power was extraordinary.
The merfolk realized they could no longer leave any marks of humiliation on him as before.
Lan Bo clenched his restored hand, his voice calm: “Is it my turn now?”