The white shark omega’s gaze hardened. Rising from his throne, he swam toward Lan Bo.
Lan Bo extended black-blue claws from his hand armor, slicing a swift arc across the white shark’s chest. His skin remained unbroken, leaving only a faint mark on the taut surface.
The white shark’s glandular J1 differentiation ability, known as “Scale Shield,” allowed his entire body to be covered in densely packed scales that blades could not pierce.
In the ocean, nearly all predatory fish relied on their teeth to bite, but the white shark omega could dominate the entire marine realm simply with his J1 ability.
Experimental subjects had combat programs artificially implanted into their brains, and Lan Bo was no exception. He surged toward the shallow waters, then plunged deep, his slender tail coiling around the white shark’s body. With a powerful punch against the shark’s chest and a whip of his tail, he slammed him into the reef below.
The faint sound of cracking bones was masked by the water currents. The white shark groaned in pain. Lan Bo’s tail swept forcefully, stirring bubbles that awakened a massive school of squids hidden in the wrecks. They expelled ink in frenzy, turning the surrounding waters jet black.
Ancient survival rules had their reasons, but in the deep sea, glowing fish were at a disadvantage. Amid the darkness, Lan Bo’s electrified tail glowed vividly, while the white shark’s form remained perfectly concealed.
The white shark’s tail was muscular and swift, with sharp dorsal fins glinting faintly in the dim light.
Lan Bo, disoriented in the darkness, suddenly felt intense pain in his back—a slash tearing across him. The bandages wrapping his torso were cut apart by the white shark’s sharp dorsal fins, fluttering down to the seabed.
The strips fell away, revealing Lan Bo’s mottled back, the gruesome exile scar in the shape of a ghostly face. The white shark tore open another deep gash, blood spilling into the water.
Blinded by the blood, Lan Bo retreated, avoiding the ink-darkened area, as his torn wounds visibly healed before his eyes.
A school of sharks, drawn by the scent of blood, encircled the two of them, completely cutting off Lan Bo’s retreat. Hungry for months, they lunged and bit at him under the white shark omega’s command, rough, serrated skin scraping lines of blood across him.
The white shark gave him no time to recover, activating his M2 differentiation ability, “Bloodlust.” For every 1% increase in blood concentration in the water, all his stats increased by 1%, up to a maximum of 300%.
Already a master of M2 differentiation, the white shark omega was among the elite of the merfolk. Omega-class individuals differentiated faster, and carnivorous merfolk were naturally more aggressive and skilled in grappling. He had reached second-stage differentiation before Lan Bo assumed leadership.
The blood spreading through the water invigorated him, and his strength and speed surged, pinning Lan Bo beneath him. His claws clamped around Lan Bo’s neck as they slammed into the coral, raising a storm of white sand.
“I told the others you ran during the volcanic eruption, that you betrayed us. But that was just an excuse to drive you away. I could have killed you… yet I didn’t.”
“Glowing scales are just a mutation,” the white shark spat, staring crazily into Lan Bo’s eyes. “I’ve met humans begging me for you—they told me glowing scales are nothing special, every clan has them. You’re not extraordinary. I should break this absurd rule… I will be king.”
“I threw you into their nets because I didn’t want you to return.” He bared his teeth. “When they came with steel harpoons and torpedoes, only I could withstand them. Could you?”
Lan Bo rested his arm against the bulging veins of his hand, his blank blue eyes fixed on him.
Beneath him, the bleached coral gradually regained color, blossoming like a field of flowers from the center. A single golden sea anemone slowly opened beside Lan Bo’s cheek.
“Bigi war milayer, boliea nowa.” (Humans are born for war, merfolk are not.)
A rigid, narrow tube, the same temperature as the surrounding water, pressed against the white shark’s abdomen. Something pierced his fragile belly—both hot and indifferent.
The white shark clutched the punctured wound, blood gushing forth. He was flipped off Lan Bo and backed away, tail flaring to maintain balance.
In his hand, Lan Bo held a transparent, water-hardened Desert Eagle.
The white shark’s astonishment turned to fury. He clutched his bleeding belly and lunged at Lan Bo again. Normally, his J1 and M2 abilities favored close combat, while Lan Bo’s powers required charging, putting him at a disadvantage.
But Lan Bo possessed a companion ability—Water-Hardened Steel. At first, he could only form simple weapons from sunken ship debris, but now his mind held precise schematics for countless weapons.
The white shark circled, aiming for the glands at the back of Lan Bo’s neck, diving from above for a killing strike.
Suddenly, he stopped in the water, halting just short of Lan Bo.
The Desert Eagle in Lan Bo’s hand split, the water around it coalescing into an M134 Gatling gun. Holding the transparent machine gun in one hand, he pressed the barrel against the white shark’s chest.
“No one can withstand this, Skylla,” Lan Bo said. “Do you understand?”
The white shark slowly closed his eyes.
The transparent machine gun dissolved back into water, leaving a short, transparent dagger in Lan Bo’s palm. Lan Bo stabbed it into the bullet hole in the white shark’s abdomen and pulled hard.
Sharks scrambled to feed on the falling scraps, while the alpha sharks hiding behind the throne trembled. Lan Bo slowly swam toward them.
They knelt, pressing the tips of their tails to Lan Bo in allegiance.
“Clean this place up,” Lan Bo said, glancing at the phrases on his arm.
Colorful schools of merfolk swam in, stopping at a distance near the wreck, watching Lan Bo warily. Blood still tinged the water; chunks of flesh rained down. Hundreds of sharks fought over the scraps, making Lan Bo appear like a tyrant.
From the distant merfolk crowd, a small, wobbly infant swam forward, twisting its golden tail slowly toward Lan Bo. It dangled jellyfish tentacles and seashells from its swaddle, placing them on Lan Bo’s head.
Lan Bo stretched out his arms; the baby happily wriggled into his embrace, sucking its finger and wagging its tiny tail.
His omega mother emerged hesitantly from behind the reef, first kneeling beside Lan Bo and pressing a kiss to the tip of his tail.
Lan Bo handed the baby back to his mother, then swam back to the throne and sat down, propping his head with one hand.
The coral of the throne gradually shifted from pale gray to vibrant red. A ring of golden sea anemones adorned it like luxurious tassels, while the pearls embedded in the backrest separated slightly to reveal the radiant gems within the flesh.
A crowd of merfolk swam out from behind the reefs and gathered around Lan Bo, kneeling to press their tails to him. Though their fear outweighed their respect, Lan Bo didn’t care in the slightest.
He drifted away from the throne, gliding across the seabed, gathering the previously severed strips of bandage one by one, attempting to patch them back onto his scarred back to hide the unsightly marks. The bandages, however, were too tattered, and he never succeeded.
Frustrated, he sat in the sand for a while, glancing at the memos etched on his arm. Duty came first.
He marked the first item with a tick of his fingernail. The second item was a major undertaking: preparing the palace for the queen’s arrival.
The entire shipwreck area was a merfolk settlement, now filthy and neglected. The merfolk busily cleaned the seabed while Lan Bo dragged a massive tridacna clam toward a partially submerged ship near the surface.
The berry-colored clam measured nearly three meters across, the largest in the area. Lan Bo strained to move it, pushing the shell with his back until it rested in a suitable spot inside the wreck.
The ship itself was half-submerged, the other half protruding above the surface—a luxurious vessel at the pinnacle of the wreckage cluster.
Lan Bo positioned the clam in a hollow, half-submerged in water, half exposed to air. He grabbed a blue-glowing jellyfish, wringing it like a cloth to clean the inside of the shell, then electroplated it with a radiant sheen.
Next, he swam back to the seabed to gather large sponges, laying them flat inside the clam. Then he selected a type of broad, smooth seagrass, laying it atop the sponge layer carefully.
Lan Bo tested it by lying down, frowning in dissatisfaction, then readjusted the layers until it felt right.
He decorated the edge of the clam with bright shells and conches, inserting a few blue-glowing jellyfish as bedside lamps.
Still feeling something missing, he swam further into the wreck, retrieving a well-shaped skull from a sailor’s remains. Sitting on the clam bed, he polished it with shells until it gleamed, applied the jellyfish’s glowing material, and affixed it atop a large conch shell. A tiny red fish the size of a thumb swam inside.
Decorating the sleeping quarters alone took two full days. That was not to mention the rest of the wreck area and the coral garden that needed tending—Lan Bo’s efforts were immense.
Two merfolk approached the quarters, tapping lightly on the ship’s exterior. “Siren, boliea klafer,” they reported. (We have a new discovery.)
Together, they carried a peculiar fish-shaped device, covered in sensors and propellers, presenting it to Lan Bo.
Lan Bo, familiar with human devices, recognized it as an underwater drone, though its mechanisms and functions were still largely a mystery.
As he touched it, a faint current ran through his fingers. He shook it, inspecting it against the sunlight. Just as he brought it toward his mouth, the device emitted an electrical hum.
“Lan Bo, can you hear me?”
The voice was unmistakable. Lan Bo snapped upright, his tail curling into a heart-shaped flick. “Randi?”
He flipped the device, searching on the ground for the transmitter.
Bai Chunian had spent the past days on the yacht, deploying a hundred underwater drones for reconnaissance. One had malfunctioned while passing through a certain area, plunging his view into total darkness.
Then a flash of current restored the image—the camera pointed directly at Lan Bo’s face.
It had been a long time since Bai Chunian had seen him. He felt a catch in his throat, relieved to see him uninjured and lively.
“I’m on the ship,” Bai Chunian said. “Should I come get you?”
Lan Bo nodded eagerly, holding up the device to show Bai Chunian the sleeping quarters he had prepared.
“This is for Randi—the sleeping bed.”
Next to the clam, nearly Guinness-record-sized, stood the skull-fish aquarium emitting ghostly blue flames. Lan Bo swam back slightly with the drone, showing Bai Chunian the full scope of the palace.
The massive shipwreck cluster, accumulating centuries of luxury vessels, resembled a grand museum built on a ghostly island.
Bai Chunian swallowed back a lump of emotion in his throat.