Chapter 121

Chapter 121

Before getting into a relationship, Lu Yan never imagined there really were couples who could waste a good fifteen minutes just on a kiss.

When he was pinned down and kissed, Tang Xun'an used his wings to shield them completely, not letting a single strand of hair be seen from the outside. He even remembered Lu Yan's fastidiousness, folding his wings to serve as a cushion.

The fervent kisses traveled all the way from his forehead down to his toes.

Even though this former honeymoon hotspot now had zero tourists—at most a few staff members coming to the beach after work to scoop up oysters—Lu Yan couldn't shake the eerie sensation of being watched.

It's not a sensation, the System chimed in. Shen Qingyang is still in the nearby sea. His tentacles are practically splitting with jealousy. His goal isn't topping the national college exams anymore; it's getting strong enough to snatch the princess back from the dragon.

A pity Lu Yan couldn't see it.

If the call from the Pollution Control Center hadn't interrupted them, ringing stubbornly for several minutes, Lu Yan had every reason to suspect Tang Xun'an would have kept them tangled there until dark.

For the first time, Tang Xun'an found it a headache that modern phones were so waterproof, surviving several minutes submerged without dying.

He answered. Old Wang, the liaison officer, voice came through. "Captain Tang. Any luck finding Clairaudient?"

Before Tang Xun'an could reply, Lu Yan's hand slipped under the hem of his shirt. Cool fingers traced a mischievous path up his waistline, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Tang Xun'an braced one hand beside Lu Yan, the other gripping the phone, his breath catching. "Found him."

"Understood, Captain. Are you... available? Could you put Mr. Clairaudient on?"

Lu Yan propped himself up on an elbow, his lips brushing Tang Xun'an's ear. "Tell him I'm busy."

His voice was slightly hoarse, like he'd just woken up.

The liaison officer: "...!!!?"

A necessary digression: Although Tang Xun'an had only one direct liaison, a team of dozens worked behind the scenes for the Tyrant's stability—behavioral analysts, psychological support, logistics, inter-department coordination. So, while the call wasn't on speaker, nearly everyone wore headsets, listen-only.

In other words, even spoken softly, Lu Yan's words were picked up by the mic.

Staff across the department exchanged looks—confusion, shock, glee. Someone felt they'd hit the motherlode.

Finally, the experienced Old Wang III waved a large hand and smack, temporarily muted the line.

"No sense of occasion!" the seventy-year-old third-generation liaison berated Old Wang IV, who'd only held the job for three years. "No wonder you're single despite the salary! Play deaf and hang up. Got it?"

Thus, despite knowing others were listening, the liaison dutifully carried on as if hearing nothing.

The call ended, but the interruption had pulled Lu Yan from his drowsy haze.

He squinted lazily. "Let's head back."

Tang Xun'an: "...Alright."

He found a blanket and draped it over Lu Yan. The four o'clock sun was fierce, scorching skin red.

By the time Lu Yan returned to base, his hair was no longer dripping. His expression was as composed as when he'd left, though his usually pale lips now held a soft, damp redness.

Back in his room, his charging phone was flooded with missed calls—most from his liaison, Director Li.

Lu Yan considered it, then took a shower first. Only then did he feel like dealing with the mundane.

Director Li's call was the first he returned.

The moment the connection went through, Director Li's voice wavered. "You... you went on the Divine Kingdom operation without telling me? At my age, losing contact like that... I was worried sick. Losing hair every night!"

"I submitted a location request to headquarters, but you had Do Not Disturb on. If not for the sudden mission report, I wouldn't have known you were involved... Are you hurt?"

Director Li was old. If not for Lu Yan, he'd be retiring in a few years. With receding androgens and advancing age, he lacked the greasiness of some middle-aged men, seeming more like an ordinary old man fretting over a child.

Lu Yan didn't admire strength, but he had a soft spot for the vulnerable. His tone with his liaison remained gentle. "I'm fine. I'm just not keen on going to headquarters for a meeting. Pass it on: they need to resolve the sea fog around Changjia Island, or the people inside remain trapped. Ning Huai's report covers Changjia's current state. The new generation there... they need to open their eyes to the world outside."

"We understand," Director Li turned serious. "One initial plan to disperse the fog was to have Test Subject No. 9, Mr. Ye Liangshan, use his devouring talent on it. He agreed, but now Ye Liangshan has been abducted by Hound. His status is unknown. We'll attempt to contact 01 and 07 for negotiations."

He couldn't suppress a bitter smile. "We trusted the Research Institute too much back then. Now the Hound base is a new S-Class pollution zone. Headquarters has evacuated the surrounding counties. It's an uninhabited zone now."

Unlike some pollution zones bordering major cities, Gong Weibin had chosen a low-population area for secrecy—low real estate prices made evacuation simpler.

Headquarters had considered a nuclear strike on the Hound base, but while conventional pollutants might be dealt with that way, it wouldn't kill 01. A surviving 01, capable of greater danger and extreme retaliation, was an unacceptable risk. Plus, the nuclear option itself was catastrophic.

As an intelligent, perfect evolution, 01 also weighed pros and cons. For now, a tense stalemate held. The difference was, headquarters knew 01 was merely biding his time.

In his pathological worldview, humanity was garbage awaiting disposal. The only question was whether time would do it, or he would.

The only current hope was that the century-old Tang Xun'an's spiritual power threshold would surge higher, or that more S-Class breakthroughs would emerge among the Awakened. Otherwise, this fight was unwinnable.

Director Li shifted topics. "Also, headquarters voted to award you a Glory Medal in recognition of your contributions to society. There's a ceremony in the main hall, but given your anonymity... Your thoughts?"

The First-Class Glory Medal was the highest individual honor in pollution disease control. Worldwide, only four had been awarded.

Lu Yan had seen it in the rookie training manual when he first joined the Special Operations Department. Unlike standard medals, the Glory Medal was extravagantly expensive.

The medal itself, due to materials and craftsmanship, was a costly masterpiece—beautiful enough for a museum display. Each was personally designed and crafted by a contemporary master jeweler. On the largely consistent olive leaf tray, gemstones were set and ribbons attached, a process taking months.

The gemstones, chosen by the designer, were invariably priceless.

The one in Tang Xun'an's home, for instance, featured a 128-carat yellow diamond as its centerpiece—reportedly pried from a famous luxury company because the designer thought it resembled Tang Xun'an's eyes.

Lu Yan thought for a moment. "Have it delivered to City K when it's ready."

He preferred quiet to fuss and had no interest in award ceremonies.

"Understood. Also, the mission reward of twenty million contribution points should hit your account within two business days."

Contribution points weren't currency and had no physical form. But to maintain social stability, a fixed exchange rate with the most common E-Class special medicine existed, forming its own value system with little inflation.

Twenty million points nearly drained the reserves of City A's Pollution Control Center accumulated over decades.

If not for the sheer embarrassment, headquarters might have asked about a payment plan.

Lu Yan hung up, mentally calculating.

Twenty million contribution points. Converted to cash, that was two hundred billion. But since points could be exchanged for money, but not vice versa, almost no one did such a thing. And this twenty million was tax-free.

With this, the System noted, you could commission the Fifth Research Institute to build a submarine. Would make trips to R'lyeh more convenient.

"Can their technology manage it?"

With current human capabilities, building a sub that can safely reach R'lyeh's periphery should be feasible.

---

Lu Yan stayed on the island for a week, primarily to teach Tang Xun'an to swim and dive.

Tang Xun'an was a quick learner, soon adapting to underwater combat. Still, prolonged survival on the seabed remained a significant challenge.

On a previous dive, Lu Yan had taken him down to four hundred meters without any equipment.

At that depth, even Lu Yan had to shift into his mermaid form to continue.

Here, light vanished. Absolute blackness pressed in from all sides.

According to the System, the environment around Laleye's periphery was roughly equivalent to a four-hundred-meter dive.

Conversation was impossible underwater. Lu Yan relied on the System's analysis to gauge Tang Xian'an's condition.

He needed to know Tang Xian'an's limits. Only then could he decide whether to take him along in the end.

Lu Yan held his wrist, anchoring him against the powerful deep-sea currents.

Even night vision struggled here, but Tang Xian'an's golden eyes emitted a faint, steady glow. Lu Yan remembered then—the surgical records from his modification stated they'd given him eyes that would never lose their sight.

After several test dives, Lu Yan finalized the data: Tang Xian'an's survival limit in an oxygen-deprived environment was sixty-six minutes. Consciousness began to blur at sixty. Exceeding sixty-seven would cause irreversible brain damage.

The descent to four hundred meters took six minutes. But the return, avoiding decompression sickness and nitrogen narcosis, required at least thirty minutes for someone of his physique. Factoring in potential combat injuries, Lu Yan budgeted forty.

That was incredibly fast. An ordinary diver would need over a dozen hours to safely ascend from that depth.

Which meant, on the seafloor without an oxygen supply, Tang Xian'an had a window of twenty minutes.

That was the absolute maximum Lu Yan would allow him to be out of sight.

Waterboarding and suffocation were common interrogation techniques.

Tang Xian'an had no gills. He couldn't breathe underwater. Prolonged submersion had to be agonizing.

Yet Lu Yan had never heard a single complaint.

"I want to go with you." Tang Xian'an hooked his little finger around Lu Yan's. "If you're determined to go to those coordinates... remember to take me."

The System delivered a scathing assessment. A working dog, terrified of being abandoned by its master for being useless.