Chapter 134

Lu Yan had just lived through Zong Yan's entire life within the space of his consciousness.

Yet in the real world, only a few seconds had passed.

He opened his eyes, meeting the gaze of 07.

The moment Zong Yan saw him, he also saw the sword thrusting toward Lu Yan's back from behind.

He didn't need to think. Instinct took over. Zong Yan's arms tightened around Lu Yan, spinning them both in a heartbeat, shielding the smaller man beneath the shelter of his burning wings.

A low grunt escaped Zong Yan's lips the next second.

Michael's holy sword pierced straight through his scapula. Blood, thick and glowing with flecks of molten orange, gushed out like lava.

Inferno erupted, setting half the sky ablaze with false daylight.

From within the conflagration, 07's voice emerged, cool and detached. "A cheap trick."

Michael's expression hardened. "Get back!"

Almost before the words left his mouth, a tidal wave of flame surged from the ground, a blinding, radiant eruption.

The searing heat didn't scorch a single person. It only melted the arrows Lu Yan had fired mid-flight, arrows whose shafts were each engraved with the name 'Diting'.

Half a minute later, the great fire died. 07 and the pollutant that had suddenly appeared were gone without a trace.

Michael gripped his longsword, his face a mask of stunned disbelief. "We were played... by a bird?"

For a moment there, he'd thought 07 was preparing some ultimate technique for a final stand. He never expected a straight-up retreat.

Bai Qiushi had been burned by the karmic flames into something resembling a lump of charcoal. Blood seeped from beneath the blackened crust of his skin. Every tiny movement sent agony lancing through him.

He wasn't sure what he felt more—bitter regret, or a sliver of grim relief.

After all, they had been so close to completing the cage.

Behind Michael, most of his feathers had been scorched away, revealing half a wing of bare, fleshy skin that now emitted the savory aroma of New Orleans-style barbecue wings. Staggering, he knelt before the Pope, pulling out a scanner. His voice was urgent. "Does anyone have any more of the specialized treatment?"

Yan Bei coughed twice. "The Pope's innate talent is reviving. His self-healing is potent. The contamination index will drop on its own. Don't worry too much."

Yuan Chen stared blankly at the scorched grass reduced to ashes on the ground. After a long while, he asked, voice hollow with confusion, "Why was it like that?"

He didn't understand. That was Zong Yan, yet it wasn't.

Zhou Qimeng clawed his way out of the dirt, casting a 'Recovery Boost' buff on everyone nearby.

He bent to pick up a fallen blade, but it passed straight through his semi-transparent hand after a few seconds, clattering back to the earth.

A strange look crossed Zhou Qimeng's face. "This level of virtualization... Am I one step closer to my dream of becoming an AI?"

Virtualization was an exceptionally rare direction for corruption. The prevailing theory suggested that upon full corruption, the pollutant would shed its physical form entirely, existing solely within virtual networks.

The sustenance required to maintain its existence would shift from real nutrients to virtual "souls"—similar to the brain-flower in the Divine Kingdom that fed exclusively on spirits.

The battle had been brutal. The most terrifying part was that despite paying such a steep price, the side of the Awakened could hardly claim victory.

Bai Qiushi sat on the ground, pulling a vial of sedative from his inner pocket and taking two deep swallows. "How long has 07 been a pollutant? And he's already this difficult to handle. What are we supposed to do about 01 and Lu Zhi?"

Zhou Qimeng answered, "No one has ever seen Lu Zhi take action. But based on her innate talent, her personal combat strength might not actually be that high."

Bai Qiushi gave a slight, pained shake of his head. "Don't underestimate a woman. Especially the only one among the top-tier pollutants whose biological sex is female. If she were weak, the Slaughterhouse would have been taken over by other Butchers long ago. Pollutants don't subscribe to virtues like respecting the elderly or cherishing the young."

---

Lu Yan's feet found solid ground again.

He had no wings of his own, but he'd flown through the sky plenty of times now.

Michael was the worst pilot, every flight a nerve-wracking gamble with gravity. Tang Xun'an was the fastest and steadiest, always shielding him from the wind. As for being held in Zong Yan's arms... it came with a high risk of getting scorched.

07's body temperature was furnace-hot.

They stood atop a residential building. In ordinary times, children with backpacks would already be on the streets below. Now, it was empty. A dead city.

The sun hadn't risen. A pale, bloody hue still stained the sky.

Some people die just before the dawn.

Overusing his talent had left Zong Yan with a deep, gnawing hunger.

He released his hold, letting out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh.

They say with domestic violence, it's either zero times or countless times. For pollutants, consuming humans was the same. The craving was etched into their genes, a primal instinct.

And Zong Yan had already crossed that line, back when he became 07.

A memory he desperately wished to forget forced its way to the surface: himself, on his knees like a dog, licking the traces of blood from 01's palm. 01 had laughed, delighted, crimson eyes brimming with pleasure.

Now, before him stood Lu Yan—slender, fresh, utterly defenseless.

If Zong Yan wanted to, he could snap that delicate neck in an instant.

"Doctor," he said, taking a deliberate step back. "Thank you for saving me again."

Zong Yan had naturally smiling eyes, peach-blossom shaped. They curved beautifully when he smiled, which he did now.

Lu Yan replied, "Don't thank me."

Mental Reconstruction could alter a person's thoughts and memories, but it had to be built upon the existing foundation.

It was like the faith of the believers in the Divine Kingdom—it could shift from the Cult of Bliss to the Church of the Sea God, but not transform into atheism.

A person's past experiences formed the bedrock. Lu Yan could only decide what kind of structure was built upon it. He couldn't make a floating island grow from that foundation.

If Zong Yan, in the depths of his heart, utterly rejected the part of him that was human, then no amount of Lu Yan's talent could save him.

Zong Yan didn't pursue the topic.

He stepped onto the coiled barbed wire lining the roof's edge, looking toward the city center.

"01 is still waiting for me there. He wants me to bring you and the other test subjects back."

Gu Zheng had once told him: if he ever became a pollutant, he hoped the others would see him as an enemy, not an old friend.

Zong Yan's expression settled into calm resolve, the reflection of dancing flames flickering in his eyes. "I will go and end this mistake. I will kill the one who murdered Gu Zheng."

Having coexisted the longest with 01 after his corruption, Zong Yan understood the other's strength all too well.

Even though this was a rare period of vulnerability for 01, he still had no confidence in killing him.

At best, it would be mutual destruction.

What he sought to end wasn't just the mistake that was 01, but the mistake that was himself.

Lu Yan considered this for a moment. "01 possesses the Phoenix. He'll be difficult to kill. You could wait a little."

Zong Yan was taken aback. "Wait for what?"

"Wait for Tang Xun'an."

*

If the contamination values in other sectors of the Slaughterhouse were merely unbearable, then the levels at the very center of X City were pure agony for any Awakened.

The air reeked, a pungent stench of meat halfway to rot.

The central commercial district of X City had no residences. By mandate, every shop here was forcibly shuttered at 8 PM each night. Even so, some night runners and street racers had been unlucky enough to be pulled into this zone in the early hours of the 11th.

Some of them had become meat-pigs. Others had become new Butchers.

Ahead, the "Good Taste Meat-Pig Supermarket" emitted a cold, sterile glow. Beyond it, the city center was swallowed by utter darkness.

In the black, a monster let out a heavy, wet rasp.

Tang Xun'an lit a cigarette. The brief flare of the lighter attracted the predators of the night.

He didn't even look up. Yellow Dust swept out. A Butcher, cleanly bisected, collapsed behind him, its blood foul and congealing.

The sedative, shaped like a cigarette, held no tobacco. Instead, the crisp scent of mint filled his nostrils. It reminded him of Lu Yan.

He walked on, leaving a trail of bloody footprints, until he stood before the supermarket entrance.

Winter had arrived, yet the supermarket's air conditioning blasted cold air. Through the tinted glass, he could see scattered metal shopping carts near the entrance.

The carts' baskets were stained with dried blood and human fragments—fingers, a section of forearm—left uncleaned. Fat flies buzzed over the rotting flesh.

The automatic sensor door slid open with a whisper. A silent invitation.

Everyone knew it was a trap. But not everything that enters a trap is prey.

He walked inside.

Row upon row of shelves stood in orderly sections, the meat-pigs neatly categorized. From the ceiling, severed heads hung like macabre party balloons, faces frozen in agony or blank stupor, glowing lightbulbs stuffed into their mouths.

In the 'Staple Foods' section were large cuts of meat—cured hams, shoulder joints—mostly unprocessed, some already festering and putrid, crawling with fat white maggots. Just as some humans enjoyed fermented foods, so did some pollutants.

The 'Snacks' aisle offered more variety: eyeballs coated in sugar glaze, tongues sliced thin, infant fingers skewered on steel pins. Tang Xun'an's gaze swept over a label that read "Volcanic Sausage."

For a new field agent, this scene would be enough to send their contamination index spiking from sheer horror.

But Tang Xun'an had been at this a long time. His heart didn't even ripple.

It wasn't that he was heartless. He simply understood that grief was useless. There was no point hoping for remorse from the perpetrators. Only blood and death could offer solace to the dead.

Just as he was about to step into the 'Fresh Produce' section, every light in the supermarket winked out.

Then, a faint red glow illuminated the area.

The supermarket's temperature was so low that a thin layer of frost had already formed on the glass.

The butcher’s counter was clean and cold under the fluorescent lights. 01 stood behind it, an apron tied around his waist, a cleaver held loosely in one hand. A faint, unsettling smile played on his lips as he leaned forward, his hands braced on the stainless steel surface. On the chopping block before him, a man was bound.

It was Bai Ze. Tang Xun’an’s deputy commander.

Several steel pins, thick as railroad spikes, pierced through Bai Ze’s body—his chest, his abdomen, his knees—nailing him mercilessly to the wood. Yet even like this, he hadn’t lost consciousness.

01 had endured countless experimental procedures himself. He knew precisely the degree of pain that would make an Awakener beg for death without granting them the mercy of blacking out.

Blood welled from the corner of Bai Ze’s mouth, soaking the delicate feathers behind his ear.

He saw Tang Xun’an approaching. His lips parted, shaping three silent words.

Leave me.

01’s gaze shifted to Tang Xun’an. His expression hovered between provocation and mockery. “Hello, customer. Here for some fresh pork? It’s on special today.”

Tang Xun’an’s face darkened. “Let him go, Gu Zheng.”

It had been so long since anyone called him that, not since 07’s transformation. The name, spoken now, struck 01 as absurdly funny. “Gu Zheng… you still remember I’m Gu Zheng. Where were you for the past few decades, Number Ten? Didn’t see you visiting.”

Tang Xun’an’s hand closed around the hilt of the blade at his waist. “The Research Institute was closed. I’m sorry.”

A raw, jagged laugh tore from 01’s throat, echoing through the cavernous, empty supermarket.

He snatched up the cleaver and brought it down in a furious arc, splitting the edge of the chopping block. Rage made his hand tremble. “Does it matter? Does sorry matter? 02 is dead. 03 is schizophrenic from the abuse. 09 still can’t bear the light… You don’t understand. You have no idea!”

“They called me brother. And I couldn’t save a single one.”

“Gong Weibin remade me into this.” 01 gestured at himself with the cleaver. “He wanted a obedient dog. You know the kind—the inbred freaks humans create by chasing ‘pure’ bloodlines. That’s what I am. A monstrous aberration, born from humanity’s hunger for power.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Tang Xun’an’s features.

01 was crying. No sound escaped him, but his face was a mask of utter desolation and helplessness.

Tang Xun’an had served in Special Operations for years. He knew better than to treat even a high-level pollutant with retained intellect as human. But in this fractured second, his grip on the blade faltered.

01’s emotions were a storm—violent and brief. Almost instantly, the tears stopped, though their sheen remained in his eyes.

“Two choices. First: become polluted. Join the Hound base. You can still be everyone’s favorite little brother. Test Subject Number Ten.”

“Second.”

01’s head began to split, peeling open like the arms of a starfish. Each fleshy strip was lined with vicious, serrated teeth. At the tip of every exposed bone, a cold, phosphorescent light glimmered.

“Die as an Awakener. I’ll grant you your hero’s ending.”