Chapter 153

Chapter 153 / Seventh-Rate

Lu Yan studied the young man before him.

This version of Tang Xun'an looked startlingly young. It wasn't just his face—his whole being radiated a vibrant, almost coltish energy. Gone was the gentle, reserved man Lu Yan knew. This was the lamb that pranced ahead of the flock, all spring in its step.

Tang Xun'an clutched the life-support capsule to his chest like a glowing, oversized pill. Pinpricks of light already bled through its shell.

Clearly, Yu Zhizhi couldn't control her talent, not even in stasis.

The extra eyes dotting Lu Yan's skin slowly sealed shut, his face finally returning to something recognizably human.

[Her condition is deteriorating,] the system noted.

"Why?"

[She can't regulate her gift, and her frail body can't sustain the Apocalypse talent indefinitely. At this rate, Subject Zero will be dead within two hours.]

Sending Yu Zhizhi into the future with Tang Xun'an had been Qiao Yu's last, desperate gambit. The medical technology and pollutant containment protocols of their time offered no cure, not even a way to slow the little girl's decline.

Worse was her irresistible allure to every pollutant in existence.

It was only their proximity to R'lyeh that had bought them this moment. The near-descent of the Old God had sent the powerful deep-sea abominations fleeing. They hadn't dared return yet.

After a stunned pause, Tang Xun'an blurted out, voice tight with urgency, "Excuse me, which way to the Control Center?"

His initial jump had aimed for a future much farther ahead—three hundred years at least, where someone might possess the skill to heal her. Instead, he'd landed nearly buried in a seething tide of monsters. A bad-tempered black dragon with a shred of the Time talent had swatted him here like a bothersome fly. Without that 'assist,' his arrival in front of Lu Yan might have been marginally more graceful.

They were 5,500 kilometers from the nearest city. Reaching the A-City Research Institute in time was impossible.

"Too far," Lu Yan stated flatly. "We're in the southern hemisphere. She won't last the trip."

Tang Xun'an's time-talent flared instantly, a luminous ring tearing open as he sought a sliver of hope in another future. He never made the leap. Lu Yan's hand snapped out, fingers closing on the back of his collar and yanking him back to the sand.

Tang Xun'an landed hard, his tail snapping straight with pain. He stared up, bewildered.

"Stop running." Lu Yan's voice was ice. He looked down at the young dragon. "There's still a chance. I'm a doctor."

***

On Borae Island, strange cries echoed across the water. A flock of seabirds wheeled in the sky, their eyes burning crimson, bodies bald and red like boiled quail, yet their wing-feathers gleamed sharp as steel blades. A vast, fish-shaped shadow slid beneath the sun-dappled waves.

The high-level pollutants—the smart ones with high contamination values—had fled far and fast. It was the middling, duller beasts that had crept back, drawn by Yu Zhizhi's scent and emboldened by stupidity.

Waves crashed, drenching the island in salty spray.

Tang Xun'an didn't know if he should trust this stranger, but options had evaporated. Yu Zhizhi's condition was critical, her body failing under the strain of her uncontrollable gift. Another blind jump through time promised no better outcome.

The weight of the decision pressed down on the nineteen-year-old, making his hands tremble slightly as he finally passed the life capsule to Lu Yan.

There is a way, isn't there? Lu Yan asked the system silently.

[You just said all that without having a clue?!]

"I had a feeling you'd know."

During the signal blackout in R'lyeh, Lu Yan had gained a deeper, more instinctive understanding of the Omniscience talent. Now, he sometimes grasped threads of knowledge without the system's explicit input. The day he fully mastered it might be the day the system vanished. Annoying as it could be, that familiar, sarcastic voice in his ear had become… useful. He wasn't eager for its silence.

[Fine. Yes, there's a way. Probably only you can do it now.] The system sighed. [Remember the talent transplant procedure?]

"The prefrontal lobotomy?"

[No. Subject Zero's body can't handle this talent. It's like strapping a race car engine to a bicycle frame. The only way to save her is to strip the Apocalypse talent entirely.]

[What makes Yu Zhizhi unique among Apocalyptics is her… cognitive state. Combined with cerebellar atrophy, her talent is parasitically attached to her heart.]

[In other words, to transplant the talent without killing her, she needs a new heart—one that already contains a talent.]

[Your heart, currently hosting Talent 167—Regeneration, is a perfect match.]

Medical technology had advanced, making heart transplants more routine, but it remained a high-stakes procedure demanding precision instruments and seasoned surgeons. Lu Yan's years in the hospital hadn't granted him hands-on experience in an operating theater. His instinct was to pull out his phone for a quick tutorial, but the device was long gone, lost to the depths.

[Relax. Apocalyptics are far hardier than ordinary humans. Less likely to die on the table.]

[And even if it fails, it's not the end of the world. You'll just make the puppy-dragon cry.]

[He's got a strong sense of responsibility. He'd probably blame himself for ages.]

Their operating room was brutally crude. Lu Yan spread his uniform jacket on the damp sand. His only surgical tool was the dagger Hellfire, its blade stained with old blood.

He didn't begin immediately. Instead, he walked to the water's edge. Tang Xun'an shadowed him, a step too close.

Lu Yan turned, his gaze sweeping over the young man before pointing to a distant rock. "Stand over there. Don't move."

He bit his own finger with a sharp canine, then immersed the bleeding digit in the seawater.

Tang Xun'an obeyed, clutching the life capsule on the wet, flat stone. His nostrils flared involuntarily.

So fragrant.

The calm sea surface began to churn. The circling seabirds shrieked, their hunger overcoming caution, and dove as one toward Lu Yan.

Lu Yan drew the Dragonbone Bow. The whipping spinal cord lashed out. A direct hit pulverized the lead bird into a mist of blood and bone. Carcasses rained down on the beach.

Foul blood spattered Lu Yan's face. Against his pale skin, the crimson droplets stood out like plum blossoms blooming in snow.

The remaining birds scattered with terrified cries, perhaps fleeing, perhaps seeking reinforcements.

Expressionless, Lu Yan turned back to the water, bending to rinse the gore from his dagger.

The fish he was angling for finally bit.

A massive bluefin tuna erupted from the waves. Its mouth was a cylindrical grinder lined with rows of needle-sharp teeth, rivaling a shark's. A mid-level predator with a contamination value nearing 8000, it usually kept a low profile in these dangerous waters—its delicious flesh made it a target. But with the true apex predators gone, it was now the local terror.

Tang Xun'an barely saw Lu Yan move.

Lu Yan glanced up. The dagger flashed, opening a long gash along the fish's belly. He grabbed its back, flipped, and drove his hand deep into a fin.

The tuna thrashed violently in the shallows, dark blood clouding the water. Lu Yan dove under, his hand—now elongated with a fourth knuckle-bone—clawed into the fin, fingers punching five deep holes near the tail.

Two minutes later, he hauled the ten-meter-long fish onto shore.

Tang Xun'an's jaw went slack.

His heart hammered against his ribs, a dizzy warmth spreading through him. Must be from the crash landing earlier. Definitely.

The pollutant wasn't quite dead, its body giving occasional spasms. Fresh.

Its scales had mostly receded, leaving only rounded plates along its back. Lu Yan sliced into the belly and began to eat, the rich meat soothing the constant burn in his gut. Not bad for evolved tuna.

"Come here," Lu Yan said, not looking up.

With no one else present, Tang Xun'an knew the order was for him. He gave his wings an awkward flap and landed beside Lu Yan.

Lu Yan carved out a section of the rich otoro. After a moment's thought, he skewered it on the tip of his dagger and offered it to Tang Xun'an. "Hungry?"

Mostly, he just didn't have any chopsticks.

Using his hands felt too intimate. Especially with this nineteen-year-old Tang Xian'an. Among other concerns, Lu Yan worried his nails were too sharp and might cut the boy's tongue.

The best part of a bluefin tuna is called otoro, divided into two cuts: the finely marbled shimofuri and the richer harakami.

His clumsy knife work had shredded the shimofuri, but the harakami strip remained intact.

I want some too, System whined, voice thick with envy.

Tang Xian'an blinked, then turned his head and took a careful, small bite from the offered meat.

The tuna was fatty, the flesh meltingly rich with a clean, sweet finish. It was excellent.

But Tang Xian'an's gaze kept drifting to Lu Yan's fingers where they held the dagger.

So pale. Slender. Stained with blood not yet washed away.

Eating, however, wasn't Lu Yan's primary goal.

From the fish's body, he carefully extracted several long, thin tendons. Bending his head, he split them down the middle with a fingernail.

He had no suture thread. He had to make do.

Preparations complete, he turned. "Take Yu Zhizhi out of the pod."

Tang Xian'an drew a deep breath and opened the life-pod.

The little girl inside was burning with fever, her face flushed, her breathing shallow and ragged.

A pang of heartache crossed Tang Xian'an's features. Gently, so gently, he lifted the child—not even a meter tall—and laid her on the ground.

She was glowing.

Tiny pinpricks of light drifted from her skin like fireflies, a constellation of soft sparks.

They floated into the air, settling over the land with the gentleness of a spring breeze. A few landed on the carcasses of the red birds, and where they touched, feathers began to regrow.

This was Apocalypse. Gift number one on the list.

The permanent cleansing of pollution.

This was why Qiao Yu had called her hope.

Lu Yan's eyes fixed on Yu Zhizhi. His vision shifted, overlaying her small form with vast swathes of red and green markers.

The procedure's demands were extreme. The hardest part: he wasn't just operating on her. He was operating on himself, too.

Physicians shouldn't treat themselves. Lu Yan couldn't guarantee the outcome. But from System's tone, death seemed unlikely.

He cut a swatch from his clothing, carved a suitably sized opening in the center, and draped it over Yu Zhizhi's small body.

As he worked, Tang Xian'an's anxious chatter filled his ears.

"Doctor, what's your name?"

"Lu Yan."

"Then... do you know mine?" Tang Xian'an asked, his voice hopeful. His tail gave an unconscious, eager wag behind him, like a puppy vying for its master's attention.

Lu Yan's hand, holding the dagger, stilled for a fraction of a second. He lowered his head slightly, his reply calm and even.

"Your name is Tang Xian'an."