Chapter 154

Chapter 154

Lu Yan's answer seemed to take Tang Xian'an by surprise. "Doctor Lu... you know me?"

He fidgeted for a moment. "Does that mean I'm... kind of famous now?"

Lu Yan shot him a sidelong glance. "Yes. Second in the world, I'd say."

Tang Xian'an's smile lasted about thirty seconds before he asked, "And who's first?"

"Me," Lu Yan replied without looking up.

He wasn't joking.

Since Laleye had consumed Shen Qingyang, Lu Yan had now collected six of the Sovereign Fish. Even if the 103-year-old Tang Xian'an were still alive and human, given the current thresholds of spiritual power, he'd still have to concede the top spot.

Tang Xian'an deftly changed the subject. "Doctor Lu, how are you going to save Zhizhi?"

"Surgery." Lu Yan raised the blade in his hand. "What comes next will be rather... academic. If you can't handle it, close your eyes. But no matter what I do, do not interfere."

"Don't worry." Tang Xian'an's voice held a hint of pride. "A long illness makes a patient a doctor. I've never performed surgery, but I've undergone over a hundred modifications. My tolerance is excellent."

Lu Yan gave a noncommittal hum. Then, under Tang Xian'an's stunned gaze, he began unbuttoning his own shirt.

The lines of his shoulders and neck were smooth and elegant. Seawater dripped from his hair, gathering into rivulets that traced paths into the shadows below.

Tang Xian'an jerked his head away, pretending to study the bleak landscape. He ducked his chin, practically burying it in his chest, the tips of his ears burning red.

Lu Yan's fingers traced a line across his own sternum, leaving faint white marks on the skin. Then, with deliberate care, he pressed the blade and cut.

The sharp metal slid into his chest with a dull, swelling ache.

His control over his own body was now profound. With total concentration, he could even regulate the flow of his blood. The cross-section of the wound glistened red, but only a few drops welled up. In the time before the apocalypse, it would have been called a medical miracle.

To avoid damaging the heart with the scalpel, he slid his fingers slowly into the incision, parting muscle and tissue until his hand closed around the beating organ within.

It was much smaller than a normal adult's heart.

After a few minutes, Tang Xian'an couldn't resist a peek.

That single glance caught Lu Yan, expression utterly calm, drawing his own heart from the cavity of his chest.

Tang Xian'an didn't faint at the sight of blood. Yet in that moment, his mind reeled with such violent shock he briefly wondered if he was still dreaming.

Lu Yan set the extracted heart aside. Pain made the hand holding the blade tremble slightly.

The System's tone was grave. [With your heart removed, you have approximately forty minutes of survival. Subject Zero has three. You must complete the transplant within three minutes of removing her heart.]

Lu Yan's left hand gripped his right wrist, steadying the muscle tremor.

The blade cut cleanly through Yu Zhizhi's skin. Layer by layer, he opened her thoracic cavity, finally revealing, nestled deep within, a tiny heart.

A normal heart was red. But Yu Zhizhi's was semi-translucent, like fragile blown glass, with vivid crimson blood pulsing through its chambers.

Excruciating pain forced her eyelids open a slit. Her body twitched, a fresh gush of blood obscuring the surgical field.

"Sleep," Lu Yan said, his voice flat.

He used his Gift.

Lu Yan possessed Gift 111—Delirium. Its superior form was Gift 11—Prophecy, characterized by a degree of 'words becoming law.' Since fusing with the six fish, he could occasionally borrow traces of that superior power, though it was unreliable.

This time, it worked.

Yu Zhizhi's gaze went vacant, and she fell into unconsciousness.

Lu Yan's blood held immense allure for pollutants. So did Yu Zhizhi's.

Two of them undergoing surgery simultaneously created an attraction for pollutants comparable to a top-tier Omega sending a pack of Alphas into rut.

Nearby mutants bared their fangs, snarling. Even distant birds wheeled in the sky, turning with predatory hunger toward the island.

No order was needed. Tang Xian'an moved to stand before them. He was only nineteen, untrained in combat, yet his hand instinctively reached for the broken blade lying in the yellow dust—Huang Chen.

It was a severed weapon, the blade snapped midway. This was Tang Xian'an's first time holding a sword, yet it resonated in his grip, broadcasting waves of profound, aching sorrow.

It brought an unbidden film of hot tears to his golden eyes.

…

…

Lu Yan's surgery continued. A fine sweat beaded on his forehead.

The structure of Yu Zhizhi's heart was far more complex than normal. Delicate vessels, like the pith of a citrus fruit, webbed around the glass-like organ. This anatomy would have stumped every cardiology expert in the world, convened for a summit.

Clinical medicine was a science of evidence, requiring countless trials and errors before perfection. For Yu Zhizhi, a single misstep meant oblivion.

Fortunately, Lu Yan had Omniscience.

With precise, ruthless cuts, he severed several of the fine threads. As the blade moved, the translucent heart loosened from its web. He caught it carefully in his palm.

The howls of the surrounding pollutants rose to a piercing shriek.

He retrieved his own red heart, placed it within Yu Zhizhi's chest cavity, and began suturing the vessels with the fine threads.

The heart began to beat within her, a slow, heavy, vibrant rhythm.

Lu Yan allowed himself a faint sigh of relief. Then, he positioned Yu Zhizhi's glass heart within his own vacant thoracic cavity.

The major vessels connected to it. From the severed ends, white filaments sprouted like silk from a silkworm.

A sharp, cramping pain blossomed in his chest—likely rejection.

The final step was suturing his own incision. The wound's location made it hard to see. An eye opened on the back of his hand to guide him. The needle was a fine bone from a tuna.

Ten minutes of rough stitching later, the wound was closed. He buttoned his shirt.

The thrum of helicopter rotors beat down from the sky.

Lu Yan looked up. A military helicopter hovered above the island.

A moment later, the cabin door slid open. A figure leaped from the sky.

Wings of pristine white feathers unfurled from his back as he descended.

Bai Ze.

His face was a picture of stunned, overwhelming joy. "Team Leader Tang! Mr. Lu!"

He'd been searching this stretch of ocean for a month. Just yesterday, he'd combed Polai Island—nothing but ice, snow, tundra, and emptiness. His destination had been the next sector. Only the sudden, violent agitation of pollutants had made him turn back.

On New Year's Day, January 1st, the "Blood Moon" phenomenon had appeared again worldwide.

Global pollution values spiked. Pollutants grew agitated. Panic spread like wildfire.

Rumors of the world's end were everywhere.

Staff of the Pollution Control Center issued reassurances, calming the public, while internally, chaos, fear, and grief reigned.

The reason was simple: Tang Xuan'an and Lu Yan had disappeared at the heart of a pollution source.

To the Special Operations Department, Tang Xuan'an was their pillar, their anchor. He'd joined on its founding day, part of the first generation. Many of the younger agents had grown up on legends of him.

Despite the constant danger of his condition, no one had ever imagined Tang Xuan'an could just... vanish.

He was the strongest Awakener in human history, a man who had wrought miracles. Even his final bow should have been spectacular.

Many held onto the belief that he was alive, merely trapped, waiting for rescue.

But as days bled into weeks, that faith grew thin.

The world wasn't what it used to be. An Awakener, missing near a pollution source for two months? The odds of survival were vanishingly small.

A quiet grief permeated the Special Operations Department, yet no one proposed a memorial service.

Find the living, see the dead.

That was their creed. Without a body, Tang Xuan'an was only missing.

As his deputy, Bai Ze took the helicopter out daily, sweeping the vast ocean again and again.

The search hadn't been entirely fruitless.

They'd dredged mutant carcasses from the deep. One piece of white, tumorous flesh bore the distinct scar of Huang Chen.

It brought no celebration. Tests showed the remnant's pollution value was 6,400. Judging by the size of the vascular network on the tumor, this fragment was an insignificant part of the whole. Research Institute estimates placed the final pollution value of the complete entity around 18,000.

After that report, Team One had fallen into a tomblike silence.

"...Is the Team Leader really still alive?" someone had finally asked.

No one dared guarantee it. Only Bai Ze had answered, iron in his voice, "Yes."

Bai Ze had been a wire stretched to breaking, needing only the slightest pressure to snap.

He could hardly describe the torrent of emotion now. Descending, he keyed his communicator, reaching the on-duty liaison. "Xiao Wang, coordinates sent. Found Team Leader Tang and Di Ting! Send a ship!"

Lu Yan frowned slightly. "Two months?"

Factoring in unconsciousness and the time on the boat, he'd thought he'd been gone a fortnight at most.

The System chimed in. [Perfectly possible. Time within Laleye is distorted.]

Bai Ze’s boots touched the ground, his wings folding back into nothing. He strode forward and punched Tang Xian’an in the shoulder—a solid, brotherly thump. “Knew you were alive. My kid hasn’t even met his godfather yet. You bastard. Had me worried sick.”

He went for another punch, then stopped. The feel of it was wrong.

Tang Xian’an’s expression was pure bewilderment. His eyes flickered toward Lu Yan, a silent plea for help.

The smile faded from Bai Ze’s face. He turned. “Mr. Di Ting…? What’s wrong with Old Tang? Hit his head?”

More details clicked into place. The youthful softness of the jawline. The broken sword in his hand. The palm that met his own—soft, uncalloused, a hand that had never known a weapon’s grip.

Lu Yan had wrapped Yu Zhizhi in his coat and lifted her into his arms. His voice was flat. “This is the nineteen-year-old Tang Xian’an.”

Bai Ze froze. His hand shot out, gripping Lu Yan’s shoulder. “Then where’s Team Leader Tang?”

He regretted the question the moment it left his lips.

He was afraid of the answer. As long as the search continued, he could lie to himself. Missing, not dead. But if Lu Yan spoke the words, the fragile fiction would shatter. Even he couldn’t cling to a lie once it was spoken aloud.

You said he was alive, Lu Yan thought to the System.

[He is. He was reborn within the black dragon’s corpse you saw. But he is no longer human. He is a pollutant now.]

The System’s tone was uncharacteristically light. [It doesn’t matter. You’ve met Subject Zero, haven’t you? Her heart beats in your chest now. Her Gift is yours. Tang Xian’an was right. You are the hope.]

[This is the apocalypse. It needed a revelation.]