Chapter 42

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Yu Zhizhi’s drawings were strange prophecies.

Most of the time, though, the little girl was just filling her sketchbook with random colors, with no real picture to speak of.

Lu Yan hadn’t dreamed in a long time. That night, he had a nightmare. He couldn’t remember the details, only the sensation of sinking endlessly in the ocean, the world growing darker, strange prayers echoing in his ears like the calls of deep-sea fish.

Behind him, an abyss darker than ink yawned open—a mouth waiting for its prey to fall in.

He woke up just before he hit the bottom.

Thump.

His head knocked against the bedframe with a loud crack.

The next second, Tang Xun’an was at the door, wrenching the handle off with brute force to shove his way inside.

Lu Yan wasn’t startled by the nightmare, but by Tang Xun’an’s reaction. He switched on the bedside lamp. Tang Xun’an’s eyes were still that cloudy grey, but Lu Yan could see a flicker of alarm in them.

“…What’s wrong?” Lu Yan asked softly.

A low, guttural growl rumbled in Tang Xun’an’s throat. “…Something.”

That something meant a pollutant.

This place was supposed to be secure. Yet, in that instant, Tang Xun’an had sensed an intensely powerful pollution source.

It made him visibly agitated. In the end, he simply squeezed onto the bed beside Lu Yan and refused to leave, no matter what.

His wings still couldn’t be retracted, and his draconic tail was thick and long, turning the already cramped staff quarters into a disaster zone. The rickety bedframe groaned, then gave way completely.

As the bed collapsed, Lu Yan could only think: Thank god no one else was on this floor.

Otherwise, by morning, the rumor would be “Those two broke the bed together,” and no amount of explaining would ever clear that up.

So, Lu Yan’s sleeping arrangements moved to Tang Xun’an’s room.

The other man’s tail stayed wrapped around his waist all night, which only led to more nightmares.

Mostly about being crushed to death in his sleep.

And Tang Xun’an’s scales were painfully sharp, edges keen enough to slice skin.

Lu Yan had to coax his own fish scales to surface, just to protect his more delicate hide.

Every morning, waking up covered in dragon scales, Lu Yan pondered a deep question: Did he really need these four hours of sleep?

Three months passed in the underground Laboratory.

Lu Yan grew accustomed to the faceless people around him, and to waking up each morning to Tang Xun’an’s face hovering far too close.

After three months of diligent study, he felt he’d mastered at least ten new surgical procedures for the transplantation and modification of different types of pollutants.

The common categories were six: Fish, Avian, Mammalian, Reptilian, Insectoid, and Mythological. Without exception, all required special materials harvested from the pollutants themselves.

He’d also gained a basic understanding of the Research Institute’s structure. A hundred years ago, this was the only such facility in the world, its primary focus being pollutant transplantation.

Most experimental subjects were military personnel, having signed confidentiality agreements and informed consent forms.

Tang Xun’an was likely the sole exception.

The day finally arrived for Tang Xun’an’s eye transplant. Lu Yan desperately wanted to perform the surgery himself, but the scenario’s rules wouldn’t allow it.

Professor Wu looked baffled. “You’re a psychology major. What business do you have in surgery? I know you’re worried, but this isn’t a ‘you can do it too’ situation.”

In this dream, his field of study was apparently psychology.

Lu Yan waited outside the operating room, thoroughly annoyed.

He wasn’t an ophthalmologist, fine. But his surgical skills were a century ahead of this time, not to mention three months of intensive study. How was he not qualified to operate on Tang Xun’an?

In the family waiting area, Yu Zhizhi approached, her small drawing board on her back.

She sat across from Lu Yan, pulled out her colored pencils, and began to draw, stealing frequent glances toward the operating room doors.

Before the picture was finished, her eyes went vacant. She looked as if she’d seen something terrifying. Cold sweat drenched her clothes, and her hand began to twitch and shake.

It looked too much like a childhood epileptic fit. Lu Yan couldn’t help but step forward. “Zhizhi, are you feeling unwell?”

Yu Zhizhi shook her head violently, finally completing the last stroke.

She let out a long, shaky breath, tore the page from her pad, and handed it to Lu Yan.

The drawing was dominated by black and red. An inverted pyramid structure buried in pitch-black earth. Red monsters swarming in from all sides.

Above it all, Yu Zhizhi had written a time.

[2039. August 24. 00:00]

The current time was 23:45 on August 23rd.

Lu Yan’s expression shifted.

If Yu Zhizhi’s drawings were prophecies, then the inverted pyramid was clearly the Research Institute, and those red things were pollutants.

The light above the operating room still glowed red. Qiao Yu, the Institute’s highest-ranking director, was still inside, not yet finished.

Yu Zhizhi’s face flushed an unnatural red. Lu Yan touched her forehead. Burning up.

The little girl began to breathe heavily, each inhalation a struggle.

Lu Yan’s heart sank. Records showed Yu Zhizhi was not an Awakened. And on the eve of an Awakening, subjects always exhibited physical distress and other symptoms.

A possibility surfaced in his mind, a rumor he’d heard long ago.

Subject Zero of the First Research Institute was a rare healing-type Awakened. Her talent, ranked number one on the registry, was “Revelation.”

On the day Subject Zero Awakened, countless pollutants surrounded the Institute.

The commotion was immense. Coupled with it being the early days of the Pollution Disease outbreak, and the First Institute being right under headquarters’ nose, the event wasn’t hidden. Discussion threads about it existed on the Awakened forums.

……

……

The overhead lights flickered twice, then exploded. The King Fish inside Lu Yan’s body issued a warning of unease.

A passing nurse muttered in surprise, “Wasn’t maintenance just done today? How did they blow?”

Lu Yan checked the time. 23:47.

They were running out of time.

He scooped up Yu Zhizhi and shoved through the operating room doors.

Though nearly a century separated the eras, operating room layouts hadn’t changed much. Lu Yan quickly reached the surgical area.

Every face in the room registered shock at his sudden appearance.

The surgery had been underway for three hours. Tang Xun’an had only fused with one eyeball so far. The other, necrotic eye had just been removed, leaving a bloody socket in his face.

Qiao Yu held the remaining eyeball in his hand. Its golden pupil darted around erratically, as if conscious, before fixing on the newcomers.

With a twitch of his finger, the red polyps attached to the eyeball began to proliferate rapidly.

[Talent 13 - Genetic Recombination].

Despite the name, this talent had little to do with genetic technology.

The holder could, in a profoundly unscientific manner, fuse different life forms together.

“What is the meaning of this?” Qiao Yu demanded.

Lu Yan took a deep breath, his reply concise. “Yu Zhizhi appears to be Awakening. She drew a picture outside. It shows the Institute surrounded by pollutants.”

The instant the words left his mouth, Qiao Yu’s face paled, shock etching his features.

Professor Wu frowned in confusion. “What picture? Zhizhi Awakening is good news, isn’t it?”

Here, likely only Qiao Yu and Lu Yan understood the severity of the situation.

To avoid complications, Qiao Yu had never spoken of Yu Hanxi’s final prophecy to anyone else.

Based on his deductions, the talent Yu Zhizhi would Awaken to was “Revelation.”

[Talent 1 - Revelation].

Healing-type. Effect: Permanent eradication of pollution.

The talent would cause light to emanate from her body, spreading outward from Yu Zhizhi as the center. Where the light touched, pollution would recede.

Once her spiritual power threshold reached a certain level, that light would expand to every corner of the Earth. Even if it grew too faint for anyone to see.

On that day, the Earth could permanently return to its pre-cataclysm state.

No Pollution Disease. No need to fear man-eating monsters or the dread of one’s own aberration.

Yu Hanxi had seen a future far ahead. Qiao Yu had thought he had ample time to prepare.

But this day had come far too early.

The time was 23:51.

Ignoring the spike in his own aberration level, Qiao Yu accelerated the catalysis of the eyeball’s formation and slotted it into Tang Xun’an’s empty socket.

The red polyps squirmed, swiftly fusing with the existing nerve tissue.

After so long in darkness, Tang Xun’an was temporarily unaccustomed to the light.

He sat up on the operating table, expression slightly dazed. His golden eyes soon found their focus.

They landed on Lu Yan, holding Yu Zhizhi. A smile touched his lips.

Outside, chaos erupted. An assistant rushed in, pushing a life-support pod.

Qiao Yu took Yu Zhizhi from Lu Yan, heart aching as he touched her fevered brow. “Don’t be afraid, Zhizhi,” he whispered.

He placed her inside the pod, his gaze profound and sorrowful. Then, with his own hands, he sealed the hatch.

On the Awakened forums, skepticism always persisted about whether “Subject Zero” had ever truly existed.

Aside from that one incident of the Institute being besieged by pollutants, there seemed to be no evidence to prove Subject Zero had ever been there at all.

Even the researchers who had worked at the First Institute for years had never laid eyes on her.

Now, Lu Yan thought he might know the answer.

Qiao Yu lifted the half-person-sized stasis pod and handed it to Tang Xian’an.

“Your talent is time,” he said, looking into Tang Xian’an’s eyes solemnly. “And time is the one thing we lack. Please, hide her in the future.”