Chapter 46

Chapter 46

At the headquarters of the Special Operations Department, Tang Xun’an walked into the innermost central building.

The armed guards at the entrance saluted him. He gave a slight nod in return.

Whether it was the staff’s imagination or not, Tang Xun’an’s expression today was particularly cold. A faint, dark aura of killing intent seemed to cling to him.

Few knew that beneath the central building lay a prison for special detainees. As a force-oriented organization, the methods employed by the Special Operations Department under extraordinary circumstances could be less than humane.

A week had passed since leaving the botanical garden. Tang Xun’an reported to headquarters every single day, more punctual than someone walking their dog.

Subject 07’s talent failure and subsequent disappearance, researcher Ren Xuan’s suicide by jumping, believers of the Divine Kingdom infiltrating the training ranks… Incident after incident pointed toward the First Research Institute. Insiders even suspected the First Institute of conducting dealings with high-level pollutants.

Interrogation Room.

Bai Ze emerged from the airtight darkroom, letting out a helpless sigh.

Tang Xun’an was smoking by the door. The new sedative was mint-flavored. The recent battle had pushed his corruption level up again, and he’d collected new medication from the Institute just days prior. The special drugs he used, due to their exorbitant cost, hadn’t yet entered the market.

“Useless,” Bai Ze said. “There are clues on him, definitely. But hypnosis has no effect.”

Bai Ze, a B-Class auxiliary-type Awakener. Talents: Hypnosis, Clue Perception.

The ‘him’ referred to Gong Weibin, the current director of the First Research Institute.

Tang Xun’an opened the door and entered, taking a seat opposite Gong Weibin, his gaze scrutinizing.

The old man’s hair was streaked with white, his hands cuffed before him. Beneath his thinning hair, age spots the color of raw flesh were visible. A researcher from Qiao Yu’s era and an Awakener himself, he possessed the inferior substitute of “Talent 13: Gene Recombination”—“Gene Editing,” sequence number 104. He was now nearly one hundred and forty years old.

Upon seeing Tang Xun’an, the old man couldn’t help but grin. “I still hold to my original view. You will become the greatest destabilizing factor. Pity Director Qiao was always so soft-hearted. Now, I suppose 100,000 volts of electricity is useless against you. Once the corruption level exceeds 100, the Black Dragon of Despair will descend upon the earth once more, bringing true despair to the world… I’ve seen it. That painting by Subject 0. You’ve seen it too. We both know what future awaits.”

In earlier years, such words would have provoked Tang Xun’an to anger or anxious denial.

Now, he simply smoked in silence, his face an impassive, arrogant mask.

Prolonged silence often pressured the interrogated. Gong Weibin was no exception, yet his expression remained composed. He knew Tang Xun’an couldn’t touch him—the evidence was insufficient, the clues severed. Frankly, even his arrest was a procedural violation.

Only after finishing his cigarette did Tang Xun’an speak.

“My talent involves time,” he stated. “I understand better than you that the future can be changed.”

“Different branches are destined for the same result. Like different rivers, all flowing into the same sea.” A sneer touched Gong Weibin’s lips. “I admit, I dislike you. But I am well aware of your current value to the human faction. The First Institute still has over a hundred researchers. I cannot guarantee every mind is perfectly aligned.”

“Just as you dislike me. My spiritual power threshold is not high. I am a feeble old man. Yet you haven’t drawn Huang Chen, have you?”

Tang Xun’an’s golden eyes fixed on him, cold and inorganic.

For a moment, killing intent truly stirred.

But that intent was quickly bound by more practical considerations: the First Institute’s data, unfinished research projects, the reactions of other institutes…

The three main departments related to the Pollution Disease cooperated but rarely interfered with each other’s internal affairs, preferring internal purges. This was primarily a check on the Special Operations Department. History recorded instances where Special Ops Awakeners, after disputes with logistics, had slaughtered an entire city’s Pollution Disease Prevention Center.

Weapons required control. Rules were needed. Gong Weibin could be killed, but it would be troublesome. His status was special, backed by many. Tang Xun’an had no desire to shatter this delicate balance just yet.

So, he changed his terms. “I want the First Research Institute to cease all human transplant surgeries.”

Initially, transplant surgeries involved grafting from pollutants. The risks were immense, the costs staggering, rejection severe. Yet people, desperate for greater power, had attempted them.

Later, Gong Weibin pioneered human talent transplantation.

Transferring the talent from a newly awakened, low-threshold Awakener to one with a high threshold could better utilize its power. He had researched for years, performed numerous black-market surgeries, and incurred many disciplinary actions. Yet he only dared propose the concept after Qiao Yu’s death.

Gong Weibin wanted to transplant Qiao Yu’s “Gene Recombination” into himself. His reason was grandly noble: “For humanity’s future.”

It was, of course, denied. To prevent any possibility, Qiao Yu’s students chose to cremate their mentor’s body immediately after his death, interring the ashes in a cemetery alongside his departed beloved.

After Qiao Yu’s passing, the original institute split into thirteen, each diverging into different research fields. Yet the First Institute remained the pinnacle of scientific achievement among them.

Gong Weibin replied leisurely, “Our volunteers are all willing donors. Mostly elderly individuals nearing death. The Institute is grateful for their contributions…”

“If you refuse,” Tang Xun’an answered with equal seriousness, “I will destroy the First Research Institute. Just as you see me as a destabilizing factor for human society, I see your First Institute becoming one as well.”

“History is always written by the victors. If you believe the experimental subjects under your command can defeat me, by all means, try.”

Gong Weibin narrowed his beady eyes.

Nearly fifty years had passed since Director Qiao’s death, since Gong Weibin became director and took charge of Subject No. 1.

Within the First Institute, Subject No. 1’s spiritual power threshold had already surpassed Tang Xun’an’s. It was Gong Weibin’s masterpiece. He even believed this creation could perfectly replace Tang Xun’an—possessing combat prowess no less than the Tyrant’s, coupled with a loyalty to the Institute that the Tyrant utterly lacked.

Subject No. 1. Unregistered S-Class Awakener, “Hound.” Corruption Level: 67.3.

Spiritual Power Threshold: 14,700.

Talents: 23-Berserker, 129-Combat Expert, 271-Teleportation, 273-Superhuman Strength.

If Tang Xun’an was forged in battle, the Hound walked the opposite path. He was fed into existence by drugs.

…But now was not the time to unveil the “Hound.”

After a moment’s thought, Gong Weibin smiled. “Agreed.”

*

Late at night, Tang Xun’an finally ended his day’s work and returned home.

The summer heat was oppressive. Xiao Tian had the air conditioner on, watching a female streamer learn dance moves in the living room. When the mood struck, he’d send a tip. He shared a bank account with Tang Xun’an, and the number of zeros on that card exceeded what Xiao Tian could count on both paws. In short, he was the top patron for quite a few streamers.

Many female streamers had expressed interest, but alas, the species barrier remained, much to Xiao Tian’s regret. Like his master, he was a chronically single dog.

Recently, Xiao Tian noticed changes in his master. Specifically: standing on the balcony every night, silently gazing toward the headquarters’ training base; occasionally breaking into a sudden, silly smile; waking up and instinctively trying to curl his tail around empty air beside him.

Combined with intel previously gleaned from liaison officer Xiao Wang, Xiao Tian reasonably deduced his master had taken a liking to a certain trainee surnamed Lu.

Today marked the official end of the Academy training. Tang Xun’an rose early, retrieving the long-untouched jade pendant left by his mother. On her deathbed, she’d said she probably wouldn’t live to see him marry, but if he ever met someone he loved, to remember to pass this heirloom to him or her.

Yet now, Tang Xun’an sat motionless on the sofa, eyes distant. In his hand were the documents on Lu Yan, delivered by headquarters.

If Zhou Qiming had been present, he might have seen the subtle change in the eternally fixed golden title above Tang Xun’an’s head. Something along the lines of shifting from “Dragon of Despair” to “Dragon of Heartbreak.”

Xiao Tian, sensitive to his master’s mood, considerately turned off the stream and padded over, rolling onto his back to expose his soft belly.

“Pet me, human. Until you feel better.”

Tang Xun’an glanced at him, silent.

Xiao Tian’s doggy eyes drooped. “What’s wrong, buddy? Heirloom got rejected?”

“No…” Tang Xun’an answered, each word slow and deliberate. “It wasn’t given.”

Xiao Tian sprang three feet into the air. "Why?! Brother, are you that chicken? This isn't like you!"

"He has a boyfriend."

As a man with a fairly strong moral compass, Tang Xian'an wasn't about to become a homewrecker.

Xiao Tian immediately opened his shopping app and searched for keywords: Thai black magic, breakup curse.

He was sorely disappointed to find that such items, due to their superstitious nature, had been banned from all platforms.

The dog could only offer a paw in consolation. "It's okay. You're in great shape. That little Lu's boyfriend will definitely die before you do."

As he spoke, the iPad screen lit up. The Revelation Forum app notified Tang Xian'an of a new private message.

He didn't have the app on his phone; the iPad was for the dog's use. Because he was ranked number one on the internal forum, he received dozens of messages daily.

He never read them.

But today, in an effort to distract his master, Xiao Tian swiftly tapped open the chat window.

"Ti Ting? Who's this?" the dog muttered.

Before he could finish the thought, his master's hand swept him aside, sending him tumbling three meters off the couch and into a literal face-plant on the floor.

Ti Ting: To avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings, I thought it best to clarify.

Ti Ting: I'm single.