Chapter 68

Chapter 68

After Lu Yan signed the order, the Pig-Head Butcher’s smile grew even more congenial.

"My esteemed customer, rest assured. In one week, you will have the pork you desire."

The scene would have been perfectly harmonious and friendly—if not for the drool that had been steadily dripping from the butcher's jowls the entire time he was seeing Lu Yan out.

The system hadn't lied to him.

Despite the pork stamp seared onto the back of his hand, Lu Yan walked out of Pork Alley completely unscathed. A layer of fish scales had separated the branding iron from his skin; he’d barely felt a thing during the signing ritual.

He pulled on a glove, concealing the mark.

The rain was still falling when he emerged from the alley. Lu Yan glanced back. The narrow lane was still dilapidated, but the oppressive gloom was gone. He could see straight to the road opposite, and a battered trash can even stood near the entrance.

Lu Yan had said he didn’t need housing arranged, but the X City staff, ever considerate, had provided an apartment near the hospital where he worked. Its layout and decor were strikingly similar to his home back in K City.

He didn't fully understand the Prevention Center's extravagant habit of gifting properties to its agents. Probably some kind of employee benefit.

[It's to increase Agents' sense of belonging to human society,] the system explained. [Maslow's hierarchy. The highest need is self-actualization. Headquarters wants to channel that need in a positive, socially beneficial direction.]

[However, due to prolonged exposure to pollutants, few Agents can maintain a stable, healthy mental state long-term. After numerous… incidents, Headquarters has significantly lowered its standards…]

Lu Yan washed his hands, took out the disinfectant he’d bought from the pharmacy, and produced a fruit knife.

It wasn’t as sharp as a scalpel, but it would do.

He carefully sliced away the piece of human parchment stuck to the back of his hand. The tattoo on the skin had already blurred, and the freshly burned pork stamp had ruined whatever aesthetic it once had.

[Once the order is fulfilled in a week, this parchment will become useless. That… entity will most likely awaken.]

[I don't foresee major issues, but I'd still recommend you lay low in A City for a while,] the system mused. [The butcher is manageable. The boss? Not so much.]

……

……

One week later.

X City, Pollution Disease Prevention and Control Center.

Lu Yan waited for the scales on his arm to slowly retract, then glanced at the readings on the monitor.

Infection Rate: 83.7.

He turned to Zong Yan. "This is the final treatment. I've booked a flight back to K City."

With that, Lu Yan signed his name on Subject 07's treatment record.

07 leaned over, curious. This file was his medical history, spanning decades. The name written at the start was Zong Yan, but for convenience, it had long been standardized to '07'.

Yet, Lu Yan had written his original name.

"Doctor," 07 offered a gentle smile, "thank you. But from now on, please call me 07. The name Zong Yan… feels too foreign to me now."

Given his own profession, Lu Yan knew meeting again was probably inauspicious. Still, he nodded. "Then I hope next time we meet, we'll be comrades."

Back in his staff quarters, Lu Yan packed his bags.

Director Ma, having learned of his evening flight, hurried over. "Mr. Lu, leaving today? Why not rest a couple more days? At least let us prepare a farewell dinner."

"Unnecessary," Lu Yan declined. Mainly because he found the local chefs mediocre.

Knowing his blunt nature, Director Ma didn't press further. He arranged for staff to drive Lu Yan to the airport.

He left X City at 10 PM. After a brief nap on the plane, he landed in K City at 1 AM.

Stepping off the plane, his phone showed several missed calls. Scanning the log, he tapped Tang Xian'an's number and called back.

The line connected almost instantly.

"Lu Yan," Tang Xian'an's voice came through, a slight pause before he continued, "I heard 07's treatment is complete. Is he… alright?"

Tang Xian'an had been far luckier than 07. He’d only spent three years at the Institute before joining the Special Operations Department, then spent his days putting out fires across the globe. Their encounter at the Luo River Botanical Garden had been his first real interaction with 07.

07's state had seemed abnormal then. Tang Xian'an had later inquired at the Institute. 'He exhibits mild autistic tendencies, resistant to external communication,' they'd said. 'We are professionals. We understand 07 better than you.' The researcher had repeatedly assured him 07 was fine.

"His infection rate is down," Lu Yan reported. "Shows no signs of aggression. He should be stable."

"Good. And you?"

It took Lu Yan a few seconds to process the question.

He wasn't fond of talking. Or rather, he was inept at communication meant for emotional exchange. On leave, he preferred solitude—reading, archery, cooking, cleaning. Going a full day without speaking was common. He didn't even browse the internet on his phone.

Remembering the system's advice, he replied, "I'm fine. I'll be going to A City in a few days."

A brief silence hung on the line. Unseen by Lu Yan, Tang Xian'an looked down. "Okay," he finally said.

Xiao Tian lay beside him, paws clamped firmly over his own snout, terrified a whimper might escape and cause unnecessary misunderstanding.

Tang Xian'an, when nervous, had a subconscious habit of grabbing and pulling things. The fur on Xiao Tian's back was in danger of being plucked clean.

[Tsk. Puppy-dragon probably thinks you're going to see him.]

Lu Yan put his phone away. "Aren't I?"

The system: […???]

*

X City. Pollution Disease Prevention and Control Center.

07's assigned researcher yawned, sliding into the passenger seat of a cargo truck disguised as a civilian vehicle. "Finally heading back," he grumbled to the driver. "I was starting to mold in X City these past few weeks."

Eager to resume his experiments back in A City, the researcher had arranged immediate transport upon learning 07's treatment was finished.

The armed transport was disguised as an ordinary truck. 07 was sealed inside a life-support capsule, then loaded into the cargo hold. This was standard procedure for transporting experimental subjects—like well-preserved, expensive collectibles.

Subjects from the First Research Institute all possessed high spiritual power thresholds. They were living weapons; security during transit was hardly a concern.

The truck passed through the highway toll station. Night had fallen, and the researcher, a non-Agent with limited stamina, soon drifted into a fitful sleep.

A violent jolt threw him awake.

The heavy truck screeched to a halt on the highway. His head slammed against the windshield, white spots dancing in his vision.

"What's happening?!" he gasped.

The driver's face was pale. "Pollutant."

A massive triangular hook, wielded by the Pig-Head Butcher, was buried deep in the truck's rear tire, forcing it to stop. With a vicious grin, the creature single-handedly hauled the multi-ton vehicle toward the roadside.

The researcher glanced at his detector. The pollutant's reading before them was a staggering 7000!

The cargo doors burst open. Several well-trained Special Operations personnel opened fire. The bullets merely punctured the outer hide.

Pain only enraged the butcher.

It swung its spiked club, smashing it into the nearest Agent. The reinforced cargo compartment crumpled like paper, belching thick black smoke. These Agents, with thresholds of one or two thousand, were utterly outmatched.

"This easy?" the Pig-Head Butcher muttered, puzzled. Even sending the Snake-Tail Butcher would have wrapped this up in two minutes.

"Quick! Open the life capsule! Release 07!" the driver shouted, stomping on the useless accelerator.

Sweat pouring down his forehead, the researcher scrambled to the rear under covering fire. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the capsule's coded lock, inputting the dynamic password wrong several times in a row.

The Pig-Head Butcher's heavy footsteps shook the ground as it approached.

"Hurry up!" someone yelled. Holding off the butcher was an immense strain. In truth, if not for the boss's orders making it reluctant to kill the staff outright, they'd have had no time at all.

The researcher punched in the final digit. "Done! It's done!"

The capsule door hissed open. Inside, 07 lay as if asleep, eyelashes frosted, heavy chains on his wrists.

The Pig-Head Butcher had been waiting for this.

It shoved its way into the wrecked compartment. The remaining Agents were no match, let alone the ordinary researcher.

"07! 07!" the researcher screamed in terror.

07 did not stir.

The butcher's hand closed around the researcher's head, lifting him effortlessly before tossing him aside like trash. The man landed with a sickening crunch, blood gushing, shattered bone protruding from a ruined knee.

"Good. This is the pork for this order."

The Pig-Head Butcher pulled a grimy burlap sack from its apron, stuffed 07 inside, slung the sack over its shoulder, and swaggered away into the night.

The Luo River Botanical Garden was in P City, at least 700 kilometers from X City.

Carrying its "pork," the Pig-Head Butcher bounded along mountain paths, swift and sure-footed, a question nagging at its simple mind: "Was the payment so high this time… because the delivery distance is so far?"

At that moment, the Pig-Head Butcher felt the cargo on its shoulder stir, shifting slightly.

"Live pigs are such a hassle."

The butcher had walked for hours, traveling through the night until the first grey light of dawn crept over the horizon. It had journeyed all the way from X City to the Luo River Botanical Garden.

The largest pollutant here had been cleared out, but many others had gathered again, their territories just smaller now.

The employer had only said to deliver the goods to the botanical garden. The place was vast. The Pig-Head Butcher trudged all the way to its deepest reaches but saw no sign of Lu Yan.

The temperature around it kept climbing. The butcher finally stopped, wiping sweat from its brow. "Am I that out of shape? Why is it so hot?"

It was a pollutant, a high-level one with a contamination value so high it could serve as a pollution source, directly infecting ordinary people. It had long since passed the point of feeling discomfort from mere weather.

Delivering takeout in the middle of summer, only to have the customer skip out? Really lousy work.

The butcher halted, pinpointing the source of the heat. It was coming from the burlap sack slung over its own shoulder.

A vague sense of unease prickled at it. As the temperature soared, the butcher's thick layer of subcutaneous fat began to sizzle, emitting the greasy, fragrant scent of rendered oil.

It dropped the sack.

The next second, flames erupted skyward. A slender, jade-white arm reached out from within.

The surrounding grass crisped to brown, then withered to ash. Fire roared upward, setting the mountain forest ablaze. Amid the roaring inferno, 07 stretched his limbs, like a bird reborn from the flames.

It was still night, yet half the sky glowed with firelight.

At the P City Prevention Center headquarters, a shrill alarm shattered the pre-dawn quiet at six in the morning.

07 opened his eyes. They were pools of vivid, bloody red.

An overwhelming pressure crashed over the Pig-Head Butcher.

This oppressive force… it had only ever felt something like it from its boss.

"You… you…" the butcher stammered, stumbling back several steps. The scorching air made it hard to breathe. "You weren't human?"

"I was. Before." 07 answered. His voice was calm. "But for a Revelationist with a very high lesion rate, becoming a pollutant only requires a simple catalyst."

Exposure to a pollution source. Or the excessive use of one's innate talent.

That was what 07 had been doing the entire journey.

It was a decision he had contemplated for a long time. To become a pollutant, and thus obtain… the power to incinerate, to burn everything to ash.

A crimson bird alighted on 07's shoulder. Like him, its entire body shimmered with raging flame.

The Pig-Head Butcher cursed under its breath and turned to leave. "Delivery made. I'm out."

07's tranquil gaze settled on it. "Stay."

The butcher harbored no illusions that this was a dinner invitation.

"I'll waive the fee for this order," it said, tightening its grip on the cleaver, trying to negotiate. "I can even tell you who the customer was."

In the butcher's experience, people who ordered "pork" either wanted to eat it or had a grudge against it.

07 considered for a moment. "My apologies."

There was only one person who would use this method to extract him.

He could not leave that danger with Lu Yan.

The red bird on 07's shoulder let out a long, piercing cry.

In the next instant, the Pig-Head Butcher was engulfed in a sphere of flame.

[Talent 42 - Karmic Fire].

Evil deeds harm the body like fire. This was that fire.

The Pig-Head Butcher shrieked within the conflagration. It swung its spiked club at 07 with the desperate fury of a cornered beast.

07 didn't move. The club passed through his body, striking only a mass of coalescing flame.

The fire dispersed and recombined, resolving once more into 07's form.

A faint mockery glinted in 07's eyes.

The Pig-Head Butcher raged, impotent. The suppression of the Karmic Fire was too absolute. Soon, it collapsed on the spot, all vitality extinguished.

In exceedingly rare circumstances, some pollutants underwent a secondary evolution. Because of this secondary evolution, this talent had returned to him.

If his original talent hadn't been transplanted away, 07 might have evolved something even stronger.

He took one last look into the distance, toward the direction of K City.

The first twenty years of his life, he had been Zong Yan. At twenty, he'd unexpectedly awakened as a Revelationist. After receiving detailed briefings, he had volunteered to become a Research Institute subject.

Back then, the Institute wasn't fully sealed. Volunteers weren't locked in tiny rooms.

Pioneering a path through brambles, to open the mountains and forests.

Everyone had been determined to burn themselves out, to fight for a chance at life.

The deep crimson flames, like fledgling swallows returning to the nest, leapt from the burning objects around him and flowed back into 07's body.

The fire ceased its spread. The dawn reclaimed its rightful peace.

In the dim, grey light of morning, 07's lips curled into a self-deprecating smile.

"Sorry, Doctor. My flame has already gone out."