Chapter 70

Chapter 70

Headquarters of the Prevention and Treatment Center in City A was anything but calm.

"Experimental Subject 07 has defected." Li Rongcheng, the current director of the First Research Institute, furrowed his brow deeply. "According to the tracker, 07's last known location was near the P City Botanical Gardens. This coincides precisely with the time and location of the high-risk pollution source detected by the P City Center's night patrol."

The research officer responsible for retrieving 07, leaning on a cane, began his report to the assembled leadership. "It was taken by a pollutant. I'm certain it was the Pig-Head Butcher from the X City slaughterhouse. Its apron bore the slaughterhouse insignia. It said... '07 is the meat pig for this round.'"

"And the on-site investigation?"

"No obvious signs of a struggle. No remains of a high-level pollutant were found, but residual pollution readings were significant."

"Why would the Butcher take 07?"

"Why did 07 undergo aberration into a pollutant?"

Li Rongcheng's gaze was sharp. "For decades, Subject 07 has been the most stable and docile specimen in our institute. I suspect it received some form of mental suggestion during its treatment in X City... With all due respect, the circumstances surrounding the death of 07's original research officer, Elder Wei, were also highly suspicious. He never displayed suicidal tendencies while working with us."

Li Rongcheng continued, his tone dismissive. "Current aptitude detection is far too lax, relying entirely on the word of Oracles. In my opinion, all subjects should be sent to the institutes for mandatory screening."

Wang, the Minister of Special Operations, frowned. "Why don't you just broadcast Clairaudience's ID number? Your institute requested their treatment in the first place. Now that 07 is gone, you're trying to shift blame onto my department's staff? As for mandatory screening, the technology is fundamentally unstable. I will never agree to its use on my people."

"Enough." The Director's voice cut through the argument. Her gaze swept across the room. Though past fifty, her eyes remained unwavering and keen. "Have you all forgotten the current crisis? Is this the time for infighting?" She paused, letting the silence weigh on them. "There is still one other person to consider."

"Who?"

"Gong Weibin." The Director's tone was grave. "He stole Subject 01. It's not impossible he would want a 07 as well."

"Impossible," Li Rongcheng stated immediately.

What the others didn't know—but Li did—was that 07's innate talent had been stripped before it ever reached the botanical gardens. Why would Gong Weibin want a useless shell?

Ji Wen, the deputy director of the Third Research Institute, adjusted his glasses, the lenses flashing to obscure his eyes. "Director Li seems very certain Gong Weibin wouldn't take 07. Speaking of which, the First Institute's internal investigation report is still overdue. Aside from 01 and 07, when will we be permitted to observe the remaining Subjects, 03 through 09?" A faint, cold smile touched his lips. "I, too, am curious. The 'Deification Project' was approved forty years ago. What has it produced for us to witness? A miracle? Or a farce?"

***

Lu Yan's nose hadn't stopped bleeding by the time the plane landed.

Aware of his blood's peculiar properties, he dared not leave the airport terminal, fearing he might attract unwanted attention from pollutants. His own safety wasn't the primary concern; it was the ordinary people around him he worried about.

He sat in the VIP lounge, waiting for the flow to clot.

A talent like Regeneration could reattach a severed head, yet it was powerless against the side effects of overusing Omniscience.

He stared at the ceiling. "You lied to me."

The system responded. [Hm?]

"You said I was the only person in the world who could use a talent constantly without worrying about side effects."

[Your sexy system, providing 24/7 free chat. But I am still a talent. Over-reliance comes with a price, darling.]

It had to be admitted that City A, as a central metropolis, maintained excellent public security. K City, having endured a contagious Pollution Disease lockdown, now had an average ambient pollution concentration of 3. Here, it was a mere 1.3.

Soothing, ethereal music played in the lounge—a young girl's voice. Lu Yan listened for a moment. It sounded like Latin.

Doctors in the old hospitals often used simplified Latin for case notes. Out of professional curiosity, Lu Yan had studied a little himself, though his skills were limited to reading and writing, not speaking or listening.

The words repeated most often in the song were "peace" and "eternity."

[Host.]

The system's terms of address for him were varied and often ridiculous—"good boy," "sweetie," "Yan-yan." Lu Yan had long mastered the art of ignoring them.

But "Host"? That serious, formal title was rarely used.

[By the way, do you like grilled pig brains?]

"What?" Lu Yan blinked, asking instinctively.

The system offered no reply.

At 3 AM, the airport was quiet, only a few scattered travelers passing by. Lu Yan checked his phone, looking at the last contact in his messaging app.

Before his flight, he'd sent Tang Xian'an a message: Flight at 11, arriving around 3.

Tang Xian'an had replied: I'll pick you up.

Now, scanning the sparse crowd, Lu Yan saw no sign of him.

It was late August. The air conditioning in the lounge was set too low for his summer clothes, and a chill seeped in. He turned to the reception desk. "Could you adjust the temperature up a bit, please?"

The receptionist wore a perfectly calibrated smile. "Of course, sir." It was a smile straight out of a service manual.

The temperature soon rose to a comfortable level. Waiting for the bleeding to stop, a rare wave of drowsiness washed over Lu Yan.

He wanted to sleep.

The moment he recognized the desire, his mind snapped to alertness.

This wasn't right.

Even on Mermaid Island, after consuming Wang Yu and battling violent rejection, he'd never wanted to sleep.

He stood up, his eyes locking onto the receptionist. Her face still held that flawless, plastic smile.

Noticing his gaze, she gave a slight bow. "Hello, how may I assist you?"

And then it clicked. Lu Yan knew where he'd seen that smile before.

Also in City A. At the headquarters training center. The missionary from the Divine Kingdom had worn the same expression.

The VIP lounge was empty save for him. Whether from blood loss or sleep deprivation, a heavy fog seemed to cloud his thoughts.

Grabbing his suitcase, he walked out into the main terminal. The temperature jumped noticeably. The murmur of conversation surrounded him.

"I told you not to come pick me up…"

"Mom, my flight landed."

"The tender proposal must be revised overnight, no excuses!"

For a fleeting second, Lu Yan felt a surge of relief, the joy of returning to the normal human world.

It didn't last.

He realized every single passerby wore the same, identical smile.

His heartbeat kicked into a frantic, uncontrolled rhythm.

"System," he whispered.

No response.

His hand closed around the hilt of the knife at his waist. He'd never fully understood Tang Xian'an's habit of carrying that long Tang blade everywhere, but in this moment, the weapon's solid presence offered a sliver of security. One reason for his trip to City A was to acquire a better blade; K City wasn't even a provincial capital, and its Prevention Center's armory was limited.

A splitting headache erupted behind his eyes. The world went dark. He quickly realized it wasn't blindness—the airport had lost power.

Instantly, all sound vanished. Human voices, footsteps, the ambient hum—gone. The silence was absolute, as if he were the last person alive.

Lu Yan could see in the dark, a ability that had saved him countless times. He looked around now. The tourists who had been there moments before had evaporated into thin air.

The only sound was the violent hammering of his own heart.

The overloaded rhythm spiked his body temperature. Fish scales erupted from beneath his skin, crawling from his shoulders down to his fingertips.

The terminal's fluorescent lights flickered twice. In that stuttering border between light and shadow, Lu Yan's pupils constricted involuntarily.

In the brief seconds of restored illumination, he saw it. Every smiling person in the airport had, in unison, turned their heads to look directly at him.

Even the receptionist from the VIP lounge had rotated her head a full 180 degrees to face him over her shoulder, her gentle smile unchanged.

In one unified voice, they asked, "Hello, how may I assist you?"

They began to shuffle toward him. Under the strobing lights, their movements were jerky, like stop-motion animation.

The smiling crowd coalesced into a living wall, encircling Lu Yan at its center.

The Wang Yu inside him thrashed violently. Lu Yan even heard it emit a low, distressed snarl that resonated like a dragon's growl. Until today, he hadn't known it could make sound.

Lu Yan took a deep breath, hefted his suitcase, and pushed through the crowd, forcing his way between their stiff shoulders.

The figures didn't physically stop him. Their smiles remained fixed, faces turning like sunflowers to track his movement, but their eyes grew damp and cold.

Tang Xian'an had promised to pick him up, so Lu Yan had declined the car sent by the City A Prevention Center. In hindsight, that decision seemed dangerously naive.

Outside the terminal, the deep night offered nothing. No taxis. Not even a shared bicycle.

He pulled out his phone and dialed the headquarters emergency line.

After a dozen rings, the call connected.

He listened for only a second before his face hardened. He ended the call.

The voice on the other end had asked, in that same unchanging, pleasant tone, "Hello, how may I assist you?"

Even without seeing, Lu Yan could picture the operator on the other end, a pleasant smile curving their lips.

He ended the call, staring blankly at his phone screen.

A few drops of thick, red liquid spattered onto the glass.

He wiped it away instinctively, only to find his nose was bleeding again.

Lu Yan rarely felt lonely.

But in this moment, he felt utterly abandoned by the world.

A dull throb pulsed at his temples. The streetlamp overhead began to flicker.

He turned, looking back toward the airport terminal entrance. A crowd of figures, varying in height, were slowly filing out. Every single face wore the same smile.

They flowed toward him like a tide, encircling him.

They just smiled, silent. Each time the streetlamp died and flared back to life, they had crept closer.

It felt like something out of a Japanese horror film.

Lu Yan could even see the grins on the faces of those in front, stretching wider, more unrestrained.

The surroundings warped. The starry sky above swirled like a Van Gogh painting.

He found he couldn't look too closely, or the nausea would rise.

To be honest, if his mental fortitude wasn't leagues beyond an ordinary person's, he'd probably be vomiting already.

He fished the sedative from his coat pocket and slipped it into his mouth. The sharp mint chill cut through the pain and pressure in his skull, granting a sliver of clarity.

Lu Yan focused on the person closest to him. "The Divine Kingdom?"

The figure only smiled back, the expression chilling to the bone.

For a split second, Lu Yan had the distinct impression the thing standing before him wasn't alive.

He rolled the mint lozenge on his tongue. "Is this a dream? Or something else I don't understand? You want to kill me in a dream?"

The crowd pressed closer. He could feel a faint, pervasive chill.

A wildly insane thought bloomed in his mind: destroy them all.

Destroy them, and he wouldn't have to see.

"You're far stronger than me. Yet you want to kill me using a method like this. That means there must be restrictions. You can't act directly. You want to force me to act? What happens if I do? Kill other people in the real world?"

Lu Yan's hand slowly moved away from the knife at his waist.

According to his scanner, the people around him showed no spiritual power fluctuations, no pollution readings. They were just ordinary humans.

If they were ordinary, then there was nothing to fear.

Lu Yan closed his eyes and let the smiling crowd swallow him.

And so, gradually, a contented, sickly smile spread across his own face.

……

……

"Lu Yan. Lu Yan—?"

A familiar voice sounded by his ear.

Lu Yan's eyes snapped open, a cold sweat slicking his back.

Tang Xian'an was crouched before him, his face etched with concern.

"Lu Yan," Tang Xian'an said, shrugging off his own jacket and draping it naturally over Lu Yan's shoulders. "Why did you fall asleep here?"

As he leaned in, the distance between them closed. Lu Yan could smell the warm, clean scent of mint on him.

Lu Yan's gaze swept their surroundings. They were still in the airport's VIP lounge.

The clock read 3:30 AM.

The receptionist, overcome by fatigue, had fallen asleep at her desk.

His eyes returned to Tang Xian'an's face. The worry there seemed genuine.

He didn't reply immediately, instead reaching out in his mind. System?

No answer.

In that moment, Lu Yan fully understood the words the system had spoken to him mere minutes ago—

"Your eyes can deceive you. Your memory can deceive you. But I never will."