Chapter 90

Chapter 90

Lu Yan had seen people kiss, but he’d never done it himself.

His attempt felt like two pieces of leather being pressed together.

He held it for a while, unsure how to proceed.

Tang Xian’an blinked, seeming dazed by the sudden surprise.

Lu Yan gripped the back of his neck, trying to sit up from the floor.

The next second, he was pinned down completely, his mouth pried open.

He’d once wondered if the tiny barbs on Tang Xian’an’s tongue would scrape off a layer of skin. Now he knew they wouldn’t. But the kiss was so deep, so forceful, it stole the breath from his lungs.

The System erupted into a furious, censored string of profanity. F—! You mother—! You dog! Let go!! @##¥@#¥@¥…

A soft, muffled sound came from Tang Xian’an’s throat. It took Lu Yan a moment to decipher the slurred words.

"Yan Yan… love Yan Yan…"

Lu Yan thought for a second. "Are there any surveillance cameras right now?"

No. Wait—what are you thinking?! I’m telling you, I object!

A brief silence. "You’re overthinking it."

Sooner or later, he’d have to find a way to wipe the System’s hard drive.

A slit opened in Lu Yan’s palm, and Wang Yu’s tongue slithered out.

In that instant, Lu Yan felt a faint wave of disdain emanate from the depths of his "son’s" consciousness.

It apparently remembered Tang Xian’an’s threat to turn it into an idiot.

Lu Yan didn’t possess this particular talent himself, but the Wang Yu parasitizing his body did.

This ability could devour the pollution source from another person through consumption, thereby reducing the degree of pathological change.

But from Lu Yan’s observations, Wang Yu didn’t limit itself to human pollution sources. It ate pollutants too. And seemed to enjoy those even more.

When they first merged, Lu Yan could still feel the slender, white fish swimming slowly through his veins.

Now, he couldn’t detect any trace of Wang Yu within his body.

They had fused completely, achieving a true "symbiosis."

Despite its dislike for Tang Xian’an, it still obeyed Lu Yan’s commands.

From the mouth in his palm, a mass of white filaments burst forth, spreading like vibrant sea grass.

The threads crept everywhere, slipping through gaps in clothing to press against Tang Xian’an’s skin, resembling a cluster of IV lines.

Gradually, the white filaments turned gold.

Tang Xian’an’s face contorted, especially when the threads wormed into the seams where his dragon wings met his shoulder blades. His wings trembled faintly, uncontrollably—likely from pain.

Though the tremor was slight, it inevitably tugged on the white filaments.

Lu Yan didn’t know how to describe the sensation. It was like someone had grabbed his pain receptors and started playing cat’s cradle with them.

Holding his breath, Lu Yan wrapped his arms around Tang Xian’an to steady him, gripping the back of his neck with one hand.

After receiving the specialized injection, the body, focused on repair, easily sank into a deep sleep.

The System sneered. A world where both Cat Yan and Dog Dragon are suffering, and only Wang Yu is happy.

Tang Xian’an’s pollution source comes from the dragon blood. An incomplete black lizard, brutally dismembered, its great wings grafted onto a human back. It died steeped in violent emotion, and that same fury bleeds into Tang Xian’an when he loses control.

Lu Yan focused on the taste. "Sweet."

The dragon blood was like thick maple syrup.

He’d quite liked the pollution source from Subject 07—it tasted like grilled beef fat, a creamy, sweet meatiness.

He’d also sampled a tiny bit of Shen Qingyang’s pollution source… though that memory was older.

He thought back carefully. It was like octopus sashimi dipped in wasabi and soy sauce.

A pang of inappropriate hunger struck Lu Yan.

The System was shocked. You’re craving it? Is that reasonable?

Lu Yan’s pathological value began to climb inevitably.

The increase from his last encounter with Subject 01 hadn’t fully subsided.

And devouring the pollution source from Tang Xian’an was harder than from anyone he’d tried before.

The dragon blood was too cloying. After a few gulps, Wang Yu turned listless, seeming nauseous, and slowly retracted its white tendrils.

Correction: looks like Wang Yu isn’t happy either.

Lu Yan’s pathology level rose to 41.6. He could feel fish scales prickling across patches of his skin.

He looked down at the man in his arms. Due to the Dragon Bone talent, Tang Xian’an was far heavier than a normal person—at least six hundred pounds.

Pressing down on Lu Yan, he felt like a solid mountain.

If not for Lu Yan’s now-substantial spiritual power threshold, the weight might have actually injured him.

The System asked, Will you wait here until he wakes up?

Lu Yan considered it. "No."

Regulations stated visiting hours shouldn’t exceed three hours. No need to make things difficult for the staff.

He moved Tang Xian’an to the bed and pulled the blanket over him.

As he left, he casually ran a hand over Tang Xian’an’s tail. For some reason, the image of Researcher Xiao Bing floated into his mind.

"If only it had fur," Lu Yan sighed.

Researcher Bing saw him out.

The youngest of the group and Ji Wen’s personal disciple, Bing was treated like a mascot within the Institute.

"Lord Clairaudient, we look forward to your next visit."

Lu Yan handed him a freshly shed golden fish scale.

Bing looked surprised, then broke into a wide smile. "Thank you, my lord."

The System grumbled. Here we go again, here we go again! Stop casting your net so wide!

Lu Yan didn’t really understand what it meant.

Settling into the back of the vehicle, he asked the System, "How do you change a predetermined future?"

The future is difficult to alter.

"That’s not what you said back at the Luo River Botanical Garden."

The System was silent for a moment. If you’re strong enough, nothing’s impossible. But usually it’s the knight or the prince who charges through thorns. The princess in the tower doesn’t typically pick up a sword and march to war.

Lu Yan rubbed his aching temples. "Aren’t you imagining me as a bit too delicate?"

Besides, these days, princesses in movies didn’t just wield swords—they took up scepters and became kings.

I just don’t want to see you get hurt…

"Thanks," Lu Yan said. "Five months—is that enough time?"

It’s possible, maybe… Would you like to change your eyes?

…

…

At nearly the same time, several thousand miles away in the Granland Sea.

Shen Qingyang clung to a piece of drift ice, his expression sickly.

A dark tentacle snatched a passing penguin. The bird was already somewhat polluted, with crocodile-like fangs and a belly studded with yellow, fatty tumors.

As the tentacle tightened, the penguin shrieked, quickly desiccated into jerky, nothing but skin stretched over bone.

[Talent 17 - Life Drain]

It was why Shen Qingyang’s recovery had always been robust.

He’d improved from near-death, though only two of his thirteen tentacles were functional now; the rest were severed stumps, with no telling when they’d regrow.

The severe injuries had drastically reduced his power.

Fortunately, he stuck to shallow waters. On the surface, avoiding patrol ships, he wasn’t likely to encounter serious danger.

"Teacher." Shen Qingyang’s voice was calm. "I want power."

Power that would never let anyone tread on him again.

The arrogant face of Subject 01 surfaced in his mind, stirring an uncontrollable fury.

Because of 01, Lu Yan had been hurt.

Right before his eyes.

The Prophet’s black robes were tattered. "I’m glad your goal is no longer just being the top college exam scorer. But this shift comes a little late… The future has changed too much. And now I’ve lost an eye. I’m no longer sure if what I saw before still holds true."

The final arrow Lu Yan shot into the water hadn’t killed the Prophet, but it had pierced one of his eyes.

Every other part of his body could heal perfectly. Except the eye.

His prophetic talent was damaged. The already chaotic future he saw had grown even more blurred.

"But what surprises me most…" The Prophet’s front-facing gaze fixed on him. "…is that you actually know that failure."

Shen Qingyang was puzzled. "What failure?"

"My nominal son. Lu Yan. That’s the name his mother gave him." The Prophet spoke slowly, as if lost in thought, sitting motionless on the edge of the ice.

"Perhaps we’ve all been deceived by him." After a long while, the Prophet murmured to himself.

Shen Qingyang didn’t understand. "Deceived by who?"

"Lu Yan."

The Prophet’s body shuddered, black blood oozing from his mouth, his neck, his eye socket. "When I was young, I was an occult enthusiast. Back then, the Pollution Disease wasn’t officially recognized. In university, my talent awakened. From that day on, I saw Him every night. It drove me to the brink of madness… I was expelled. Only Ji Wen still believed me. I had to prove I was right.

"In the deep sea, I saw him for the first time. He was wrapped in a fleshy orb, like a fruit. I felt it calling to me."

"I rescued an infant from that flesh cocoon."

"I watched him grow with hope, but as the days passed, he became so... ordinary."

"He felt fear. He held expectations. He loved. He clung to hope. I was disappointed. Because I knew that once he possessed these emotions, he had already lost the qualification to be a vessel. Most importantly, no matter what I tried, no matter what I stitched into his body, his pathology level remained low. So very low."

The Prophet turned his stiff neck, his gaze settling on Shen Qingyang. "And so, I waited. For a long time. Until I found a new... vessel..."

Shen Qingyang was silent for a moment. A pitch-black tentacle coiled around the Prophet's throat.

A smile spread across his face. "What was stitched in? Stitched in what? Teacher, could you elaborate?"

The Prophet's eyes widened in sudden shock.

*

Third Research Institute.

Tang Xian'an was dreaming.

In the dream, he was a black dragon, deep in the ocean. All around him, ugly, massive pollutants were dragging away a little golden fish.

He couldn't remember who he was, only a vague, desperate sense that the golden fish was vitally important. He swam after them, paddling like a dog, but no matter how hard he churned the water, he couldn't catch up. A crushing despair filled him.

Then he woke up. The room lights activated automatically.

Tang Xian'an's fingers brushed the corner of his mouth.

A small cut stung there, left by Lu Yan's sharp teeth.

A second later, he swung his legs off the bed and hit the call button, requesting discharge.

He needed to see Lu Yan.

Researcher Xiao Jia, roused in the middle of the night, didn't complain. He diligently began collecting Tang Xian'an's data, then suddenly shot to his feet before the monitor, disbelief etched on his face.

"Boss!—Boss!"

Xiao Jia snatched the printed report and sprinted down the hall to Ji Wen's office.

Ji Wen frowned at the disruption. "What's all this commotion?"

Xiao Jia slapped the data sheet onto the desk. "Look!"

It was Tang Xian'an's medical report.

Ji Wen's eyes instinctively went to the most critical value: pathology level.

He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put them back on. "89.4? It hasn't dropped below 90 in centuries. How is this possible?"

Frankly, while he disapproved of the First Institute's methods, their relentless, often brutal experiments had yielded results far ahead of the rest of the world.

When Tang Xian'an's pathology had spiked before, they'd even consulted the First Institute. Gong Weibin had proposed solutions—like surgically removing the dragon wings grafted to Tang Xian'an's back...

In theory, excising the source of pollution should lower the pathology level. But Tang Xian'an had been fused with those wings for nearly a hundred years. Removing them would have flayed him alive, if it didn't kill him outright. They'd abandoned the idea.

For decades, the Third Institute had exhausted itself searching for anything that could suppress his condition.

The specialized injection he'd just received was nothing new. It shouldn't have caused this sudden drop.

"The only difference in this treatment session," Ji Wen mused, his hand absently sketching meaningless patterns on a notepad, "is that Lu Yan was here. And when Tang Xian'an was in a state of high aberration, he grabbed one of Lu Yan's scales."

But Lu Yan wasn't a healer. Not even close.

"Do you think," Ji Wen asked slowly, "there's any chance we could ask Tang Xian'an for that scale back?"

Xiao Jia took a step back, his expression one of pure horror. "Who's going to ask him?"

Ji Wen thought about it. "...Never mind. It's not a bad development for now. We can revisit it later."

According to the latest dossier, the Lord Clairaudient's attitude toward the Institute had only shifted from hostile to wary. They were a long way from any meaningful cooperation.