Chapter 92

Chapter 92

Since he was already at the Prevention Center, Lu Yan decided to check in on Subject 03 while waiting for 06.

Qin Guoyu was still in the intensive care unit, unconscious. He was connected to a web of IV lines, his body frail as parchment.

[The Gu Master was severely injured in the last operation. Subject 03 was critically wounded and fell into a coma as a result.]

After all, this was A City, the headquarters of the Prevention Center. Even a high-level pollutant wouldn't find it easy to escape unscathed.

"And the Gu Master?"

[Buried in the underground city by the City Lord… Neither will die. The Gu Master just isn't happy about failing to rescue his brother.]

Headquarters didn't keep Lu Yan waiting long.

Yan Bei approached, escorted by a staff member.

At first glance, Lu Yan couldn't quite place his gender.

Yan Bei's face was strikingly androgynous. His hair, slightly long, cascaded down to his waist like rolling waves over mountains. Nestled within the strands were several tightly closed flower buds.

He was unexpectedly beautiful, with eyes of pale blue and skin so white it seemed he'd stepped out of a mountain valley—an ethereal creature.

The system provided details. [Subject 06, real name Yan Bei. Before becoming a Revelationist, he was a painter. The Louvre holds his work. The early theory that pollution was evolution, not disease, stemmed from the fact that most early-awakening Revelationists were of high social standing and possessed special talents—the exceptional among humanity.]

[During early modifications, 06 fused with a pollutant, resulting in a permanent side effect and granting him Talent 201: Pain Addiction. He didn't awaken many powerful talents, but his unique aberrant characteristics drew intense research interest. He was kept as an observation subject.]

[06's body no longer contains blood; his cells have cell walls. His extracted 'blood' is transparent, a special pollution source with wound-healing properties. The buds on his head can bloom.]

[In a state of high aberration, 06 resembles a tree more than a man. His evolutionary/aberration sequence, Number 6, is named 'World Tree.']

[Spiritual Power Threshold: 6700.]

[Talents: Regeneration, Pain Addiction.]

[Pathology Direction: Plantification.]

Lu Yan withdrew his assessing gaze. "Hello. Lu Yan."

Yan Bei opened his mouth, the act of speaking seeming unfamiliar. His voice emerged rough and halting. "Yan Bei."

Headquarters had considered booking the nearest flight but decided against it, concerned about Yan Bei experiencing stress around crowds. Instead, they chartered a private jet to take the two abroad.

Yan Bei had likely been isolated for a long time. Even the monotonous clouds outside the window captivated him, his unblinking stare causing a small white flower to bloom from the ends of his hair.

[Yan Bei's White Flower: A product of his pleasant mood. Consumption slightly reduces pathology degree.]

Lu Yan didn't pick it. They weren't that familiar.

The little white daisy withered after a minute, its dried petals drifting to the floor.

The flight from the GMT+8 to the GMT 0 time zone took eleven hours.

When Lu Yan arrived at his destination, Tang Xun'an had just passed inspection and received his discharge approval.

The system relayed this. Lu Yan gave a soft "Hmm."

[Host, let's be real. If Tang Xun'an were the opposite gender, your approach to relationships might trend on Weibo. I've got the headline ready: #My Crush is a PUA Master# What Do I Do?]

"Is that so?" Lu Yan sounded genuinely puzzled.

[Please. Make time to read a couple of romance novels someday. The sweet kind.]

Lu Yan fell into thought, carefully recalling. He did have a habit of leaving without a word.

But there were always reasons. They were all adults, losing sleep over humanity's future. Who had time for frivolity?

Still, Lu Yan took out his phone and sent a text.

Lu Yan: On a mission. Busy. See you another time.

[….]

*

Even in the 22nd century, the sunless peninsula was perpetually wet.

Lu Yan messaged Michael. They agreed to meet the next day at 2 PM at the Roy City Pollution Disease Prevention Center. The Center was a global institution promoting mutual aid, though resources weren't shared across regions.

Lu Yan arrived early. Staff served afternoon tea—milk, tea, coffee, an array of pastries.

Yan Bei seemed to have little appetite. He sat beside Lu Yan, tense and still as a wary cat.

A few fair-haired, blue-eyed staff exchanged glances and brought over a basin of nutrient solution.

"Thank you."

Yan Bei's voice was a whisper. His hair then elongated like vines, dipping into the solution. A soft sigh of relief escaped him. Another small flower bloomed on his head.

Michael landed outside, his pristine white wings shaking off a spray of rainwater onto the staff.

He had classic Slavic features—blond hair, grey-blue eyes.

Three pairs of wings adorned his back. The smallest sprouted from his upper spine, just long enough to cover his eyes. The middle pair, the largest, were for flight. At his tailbone, long pinion feathers brushed the ground.

He was undeniably handsome. The Revelationist awakening had lent him a lean, elongated build; his near two-meter height carried no bulk.

"I hate rainy days."

Michael accepted a towel from a staffer, set down his heavy sword, and wiped his face. The blade clanged loudly against the floor.

His gaze swept over the two, settling on Lu Yan. He extended a hand. "Greetings, Eastern beauty. You may call me Michael. And this is… Qiong Shu?" Qiong Shu was the codename Yan Bei had chosen for himself.

Michael's Chinese was surprisingly good. The First District was currently the most prominent among the major blocks. Not knowing some Chinese made forum lurking difficult.

Still gloved, Lu Yan shook his hand out of courtesy. "Lu Yan is fine."

Michael was intensely curious about the suddenly-appeared 06. Forum gossip said the First District had added four new high-level Revelationists.

Aside from the promoted Lu Yan, the other three had no prior records and similar registration dates—meaning they'd appeared out of thin air. Rumors swirled that they were a new batch of "human weapons" released from the First District's Research Institute, like the Tyrant released long ago.

Michael's probing stare made Yan Bei shrink back, hiding timidly behind Lu Yan.

Half an hour later, the hunter sent by the Guild arrived.

Many Revelationists developed quirks due to mental strain. This one was no exception.

His codename was Silver Gun, a Calamity Hunter for the Guild. He wore a Victorian-style high-collared coat and a hat shadowing most of his face. The visible hair was a tangled mess, dotted with grass and mud.

"Gentlemen. I am a survivor of the last Cromwell Manor exploration team. Pleased to provide intelligence…" Silver Gun's voice was gravelly. "Cromwell Manor was built in the 13th century, over nine hundred years ago, renovated hundreds of times. It stands on an island in the heart of a lake in Ford County, surrounded by water. Satellite imagery shows the area completely shrouded in black fog. A guide familiar with the terrain is needed. I will serve as that guide."

He removed his hat and gave a slight bow. "Rest assured, though my Spiritual Power Threshold isn't high, I am an experienced Calamity Hunter. I will leave once I deliver you to the manor gates."

His aberration level was significant. One side of his face was a grotesque tapestry of knotted, fleshy tumors. Occasionally, the dark larvae of flies could be seen wriggling within them. Even in broad daylight, it was a chilling sight.

The system pondered. [Silver Gun. Spiritual Power Threshold: 2100. Pathology Degree: 84. Mental state highly unstable. On the verge of complete aberration. The Guild plans to send him to a remote Pacific island after this mission. If he lives that long.]

*

They reached the edge of Cromwell Manor at dusk.

The manor stood on a lake island within a forest. Silver Gun found the markings left from the previous expedition at the forest's edge.

On a stone stele, a crimson crescent moon was painted. Beside it were Taoist symbols that looked familiar to Lu Yan…

[For suppression and warding off evil. Let me state for the record: feudal superstition. Useless.]

Silver Gun coughed. "Last time we entered Cromwell Manor, we had a Taoist priest in the team, ID 'Master Kongkong.' He left this with cinnabar before going in. Called it a peace ward."

Lu Yan searched the Revelation Forum. The priest was a D-Class Revelationist. Date of death: March this year.

[The symbols are useless, but they did conceal something. Something left behind by the Deep Sea Society.]

"Like what?"

[A phrase in Kurdish. "When the blood moon rises, demons will walk."]

Silver Gun coughed again, pulling out a pack of First District-made sedative cigarettes. "This forest is strange. You can only enter and find Cromwell Manor when the moon turns red, every night at midnight. We'll have to wait, gentlemen…"

Midnight was still hours away.

Michael snapped a selfie with the stone stele, spent two hours meticulously editing the photo, then posted it to his social media account.

Michael: The Archangel is off on another mission!! [Image]

Instantly, countless Prevention Center staff received a special notification.

Boosting Michael's engagement metrics was part of their job description. It wasn't just bots flooding the comments; they were the living, breathing water army.

Michael posted everything to social media, but many of his missions were classified.

After some deliberation, the higher-ups had run a dedicated internet line just for him. Ordinary netizens couldn't find his account through a normal search.

The AI, after scanning the image, unleashed a torrent of fawning praise. A few contrarians in the mix, however, commented that the dark-haired guy in the corner of Michael's photo was really good-looking and asked for his socials.

Michael zoomed in on his own picture and realized Lu Yan's profile was visible in the frame.

He shot Lu Yan a sidelong glance and quietly used the blur tool to erase him from the image.

This world could not tolerate a man who looked better in a raw photo than Michael did in his heavily edited ones.

The sun sank slowly below the horizon.

Yan Bei clutched the bag of nutrient solution the staff had given him, taking small, occasional sips.

The moon here seemed unnervingly close to the ground.

Lu Yan watched the data on his phone. As night fell, the pollution index climbed steadily, finally stabilizing at 2500. The surrounding temperature plunged below zero, though no snow fell.

That pollution level was already higher than the old hunter's spiritual power threshold. Even in his protective suit, a trickle of black blood seeped from the hunter's nose.

Michael unfurled his final pair of wings. A faint, luminous glow emanated from around him, like fireflies in the deep dark.

Not bright, but warm.

[Talent 30 - Holy Light]

Where the Holy Light shone, the rise of pathology was suppressed.

The old hunter turned back, a look of genuine surprise on his face. "Thank you, Lord Michael."

Gritting his teeth against the pain, the hunter squeezed a thin, wriggling larva from one of the fleshy tumors on his cheek.

It dropped to the ground, swiftly undergoing its metamorphosis, transforming into a buzzing fly.

"Follow me," the hunter rasped. "Don't fall behind. Getting lost here is... troublesome."

The group moved forward, their boots sinking into the soft, spongy layer of forest decay.

Yan Bei stayed close behind Lu Yan. A tendril of his long hair extended, winding itself gently around Lu Yan's wrist.

A small black flower bloomed from Yan Bei's hair.

[Yan Bei's Black Flower: A product of Yan Bei's fear. Plucking it can reduce his pathology degree.]

Lu Yan looked down and plucked the little black flower.

Yan Bei shuddered, a strange flush spreading across his cheeks.

The system stated, utterly deadpan: [Hurts so good. That flower is part of his body. He can feel it.]

Lu Yan: "..."

Damn. That was really fucking weird.

Yan Bei took a deep, shaky breath and whispered, "Lu... Lu Yan..."

It was the first time he'd spoken Lu Yan's name.

Lu Yan turned, adopting the gentle, professional tone he'd once used during pediatric consultations. "What is it?"

Yan Bei's voice was pitiful. "The trees are alive. So many eyes are watching us. I'm scared."

As he spoke, another lock of his hair coiled around Lu Yan's arm.

The system let out a peculiar chuckle. [This is the border of hell, the birthplace of the blood moon. Welcome to my—no, our world, my delicate little princess.]

From somewhere in the deepening gloom came the screech of an owl. It sounded exactly like a baby's cry.