Was that still a human? No!
The creature before them had lost all semblance of humanity, resembling a grotesque, pulsating mound of reddish-brown flesh.
Its skin had completely melted, pooling like muddy sludge at its feet. Its body had grotesquely swelled to immense proportions, with its head scraping against the ceiling. Yet, in contrast, its arms had shriveled into skeletal lengths—unnaturally long and thin. With a deafening CRACK!, one of those limbs lashed out, pulverizing the ground it struck.
If not for the unchanged face, no one could have recognized this monstrosity as Dr. An Qi!
This was the control room. Directly ahead lay the control console and the surveillance screens. Besides the guards, there were researchers in white lab coats present, but they were far too preoccupied to notice Wen Xin and his companion’s sudden intrusion.
“Why is Dr. An Qi here? Who was supposed to be watching him?!”
“All the guards were killed. The General ordered us not to harm the Doctor!”
“It released all the containment gates for the experimental subjects! Why didn’t anyone stop it?!”
A massive electric net descended from above, ensnaring the monstrous form of Dr. An Qi. Dozens of heavily armed guards crowded around the “flesh mountain,” pulling the ropes attached to the net. The glare of the incandescent lights illuminated their faces—some in anger, others in fear.
A researcher dashed to the control console, his eyes widening in shock as he surveyed the data.
“All experimental subjects have escaped! I repeat—all experimental subjects have escaped! Subjects 42 and 78 from the third generation have the newest MN strain of the mutant virus. It’s untested, highly infectious, and lethally potent. Immediate action is necessary!”
“There’s no action we can take! Dr. An Qi was the sole overseer of the project! Without him, we’re helpless!”
“There’s still a way. Maybe we can wake Dr. An Qi. If it can find the control room, it must retain some human consciousness!”
“No, it’s nothing but a monster now! The First Base is doomed. We’re all doomed!”
The scene devolved into chaos. Cries that Dr. An Qi had lost his mind mixed with screams of despair. The shouts were bloodcurdling.
Dr. An Qi had gone mad?
From the cacophony, Wen Xin pieced together the events. His heart sank. Turning swiftly, he fixed his eyes on the surveillance screen.
The monitors displayed live footage of the secret research facility. Multiple sectors had their gates thrown wide open, leaving the interiors empty save for floors marred with indistinguishable stains—blood, food scraps, or something worse. Scattered footprints overlapped in a frenzied path toward dim, shadowy exits.
Wen Xin’s heart climbed to his throat.
If all the experimental subjects had truly escaped, it was inevitable—they would run straight into Xiao Hei and the others!
Even Wen Jinfeng was momentarily taken aback by Dr. An Qi’s horrifying transformation. Just days ago, Dr. An Qi had still appeared somewhat human.
When the creature stretched out its sharp claws toward the console again, Wen Jinfeng roared without hesitation, “Stop it now!”
His yell made the creature pause and turn. Its gaze met his.
Those eyes were not clouded. They gleamed with clarity—mocking and sardonic.
A sudden thought burst into Wen Xin’s mind: Dr. An Qi isn’t mad. It knows exactly what it’s doing!
Swish—
The razor-sharp claws lashed out like thunder, tearing through the air with a high-pitched whine.
Wen Jinfeng barely had time to react before the claws were upon him. Just as disaster loomed, Wen Xin dove forward, tackling him to the ground.
The claws scraped over their heads, gouging deep into the floor and leaving five jagged gashes behind.
The commotion finally drew the attention of the researchers in the lab. One shouted angrily, “Who are you two—?”
Splurt.
Claws pierced the researcher’s chest, blood spraying across the floor.
The researcher’s head drooped weakly as he stared at the gaping hole in his chest. His dim eyes shifted to An Qi behind him. “Doctor… you’re awake, b-but… why…”
The room fell into stunned silence, except for An Qi, who calmly grabbed the researcher’s collapsing body. Opening his gaping maw, he devoured the corpse in a frenzy.
Bones cracked audibly as An Qi crunched through them, chewing methodically until nothing remained.
When he raised his head again, his grotesque, wrinkled face was smeared with fresh blood. Letting out a satisfied sigh, the burns left by the electric net visibly began to heal, the flesh knitting together at an alarming rate.
Eating humans restored his strength!
The guards and researchers went pale as death. Some shook uncontrollably, the tension snapping their rationality like a taut string. One screamed hysterically:
“Open fire! Everyone, shoot!”
“Kill this monster!!”
An Qi didn’t stop his gruesome feast, but his other arm flicked like a whip, slicing one of the shouting researchers cleanly in half.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire erupted, bullets riddling An Qi’s monstrous body and bursting into sprays of blood. But the creature didn’t seem to care. Breathing heavily, it continued devouring its meal, blood dribbling from its teeth onto the floor. No matter how much it ate, it wasn’t enough.
The damage inflicted by the gunfire was nowhere near the pace at which it regenerated from eating.
Wen Xin was taken aback by An Qi’s monstrous transformation and overwhelming strength. If it had been just him here, he might have tried to fight it out. But with Wen Jinfeng’s condition in mind, retreating to reassess was the only option.
However, Wen Jinfeng grabbed his arm firmly.
“We can’t run,” Wen Jinfeng said in a low, gritted tone. “This lab was designed to prevent leaks. Every entrance and exit is ‘secured.’”
“The main console is here,” he continued. “It can seal off the entire facility at any moment, even the ventilation shafts!”
Wen Xin’s mind raced. “Is there a weapon or mechanism we can use to deal with this thing?”
“How would I know? I haven’t been here in nearly twenty years!”
“…And you came here alone to deal with An Qi? That’s suicide!” Wen Xin snapped, unable to hold back his frustration.
“You’re here, aren’t you? So what’s the difference?!”
“So, you didn’t plan anything to handle An Qi?”
“I did!” Wen Jinfeng’s gaze dropped to where Wen Xin was holding a vial of reagents. He hesitated, his lips twitching as if to say something, but he bit down hard on his words.
He took a deep breath.
“Listen to me, Wen Xin.”
Wen Xin turned, meeting his brother’s resolute eyes.
“Look at the console. Third row on the left, fourth button. Press it twice, then pull the first lever on the left. At the same time, flip all three right-hand switches upward. A red button will pop up.”
Wen Jinfeng’s voice was firm. “This is an intricate failsafe. They wouldn’t have altered it easily. Find a way to reach it and press that red button.”
Wen Xin eyed him warily. “What happens when I press it?”
Before Wen Jinfeng could answer, a massive shadow loomed over them. A chilling voice echoed above.
“So many little bugs to squash. Kids, you’ve kept me waiting.”
The air seemed to freeze as An Qi’s enormous head lowered between the two brothers. The guttural hch-ch-ch of his breathing rattled in his throat.
His flesh, mangled and bleeding from explosions, was regenerating new limbs. Behind him, the floor was littered with mangled corpses.
“You’re having such a lively chat. Makes me want to join in.” His grotesque gaze flickered, landing on Wen Xin. He sniffed the air, his lips curling into a grotesque grin. “Strange… there’s a delightful scent on you now. Wasn’t there before. Could it be…?”
In an instant, Wen Jinfeng pulled a smoke grenade from behind his back—he’d been holding it all along.
They had anticipated An Qi’s approach. The bickering had all been a ploy to lower his guard.
“Go, Wen Xin! Don’t hesitate!”
The grenade detonated, flooding the control room with thick, white smoke. Like a lightning bolt, Wen Xin shot forward.
In that moment, his enhanced speed reached its peak. Channeling all his strength, Wen Xin moved faster than the monster could react. Amid An Qi’s stunned growl, Wen Xin heard the clicks of switches and finally—
Boom!
Wen Xin slammed his fist onto the red button.
A profound silence followed. Even An Qi held his breath.
Then, the ground trembled.
The smoke hadn’t yet dispersed when Wen Xin clung to the console, realizing it wasn’t just the ground shaking—it was the entire lab.
The sound of machinery activating echoed nearby. Turning to his left, he saw a section of the smooth wall slide open, revealing a small elevator!
Wen Xin’s pupils contracted.
What kind of situation would automatically trigger the emergency evacuation system? It had to be one where the lab’s conditions were irretrievable.
Could it be that the button Wen Jinfeng had him press was a self-destruct mechanism for the lab!?
“Urgh!”
Seeing the elevator open before Wen Xin, Wen Jinfeng exhaled in relief, only to be snatched up by the enraged An Qi a second later. The monster’s massive claws pressed perilously close to his neck.
Through the pain, Wen Jinfeng squinted at the grotesque face of An Qi and sneered, “Let’s go to hell together, you old monster.”
Boom!
A thunderous explosion roared from above. Wen Xin didn’t hesitate—he surged forward, using a laser to sever An Qi’s claws. Grabbing his barely conscious brother, he dragged them both into the cramped elevator.
The lab continued to shake, accompanied by a gut-wrenching sense of weightlessness as though they were in freefall.
Fiery light erupted, followed by a scorching wave of heat that engulfed the entire lab in an instant.
There was a long stretch of darkness as Wen Xin plummeted into his dream, while in this dreamscape a woman’s tender and loving voice rang out.
“I know it’s harsh to place such a heavy burden on an unborn child, but it’s his wish for the future. As his mother, I will support him wholeheartedly.”
“It’s fine. The future is set. I won’t live long anyway. A few months sooner or later makes no difference.”
“If you ever get the chance, please tell him that I am so proud of him. Whatever he wants to do, he should pursue it without hesitation. I’ll be watching him from above.”
“Baby, it’s time to sleep. The blue sky is so peaceful, the little boat sways gently…”
Wen Xin’s eyes fluttered open, glistening with moisture. His reddened eyes brimmed with tears.
There was no time to dwell on the dream’s words, however, as an unbearable pain consumed him.
Pain—overwhelming, excruciating pain. Every inch of his body felt as though it had been disassembled. He could barely sense the presence of his own limbs.
After a long while, Wen Xin finally managed to recover, drenched in sweat.
His hand instinctively moved to check his body, and he exhaled in relief.
Thank goodness—no broken arms or legs.
Most elevators underground ascend, so it was a shock to Wen Xin that this one had plunged downward.
Looking up, he noticed the top of the elevator had been blasted open, revealing a faint glimmer of light high above. That must have been the surface exit, but Wen Xin estimated the height and found it… immeasurable.
He felt a strange sense of luck.
The elevator must have been designed with some kind of buffer mechanism. Otherwise, the fall alone would have turned even a mutant into a pile of pulp.
Looking down, he saw Wen Jinfeng unconscious beside him. It seemed it would be a while before he woke up.
Thanks to his enhanced body, Wen Xin had cushioned his brother during the fall, leaving Jinfeng uninjured. His breathing was steady.
Now the real question was—how would they get out?
“Ah! Huff, huff… Aaaahhh!”
A guttural roar, like a broken bellows, echoed through the air, making Wen Xin’s heart jolt.
Could it be? After all this, An Qi was still alive? The wretched specter wouldn’t leave them alone!
With the elevator damaged and the top blown open, it was no longer a safe refuge. Staying meant waiting for death.
Wen Xin’s expression hardened.
He reached for his waist, confirming that his weapon holster was intact. Pulling out his gun, he quickly loaded it and kicked the battered door open.
Crash!
The door gave way, and Wen Xin crouched low as he slipped out. The ground was damp, and each step landed with a crisp slap.
Abruptly, he froze, his body going rigid as his eyes widened at the sight before him.
A few minutes later.
Cough, cough, cough…
Wen Jinfeng was shaken awake by Wen Xin. Still groggy, he coughed against the acrid smell of smoke in the air, clutching his throat as if suffocating.
Wen Xin patted his brother’s back.
“I’ve got good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?”
“Cough, cough… Wh-what’s the news?” Jinfeng rasped, his awareness slowly returning. The realization that Wen Xin had saved him both moved and angered him. “You idiot! Why’d you come back for me? What if you hadn’t made it in time?!”
Wen Xin glanced at him, exasperated. “Even if I hadn’t, we’d still be in this mess now, wouldn’t we?”
Jinfeng frowned at Wen Xin’s tone, sensing something ominous. “You said there’s bad news. What is it?”
“Don’t rush; there’s also good news. Let’s start with that.”
Wen Xin gestured ahead. “The good news is, An Qi is dead. Look over there—although, his death was pretty gruesome.”
Jinfeng immediately turned to look.
An Qi was dead.
The infamous elder, who had brought despair to so many, now lay lifeless on the damp rocks. His grotesquely bloated body had deflated into a shriveled husk. His gnarled limbs twisted at odd angles, resembling an empty shell drained of life.
The path he had crawled was marred with deep gouges and blood spatters. It was clear his death had not been peaceful.
Jinfeng muttered blankly, “He survived the explosion… but then he died? What happened?”
Wen Xin nodded toward their surroundings. “Take a look around.”
Wen Jinfeng scanned his surroundings, and like Wen Xin earlier, his pupils dilated in shock.
Before the brothers stretched a vast, natural underground cavern, damp and riddled with crisscrossing fissures. Jagged stalactites and stalagmites jutted from the stone, creating an eerie, otherworldly sight.
Nearby, the shimmering surface of a small underground lake rippled gently. Wen Xin must have moved him there. Further out, Jinfeng noticed the faint outline of what appeared to be an altar.
But there was no time to investigate further. The thick black smoke hanging in the air and the steadily rising heat kept pressing on his senses.
Wen Xin, observing the smoke-belching wreckage nearby, sighed. “And that’s the bad news I mentioned.”
“The lab’s self-destruct mechanism—whether due to shoddy construction, age, or some other factor—didn’t complete its job. It dropped down here with us and could cause a secondary explosion at any time.”
Wen Xin gestured toward the cavern. “I’ve scoped out the area. In simple terms, it’s small, and there’s no way to hide.”
“We’re thousands of meters underground, with sheer rock walls. The chances of climbing out before the explosion are close to zero.”
“On the bright side, there’s plenty of oxygen here, so we didn’t suffocate immediately. On the downside, the same oxygen will fuel any combustion devices left behind.”
Wen Jinfeng rubbed his temples as a dull ache throbbed in his skull. “Then why are you so calm?!”
Wen Xin’s voice remained steady. “If we’re going to die either way, staying calm conserves energy.”
Jinfeng choked on his response.
He quickly swept his gaze around the cavern, finding no discernible exits. His eyes landed on the underground lake. Though the surface was small, its depth was indeterminable. Attempting to swim out, especially for someone with poor swimming skills, seemed unrealistic.
Besides, if the lake led to a dead end, it would only hasten their demise.
“If the lab designers placed an escape route here, there must be a way out. Plus, there’s oxygen and light… Wait, where’s the light coming from?”
Wen Xin didn’t intend to dampen his brother’s hopes but replied evenly, “I don’t know what the designers were thinking, but putting the exit thousands of meters underground already shows serious flaws.”
Before Jinfeng could retort, Wen Xin handed him something. “As for the light and oxygen, it’s probably this.”
Jinfeng accepted the object and found it was a small, silvery-white crystal.
“This texture… I’ve never seen it before. Is it some kind of gemstone? Wait—didn’t you mention a crystal earlier? One that could suppress mutants!”
Wen Xin fiddled with the shard. “Yes, I’ve seen An Qi use one before, and I’m certain it’s the same material.”
“You asked how An Qi died earlier. After coming into contact with this crystal, he started vomiting blood and died with his eyes open.”
“Humans who turn into monsters? Calling them mutants isn’t wrong.”
Wen Xin allowed himself a small, mocking chuckle at An Qi’s former hubris. “After all, biologically speaking, humans are just another kind of animal.”
He glanced around. “And while I suspected these crystals existed, I didn’t expect to find so many of them here.”
Following Wen Xin’s gaze, Jinfeng’s eyes widened in disbelief.
The silvery-white glow shimmered across the smooth cavern walls. Upon closer inspection, the jagged rocks were embedded with countless crystals, shining faintly.
Back then, just a thumb-sized piece of this crystal had nearly killed a mutant Tyrannosaurus. Now, the entire cavern was full of it!
Breathing heavily, Jinfeng grabbed Wen Xin’s hand, trembling with excitement. “In that case, we must seize control of this place! An Qi commanded others only because he could harness mutants as his pawns. With these crystals, we could—”
“Wen Jinfeng!”
Wen Xin’s voice was sharp and firm, cutting Jinfeng off. He locked eyes with his brother, emphasizing each word: “Do you want to become the next An Qi?”
The rebuke was like a bucket of ice water poured over Jinfeng’s head, dousing his enthusiasm instantly.
“Right now, our priority is survival.”
If Wen Xin’s earlier words were a wake-up call, this statement felt like all the air had been sucked from Jinfeng’s lungs. His chest tightened painfully.
Rising unsteadily, Jinfeng moved toward the wreckage to assess its condition.
The heat was intense, deterring him from getting too close. Wen Xin hadn’t been exaggerating—the device was on the verge of a secondary explosion.
Jinfeng then began inspecting the cavern walls for an exit, but his efforts yielded nothing.
The situation was grim.
Minutes passed as the brothers searched and assessed. The dense smoke now nearly filled the cavern, choking the air.
Jinfeng stood by the lake, pacing back and forth, his frustration building until he stomped hard on the ground. “You shouldn’t have come to save me!”
For a man like Jinfeng, who often concealed his true feelings, this outburst spoke volumes.
In moments of utter desperation, he had bared his guilt and love for his younger brother.
“It’s too late to dwell on that now,” Wen Xin replied, his expression softening as he produced the vial of reagent. “If I’m going to die, I’d at least like to know the truth. Tell me—what is this, and what does it do?”
“And while you’re at it, I want to know the truth about what happened to Mom, Dad, and me back then.”
The cavern was still, yet it felt as though a gust of wind had swept through.
The crackling of flames grew louder as the fire began breaching the machinery, the sound grating on Jinfeng’s nerves like a death knell.
Finally, he sighed in defeat, lowering his head into his hands. With a weary voice, he began recounting the events of the past.
“Everything started when Mom accidentally discovered an abnormal Bio-electromagnetic wave at home”
