Chapter 3
The two neighborhood cops looked at Bai Hewei and then at the men sprawled on the floor, ultimately deciding it was best to take these strangers in first.
Just as they were about to move, their police radio crackled to life.
“Chief? You want us to head back?” The tall cop froze, seemingly confused. However, with the chief incessantly urging them, he had no choice but to temporarily beat a retreat.
“Sorry, Little Bai, but jurisdiction over this matter doesn’t lie with us. These guys are Evolvers,” the tall cop said, shaking his head. “Dealing with this crowd can get a bit messy. Prepare yourself.”
Before the cops could even drive off in their cruiser, the field unit of the Special Operations Department had already arrived, immediately stringing up a yellow cordon outside to keep the surrounding residents back.
They had just met last night, and here they were seeing each other again this morning.
This was becoming a bit too frequent.
Bai Hewei felt utterly helpless. What kind of terrible luck was he having to run into this sort of thing first thing in the morning?
“The people from the [Divine Staff] organization are as well-informed as ever. I suppose having money really does buy you everything.” A sharp, capable-looking young woman with a high ponytail was the first to stride in.
“An Tingyu? I didn’t expect you to show up in person.” It wasn’t that Wei Bo didn’t want to flee, but he was so severely injured that a rash attempt to escape would only worsen his wounds.
Furthermore, falling into the hands of the Special Operations Department at most meant having his supernatural abilities suppressed and undergoing labor reform while paying some hefty fines. If he fell into the hands of other organizations, he might not even keep his life.
“As of right now, I am arresting you all on charges of illegal entry.” An Tingyu cast a cold glance at them and gave a light wave of her hand. Her subordinates immediately rushed forward, slapping specialized handcuffs on the Evolvers and hauling them away.
“Bai Hewei, your reputation precedes you. I am An Tingyu from the Special Operations Department. Hello.” An Tingyu extended her hand, offering a friendly smile.
Bai Hewei glanced at her uniform, noting the olive branches, a star, and a moon insignia on her shoulders. His expression shifted instantly.
The organizational structure and promotion pathway of the Special Operations Department mirrored that of the public security, procuratorate, and court systems. To gauge the rank of someone from the department, one only needed to look at their epaulets. The olive branches and stars represented their rank, while the moon signified their specific department.
The An Tingyu standing before him looked no older than thirty, yet her rank was already equivalent to a Third-Class Commissioner, corresponding to a principal division director level.
A principal division director at thirty—in any other government department, Bai Hewei would have chalked it up to winning the reincarnation lottery. But in the Special Operations Department, it was a pure manifestation of strength. There was no telling how much merit she had to accumulate to achieve such a meteoric promotion speed.
“Director An, you’re too polite. Just call me Little Bai.” Bai Hewei scanned the room, brought over a slightly sturdier chair, and invited An Tingyu to sit down.
“Mr. Bai, by now you’ve probably realized what has happened.” An Tingyu smiled, putting on no official airs before him. “Congratulations, you are now an Evolver.”
Though Bai Hewei had initially dismissed Wei Bo’s crew as scammers, seeing the Special Operations Department show up in full force made him doubt his own judgment. Still, hearing definitively that he had become an Evolver felt entirely surreal.
“Could… could there be some mistake? I don’t think I can fly or anything. Besides, aren’t Evolvers supposed to only appear during Evolution Day? That was five years ago. Is it even possible to evolve now?” Bai Hewei rubbed the back of his neck, perplexed.
Since Evolution Day, Evolvers had existed in this world for a full five years.
Five years was long enough to change many things. It allowed the general public—who initially harbored doubt, fear, idolization, or discrimination toward Evolvers—to adjust their mindsets and view them with a much healthier, more rational attitude.
Of course, more importantly, the state apparatus had poured immense funding, deployed top-tier talent, and implemented premium welfare policies to forge the National Security Special Operations Department, or the Special Operations Department for short.
The department was composed of both Evolvers and ordinary people. Evolvers typically held administrative law enforcement positions but enjoyed standard civil service status. Ordinary people, upon passing physical tests, joined as support and clerical staff in comprehensive positions. The two groups complemented each other.
Furthermore, several media outlets had spent years filming documentaries about them. One particular documentary, Hello, Evolver Law Enforcement, had spread like wildfire across the country under heavy promotion from official media. It spawned countless viral moments and internet memes, allowing the public to see another side of Evolvers and witness their daily routines working alongside ordinary people. Naturally, psychological barriers faded.
By now, this country had become the most Evolver-friendly nation on the planet, while simultaneously possessing the strictest regulations and the fiercest competition for them.
Evolvers weren’t particularly special here.
The administrative law enforcement positions they had to test for usually didn’t restrict majors or degrees, leading to an absolute bloodbath of competition. Recently, a fair number of Evolvers had begun protesting, demanding that exams be categorized by Evolver tier and type to reduce the sheer volume of applicants.
None of this had much to do with Bai Hewei, however—or so he thought.
“While the vast majority of Evolvers appeared in large numbers during Evolution Day five years ago, it doesn’t mean they can only manifest on that day. In fact, before and after Evolution Day, people have been awakening sporadically. It’s just that because their numbers were small, it never drew much attention,” An Tingyu explained, shaking her head.
Bai Hewei fell silent, unsure of how to respond. He was no longer a naive youth or a man without strings attached; he didn’t indulge in unrealistic fantasies.
“What are you worried about?” An Tingyu asked, noticing his silence. She couldn’t quite read his current state of mind.
“I was just thinking… the results for my provincial exam haven’t come out yet. Will becoming an Evolver right now affect my application?” Bai Hewei blurted out instinctively.
The scores were supposed to be released today.
“Mr. Bai, you truly are an exemplary citizen,” An Tingyu said with genuine sincerity. The lingering professional pride in her gaze vanished, replaced by an immense warmth.
She was habitually strict with Evolvers, but toward law-abiding citizens, her attitude was entirely different.
Countless people fell prey to arrogance and delusion the moment they became Evolvers; it usually took a severe thrashing to make them realize they weren’t all that special. Yet Bai Hewei, despite being the strongest Evolver in the world, remained entirely unaltered by his power. Regardless of his motivations, it commanded respect.
“It’s nothing, really.” Bai Hewei naturally sensed the shift in her demeanor, though he didn’t take offense. After all, when he handled affairs for residents, his own attitude varied depending on whether the resident was polite or difficult.
“Bai Hewei, are you stupid?! As long as you defeat her, all this money on the floor is yours! You’d rocket to the top if you joined the [Divine Staff]! What can you possibly get by following her?!” Wei Bo bellowed from outside even as he was being dragged away.
“I’m not the stupid one here. If I deposit this much gold and cash of unknown origin into the bank today, the Discipline Inspection Commission will be knocking on my door tomorrow,” Bai Hewei rolled his eyes inwardly.
A gentleman acquires wealth through righteous means.
Otherwise, if he were slapped with a charge of “possessing a massive amount of property from unidentified sources,” a mere temp worker with that much wealth would trigger a national media firestorm. His colleagues at work were already busy enough; there was no need to add to their burdens.
An Tingyu gestured for her subordinates to quickly haul Wei Bo away, then smiled. “Mr. Bai, you don’t need to worry. As long as you are willing to join our Special Operations Department, you won’t have to worry about getting a permanent position.”
“Really? Do you have an official red-headed document for that? The kind approved by the Institutional Organization Commission?” Bai Hewei’s interest piqued. If he could bypass the exams and secure a permanent post, he was completely on board.
However, keeping in mind that leaders often disregarded official protocols when dangling carrots, Bai Hewei decided to play it safe. When it came to permanent positions, a leader’s words could lie, but a red-headed document could not.
Uh, a red-headed document?
Who carries one of those around on a field mission?
An Tingyu froze awkwardly in place, exchanging a blank look with Bai Hewei.
“Um, Director An, it’s not that I don’t trust you,” Bai Hewei smiled sheepishly. “I’m technically half-entrenched in the system myself. Right now, the central government is pushing for downsizing. Permanent civil service positions are shrinking year by year. If any exam omits the written portion, it gets reported immediately. If you’re offering me a permanent post out of thin air, I need to see something concrete, right?”
These days, believe anything except a leader’s grand promises. Times had changed; it wasn’t like the old days anymore. Decades ago, working as a temp long enough could eventually get you regularized. Could that even compare to the present situation?
“Isn’t it just a red-headed document? I’ll call the Institutional Organization Commission right now and have them approve one for me.” Being stared at by Bai Hewei, An Tingyu briefly forgot her original objective, instantly determined to show this Evolver her administrative clout.
The moment she said this, two men beside her who had remained quiet—one with three stars and two bars, the other with two stars and two bars on his shoulders—immediately reached out to tug at her sleeve.
“Sister An, Sister An.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? Address me by my title during operations,” An Tingyu said, displeased.
“Right, right. Director An, let’s not make grand promises. Have you forgotten? Because our department expanded too quickly, the chiefs of the Institutional Organization Commission and the Organization Department were just here throwing a tantrum two days ago.”
“A special recruitment post is beyond your authority to grant. You still have to submit it upward for approval.”
“Besides, he has to pass the Research Institute’s screening first. That person isn’t easy to deal with.”
An Tingyu fell silent. She had almost forgotten that it wasn’t five years ago anymore; it was no longer an era where permanent positions could be thrown around at whim to win people over.
At this, Bai Hewei stopped talking as well.
“Haha,” An Tingyu laughed awkwardly. “Um, how about we wait until I get the position approved? How long can you wait?”
“Pfft, Director An, forget it. I’ll just take the exams myself.” Bai Hewei hadn’t actually taken it seriously. Even if he had really become an Evolver, he assumed he was just ordinary tier. He didn’t feel particularly powerful; besides, he had seen plenty of Evolvers. Several Evolvers in his exam prep groups were currently sweating out the provincial exam results just like him.
Compared to Evolver positions, he actually preferred the ones meant for ordinary people—the competition wasn’t as brutal. Evolver posts generally required a score of 150, while ordinary ones hovered around 145. A five-point difference was practically a matter of life and death.
An Tingyu felt rather embarrassed. On her usual missions, she encountered either rebellious troublemakers or arrogant egotists. It was rare to find someone with a great attitude and immense strength, yet all he wanted was a permanent position, and she couldn’t even deliver it.
Fortunately, as a leader, she possessed a sufficiently thick skin.
“How about this, Mr. Bai. Save my number first and add me on WeChat. In a moment, I’ll pull you into our main Evolver group. As for everything else… your parents will be back soon, so we’ll handle the repairs for you first,” An Tingyu said with a smile. She could see that Bai Hewei didn’t want his peaceful life disrupted so quickly, so she was more than willing to show goodwill.
“Then I must thank you, Director An.” Bai Hewei felt reassured. Regardless of his status as an Evolver, at least her gesture was in the right place. Ideally, he would just register as a completely ordinary Evolver, quietly pass his exam to secure a stable job, and then find a girlfriend. As a local, he could live a very comfortable life.
Fortunately, the repair technicians brought by An Tingyu were professionals. Before lunch, they had restored everything to its original state. Bai Hewei was perfectly happy to act as though nothing had happened, enjoying his lunch in peace before heading to the office for the afternoon.
His parents and grandmother had absolutely no idea what had transpired in the morning. They had gone out for morning exercises and leisure after breakfast, living a much more disciplined life than he did.
His parents used to be temp workers at a state-owned enterprise, so they didn’t enjoy official pension benefits. Though they had retirement funds now, the amounts weren’t high compared to regular SOE staff—his father received 3,200 yuan and his mother 3,100 yuan, though both were still slightly higher than Bai Hewei’s income. His grandmother had worked at a local chemical plant and had a higher pension, around 5,000 yuan, as she had managed to secure an official worker status just before retiring. She was the financial pillar of the household.
Consequently, the family’s greatest collective dream was to see Bai Hewei pass the exam and secure an official administrative position. Because of this, even the typical parental nagging about marriage was incredibly rare at their dinner table.
His grandmother’s most frequent refrain was, “Establish your career before starting a family. Without an official position, a good girl won’t look twice at you.”
“I’m joining the waist-drum team this afternoon and volunteering as a senior citizen helper. Sweetheart, go register for me later.” Even in her old age, it was clear his grandmother had been a great beauty in her youth; she was still highly sought after by the old men in the waist-drum team.
“Alright,” Bai Hewei nodded. His grandmother was already the most famous senior volunteer in their jurisdiction. She was persuasive and highly cooperative with community work, making the neighboring office incredibly envious. Having a ‘living Buddha’ like her made community relations a breeze.
“Your dad and I are getting ready for a trip. His old unit gave out some slots, it’d be a waste not to go,” his mother said, looking at him. “Relax. If you don’t pass this time, there’s always the next. It’s tough to pass nowadays, just work hard.”
They knew the exam results were due any day now. Not wanting to put too much pressure on him, they actively chose to travel to give him some private space.
“Have fun, I can take care of myself. Worst case, I’ll just eat all three meals at the office cafeteria,” Bai Hewei understood his parents’ intentions well. Anyone who frequently failed exams knew that the more understanding their parents were at such times, the worse they felt inside.
Before starting his shift at 2:00 PM, Bai Hewei logged onto the personnel examination website again with a sliver of hope.
This time, the page loaded successfully.
His heart leaped into his throat, pounding furiously as if it were about to burst out. The moment the scores loaded, he instinctively covered the screen with his hand, sliding it down millimeter by millimeter to check.
Aptitude Test: 71!
Fantastic! It broke 70.
Bai Hewei let out a massive sigh of relief. During the national exam, his Aptitude Test score had dragged him down because he had guessed blindly on the quantitative relations and logical reasoning questions, leaving him stuck in the 60s. Now, he was finally back on track.
Gathering his courage, he removed his hand completely to look at his Policy Essay.
Silence.
The Policy Essay was in the 60s. It was over.
Bai Hewei pulled out his phone and opened his chat with An Tingyu. He typed a few times, but ultimately deleted everything.
Forget it. A director-level official likely couldn’t resolve his permanent position anyway.
Meanwhile, at the Special Operations Department Headquarters.
“Sister An… someone is looking for you. Prepare yourself.”
“Sister An, our condolences.”
By the time An Tingyu brought Wei Bo and the others back to the temporary command office, before she could even claim credit for the arrest, she found her colleagues looking at her as if they were attending a funeral.
Sensing what was coming, An Tingyu’s lips twitched, wanting to say something. But in the end, nothing came out.
A colleague stepped forward with an expression of grim resolve, holding a laptop and preparing to boot it up.
“Whi… which one?” An Tingyu attempted a final struggle. “Is it Director Zhang from the Research Institute? Or maybe Dr. Wang?”
Their Special Operations Department possessed immense power, which meant three massive mountains were placed above them to keep them in check.
First was the central government—that went without saying; every department had to obey the center.
Second was the Discipline Inspection Commission. To keep this group of Evolvers in check, a team of incredibly powerful Evolvers had been specifically recruited into the commission just to investigate them.
The final mountain was the Research Institute.
Any Evolver who wanted to understand their evolutionary path, control their abilities, or mitigate the effects of generic backlash could not bypass the Research Institute’s assistance. Consequently, members of the Special Operations Department acted like mice seeing a cat whenever they encountered personnel from the institute. Most importantly, the other two mountains placed absolute faith in the Research Institute’s professional expertise, leaving the department with no choice but to fall in line.
“It’s Chief Scholar Wen,” the colleague said, casting a pitying look at An Tingyu.
An Tingyu spun around, attempting to flee. “I wasn’t the one who gave the order! Go find Director Huo!”
Several colleagues lunged forward, pinning her down.
“Sister An, a quick death is better than a lingering one.”
“Director Huo just took his annual leave this morning, claiming his wife is about to give birth.”
“Bullshit! He’s not even married!” An Tingyu still tried to break free. “He gave the order, I merely executed it!”
“Exactly. If you run, Chief Scholar Wen will block our doors tomorrow.”
“Sister An, you wouldn’t want us to end up missing a limb or growing an extra organ the next time we get injured and go to the Research Institute for treatment, right?”
“Director Huo said that if you weather this storm, he’ll grant you your full annual leave this year.”
Only then did An Tingyu slow her resistance. Otherwise, given her Evolver rank, pinning her down would have been a monumental task.
“Is he really giving me my annual leave?” An Tingyu asked textingly, seeking confirmation.
“Of course. After all… it’s Chief Scholar Wen,” the colleague chuckled helplessly.
This Chief Scholar Wen was the chief scholar of the Research Institute at an incredibly young age, hailed as humanity’s ultimate brain. With a genius of that caliber, even if he possessed a terrible temper and a venomous tongue, it was entirely tolerable. Not to mention, he came from an illustrious family and was extraordinarily handsome. With him around, the Research Institute’s funding had never once been delayed. Who wouldn’t pamper a treasure like that?
In contrast, getting scolded a bit by him was practically an honor for the Special Operations Department; many people couldn’t even find a way to be scolded by him if they tried.
If possible, it was best to be scolded by Chief Scholar Wen immediately so the grievance could be settled on the spot. If he chose to bottle it up, one would have to live in perpetual terror.
Once, an Evolver had casually flirted with Chief Scholar Wen. The scholar had merely smiled without a word at the time. But when that Evolver later entered the Research Institute due to an injury, his medication was promptly switched to one that was more effective but carried a slight side effect. Since then, that Evolver had become famous, earning the nickname “Five-Second Lord,” entirely cut off from the pleasures of the world.
Being remembered by Chief Scholar Wen was no different from being marked by the King of Hell.
In his eyes, gender was entirely irrelevant; he simply didn’t view them as human beings. The gaze he directed at laboratory mice was far gentler than the one he cast upon them.
“An Tingyu, would it kill you to give your brain a shake? Your gray matter is already about the size of a turtle’s, and if you let any more water leak into it, it’s going to start sprouting roots.” The laptop booted up, displaying a blank white screen from which a cold, detached voice instantly emerged.
“Tell me, what is the first rule an Evolver must follow upon awakening?”
An Tingyu lowered her head, reciting helplessly, “Upon an Evolver’s awakening, there shall be no testing, no forced contact, and no using the known to confront the unknown.”
“You remember it well. Then please tell me, which suicidal fool gave you the authority to test Bai Hewei?”
