Medical Center, Special Sector C.

Lieutenant Yu was rolled out of his ward by a stretcher robot. Two medical personnel accompanied him all the way to the very end of the corridor, entering Examination Room 8.

Lieutenant Yu’s eyes darted around erratically. He looked awake, but not entirely lucid.

09, transformed into a tiny flying insect, landed on the tip of Lieutenant Yu’s boot and was wheeled into the room along with him.

The two medical workers first moved Lieutenant Yu onto the hospital bed, buckled him securely into the restraint straps, and then fitted him with a specialized mask designed to isolate both sight and sound. Having apparently been through this routine before, Lieutenant Yu didn’t struggle from start to finish.

Monitoring the feed relayed back by 09, Song Jin kept his gaze tightly locked onto the two medical workers. He had initially assumed they were the so-called “Ferryman,” but to his surprise, they left the room immediately after securing the patient.

The camera feed remained completely static. Three minutes later, as if catching a faint noise, 09 slipped through the slats of the window blinds.

Unbeknownst to them, guards had positioned themselves on both sides of the corridor, completely sealing off the path. A figure wearing a biological mask and a pristine white lab coat approached from the far end, carrying a medical kit. The man was wrapped incredibly tight—not a single inch of skin was exposed from head to toe. One could only infer from his skeletal frame that he was a male.

He was arriving from the inner corridor reserved exclusively for authorized staff.

Just as Song Jin found the figure strikingly familiar, Li Xiao’s incredibly low voice echoed beside his ear: “Jin Lin.”

Two guards stood watch at the entrance. The moment Jin Lin stepped inside, one guard followed him in while the other double-locked the door from the outside.

09’s lens pivoted back to the interior.

Jin Lin placed the medical kit on the table, opened it, and retrieved a palm-sized metal sphere. He swiped his terminal over its sensor zone, causing the sphere to rapidly deploy into a long, semi-arched strip—resembling a bamboo tube cleanly split down the middle.

Propping it right beneath Lieutenant Yu’s forearm, Jin Lin reached into the kit once more and extracted two vials. One was the blood that both Li Xiao and Song Jin found deeply familiar; the other was an unidentified, completely transparent liquid solution.

Li Xiao signaled 09 to fly closer, but there were still no labels of any kind visible on the bottles.

The two vials snapped into the brackets on one side of the “bamboo tube.” With a sharp click, the indicator lights on the device flared to life. Fine, dense needles extended from the inner metal walls, piercing directly into Lieutenant Yu’s arm.

Next, Jin Lin placed a slightly larger, empty collection tube into the bracket on the opposing side.

In less than a minute, a pale red liquid began trickling into the empty tube. The longer the process went on, the more the liquid accumulated. Simultaneously, the blood and the transparent solution were slowly being depleted.

Jin Lin monitored the virtual screen projecting from the top of the device, which displayed various physiological data. Occasionally, he tapped the interface a few times, seemingly adjusting the injection velocity.

Li Xiao noticed a specific line of data labeled WF Value skyrocketing violently from 0.5 all the way to 796.

Roughly ten minutes later, the virtual display chimed, indicating the procedure was complete. A row of tiny red puncture marks was left on Lieutenant Yu’s arm, though they quickly faded away under the direct glow of the therapeutic lamps.

Once the WF Value plummeted back down below 1, Jin Lin systematically packed everything back into his medical kit. It appeared the entire process was over.

Seeing Jin Lin preparing to close the kit, Li Xiao ordered 09 to fly inside to scan the internal structural mechanics of the metal sphere.

09: Watch me!

But the moment it drew close to the kit, a sharp-eyed guard swung his hand and batted it away. 09 tried to dodge a few more times, but the guard caught its trajectory every single time, making it entirely impossible to get near the container.

Noticing Jin Lin looking over, the guard explained briefly, “Just a mosquito.”

Jin Lin remained dead silent from start to finish. He locked the medical kit, stood up, and departed.

Song Jin: Useless.

09: …It’s all your fault I failed!

Song Jin: ...

What the hell does it have to do with me?

Amused by their bickering, Li Xiao skewered a meatball, scraped off the excess chili paste against some vegetables, and held it to Song Jin’s lips. “Eat first. The wind is strong out here; it’s going to get cold.”

Song Jin looked down at it warily. “There’s still chili paste on it.”

Li Xiao replied with utmost seriousness, “Should I lick it clean for you then?”

Song Jin: “…If you dare lick it, I dare eat it.”

Li Xiao: In all seriousness, this one isn’t spicy. You can manage.

Seeing how confident he was, Song Jin hesitantly bit down. A single chew later, he nearly choked.

“Cough, cough, cough… I am never believing you again.”

“Is it really that spicy?” Li Xiao told him to spit it out, but Song Jin stubbornly turned his head away, refusing to comply.

Li Xiao simply leaned in and kissed him, directly plundering half the meatball straight from the lion’s mouth.

Song Jin knitted his brows in sheer annoyance. “I just finished eating the spicy outer layer, and you instantly steal the non-spicy center!”

Li Xiao paused mid-chew. “…Should I give it back to you?”

Song Jin lowered his head to shovel his rice. “Forget it. When we get back, you’re compensating me by letting me touch your abs.”

Li Xiao pondered the request for a moment. Either way, he wasn’t losing out. This transaction was entirely viable.

Crouching by the supply truck, Qian Can, Qin Le, and Jiang Hao: ...

So you two just completely don’t care whether we live or die, huh?

After finishing their meal, they headed to the temporary administrative office to find Yan Qing, only to be informed that they had to wait for Xiang Hong’s arrival before receiving further instructions.

The Beta doctor inside the office smiled and gestured for them to take a seat upon seeing them enter. Lowering his voice, he whispered to Li Xiao, “Thank you for earlier, Your Highness.”

Li Xiao: “Thank you for what?”

The Beta doctor shot a cautious look toward the doorway. “Major Zhuo actually had an episode yesterday afternoon. We all urged him to return to the warship for proper treatment, but he absolutely refused to listen. No one here could restrain him.”

Speaking of the matter, Li Xiao looked toward Yan Qing. “What did the medical center say?”

Yan Qing: “The Marine Corps operates under a unique framework. They will arrange for a physician to come over and conduct an evaluation first.”

“Make way! Quickly notify the medical staff to come over!” A chaotic din erupted outside.

Finding the voice somewhat familiar, Li Xiao walked to the entrance. It was Gao Jia, the Student Union President. Gancing over by chance, Gao Jia’s eyes met Li Xiao’s. He looked visibly startled. “Why are you at the front line?”

“Accompanying our Teacher Yan on a mission.”

Li Xiao stepped out and noticed the head of the Discipline Department lying on the stretcher, bleeding heavily from his abdomen. “How did he get hurt this severely?”

The Beta doctor on duty called his colleagues over to systematically wheel the student into the adjacent operating room.

Gao Jia watched the operating room doors seal shut before turning back to Li Xiao. “Our transport vehicle overturned when we ran into an insect swarm while delivering supplies. We got wedged in a rocky crevice, and while we were out prying the rocks away, we were ambixed by mutated wasps.”

Li Xiao looked at the transport truck parked outside, which bore a prominent medical cross emblem. “The situation in this sector is fundamentally different from the others. Didn’t Logistics adjust your routing?”

Gao Jia shook his head. “They have absolutely no idea the front line has receded here.”

Off to the side, Qin Le and Qian Can traded glances, both finding it entirely hard to believe. Sector 22 was on the verge of falling, yet the logistics units were completely in the dark. How chaotic was the internal infrastructure?

“They know.”

As if reading their minds, Song Jin leaned against the medical vehicle with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his tone entirely flat. “They know exactly what’s happening, but they pretend not to notice. They keep everything running as normal solely to ensure the people above don’t catch wind of it.”

Qin Le: “The people above?”

Song Jin: “The high command running the operations.”

Qian Can was baffled. “But real-time battlefield data cannot be concealed.”

Song Jin: “What makes you so certain the data transmitted back is actual real-time data?”

Qian Can choked on his words, completely unable to offer a rebuttal.

Qin Le fell into deep thought. Could it be to hide the high incidence of psychiatric breaks? So they’d rather stubbornly dig their heels in than report it up the chain?

Modified Humans would suffer mental collapses if they failed to consume the blood at regular intervals. But conversely, knowing that issues would arise, why wasn’t the blood administered on a strict schedule?

The question Qin Le was puzzling over happened to be exactly what Song Jin was analyzing. A fixed two-month cycle for blood replenishment—that was what Lin Zhou had claimed. But is it possible that everyone’s biological cycle varies slightly, causing certain individuals to miss their window and unexpectedly trigger a psychological breakdown?

Or perhaps the Meng family’s modification method is still purely in the experimental phase. They established the so-called system of exchanging merits for blood specifically to withhold regular doses from everyone intentionally.

While Li Xiao was asking Gao Jia about the route conditions, 09’s voice resonated in his ear once more.

09: Master, that masked doctor is heading right toward your location. I've followed him over.

The physician arriving for the consultation turned out to be Jin Lin. Since he was perfectly capable of making the trip today, why hadn’t he come last night when the episode first broke out? Was he deliberately letting the Major lose his mind here, using everyone’s lives as a live experiment?

By 5:00 PM, the sky began to dim. The number of small flying insects drifting through the air noticeably surged.

Jin Lin arrived wearing the standard white coat he utilized during consultations, carrying his medical kit. He was flanked by two assistants—the exact same two who had handled the preparations for Lieutenant Yu. The moment they arrived, they headed straight for the unoccupied medical vehicle, and shortly after, the Major was rolled over by a stretcher robot as well.

A bonfire had been lit in the open clearing. Li Xiao, Song Jin, and the others sat huddled around the flames, watching the interior surveillance feed relayed by 09 within their field of vision.

“Look at all those flying bugs.” Jiang Hao looked up at the sky.

Qin Le: “Don’t look up, or you’ll catch a dropping right on your face.”

Jiang Hao / Qian Can: ...

You just said something profoundly terrifying with absolute nonchalance!

Song Jin, who had been completely absorbed in the surveillance feed, silently burrowed into Li Xiao’s embrace upon hearing this, pulling Li Xiao’s hand up to shield his head.

Li Xiao: “What’s wrong?”

Song Jin: “My sugar intake has been lacking lately. Help me boost my dopamine.”

Li Xiao raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure it isn’t to shield you from bug droppings?”

Song Jin looked at him with absolute righteousness, his face practically screaming: Since you already heard it, why are you asking?

Li Xiao: ... This brat won’t even bother pretending.

The insect population grew exponentially. Every now and then, a bug or two would dive-bomb down, making it impossible for them to even enjoy the fire in peace.

Yan Qing walked over from the office. “There are too many insects out here. Head indoors. I’ve already arranged accommodations for you.”

Li Xiao watched him approach. “We’re staying here tonight?”

Yan Qing: “Yes. There are no transport flights returning to the warship tonight.”

The roar of an engine rumbled from afar, drawing closer by the second. A rescue vehicle settled slowly onto the open ground outside the tents, and Xiang Hong emerged, leading a group of students down.

“Keep an eye out for yourselves,” Yan Qing noted as he walked over to greet him. “Are there still students left to retrieve?”

Xiang Hong supported a student with an injured leg toward the medical wing, his expression deeply exhausted. “We’ve gathered them all. Fortunately, the students’ spirits are quite high. No major issues.”

Seeing that there were plenty of medical staff assisting, Li Xiao and his group didn’t step in.

The accommodations Yan Qing had secured for them were located on the outer perimeter of the medical zone—a row of military tents containing communal bunk platforms, offering just enough coverage to fend off the wind and rain. Fortunately, all five of them were Alphas, sparing them from being split across different tents.

Song Jin had never crammed onto a single platform bed with this many people in his entire life. He took one look inside and turned on his heel to leave. “I’m not sleeping here.”

Li Xiao caught his hand. “The air outside is crawling with insects. Do you want your head covered in bug droppings?”

Song Jin automatically visualized the scenario. His fists clenched so hard the joints popped. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “I’ll go sleep in the vehicle.”

“The vehicle is incredibly stifling. What’s there to fear when I’m sleeping right beside you?” Li Xiao guided Song Jin to the furthest corner, letting him lie down on the innermost side. “How’s this?”

The thought of sharing a bed with over a dozen people made Song Jin’s face darken with immense displeasure. Fortunately, Li Xiao was right next to him, making it barely tolerable. “Let me feel your abs to get a sense of familiarity.”

Li Xiao: ...

Li Xiao: “My abs aren’t familiar with you.”

Qian Can and Qin Le hadn’t slept on communal bunks either, but luckily, they weren’t excessively germophobic.

“I’ll take the outermost edge,” Jiang Hao said as he lay down. “I used to sleep on beds like this all the time. I’m very used to it.”

Qin Le was puzzled. “All the time?”

Jiang Hao: “Yeah. With my older brother’s brothers—uh, friends. They like sleeping like this.”

Qian Can / Qin Le: ...

What exactly does your older brother do to have that many “brothers”?

“You can see the starlight,” Jiang Hao remarked, gesturing toward the top of the tent.

There was a transparent skylight section built into the roof of the tent, likely designed to monitor structural changes in the insect swarms outside. Though flying pests zipped across occasionally, the sea of stars remained starkly clear.

Qian Can: “It would be perfect if those bugs weren’t there, hehe.”

Qin Le: “It feels just like camping. It’d be flawless if we could cook up something delicious right now.”

Jiang Hao: “This is the first time I’ve ever lain down to look at the stars with friends.”

Qian Can: “Me too.”

Qin Le: “Same here.”

Gazing up at the starlight while listening to the trio’s idle chatter, wrapped entirely in Li Xiao’s familiar scent, Song Jin suddenly found the environment far less repellant.

The rarest moment of relaxation since their deployment had actually manifest while lying in a tent with a crowd of people watching the stars. This was an experience the old Song Jin would have never even fathomed.

“It’s my first time too,” Li Xiao whispered, lacing his fingers through Song Jin’s. “Watching the starry sky with the person I love.”

Song Jin’s eyes flickered. He tightened his grip on his hand. “Does this count as unlocking another 1%?”

Li Xiao: “Congratulations on securing the Military Tent Limited Edition.”

The three-man atmosphere crew off to the side clapped in perfect unison: “That’s fantastic!”

Song Jin: ... This godforsaken sense of ceremony.

Before they drifted off to sleep, three more injured Alpha students filed into the tent. They consciously lay down on the opposite side, leaving a deliberate gap between themselves and Jiang Hao. Song Jin awakened 07, causing it to hover silently in a corner of the tent to take over surveillance duties for the interior.

In the dead of night, Li Xiao abruptly snapped awake to 09’s urgent alert.

09: Master, Jin Lin and Xiang Hong have scheduled a meeting inside a ruined building. I don't know what they intend to discuss, but Yan Qing has slipped out to follow them.

Li Xiao’s gaze darkened. Yan Qing is with them?

09: He's tailing them from behind.

On the third floor of a dilapidated building down an alley diagonally across from the medical wing, the dim glow of the satellite leaked into the room through shattered window frames. Within a highly cluttered, sprawling office space, Jin Lin and Xiang Hong stood face-to-face.

Xiang Hong lit a cigarette, exhaling a plume of white smoke. “Lend me two more vials.”

“I just lent you four vials two days ago, and you’re back for more?” Jin Lin kept his hands tucked into his lab coat pockets, his tone heavily laced with impatience.

Xiang Hong clicked his tongue in sheer frustration. “What choice do I have? My sector is being watched. If this drags out any longer, their rations are going to completely run dry.”

Jin Lin: “Can’t you just change the pickup location?”

“You make it sound so simple,” Xiang Hong sneered. “Who knows where they might be lying in wait.”

Jin Lin’s face remained frosty. “If you’re this cowardly, you shouldn’t have signed up in the first place.”

Xiang Hong slammed his half-smoked cigarette onto the ground, bringing his boot down to crush it savagely into the dust. “If I go down, none of you get to walk away clean either! We are all in the same boat!”

Not far away, Yan Qing held his breath, concealing himself right outside the stairwell entrance. A tiny camera floated silently into the air, aiming straight toward the duo.

A brief moment later, Jin Lin retrieved two vials from his pocket. “I can only give you one set. My personal stock is running low as well.”

Xiang Hong snatched them impatiently. “Tell them to manufacture more before the expeditionary force heads back!”

“One of the supply chains was compromised. Everyone’s inventory is incredibly tight right now.” Jin Lin turned to walk out. “Don’t look for me again after this. Moving around too frequently will only invite suspicion.”

Midway out, Jin Lin suddenly seemed to sense something. He snapped his head toward the exact stairwell where Yan Qing was hiding, trading a sharp look with Xiang Hong. Xiang Hong gave a dismissive wave of his hand, signaling for him to leave first.

By the stairwell, hearing the footsteps fading into the distance, Yan Qing gestured for his camera to return. Just as he turned to make his escape, Xiang Hong’s face materialized right before his eyes.

Yan Qing’s pupils contracted violently. He instinctively backed away, only to find himself staring straight down the barrel of Xiang Hong’s sidearm.

“It really is you.” Xiang Hong jerked the barrel slightly. “Get out here!”

Yan Qing stepped out slowly, keeping his voice entirely level. “Don’t do anything rash. I thought you were in danger, so I followed you to check.”

“Drop the act.” Xiang Hong pinned Yan Qing’s shoulder against the wall, jamming the muzzle directly under his chin. “You maneuvered me into taking you to that bar, and you intentionally drank that blood right in front of me just to make me drop my guard, didn’t you? Exactly when did you start investigating me? Who sent you? The Yi family, or the Gao family?”

Forced to tilt his head upward, Yan Qing stared at the familiar face before him—one so twisted by malice that it felt utterly foreign. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s wrong with that blood?”

“You don’t know?” Xiang Hong let out a mocking laugh. “Then you surely saw what just happened, didn’t you?”

Yan Qing looked into his eyes. “Wasn’t it just you taking two vials of medication from Doctor Jin?”

“Stop playing dumb. I am not letting you leave alive tonight.” Xiang Hong shoved the muzzle harder against his skin. “We’ve been friends for so many years; I genuinely wanted to spare you. But you just had to stick your nose into this!”

Though his fingertips trembled slightly at his sides, Yan Qing’s tone remained entirely composed, completely identical to his everyday speech. “In my eyes, you have always been an excellent teacher. Don’t do something so reckless. Stop this.”

“Being a good teacher and being a good person are two completely different things—they don’t conflict at all!” Xiang Hong threw his hands out, speaking as if it were the most natural logic in the world. “Only by possessing more power can I be a better teacher! Aren’t you the exact same? To climb the ranks, you sell your body, while I sell my conscience. Neither of us is any holier than the other.”

Yan Qing let out a soft sigh. Suddenly, he pivoted his body, grabbing Xiang Hong’s wrist and slamming it violently against the concrete wall.

His reaction velocity was entirely too fast. Coupled with the fact that Xiang Hong had never anticipated him possessing such formidable combat prowess, the lapse in vigilance caused the firearm to slip from his grip, flying across the room.

Yan Qing delivered a brutal punch straight to his jaw. “Securing a bit of authority is hardly enough to make me sell my body!”

Xiang Hong stumbled back several paces. The intense pain only fueled his fury, and he lunged forward to retaliate. “What are you acting so pure for?! If you weren’t the General Affairs Director’s whore, how could you have climbed to the position of Dean of Students at your age?! You even want to seduce the Second Prince, Li Xiao—do you think I can’t tell?!”

“A person like you truly cannot comprehend the genuine excellence of others.” Yan Qing slipped past Xiang Hong’s punches, steadily retreating toward the stairwell.

However, the physiological disparity in physical capabilities between an Alpha and an Omega was simply too vast. Even though Yan Qing possessed far better technique than Xiang Hong, he remained at a severe disadvantage in a direct, head-on brawl.

Yan Qing took a vicious blow to the face, and Xiang Hong’s fingers clamped tightly around his throat. “Ugh!”

Xiang Hong closed in with a twisted smile. “We’ve known each other for ten years. Let’s say goodbye with a kiss, shall we?”

“I’m afraid I’d vomit.” Yan Qing balled his fist and drove it hard into Xiang Hong’s abdomen, but he was pinned firmly against the wall. Suddenly, an intense scent of parsley flooded the air.

“Stop struggling. You can’t escape.” Watching the sheer disbelief on Yan Qing’s face, Xiang Hong felt an immense wave of psychological satisfaction wash over him. “You’ve never smelled an Alpha pheromone this potent before, have you? Are your legs feeling weak?”

“Not every Omega…” Yan Qing suddenly grabbed Xiang Hong’s shoulders, pulling him inward as he drove his knee violently upward into his groin, “…is dictated by the pheromones of a lowlife like you!”

“Ugh! Cough, cough, cough…” Clutching his midsection, Xiang Hong dropped to his knees in agonizing pain.

Taking the opening, Yan Qing turned and bolted down the stairs. Xiang Hong’s hand grabbed empty air. He rapidly activated his terminal to alert the security detail: “Apprehend Yan Qing!”

Clutching his torso, Yan Qing limped down the steps. But the moment he rounded the corner to the first floor, he spotted the guard squad charging over from the medical wing.

His footsteps halted. He immediately spun around and ducked into a second-floor office space.

“He’s on the second floor!” The guard squad sprinted up the stairs, kicking the doors open and immediately opening fire. The rhythmic rat-tat-tat of gunfire echoed throughout the entire office floor.

Concealed beneath an administrative desk, Yan Qing listened to the approaching footsteps, his mind racing to formulate a countermeasure.

“Ugh!”

A crisp snap of fracturing bone echoed through the darkness, followed immediately by the heavy thuds of bodies collapsing to the ground. Yan Qing’s heart skipped a beat. Who came?!

“Who’s there?!” A cluster of guards turned and rushed out toward the source, followed by another flurry of rapid movement.

Listening intently to the auditory cues, Yan Qing carefully peeked out. Confirming the immediate area was clear, he sprinted toward the exit, only to run deadlong into a guard ascending from below at the stairwell. The guard raised his firearm instantly, squeezing the trigger.

With his leg injured, Yan Qing’s reaction was slightly sluggish. Just as he thought he wouldn’t be able to dodge the incoming rounds, a hand suddenly grabbed his collar and yanked him hard to the side.

Bang! Bang!

Two gunshots rang out, leaving two fresh bullet holes in the concrete wall. Yan Qing looked up, completely stunned to find that the person who had pulled him out of harm’s way was Li Xiao.

“You—”

Li Xiao made a sharp silencing gesture. He guided him into a nearby breakroom. Waiting until the pursuing guards had fully filtered into the building, he deployed his launcher cable around the window’s structural crossbeam, wrapped an arm around Yan Qing, and leapt straight out.

Simultaneously, at the ground floor stairwell.

The final guard was sprinting up the steps when a hand abruptly clamped over his nose and mouth from behind, dragging him into the blind spot of the corner. The next instant, a crisp crack resonated beside his ear, and he lost consciousness permanently.

Qian Can snatched the guard’s sidearm, aiming up the stairwell and unleashing a relentless spray of suppressive fire.

Outside the building, Jiang Hao and Qin Le utilized their cables to vault onto the second-floor ledges. One concealed himself behind a doorway while the other intentionally generated noise on the opposing side. Seven or eight guards charging in the front lines were instantly drawn toward the distraction.

A moment later, Jiang Hao wiped the blood from his military blade, stepping over a floor littered with corpses alongside Qin Le.

Up on the third floor, it took Xiang Hong an immense amount of effort to finally recover from the pain. Realizing Yan Qing had given them the slip, he gritted his teeth in sheer rage. “You aren’t escaping tonight.”

“What makes you so sure you’re the one who isn’t escaping?”

A lazy, deep drawl suddenly echoed from right behind him. Xiang Hong whipped his head around violently, only for his neck to be cleanly snapped before he could even register the movement. He collapsed to the ground, twitching soundlessly, to reveal Song Jin’s completely serene face behind him.

Song Jin ripped the terminal bracelet from Xiang Hong’s wrist, secured the two vials of chemical solution, and turned to depart.

“Are you guys wrapped up?” Li Xiao’s voice came through their private frequency group chat.

Li Xiao: “I’m out.”

Qian Can: “I’m clear.”

Qin Le: “Little Jiang and I are done here too.”

Securing his cable around the window’s crossbeam, Song Jin fished a tiny metal sphere from his pocket, tossed it backward into the room, and glided effortlessly down to the ground.

A sudden, thunderous boom erupted as a massive blaze consumed the interior of the dilapidated building. The expanding shockwave ruffled Song Jin’s hair. Illuminated by the roaring flames, his stunningly beautiful eyes remained terrifyingly cold.

Before the next wave of reinforcements could even arrive, he walked away without a single backward glance.