Special Operations Department Headquarters.

Tang Xun’an walked into the innermost central building.

The armed personnel guarding the entrance saluted him. Tang Xun’an nodded slightly in response. For some reason, the staff couldn’t help but feel that Tang Xun’an’s expression today was exceptionally cold—almost as if a faint, black murderous aura was swirling around him.

Very few people knew that the basement beneath the central building was actually a prison holding special convicts. As a violent enforcement agency, the Special Operations Department sometimes resorted to methods that weren’t exactly humane under abnormal circumstances.

It had been a week since they left the Botanical Garden. Tang Xun’an had been reporting to headquarters every single day, proving even more diligent than someone walking their dog.

The failure and subsequent disappearance of Talent 07, the suicide of researcher Ren Xuan, and the infiltration of Divine Kingdom believers into the training team… Every single incident pointed its spearhead directly at the First Research Institute. Internal staff even suspected that the First Research Institute had made deals with high-level contaminants.

In the interrogation room.

Bai Ze emerged from the airtight, dark room, letting out a somewhat helpless sigh.

Tang Xun’an was standing at the door smoking a cigarette. The new tranquilizer was mint-flavored. His lesion degree had spiked quite a bit during the previous battle, so he had gone to the institute a few days ago to pick up the new medicine. Because of its exorbitant manufacturing cost, the special medication Tang Xun’an used was not yet circulating on the market.

“It’s useless,” Bai Ze said. “He definitely has clues on him, but hypnosis doesn’t work on him.”

Bai Ze was a B-rank support-type Awakened. His talents were Hypnosis and Clue Perception.

The “he” Bai Ze referred to was the current director of the First Research Institute, Gong Weibin.

Tang Xun’an opened the door and walked inside. He sat down across from Gong Weibin, his gaze scrutinizing and intense.

The old man’s hair had already turned white, and his hands were cuffed in front of him. Beneath his thinning hair, one could even see fleshy brown age spots. He was a researcher from the same era as Qiao Yu and was also an Awakened. He had awakened “Gene Editing,” a lower-tier alternative to Talent 13: Gene Recombination. His serial number was 104, and he was now nearly 140 years old.

Upon seeing Tang Xun’an, the old man couldn’t help but grin. “I still stand by my initial opinion. You will become the greatest variable of instability. Unfortunately, Director Qiao was always so soft-hearted. By now, 100,000 volts of high-voltage electricity is probably useless against you, right? As soon as your lesion degree exceeds 100, the Black Dragon representing absolute despair will descend upon the earth once more, bringing true despair to the world… I’ve seen it. I’ve seen that painting of Number 0, and you’ve seen it too. We both know what kind of future awaits us.”

In his earlier years, Tang Xun’an would have been provoked by such words, or perhaps he would have defended himself anxiously. But now, he simply smoked his cigarette in absolute silence. He was very quiet, his face devoid of any expression, looking overwhelmingly imposing.

Prolonged silence usually places immense psychological pressure on the person being interrogated. Gong Weibin was no exception, yet his expression remained remarkably composed. He knew that due to insufficient evidence and broken clues, Tang Xun’an couldn’t do anything to him. Honestly, even arresting him like this was a violation of protocol.

Only after he finished his cigarette did Tang Xun’an finally speak.

“The talents I possess include Time,” he said. “I know better than you that the future can be changed.”

“Different branches are destined to lead to the same outcome. Just like different rivers eventually flow into the same sea,” a mocking smile appeared on Gong Weibin’s face. “I admit I don’t like you. But I am well aware of your current value to the human camp. There are still over a hundred researchers in the First Research Institute; I truly cannot guarantee that everyone’s thoughts are perfectly aligned.”

“Just like you don’t like me either. My spiritual power threshold isn’t high, and I’m just a frail old man. But you haven’t drawn Huangchen (Yellow Dust) either, have you?”

Tang Xun’an’s golden eyes locked onto him, cold and devoid of human warmth. For a split second, he did indeed harbor a murderous intent.

However, that murderous intent was quickly restrained by harsher realities.

The data of the First Research Institute, uncompleted scientific research projects, the reactions of the other institutes… The three departments related to the pollution disease cooperated with each other but rarely intervened in one another’s affairs. They typically adopted an internal purging strategy. This was mainly to keep the Special Operations Department in check. In history, there had indeed been an incident where an Awakened from the Special Operations Department got into a verbal dispute with logistics and mercilessly slaughtered the entire city’s Pollution Disease Prevention and Control Center.

Weapons always require regulation, and they require rules. Gong Weibin could be killed, but it would be troublesome. He held a unique status and had quite a few people backing him up. Tang Xun’an didn’t want to disrupt this delicate balance for the time being.

Therefore, he countered with a different condition: “I want the First Research Institute to halt all human organ and talent transplantation surgeries.”

In the early days, transplantation surgeries mainly involved harvesting parts from contaminants. Such operations carried massive risks, staggering costs, and severe rejection reactions. Back then, people had no choice but to try it just to gain greater power.

Later on, Gong Weibin created human talent transplantation. By transplanting the talents of newly awakened individuals with low spiritual power thresholds into Awakened individuals with high spiritual power thresholds, they could maximize their combat effectiveness. He had researched this for a long time, conducted numerous illegal underground surgeries, and received plenty of disciplinary punishments. Yet, he only dared to formally propose the surgical concept after Qiao Yu passed away.

Gong Weibin wanted to transplant the “Gene Recombination” from Qiao Yu’s body into himself. His reasoning sounded incredibly noble—”For the future of humanity.”

Of course, this was not permitted. To prevent any mishaps, Qiao Yu’s students chose to cremate their mentor’s body immediately after his death. In the end, they placed Qiao Yu’s urn in a public cemetery to be buried alongside his late lover.

After Qiao Yu passed away, the original institute split into 13 separate branches. By now, they had all branched off into different fields of research. However, the First Research Institute remained the one with the highest level of scientific research.

Gong Weibin said unhurriedly, “The volunteers we choose all donate willingly. Furthermore, they are basically elderly volunteers on the brink of death. The institute is grateful for their contributions…”

“If you don’t agree, I will destroy the First Research Institute,” Tang Xun’an replied with equal gravity. “Just as you believe I am an unstable factor in human society, I believe your First Research Institute will become an unstable factor for society as well.”

“History is always written by the victors. If you think the experimental subjects under your command can defeat me, you are welcome to try.”

Gong Weibin narrowed his pea-sized eyes.

Since Director Qiao passed away and Gong Weibin became the director, taking over Subject No. 1, nearly 50 years had passed. In the First Research Institute, the spiritual power threshold of Subject No. 1 was actually already higher than Tang Xun’an’s.

That was Gong Weibin’s most brilliant masterpiece. He even felt that this creation could perfectly replace Tang Xun’an—Subject No. 1 possessed a combat capability not inferior to the Tyrant, while possessing a loyalty to the institute that the Tyrant completely lacked.

Experimental Subject No. 1

• unregistered S-rank Awakened, codename “Hound”.
• Lesion Degree: 67.3
• Spiritual Power Threshold: 14,700
• Talents: 23-Berserker, 129-Combat Expert, 271-Teleportation, 273-Colossal Strength.

If Tang Xun’an was someone who grew through actual combat, then the Hound had walked the exact opposite path. He was entirely fed and raised on drugs.

…However, now was not the time to bring out the “Hound.”

Gong Weibin pondered for a moment, then smiled. “Deal.”

Late at night, Tang Xun’an finally wrapped up his day’s work and returned home.

The summer heat was intense. Xiao Tian (Howling Heaven) had the air conditioning blasted while sitting in the living room, watching a female streamer learn how to dance on his iPad. When the mood struck, he would even throw the streamer a few monetary donations.

He shared a bank account with Tang Xun’an, and the number of zeroes on Tang Xun’an’s bank card was so vast that Xiao Tian couldn’t count them all even with both dog paws. In short, he was the top whale donor for quite a few streamers in the live-streaming section. Many female streamers had expressed their affection for him, but unfortunately, the boundary between humans and dogs left Xiao Tian filled with deep regret. Just like his master, he was an old single dog.

Lately, Xiao Tian had noticed that his master seemed to have undergone some changes. Specifically: every night, he would stand on the balcony, silently staring in the direction of the headquarters’ training base. Occasionally, he would suddenly break into a silly smirk. When waking up in the morning, he would subconsciously use his tail to hook the empty air beside him.

Combining this with the information gathered from Liaison Officer Xiao Wang, Xiao Tian reasonably deduced that his master had fallen for a certain student surnamed Lu.

Today was the official graduation day of the training academy. Tang Xun’an had gotten up incredibly early to take out a long-buried jade pendant left to him by his mother. When his mother passed away, she had said that she probably wouldn’t live to see Tang Xun’an marry, so if he encountered someone he liked in the future, he must remember to pass this family heirloom down to them.

Yet today, the moment Tang Xun’an returned, he sat frozen on the sofa, his eyes staring blankly into space. In his hand, he was still holding Lu Yan’s profile sent over by headquarters.

If Zhou Qiming were present, he would probably notice that the golden title hovering over Tang Xun’an’s head, which hadn’t changed in ten thousand years, had undergone a subtle transformation. It had basically warped from “The Black Dragon of Despair” into “The Black Dragon of Heartbreak.”

Xiao Tian could keenly sense that his master’s mood was off. Being a considerate companion, he immediately shut off the live stream, padded over to Tang Xun’an’s side, and exposed his soft belly.

“Go ahead and pet me, human. Pet me until you’re happy.”

Tang Xun’an glanced at him but didn’t say a word.

Xiao Tian’s doggy eyes drooped. “What’s wrong, babe? Was the family heirloom rejected?”

“No…” Tang Xun’an answered, pausing after each word, speaking very slowly. “It wasn’t sent out.”

Xiao Tian instantly jumped three feet high. “Why?! Brother, are you really that cowardly? That’s not your style at all!”

“He has a boyfriend.”

As a person with high moral standards, Tang Xun’an couldn’t bring himself to do something like intervening as a third party.

Xiao Tian immediately opened Taobao on the spot and searched keywords: Thai Voodoo Curses, Rituals to Break Up Couples. It was deeply disappointed to find that because such items involved feudal superstitions, they had been completely banned across the entire internet.

Left with no choice, Xiao Tian extended a dog paw to comfort him. “It’s fine. You have great health and a long lifespan. Little Lu’s partner will definitely die earlier than you.”

As they were speaking, the iPad screen lit up. The Apocalypse Forum app notified Tang Xun’an that he had received a new direct message. He didn’t have this software installed on his phone; the iPad was strictly used by the dog. Because Tang Xun’an ranked number one within the forum, he received countless private messages every day. Normally, Tang Xun’an never looked at them.

But today, in order to distract his master’s attention, Xiao Tian acted with lightning reflexes and tapped open the chat box.

“Diting? Who is this person?” Xiao Tian muttered to himself.

Before he could finish his sentence, he was swiped three meters away by his master’s hand, tumbling off the sofa and planting face-first into the floor in a literal dog-eat-dirt wipeout.

Diting: To avoid unnecessary misunderstandings, I thought about it and decided it’s better to clarify.

Diting: I’m single.