Chapter 20: Perfectionism Kills
The vision Xiang Nanli had seen in the unknown researcher’s notebook had, in this moment, become a horrific reality.
The Mechanical Crawler was an aberrated creature subjected to mechanical augmentation. Two distinct systems were running in tandem within its body: it possessed the raw physical strength and regenerative capabilities of a Mutant, paired with the overwhelming firepower of advanced black-tech weaponry. Its surface was coated in a layer of silvery-white metal, beneath which lay a physique that had endured countless horrific modifications.
“I finally understand why the Crawlers outside were running in this direction,” Xiao Yan whispered, her teeth chattering as she and Bodhi hoisted the unconscious Rock. “This Crawler… it already woke up a long time ago!”
Crawlers possessed a miraculous, if disturbing, trait—the result of some unknown genetic mutation. When a Crawler was near death, it could emit a specific pheromone to attract its kin. This scent was a signal to its own kind: I am dying; will you come and eat me? It was both an act of sacrifice and a gamble. A young Crawler might devour an aged but powerful one, replacing it to travel further on the path of evolution, while an old Crawler might seize the opportunity to gain nourishment and a new lease on life.
They had dismissed this possibility because no sensors had detected an aging Crawler, and there were virtually no historical precedents for mutants remaining active during hibernation cycles.
The Crawler’s body hadn’t fully emerged from the ground, but the nodules atop its head began to rotate, squirming toward its face. Then, the eighteen bumps on its face split open—they were eyes! The irregularly arranged eyeballs rolled in every direction; it had eyes on the front and back of its head, observing everything.
It locked onto the location of the Black Knights—those people smelled like Mutants.
A golden, blindingly intense light ignited within its black eyes. The monster actually fired laser beams directly from its eyeballs! Some of the slower Apocalypse Knights vanished in silence, reduced to a pile of fine powder under the beams, leaving nothing behind but scorched, blackened marks on the ground.
The Mechanical Crawler’s massive arms ripped out from the fissure in the floor and slammed into the ground. Anything that lacked sufficient weight was tossed into the air, thrown into disarray—including Xiang Nanli, who was currently sprinting for his life. It felt like being on a trampoline while a giant, temperamental child jumped beside him. He struggled to maintain his balance, wishing he could punch the giant brat, though he knew he didn’t stand a chance.
Xiang Nanli rolled across the floor, sprinting toward the nearest door: “Alpha! I haven’t even finished the tutorial level, and you’re making me fight a final boss? Isn’t that a bit excessive?!”
A giant-bodied Crawler in the greenhouse was a Level 50 threat at full health; this Mechanical Crawler was at least Level 80.
Alpha explained: “When the lab held the vote back then, the decision to execute it passed by an overwhelming majority. I had no idea it was still alive.”
The reason for its execution had been simple: despite the control chip implanted in the Mechanical Crawler’s brain, they were never able to truly control it. It was a mad, broken monster. Having spent its entire life as a test subject, it harbored only cold, frozen hatred for humanity. It should never have been allowed to live.
The Mechanical Crawler roared continuously, falling into a frenzy as soon as it awakened. Moreover, the human-like machines in the vicinity triggered a violent stress response. It reached out, repeatedly slamming and crushing nearby robots, lifting them high to squeeze them into scrap metal before tossing them into its mouth to grind into paste. As it swallowed the robots, blood-red tears streamed from its eyes, and its throat vibrated.
This machine harbored a violent hatred for artificial human creatures. One could only wonder what horrific things the Donghuang staff had done to it all those years ago. It lacked the intelligence of the Lurker; it couldn’t distinguish between Homo sapiens and robots.
Xiang Nanli didn’t dare look back. Half of the Mechanical Crawler had already crawled out of the dungeon; behind it came the sound of heavy metal colliding with metal. Its long tail had been pinned to the ground by an iron pillar centuries ago—the wound had long since healed, fusing flesh with metal—and it was anchored firmly in place. But this was tech from centuries past; the Mechanical Crawler gripped the ground with its massive arms, body trembling as it put every ounce of strength into pulling itself forward.
Squelch.
The sound of tearing flesh echoed as thick, foul-smelling blood poured from the wound on its tail. Only this long tail was devoid of metal plating, and now, it was slowly splitting down the middle. It was a pain beyond human comprehension.
The Lurker lay on the ceiling, watching coldly. Yes, this is the failed monster created by Donghuang. Perhaps they were of the same kind. The Lurker looked at it as if looking at a diverging branch of its own fate. But the Lurker hadn’t released it. If it could help it, the Lurker wouldn’t want it out, either. The corpses it had dragged away were intended for its companions in the greenhouse. They had lived together, side-by-side since the petri dish; they even shared the same original cell clone. There was no bond closer than that.
The Mechanical Crawler was low-intelligence, incapable of communication; the Lurker could not view it as a companion. It watched quietly for a moment, then chose to turn away. The Lurker realized one thing: there might not be time to wait for the other Mutants in the greenhouse to slowly recover. The Lurker had broken its bonds, and its first priority was to replenish its energy. What was more nutritious than its Mutant companions in the greenhouse? Perhaps only those two gene-modified humans who had stumbled inside.
Xiang Nanli had hesitated for 0.5 seconds between the two open doors before choosing to follow the investigation squad. The Black Cross Inquisition looked too much like a cult, and they were completely impossible to reason with. Of course, he didn’t actually want to run into the investigators. After all, the issue of the key was still a mess; walking right up to them would be suicide!
However, the corridor design here was overly complex. After blindly choosing a few forks, Xiang Nanli, in his desperate flight, collided head-on with Luo Xiu, who was fleeing just as desperately.
The moment they met, both sides entered a state of high alert.
Luo Xiu was carrying the blood-soaked, unconscious Xin Zhui, his eyes turning razor-sharp: “It’s you?! Back off—!”
He whipped out the gun at his waist, aiming it directly at Xiang Nanli’s forehead. When people first saw Luo Xiu, they often misunderstood him, thinking he was a cold, “actions-speak-louder-than-words” Alpha. Xiu didn’t talk much, but his personality was actually quite easygoing. Now, however, his hostility was naked and unadorned.
The first reason was that Xin Zhui was critically wounded and unconscious; he had to protect him. Yet, Luo Xiu himself was a wreck—his newly assembled mechanical body was in poor fighting condition, its performance severely compromised. The second reason was that Xiang Nanli had suddenly become an unknown entity, shrouded in suspicion. And the irony was that this very body had been repaired by Xiang Nanli himself.
Xiang Nanli raised his hands in surrender, signaling he was harmless. He regretted everything; why had he been so “helpful” as to install an extra weapon module for Luo Xiu? A slapdash repair would have been enough.
Perfectionism kills.
Xiang Nanli observed Luo Xiu’s expression, quickly organizing his thoughts and the information he’d gained from Alpha. He spoke gently: “I’m sorry. I did take the key. I couldn’t let it fall into the wrong hands. But the situation has changed. Can we talk?”
The ground trembled slightly. The roar of the Mechanical Crawler grew louder. Though it hadn’t fully broken its restraints, it was only a matter of time.
Luo Xiu’s expression remained tense; he didn’t lower his gun: “What do you want to talk about?”
Xin Zhui’s blood was thick and sticky, covering Luo Xiu’s body, the mud-like flesh constantly dripping from him.
Xiang Nanli slightly adjusted his persona. He had lived abroad, surrounded by Caucasians; in the eyes of white people, Asian appearances always looked younger than their actual age. When Xiang Nanli was in his thirties, he would still be mistaken for a college student on campus. Looking young was usually a good thing, but his youthful, elegant appearance had caused him many headaches in business negotiations.
So, Xiang Nanli had learned to disguise himself—to masquerade as the type of elite that met public expectations: selfish, elegant, refined, and arrogant.
“Let me re-introduce myself,” he smiled. “You brought me out of the cryo-pod, so you should be very clear: I don’t belong to this era. Before entering the pod, I was the lead researcher for Donghuang Heavy Industries’ Mechanical Research Group.”
Luo Xiu frowned: “Then why do you call yourself Xiang Nanli?! You’re a researcher—don’t you know the meaning of that name?”
Xiang Nanli hadn’t expected Luo Xiu to be most concerned about this shitty triviality. He really was a die-hard fan of the “Dr. Xiang Nanli in the White Lab Coat.”
Xiang Nanli was full of sarcastic retorts, but his composed expression didn’t flicker: “Because I am a clone of Xiang Nanli. Everyone calls me Xiang Nanli; I don’t have another name.”
He lowered his eyelids slightly, hiding the complex emotions in his eyes: “Back then, Xiang Nanli’s own cryo-pod hadn’t been lost yet. Donghuang Heavy Industries spent a fortune buying Xiang Nanli’s somatic cells from Immortality Tech. I was the most successful clone among them.”
“They hoped I would possess the same wisdom as Xiang Nanli, that I could complete the construction of ‘Oriental Qingdi,'” Xiang Nanli took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, I failed.”
Luo Xiu’s mechanical eye analyzed the data, then stated: “No wonder your mechanical repair skills are so good—that wasn’t the level of a beginner.”
Xiang Nanli spread his hands, the circular key dangling from his fingers: “I took the key from you. The principle behind it wasn’t complex: special-band magnetic resonance. I participated in the creation of ‘Oriental Qingdi.’ I believe it, much like the Mechanical Crawler you saw, is a failure that should be buried in history. I don’t have malicious intent; I just want to stop you from unsealing ‘Oriental Qingdi.'”
Xiang Nanli’s explanation was reasonable and logically consistent. For a moment, Luo Xiu couldn’t find a single obvious flaw.
“But you can see the situation. This is Donghuang’s underground factory; because of certain security designs, the entrances and exits aren’t fixed. We can’t get out of the underground in a short time. This place is a sealed room, and that mad Mechanical Crawler will hunt down every living person by scent. And Xin Zhui and the Knight Commander—the only ones with a fighting chance—are both at the end of their ropes.”
Luo Xiu’s expression loosened slightly: “So?”
Xiang Nanli stared into Luo Xiu’s eyes: “So, I need you to assist me in unsealing ‘Oriental Qingdi.’ I don’t want to die here. I need to make amends for Donghuang Heavy Industries… and for the mistakes I made back then.”
Xiang Nanli’s gaze suddenly turned distant, as if he were staring into another dimension. His lips trembled: “…Atonement.”
