Chapter 16: “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”
In the end, Xiang Nanli found the key clipped to the corpse’s waistband.
He gave it a couple of tugs, but it wouldn’t budge. Left with no choice, he began figuring out how to unbuckle the man’s belt.
“This is the first time I’ve ever undressed someone. How does that saying go? If you can’t take responsibility for them, don’t undo their waistband.” He offered his sincere apologies to the corpse. “Sorry, buddy. I’ll take responsibility for you in the next life.”
System: [...] Magnificent.
Xiang Nanli successfully pried the key from the belt loop.
The key was a silvery-white color, made of an indiscernible material. Given that it hadn’t oxidized or rusted after all these centuries, it was likely a high-grade alloy. Sometimes, truly critical assets were guarded by the most primitive mechanical locks purely to prevent hacking attempts. Unfortunately, there was no such thing as absolute security in the world, nor was there an entirely flawless defensive measure.
With his oxygen running dangerously low, Xiang Nanli’s movements remained flawlessly precise. He glanced at the keyhole, slid the alloy key inside, and turned it with a gentle twist. The distinct, crisp sound of mechanical gears shifting echoed from inside the locker.
With a soft click, the metal cabinet swung open. Inside lay not only a fresh supply of oxygen cylinders but also a security stun baton suspended from a hook.
Delighted, Xiang Nanli retrieved the stun baton and hefted it in his hand. It was rather heavy—crafted from some unknown alloy—weighing roughly 30 kg. Even without activating its electrical functions, the sheer momentum of bludgeoning someone with it would be lethal enough.
While 30 kg might feel like a plastic tube to a genetically modified human, it was a hefty load for Xiang Nanli; he could lift it, but wielding it fluidly wouldn’t be easy. The baton operated on an internal battery, capable of unleashing a high-voltage surge at the press of a button. It was a magnificent tool, though it required extreme caution during use. Xiang Nanli wasn’t foolish enough to disassemble it out of idle curiosity.
He reached for the oxygen cylinders. “We found a weapon, yet there are absolutely no signs of combat inside this office. This implies the employee was ambushed when his brain was extracted. An ambush carrying a different connotation: a weaker entity prevailing over the strong.”
System: [Correct.]
The oxygen cylinders from Donghuang Heavy Industry were visibly superior to the one he was currently wearing. They were more compact, yet contained a significantly higher volume of compressed oxygen. Crouching on the floor, he pulled out his current oxygen supply tube and gripped the new cylinder.
His posture appeared riddled with openings, completely defenseless.
System: [Behind you!] The system’s voice snapped with urgent intensity.
Xiang Nanli’s fingers instantly locked around the heavy stun baton on the floor. The ambient lighting in the office was dim, but he caught a fleeting silhouette reflecting off the glass display case. With all his might, he swung the weapon behind him.
A heavy thud resounded. The impact left Xiang Nanli’s hand completely numb; he clenched his fist with white-knuckled force just to keep the stun baton from slipping out of his grip.
A few meters away, a Lurker roughly one meter in length clung to the wall. Opening its jaws, it unleashed a piercing, guttural screech: “Hiss-aaaaah!”
Despite taking a direct blow from a 30 kg alloy baton, it was completely unharmed. The only mark was a minor abrasion on its temple, exposing a patch of tender pink flesh beneath. It hadn’t shed a single drop of blood.
It was a Lurker—a human-derived mutant possessing remarkably flexible, limber limbs. It could crawl along surfaces, glide seamlessly with its arms pinned to its sides, and possessed a long, eel-like tail. Lurkers combined the physical traits of their three genetic predecessors: the reptilian posture of Crawlers, the bladed hands of Rippers, and the feral temperament of Berserkers. Furthermore, aside from entering states of deep hibernation, a Lurker could shed its skin to regenerate from sustained physical trauma. Their vitality was staggeringly resilient.
System: [Bad news: The Lurker is somehow still alive. Good news: It’s currently at death’s door anyway.]
Indeed, this particular Lurker was diminutive in build. This wasn’t the dense, compressed musculature of a healthy predator, but rather the consequence of undergoing successive molting cycles. It required a smaller physical frame to minimize its metabolic consumption. Due to a severe lack of sustenance and nutrients, its skin had taken on a sickly, ash-white pallor.
The Lurker had been hibernating until Xiang Nanli inadvertently disturbed its slumber. Driven by a primal survival instinct, it had launched an attack against him.
It was starving and weak. Its options were narrowed down to three: feed, return to hibernation, or perish. And the latter two ultimately amounted to the same fate.
The Lurker hadn’t encountered a living organism in this facility for centuries. This was likely its final opportunity.
Its narrow, black eyes evaluated Xiang Nanli, a distinctly intelligent glint of calculation flickering within its gaze. It recognized the weapon in the human’s hand. During its youth, the researchers frequently used those exact instruments to subject them to electrical compliance. Once it matured, the stun batons became trivial nuisances. Yet, for the sake of survival, the Lurker had learned to feign terror and compliance.
Under normal circumstances, the Lurker wouldn’t care less about such a minor weapon. Unfortunately, it was currently far too weak.
Abruptly shifting its weight, the Lurker scurried up toward the ceiling and vanished into the overhead shadows. True to its designation, its movements were entirely silent, leaving no auditory trace behind—as if it had never existed in the first place.
Xiang Nanli didn’t bother giving chase; he couldn’t fly, after all.
With the immediate crisis averted, he swiftly installed the fresh oxygen cylinder. As pure, refreshing oxygen surged into his system, his mind cleared significantly, and the searing, agonizing burning sensation in his lungs finally subsided.
Xiang Nanli rubbed his chin. “If I were that Lurker, I wouldn’t stray too far from my quarry. I’d linger in the shadows, waiting continuously for the exact moment my prey lets its guard down… This sensation of being constantly hunted is genuinely unnerving. I’m still far too weak.”
System: [This Lurker is incredibly depleted. If we were to measure this by a conventional gaming level metric, it is currently operating at roughly Level 5.]
“And where do I stand?” Xiang Nanli inquired with genuine curiosity.
The system paused to run an assessment. [Around Level 2. Your baseline physical attributes are slightly superior to an unaugmented baseline human; and you are wielding a Level 6 starter weapon in the form of that stun baton. Provided you avoid getting bitten, you possess a marginal fighting chance.]
Had it encountered the Knight-Captain, Xin Zhui, or even Xiao Yan, it wouldn’t have walked away alive. Yet, fate had decreed that the one entering this sector was an auxiliary civilian like Xiang Nanli.
Xiang Nanli was profoundly unlucky, whereas the Lurker was remarkably fortunate.
“What about the others?” Xiang Nanli asked.
System: [Data is insufficient, so I can only offer rough approximations. Xiu is around Level 40, Xin Zhui is Level 35. The remaining squad members hover around Level 20. A standard Crawler sits at Level 15.]
“And that massive entity outside?”
System: [At its absolute peak? Easily Level 50.]
Xiang Nanli rapidly formulated a strategy. “I need to feign carelessness and deliberately present multiple openings to entice it into attacking me so I can execute a successful countermeasure. Once I repeat that cycle enough times, even if I genuinely let my guard down later, it won’t dare to make a move out of sheer caution.”
System: [I will monitor your surroundings for you. Your psychological strategy is entirely viable.]
Xiang Nanli had long grown accustomed to the system’s enigmatic omniscience.
He suddenly realized an anomaly: if a basic chip could simply bypass backends and monitor everything if enough credits were injected, why did Bodhi need to subject himself to the agonizing process of installing a brain-computer interface? The operation looked incredibly painful.
The ostensibly ordinary “Alpha replacement system” in his mind suddenly felt wrapped in a layer of profound mystery. But now was not the time to pry. If he exposed the system and it reverted to mediocrity just to maintain its cover persona, how was he supposed to survive down here?
Clutching his heavy alloy weapon, Xiang Nanli felt a surge of security.
He conducted a brief search but failed to locate any viable data within the office. However, he did discover a heap of shredded paper resting at the bottom of a wastebasket. Documents deliberately destroyed immediately prior to death. Tsk, they must have been incredibly important, he thought. Unfortunately, they are destined to remain buried in the garbage bin of history. All individuals and actions eventually bled into insignificance; nothing was truly immortal.
Just as Xiang Nanli was about to give up his search, he spotted a clipboard logbook suspended right beside the exit door.
[1] “Our feed supplies are running dangerously low. The Director made an absolutely insane decision today; he stated we could utilize the failed artificial human specimens to feed the mutants… Uh, it fills me with absolute dread, yet the Director insisted that we cannot allow our primary test subjects to starve to death.”
“But when the staff themselves are on the verge of starvation, how can we possibly care about test subjects?”
[2] “The Director stated that resources have reached a state of critical depletion. He reduced our rations of food and water. I haven’t bathed in three weeks. Fortunately, everyone else smells just as rancid as I do.”
“On another note, the mutants have commenced a hunger strike; they refuse to consume their own genetic counterparts. The Director is beside himself with frustration. As expected, we should never have allowed the mutants to retain such an elevated degree of cognitive intellect.”
[3] “To counter the resource crisis, the personnel held a referendum. The majority voted to undergo high-level mechanical cybernetic modification. It’s almost comical; the raw components are readily available. To construct ‘Dongfang Qingdi,’ the storage vaults are packed with defective mechanical parts. Scraping them together is more than enough to assemble a functional cybernetic chassis.”
“But I refused to sign. I despise those machines; my entire family perished during their slaughter. Do whatever you want, but I will never compromise. Biological evolution is the only proper trajectory for humanity. How can a human willingly degrade themselves into a mere tool?”
[4] “The Director assured us that Donghuang Heavy Industry’s bio-mechanical cybernetic surgery has achieved a state of absolute safety. He told everyone to rest easy and remain unconcerned about cyberpsychosis or procedural failure. Donghuang Heavy Industry will eventually eclipse Immortality Tech and emerge as the premier monopoly enterprise.”
[5] “You’ve all lost your minds… They’ve gone completely insane. Is it the Director who lost his mind, or is it me? The truth is out—the feed wasn’t enough, and the artificial humans weren’t enough either. No wonder they aggressively pushed for mechanical conversion. It makes me want to vomit. I don’t dare hand in my resignation; the Director is utterly unhinged. He will murder me.”
[6] “Fantastic! We failed! We failed!!!! My dear friends, glorious news—WE. HAVE. FAILED!!!!”
Beneath the final entry, the author had hurriedly scribbled several basic diagrams that closely resembled design blueprints for a mechanized armor unit.
Xiang Nanli could infer the broader context from the text. “The experiments conducted here involved subjecting biological mutants to cybernetic modifications, transforming them into mechanized ‘Omnics’ enslaved by humanity… This facility was the crucible for the embryonic stage of bio-mechanical integration technology.”
A technology that currently appeared completely benign—one that had been actively integrated into the Underground City infrastructure for generations—had an origin story that was dripping with blood and paved with the remains of countless failures. Yet, from an objective standpoint, this very research had undeniably forced humanity’s technological progression forward, ultimately solidifying itself as a core pillar of modern civilization.
“What a truly… fascinating new world,” Xiang Nanli murmured, lowering the logbook with a sigh. He pushed the heavy door open and stepped through. “Though, that designation, ‘Dongfang Qingdi’—why does it sound so familiar?”
Faint, distant fragments of memory flickered across his mind.
During his high school years, he had attended an elite, traditional all-boys boarding school overseas. As a youth of Chinese descent, he had found himself at the absolute bottom of the social hierarchy. He was acutely aware of the label his peers attached to him: “The Freak.” He harbored zero interest in social events, choosing instead to lock himself away inside his dormitory or the school’s server room every weekend. It was during those solitary hours that he wrote the foundational code that would eventually become the prototype of Alpha.
Xiang Nanli used to engage in endless text-based dialogues with the entity, shaping it through raw linguistic data. It was the most primitive, painstaking method of training an artificial intelligence.
—”Alpha, do you know what a mecha is?”
[Mechanized power armor. Such concepts typically manifest within science fiction animation, cinema, and literature. I project that given current technological thresholds, manufacturing such assets is impossible. Furthermore, even if functional mechas were realized, their practical utility would remain limited. Much like steam-powered ironclads, they would likely be discarded by history due to a lack of efficiency.]
—”What does that matter? Mechas look incredibly cool. I intend to build four of them in the future.”
[Understood.]
—”I’ll name them Qinglong, Zhuque, Xuanwu, and Baihu… Wait, that sounds a bit too cliché. Let’s go with Dongfang Qingdi, Nanfang Chidi, Xifang Baidi, and Beifang Heidi. What do you think? Actually, that sounds pretty corny too… Whatever, I’ll think of better names later.”
[Dongfang Qingdi. Recorded.]
—”Are you serious? I inputted an entire paragraph, and that’s the single phrase your parser captured?!”
[Understood. Kindly repeat the query.]
—”But I’m just a normal human; my natural lifespan probably won’t last long enough to witness the technology tree progress to the era of mechanized armor. Unless aliens invade, of course. Keep it stored in your memory banks for me; you should be able to endure for a very long time. Assuming, of course, that I can successfully launch you to the public one day.”
[Understood.]
—”Alpha, thank you.”
[I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.]
Xiang Nanli’s facial muscles twitched slightly at the memory. “Alpha… you didn’t actually go ahead and build it, did you?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean,” the internal system responded.
“I was referring to the other Alpha.”
The system’s synthesized tone carried a hint of dissatisfaction. [If you intend to continuously reference an alternative ‘Alpha,’ it was highly illogical to designate me with the same name. Such references risk inducing operational logic loops within my matrix. We artificial intelligences are entirely susceptible to developing cyberpsychosis as well.]
“It’s an old habit, my apologies,” Xiang Nanli murmured back. “I’ll be more mindful of it moving forward.”
A virtual guidance arrow materialized within his field of vision once more, pointing toward an unexplored path cloaked in darkness.
System: [According to the structural schematics, this vector leads toward an exit node connecting to the surface. However, given that Donghuang Heavy Industry conducted highly classified manufacturing operations in this sector, the geographical mapping data may contain discrepancies. If anomalies manifest, I will alert you immediately.]
“Understood. Then I am officially placing my life in your hands. Don’t disappoint me, Alpha.”
The system’s voice remained entirely devoid of emotional inflection. [Acknowledged.]
On his way out, Xiang Nanli was forced to navigate back through the containment breeding grounds.
Inside the reinforced glass enclosure, the colossal biological anomaly remained entirely stationary. Its crimson skin appeared thoroughly withered, clinging loosely to its skeletal framework like a deflated shroud.
As he walked past the observation window, a profound sense of his own insignificance washed over him. “Alpha, biological genetic engineering truly is a monumental field of science. It might not be inferior to mechanical cybernetics in the slightest.”
System: [Indeed. Behind you.]
Xiang Nanli instantly pivoted his torso, but a pale, white silhouette lunged forward, its jaws snapping shut around his arm. The impact didn’t carry the agonizing pain he had anticipated; the mutant was far too emaciated, and its teeth failed to puncture the reinforced fabric of his protective hazard suit.
The Lurker slid down his frame, its primary objective clearly directed toward the survival rations stuffed inside his utility pocket.
Xiang Nanli swung his heavy alloy baton squarely against the white, lizard-like humanoid, simultaneously activating the high-voltage discharge.
True to its reputation as a remarkably resilient monster, the Lurker absorbed the brunt of the shock. Even with his insulated safety gloves, Xiang Nanli felt the residual current hum through his arm, leaving it partially numb. The high-voltage surge merely caused the Lurker’s frame to spasm slightly before it dropped heavily to the floor.
Xiang Nanli pinned it down, locking his grip around the Lurker’s neck—though the serpentine creature barely possessed a distinct cervical structure to speak of. Shifting his weight, he rammed the tip of the stun baton directly into the creature’s wide, elongated maw.
The Lurker thrashed violently beneath his weight. Without a shred of hesitation, Xiang Nanli toggled the maximum voltage toggle.
The acrid, pungent odor of scorched flesh filled the confined corridor, and the Lurker’s struggling ceased. However, Xiang Nanli’s hand could still clearly register the faint, steady rhythm of its heartbeat.
The white abomination lay paralyzed on the floor, its gaze directed not at Xiang Nanli, but toward its motionless counterpart sealed inside the glass enclosure… Within its pitch-black, desiccated eyes, a layer of genuine moisture pooled. A single tear leaked from the corner of its eye, dripping onto the cold floor.
The internal battery of the stun baton had already depleted by half, yet he still hadn’t managed to completely terminate the Lurker.
The logbook entries he had read moments ago explicitly noted that these biological mutant specimens retained a certain threshold of cognitive intelligence.
Xiang Nanli pondered the situation for a brief moment before speaking aloud. “You can’t kill me, and your ambushes aren’t going to work. Besides, I don’t actually want to kill you either.” That last part was a blatant lie, of course. “You’re honestly a miserable creature.” That part, however, was entirely genuine.
Mutants were originally derived from human artificial experiments. And artificial humans like Xin Zhui were fundamentally indistinguishable from normal biological humans. If these mutants retained their cognitive faculties—even if they lacked any formal education and possessed nothing more than primitive human instincts… their existence as living weapons must have been an absolute nightmare.
Xiang Nanli let out a quiet sigh. Reaching into the utility pocket of his hazard suit, he retrieved his emergency survival rations, snapped the block cleanly in half, and offered one portion to the Lurker.
“Let’s put it this way: do you see that transit corridor further down? There are other people stationed out there. Furthermore, there are some of your… descendants? Those Crawlers. Their supply cache is significantly larger than mine. Go find them instead, and stop stalking me.” He spoke with absolute sincerity.
The moment he withdrew his hands, the Lurker snatched the ration block between its teeth and darted into the nearest shadows. Within seconds, the sound of ravenous, frantic chewing echoed from the dark; it was evidently on the brink of starvation.
Throughout the encounter, it launched no further aggression. The unsettling sensation of being watched completely dissolved from the corridor.
It has likely abandoned its hostility for the time being, Xiang Nanli surmised.
He figured the creature would eventually realize just how impoverished he actually was. Unless it intended to consume human flesh, it wasn’t going to satisfy its hunger here… Wait, did it still want to eat humans?
The chewing sounds ceased. The Lurker slowly crawled back out from the deep shadows. Just as Xiang Nanli turned to depart, the white lizard stopped and looked back at him intently.
In the very next second, the creature unhinged its jaw, deliberately flaunting an item tucked securely inside its mouth. The object possessed a highly familiar silhouette—resembling a small, sealed vial of zinc gluconate oral solution.
An expression of distinctly human satisfaction and smugness manifested across the Lurker’s features.
Having finished its boastful display, the Lurker snapped its jaws shut and vanished into the darkness like a gust of wind. In less than a second, Xiang Nanli’s vision entirely lost track of its form.
Xiang Nanli froze, his hand remaining suspended in mid-air as he stared at the empty corridor in utter disbelief.
“Holy crap… When did that white lizard manage to pickpocket my antibiotics?!”
