This place was inaccessible to ordinary bioroids except for Level 2 hidden guards like Xing Bi and his team. Besides the human staff who once worked here, no more than twenty bioroids had ever passed through that glass door, and only the five-person team led by Xing Bi could enter through the heavy iron door behind them. They were responsible for the highest level of security in the base.
Yao Xiu was an assistant in the Core Area Security Department, managing the guides outside and a group of Level 2 hidden guards responsible for ordinary security tasks. She and these 23 Level 2 hidden guards were bioroids not authorized to enter inside; even if they did, they would be unable to leave without permission.
After Yao Xiu’s condition somewhat improved, Ji Sui handed her two supplements and quietly asked, “Who told you to stay here?”
“Director Liu,” Yao Xiu said, holding the supplements but not taking them. “His body is in a room on the second floor. He guarded this place for five months. His lungs were injured and never healed. The medicine I found for him didn’t help.”
Almost all the research staff who hadn’t evacuated had been killed in that battle.
Director Liu was the core area’s management director. The reason he was still alive here was that he was not an experimental subject or researcher—just an office director who didn’t know much about the experiments or research.
“Did he tell you to guard this place before he died?” Xing Bi asked.
“Yes. I put all the supplements and medicines I could find by the door. He brought them inside and arranged them,” Yao Xiu said, looking at the supplements in her hands. “When he was close to death, I brought…”
She glanced at the Level 2 hidden guards standing silently around them. “This is all the hidden guards I could find. There are no more humans outside, nor any Level 1 bioroids. I brought them all in.”
Compared with bioroids like Xing Bi’s team, who had richer emotions, Yao Xiu’s narration was flat—no emotional fluctuations, no obvious sadness or pain. Except for the very first time when she said “Xing Bi.”
Qiu Shi slowly climbed the stairs, looking into each open door, checking the environment to calm his nerves.
Yao Xiu had entered this place five months after the war. During those five months, she had never left the base, and when she passed through that glass door, she knew very well she might never leave again.
After the supplements ran out, she and the 23 Level 2 hidden guards would slowly starve to death inside.
Yet she still came in, guarding this place out of a promise to humans. Everything else was unknown.
The last human sample she studied was likely Director Liu, who died here guarding until the end.
Director Liu had become nothing but a pile of white bones in the corner room on the second floor.
The desk beside it was very clean, with no clutter except a small piece of glass holding down a faded photo of a yellow dog.
That room was once an office, but both the person who worked here and his yellow dog were no longer in this world.
Qiu Shi checked the other rooms too; they were all former offices but mostly empty, not tidied up in a rush to evacuate, but seemingly never stocked much to begin with for security reasons.
In the Yun City laboratory, aside from Director Wu’s office which had some personal items like a water cup, other offices were similarly empty—perhaps a habit left by those who had left this base.
After checking the rooms, Qiu Shi saw there were many empty supplement bags and only a small amount of supplements left that would run out in a month. Other than that, nothing was left outside.
“We brought enough supplements,” Ji Sui said, “enough for everyone. Someone will come to take you away from here to a safe place soon.”
Yao Xiu took two supplements and gave orders to the Level 2 hidden guards to consume the rest.
Those Level 2 hidden guards didn’t look well either, showing signs of long-term insufficient supplementation, but were still stronger than Yao Xiu.
If they had come any later, these bioroids might already have died here.
“Are you going in?” Yao Xiu asked.
“Yes,” Xing Bi replied.
“And then?” Yao Xiu asked again.
“We’ll assess the situation inside and then leave,” Xing Bi said, “We need to head east to find 249.”
“The research institute?” Yao Xiu asked.
“You know?” Qiu Shi immediately asked, “249 is at the research institute? You know where it is?”
“Can you remember?” Xing Bi asked.
Yao Xiu, maintaining a barely living state on minimal intake, had impaired functions and memory, so she had to think hard when recalling the past.
“I’m not sure, but the base once sent Level 2 hidden guards with diving skills to protect it,” Yao Xiu said. “I signed for the people with the supervisor’s approval.”
“Diving?” Ji Sui asked, “Is the research institute underwater?”
“Not sure,” Yao Xiu answered.
“Even if not underwater, it should be somewhere diving skills might be needed,” Xing Bi said, looking at Yao Xiu. “Any other information? How do you know about 249?”
“He came here before,” Yao Xiu said.
“249 came here?” Xing Bi’s emotion nearly slipped.
“When Director Liu was still alive, he destroyed all electronic devices,” Yao Xiu said.
“So…” Qiu Shi looked back at the tightly closed metal door.
“All internal systems are independent,” Xing Bi said, “Not connected to the outside.”
“Yes,” Yao Xiu nodded.
“If we go in now,” Qiu Shi asked, “Can 249 follow us?”
“No,” Yao Xiu answered.
“During your time here…” Qiu Shi wanted to say “over a hundred years,” but avoided that chilling number, “Has 249 come again?”
“No,” Yao Xiu said. “Director Liu said he needed a medium to communicate and store data—phones, computers…”
“Storage?” Qiu Shi was stunned.
“His copies are hidden somewhere. If we cut a certain connection, we might leave one copy trapped in some storage device,” Xing Bi said. “Though incomplete, copies are still a hidden risk.”
“Is there anything inside he’s interested in?” Qiu Shi asked.
“This is his hideout. The research institute isn’t fully built, so compared to that, the base is more suitable for him,” Xing Bi said. “Once the isolated system inside connects to the outside…”
“Damn.” Qiu Shi suddenly felt lucky that the hidden bioroids nearby, for whatever reason, had guarded the base so 249’s symbiote never got in.
“First, go out and contact Sang Fan and the others,” Xing Bi said. “We must be on alert before entering. 249’s people will definitely follow.”
They helped Yao Xiu slowly upstairs, preparing to send her onto the medical vehicle.
Ji Sui was the first to reach the second floor and paused at the glass door, signaling them to stop.
Qiu Shi looked toward the door from the stairs and raised his gun in shock.
“Damn!” he cursed, staring at the group outside the glass door. “What the hell is this?”
Sang Fan’s squad stood in a row in front of the glass door, hands raised. Behind them was another row of black-clad people, guns aimed at them.
Nobody moved; they stood quietly, and no one knew how long they had been there.
Xing Bi slowly climbed the stairs and stood before the glass door.
The glass separated inside and outside, preventing communication, and the signal was blocked.
“Who are they?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Bioroids,” Xu Jie said.
“I know they’re bioroids. Anyone who can make Sang Fan raise his hands and stand still must be bioroids,” Qiu Shi said. “Who are they? Not ordinary bioroids if they can beat Sang Fan’s team.”
Sang Fan brought two newly activated Level 1 hidden guards; though inexperienced compared to Xing Bi’s team, their combat power was strong, and they were equipped with the most advanced human soldier gear. Now three hidden guards and five soldiers stood with guns pointed at them.
Xing Bi approached the glass door.
“Don’t open it,” Qiu Shi warned.
“…Am I crazy?” Xing Bi said.
“I talk too much,” Qiu Shi said.
“I’ll try the intercom,” Xing Bi said, pressing a small screen near the glass door twice.
Qiu Shi heard some noise from outside.
They could now hear each other.
“We can’t beat them,” Sang Fan shouted.
“Glad you realized,” Xing Bi said, leaning on the glass and looking out. “Who are you?”
Someone lowered their gun, stepped forward from beside Sang Fan, and stood before Xing Bi.
“She said she’s Xing Bi at first,” the person said, “I thought she was trying to scare me.”
This person was dressed like Jiang Cheng, with almost their entire face covered except the eyes, making it hard to recognize them.
“Are you the ones guarding here?” Xing Bi asked.
The person didn’t answer but glanced at Ji Sui and Xu Jie behind him. “The strongest operative group has three here—that’s a big deal.”
After living in this chaotic world for over a hundred years, bioroids developed distinct personalities. This one had a hoarse voice and an obvious bandit tone. If not for knowing he was an operative, Qiu Shi would think he was a vagrant.
“Your name,” Xing Bi said, staring at him.
“No one’s called me by name for a long time,” he paused, “Bai Zhan.”
“Bai Zhan?” Ji Sui stepped forward next to Xing Bi, “The voice doesn’t match.”
“Do you know him?” Qiu Shi quietly asked Xu Jie.
“All hidden guards do,” Xu Jie answered softly.
“My system is damaged,” Bai Zhan pulled down the black mask covering most of his face, revealing his face. “Being able to talk is already good.”
“I thought you…” Xing Bi looked at him.
“Dead?” Bai Zhan asked.
“Yes,” Xing Bi nodded.
“Not yet,” Bai Zhan said.
“You’ve been here all along?” Xing Bi asked.
“Yes,” Bai Zhan nodded, “I want to see who will come back here last—whether it’s you or humans.”
Xing Bi glanced at Qiu Shi.
“We’re going in,” Xing Bi turned back to Bai Zhan, “We need someone to keep watch outside.”
“Them?” Bai Zhan looked at Sang Fan.
“Don’t make me laugh,” Sang Fan clearly wasn’t convinced. She had never been defeated since being activated.
“Learned from you,” Bai Zhan laughed.
“You guys together,” Xing Bi said, “Take your people and guard together.”
“Are you commanding me?” Bai Zhan asked.
“Yes.” Xing Bi looked at him.
“Where’s your confidence from?” Bai Zhan asked again.
“How long have you been waiting here for us?” Xing Bi asked.
Bai Zhan said nothing.
“Twenty-one minutes,” Sang Fan said.
Bai Zhan turned and gave her a sideways glance.
Xing Bi lightly tapped the glass door. “If you knocked a few times, we’d hear it. You didn’t. You don’t know what we’re doing in there, afraid it might affect us or cause an accident.”
Bai Zhan crossed his arms and looked at him but still said nothing.
“Since we came in, you could have stopped us, but you didn’t,” Xing Bi said. “Where does your confidence come from? It’s what you gave yourself.”
“What are you going in there for?” Bai Zhan asked.
“Originally, it was just to investigate,” Xing Bi replied. “But the plan changed last minute. Now we need to destroy the storage devices, cut off 249’s hiding place.”
Bai Zhan was silent for a moment. “She has to listen to me.”
Xing Bi glanced at Sang Fan. “Follow his orders.”
“Mm.” Sang Fan replied in a rough voice.
“We need to get Yao Xiu out first. She needs an ambulance,” Xing Bi said. “You and your men stay five meters away from the door.”
Bai Zhan didn’t reply but made a hand gesture, signaling his men to slowly step back.
“Guard the entrance,” Yao Xiu said.
Inside, the level-two covert guards raised their guns, aiming at the glass door.
As Xing Bi pressed the open-door button, Ji Sui and Xu Jie also raised their weapons.
When the door opened, Qiu Shi helped Yao Xiu out. “Sang Fan.”
Sang Fan came over, supported Yao Xiu, and stepped back.
“Assign someone to take her to the ambulance,” Xing Bi said.
“Mm.” Sang Fan nodded.
Qiu Shi stepped back inside the glass door, which then closed again.
“We don’t know how long it will take,” Xing Bi looked at Bai Zhan, “but the symbiote will definitely come.”
“Mm.” Bai Zhan answered.
“Don’t let them get close,” Xing Bi said.
“Mm.” Bai Zhan responded.
Xing Bi looked at him, silent for a moment. “Thank you.”
Bai Zhan said nothing and just put his mask back on.
Xing Bi turned off the walkie-talkie. The glass door returned to its previous silence.
Outside, Bai Zhan began making arrangements. Three of his men stayed by the door, while Sang Fan and his group walked away with him.
“We’re going in,” Xing Bi turned and headed downstairs.
“Is this guy reliable?” Qiu Shi was a bit worried.
“Reliable,” Xing Bi said.
“He was Professor Song’s last student,” Ji Sui added.
“Ah.” Qiu Shi glanced at Xing Bi.
“The teacher was captured. He wanted to stop Zheng Ting but got injured. Later, when we retreated, he helped a lot, but when we left, I didn’t see him again. I thought he was dead.”
Qiu Shi suddenly understood why Xing Bi’s “thank you” earlier was so solemn—it was probably the gratitude he never got to express back then.
“We’re going in now,” Xing Bi stood in front of the metal door.
“Mm.” Qiu Shi responded.
Xing Bi took out a small vial they always carried on their uniforms, used previously on missions to collect fungal samples.
He grabbed Qiu Shi’s hand and, without explanation, pricked his finger, collecting blood in the vial. “If after twenty seconds, we can’t open this door…”
“I don’t care about anything that far away,” Qiu Shi interrupted, sucking on his finger and wiping it on his clothes.
This core area was a place where people might never come back once inside. Xing Bi was just making preparations for the worst; Qiu Shi didn’t want to hear it.
Xing Bi smiled but didn’t continue, placing the finger into a scanner on the keypad.
The keypad glowed blue, and the metal door silently lifted from the bottom up.
“Can I crawl in from underneath?” Qiu Shi asked, hearing the mechanical sounds inside.
“You’ll get cut into pieces,” Ji Sui said.
“Oh.” Qiu Shi replied.
After Xing Bi entered, Ji Sui and Xu Jie followed. The door closed in front of Qiu Shi.
“One, two, three, four…” Qiu Shi suddenly got nervous and started counting quietly as the door closed.
But at twenty seconds, the door still didn’t open.
He realized Xing Bi and the others probably wouldn’t start operating the moment they entered.
So from which second should he start counting? And what second is it now?
“Damn it,” he muttered quietly.
Then he heard Xing Bi’s voice from the keypad side: “Qiu Shi.”
“Hey!” Qiu Shi called back, moving closer, but saw no screen or window to see inside. “I’m here!”
“Authorization successful,” Xing Bi said. “Put your finger on the sensor.”
“What’s a sensor…” Qiu Shi looked around, saw a small blue light, and pressed his finger on it.
Something pricked the pad of his finger.
“Damn,” Qiu Shi jumped. “Opening a door requires blood now?”
The door began to rise. He bent down to look inside and saw Xing Bi’s legs.
“Can I get in now?” he asked.
“Yes,” Xing Bi said.
Qiu Shi didn’t wait for the door to fully open and squatted to crawl inside.
Once inside, he quickly hugged Xing Bi tightly, then let go.
Looking around, he realized that behind the metal door was a spacious hall, brightly lit with all sorts of instruments he couldn’t understand, but he could tell the space was divided into different zones with different equipment.
Some looked like surgical treatment pods he had seen at Donglin, others were rows of racks neatly stacked with square boxes full of wires, blinking with small green lights…
In the center of the hall was a huge monitoring screen, which he recognized—it was like the monitoring room in Yun City’s bio-warehouse but much larger, probably monitoring many more areas.
But perhaps it had been cut off from the outside; the screen only showed areas inside the metal door.
Qiu Shi could even see their group on the screen.
“These,” Xing Bi stood in front of two rows of green-lit boxes, “take them out.”
“249 wants to come in to live inside these boxes?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Yes.” Xing Bi glanced at the time.
“What about those on the other side?” Qiu Shi pointed to a few racks against the wall, which looked different from the boxes—they had no wires plugged in and no blinking lights.
“That’s a bookshelf,” Xing Bi said. “Those are books.”
“…What?” Qiu Shi was stunned.
“Go take a look,” Xing Bi started pulling the boxes out of their slots. “Illiterate post-apocalypse guy.”
Ji Sui and Xu Jie followed, pulling out the boxes as well.
Qiu Shi wanted to help but they were fast. He was curious about the books anyway—after only a few days at the refugee school, a corpse collector like him found them fascinating. So he walked toward that side.
After a few steps, suddenly an alarm blared through the hall.
“Damn!” He looked down, fearing he had stepped on some trap.
The sharp “beep beep” echoed all around, making his heart race. The buttons below the central monitor began flashing on and off…
“What’s happening?” Qiu Shi turned.
“We’re destroying this place,” Xing Bi said. “The alarm’s triggered. In the past, we would’ve been caught within two minutes.”
“Caught by who?” Qiu Shi asked.
“Us,” Xing Bi answered.
Qiu Shi took a moment to process, feeling a bit disoriented.
He hurried to the wall’s bookshelf, feeling panicked and urgent.
These were indeed books, but unlike any he’d seen—all with uniform black covers and gold lettering.
The letters flickered strangely under the flashing lights, making them hard to read. Qiu Shi randomly pulled one out.
Before he could open it, the spot where the book was lit up, projecting a hologram roughly the size of the book right before his eyes.
“Summary… content intro…” He stared at the dense text.
This was the electronic introduction to the book, very detailed, with lines so dense his eyes struggled to track them.
After a while, he realized what he held was a catalog or a switch, and the hologram was the book content. When the book was taken out, the content was projected.
From the selectable titles, the collection contained far more than just these few books…
“Xing Bi,” he stepped back a few paces, looking at the towering bookshelf filled with countless books. “This is a huge collection, more than it seems. If we could bring this back to Yun City…”
“We can’t take them this time,” Xing Bi said, “but we can come back again.”
“Mm.” Qiu Shi returned the book and hurried back to help with dismantling the boxes.
One rack emptied, the boxes pulled out, disconnected, and piled on the ground.
“One unread pre-recorded message,” a flat female voice suddenly sounded amid the alarm.
“Damn, what?” Qiu Shi jumped, looking up sharply.
Even Xing Bi, Ji Sui, and Xu Jie paused and simultaneously looked toward the central console.
“One unread pre-recorded message.”
