Lu Yanzhou subconsciously tried to stand up.
He was horrified to discover that he had no hands.
Not just hands—his limbs had all disappeared, and his perspective had become extremely strange.
After a brief moment of panic, Lu Yanzhou calmed down and surveyed his surroundings.
He seemed to be in a large transparent ring-shaped box, surrounded by many things that looked like eyeballs, rising and falling slightly.
Where was this place?
Hadn’t he been in the hotel?
How had he suddenly ended up here?
His head was no longer dizzy. Lu Yanzhou struggled to maneuver his body, taking considerable effort before he tamed this new form.
He also figured out that he had become one of the eyeballs.
Lu Yanzhou had a deep impression of these eyeballs. After all, he had once seen himself in the 【Eye of Recollection】chopping them up and eating them one by one.
So, was it because I ate the eyeballs that I turned into one?
Lu Yanzhou’s mind raced.
Could he change back?
How could he meet Lin Juan like this?
Would Lin Juan even recognize him?
Lu Yanzhou tried several times and confirmed that he couldn’t make a sound. He was just an eyeball—he could see and hear, but not speak.
He sensed malicious gazes falling on him. Lu Yanzhou turned and saw a large eyeball twice his size staring at him with drooling anticipation.
A sense of crisis surged through him. Lu Yanzhou dodged the large eyeball’s attack on instinct.
This attack seemed to flip a switch. One after another, eyeballs targeted their own kind and began hunting.
The weaker, smaller eyeballs became meals for the more vigorous, larger ones.
Lu Yanzhou barely dodged wave after wave of attacks, exhausted.
Being on the smaller side, he was one of the primary targets.
Lu Yanzhou controlled his new body, hiding in the shadows and killing the eyeballs that drew near.
Wave after wave—it felt endless.
He didn’t know how much time passed before the slaughter finally stopped.
Lu Yanzhou stayed in place, panting heavily—or at least, that’s what it felt like, since his new body had no lungs.
The outside grew quiet, interrupted only by sporadic tearing sounds. Then, a powerful hunger struck him belatedly.
So hungry.
I need to eat.
Hungry… hungry… hungry…
His human consciousness was suppressed by the hunger. Uncontrollably, Lu Yanzhou turned his body and approached an eyeball he had killed.
When he regained his senses, the surrounding eyeballs had dwindled, and his own body had doubled in size.
He really had turned into a monster.
Lu Yanzhou felt an indescribable mix of emotions.
He didn’t give in to despair. Instead, he continued surveying his surroundings. He couldn’t stay trapped here forever—he had to get out, had to find Lin Juan.
Lin Juan.
Lin Juan.
He hadn’t rested long before the next round of slaughter began.
To survive, he had to defeat the others, eat them, and grow stronger.
His human consciousness was pushed to the bottom by this body. Instinct took over, but the name “Lin Juan” remained deeply etched in his mind.
Feeding time arrived.
To prevent the eyeballs from starving to death after eating their own kind, they fed them every three days. Lin Juan expertly operated the mechanical arm and dropped the beast meat delivered from below into the transparent box.
The scent of food drew the eyeballs into a frenzy.
The only one that didn’t rush forward—instead sticking to the transparent wall and staring at Lin Juan—stood out conspicuously.
Huh?
Why wasn’t it eating?
Was it injured?
Lin Juan had fed Experimental Subject B-023 many times and knew these things went mad for food. When hungry, they ate whatever was available—even their own kind. He’d never seen one ignore food to watch him.
Did it think he looked tastier?
Lin Juan took a couple steps to the side.
The eyeball on the transparent wall shifted to follow his movement.
It was strange—Lin Juan didn’t sense the nauseating malice from this eyeball that he felt from the others. It seemed to be simply observing him.
Lin Juan found it odd but didn’t dwell on it. He’d been stuck in this hellhole for a long time. He needed to uncover the truth about what happened back then and find a way out as soon as possible.
There were people waiting for him outside.
Lin Juan thought of Lu Yanzhou.
He had promised to check in every day, but with messages unable to send, so many days had passed—who knew if Lu Yanzhou was worried.
Lu Yanzhou knew his strength, so even if worried, it probably wasn’t excessive. Still, the communicator needed major improvements. Situations like entering a weird phenomena illusion with no outside contact were too passive—for them and for those outside.
The eyeballs in the transparent box had reached the final stage of slaughter.
As the primary recorder, Lin Juan had been told more about the eyeballs than before—perhaps because they seemed more vital this time, earning approval from above.
Experimental Subject B-023 originated from a mutated avian captured and isolated for its eyeballs, which had grown to their current scale through special cultivation.
The lab they were in had been built specifically to study B-023. The other experimental subjects here were secondary—some even bred specifically as food for B-023.
Like the listless artificial mermaid Lin Juan had seen earlier. Deemed worthless for research, it had been sent here and tossed into the B-023 containment box, devoured clean in under ten minutes.
This place was a massive cycle of you eat me, I eat you.
After feeding, the sated eyeballs quieted down, sinking to the bottom of the containment box to rest.
If all went as expected, they would grow larger within the next twenty-four hours.
Lin Juan turned off the main lights and prepared to leave.
At the door, he paused.
He heard a faint sliding sound from the glass.
He gripped the door handle—it wouldn’t open.
Lin Juan tried a few more times, confirming that normal human strength couldn’t budge it. He chuckled.
Did they want to lock him in here as food for B-023?
He turned back and, as expected, saw a gap opened in the massive ring-shaped transparent containment box. The eyeballs, which should have been resting, perked up and crawled out through the opening.
They all crawled toward Lin Juan in unison.
Gaps opened at intervals along the containment box, and eyeballs poured out endlessly, as if summoned.
Lin Juan caught a faint fragrance. Inhaling it muddled his mind for an instant before clarity returned.
No wonder they were so forthcoming with the lab’s secrets—they’d decided to use him as B-023 fodder.
No wonder every previous B-023 recorder got transferred out after a stint.
They weren’t transferred—they were eaten.
Lin Juan stood still, pretending to be on the verge of passing out. He staggered and slowly slid down the wall to sit.
In the surveillance feed, no one could see the cold glint in his downcast eyes.
Lin Juan was never one to accept being schemed against.
During this time, he hadn’t just been recording B-023 data. With the lab staff’s vigilance toward him lowered, he’d mapped every corner of the facility and coordinated a plan to destroy the lab with the ability users who retained their consciousness.
Since conventional methods couldn’t break the illusion, Lin Juan didn’t mind using unconventional ones.
He had only waited to fully understand what had happened back then.
He now knew they had likely entered an illusion based on events before the lab was abandoned. Without interruption, they might be stuck until the day it was destroyed.
Lin Juan had no patience to wait that long. After discussing with Su Xingchen, Sheng Tianzong, and the others, they decided to accelerate the lab’s destruction.
But he hadn’t expected the lab staff to strike first.
The eyeballs bounced toward Lin Juan.
Lin Juan waited quietly.
Dealing with them wasn’t hard, but fighting would force a change in their original plan.
Just as the first eyeball was about to touch Lin Juan, a soccer-ball-sized one leaped from behind, blocking the path and smashing the smaller one.
The second, the third… countless eyeballs trying to approach Lin Juan were smashed by this one. It seemed tireless, painless—like a knight, steadfastly guarding Lin Juan and keeping all danger at bay.
How?
Lin Juan stared in surprise at the eyeball blocking his front.
The image of the one that had stared at him unblinkingly during feeding flashed in his mind.
Was it the same one?
Why would it defy its instincts to protect him?
In the surveillance room.
Everyone watched the scene in stunned silence.
It was too strange.
Far beyond their expectations.
They never imagined an experimental subject would defy its instincts to protect a human.
“Could prolonged feeding have created some bond?” one researcher ventured hesitantly.
“The previous recorders fed them the same way, for even longer—why didn’t it happen then?” another disagreed.
Mr. Qiao stared fixedly at the screen, his eyes growing brighter. “Change of plans. We can’t let this one die for now.”
Whatever the reason, this was their first encounter with positive interaction between an experimental subject and a human—immensely valuable for research.
Lin Juan sensed that the large eyeball guarding him was growing weak.
It bore many wounds. Larger eyeballs had knocked it away and smashed it to the ground, yet it dragged itself back every time to stand before Lin Juan.
A complex emotion flickered in Lin Juan’s eyes.
A head-sized eyeball charged over, slamming mercilessly into the one guarding Lin Juan.
That eyeball was already tattered. By the scant knowledge Lin Juan had gleaned here, it probably wouldn’t survive.
Yet it still stood before Lin Juan.
Unaware of pain, ignorant of fear.
Lin Juan was about to act when gas sprayed from hidden vents around the lab. The airborne eyeball plummeted straight down.
At the same time, the room broadcast blared urgently.
“Little Lin, are you okay? We’ve released anesthetic gas—we’ll get you out soon!”
With the crisis averted, the eyeball guarding Lin Juan could no longer hold on. It glanced back at him once before swaying and collapsing.
Lin Juan swiftly scooped it up.
He wore white gloves, and the soccer-ball-sized eyeball felt heavy and battered in his hands.
The anesthetic was indiscriminate. Lin Juan knew he needed to fake passing out, but he couldn’t bear to leave the eyeball that had protected him for so long. When the lab staff rushed in, he managed to gasp out, “Save it,” before blacking out.
He knew that as long as there was any chance, they wouldn’t abandon this eyeball.
Because they had likely spared him for its behavior.
Affection toward humans. Defying instincts. Protective actions.
Lin Juan received treatment and woke half an hour later. His first question was about the eyeball.
“It’s badly damaged, but don’t worry—it’s fine now.” Standing by his bed was Mr. Qiao himself.
“Why is Mr. Qiao here?” Lin Juan showed appropriately wary surprise.
Anyone would be suspicious after such an ordeal.
Lin Juan’s wariness didn’t annoy Mr. Qiao. Instead, he soothed him and guaranteed punishment for the culprits.
“Was it really just a mistake? Not someone trying to harm me?” Lin Juan gazed at Mr. Qiao uncertainly.
Of course it wasn’t a mistake.
Mr. Qiao answered inwardly.
But Little Lin was still useful now—he needed to be placated.
“We’ll investigate thoroughly, but so far, it looks like operator error. Rest assured, we’ll compensate you. Whatever you want, just say it.”
“I want to quit.” Lin Juan reacted like any ordinary person in his shoes.
“That’s…” Mr. Qiao looked troubled. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Everyone signs a confidentiality agreement upon entering the lab. Even if you quit now, you can’t leave until the experiment ends.”
With the experiment finally progressing, Mr. Qiao had no intention of letting Lin Juan go. He piled on benefits, mixing threats and temptations to persuade him to stay.
Lin Juan demanded two bodyguards for protection—he no longer felt safe alone in the experimental area.
Mr. Qiao still needed him for B-023 research. After a moment’s thought, he agreed.
