Chapter 72

The sound crashed straight out from the living room, loud enough to produce an echo.

Ben Yian glared furiously with wide eyes, his chest heaving dramatically, and the finger he pointed at Hels trembled so hard it nearly snapped.

Horne had never seen him lose control of his emotions like this before. He frowned and said, “What are you talking about?” Then he immediately explained, “It’s precisely because he’s younger than all of us that he needs it more. Besides, he doesn’t need to protect me—it’s I who should protect him. Don’t you think?”

Ben Yian suddenly snapped back to his senses and realized he had let his emotions get the better of him, saying things he shouldn’t have. Everyone stared at him in shock.

He lowered his hand, swallowed hard, and gritted his teeth as he muttered lowly, “N-No, it’s nothing. Sorry, I got worked up. You’re right—he needs it more.”

With that, he turned and headed straight for the door.

“Ben Yian?” Horne called out, but Ben Yian acted as if he hadn’t heard. He stiffly opened the door, left, and closed it behind him without so much as a glance back.

He seemed truly exhausted.

Wen Yu nudged Han Ya. He turned to her with a blank look on his face. She frowned, and he immediately caught on, hurrying out after him.

The door shut, and a heavy silence pressed down on the room. The mist from the aromatherapy machine quickly plummeted from midair to the floor.

Horne sat back on the sofa, leaning into its softness, and rubbed his temples until he took a deep breath and caught the familiar woody scent, which eased him slightly.

He hadn’t expected that the careless omission Ben Yian had made back then—overheard by Hels outside the door—would lead to today’s events. Misunderstandings only snowballed the longer they festered. For Hels at the time, it had been an opportunity to clear Horne’s name, but Ben Yian hadn’t done it, making him the enemy. Even now, it was too late for Ben Yian to come clean; with Hels’s personality, he wouldn’t forgive him.

The room fell quiet, save for the soft rustling as Wen Yu repackaged the corpse on the floor. Moments later, she sat on the sofa too, her gaze sweeping back and forth between the two men before her.

“Do you ever feel like…” Wen Yu began.

Horne paused his movements.

Wen Yu smiled faintly, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere with a joking tone. “You two don’t seem like ordinary brothers.”

Hels was his usual sloppy and carefree self. He sprawled across Horne’s favorite spot on the sofa, lounging this way and that, idly twirling a keychain. Suddenly, it slipped from his fingers and spun rapidly toward Wen Yu.

She caught it deftly and realized there were two keychains, each engraved with a wooden carving.

“What’s this?” Wen Yu asked.

Hels was too lazy to explain further. He just said directly, “A gift for you two.”

The wooden figurines were carvings of Han Ya and Wen Yu, lifelike in every detail.

In truth, the two keychains had been sitting there for many years; this was just the first time in eight years that the pair had returned.

Hels had no real interest in giving them wooden carving keychains. He only hoped his small gesture of goodwill would make Horne a bit happier.

Wen Yu pocketed her keychain and handed the other back to Hels. “Thanks. Give Han Ya’s to him yourself.”

Horne’s lips curved faintly in a smile, but he quickly let it fade. Picking up where Wen Yu had left off, he said, “I know, but my heart guides me this way. If…”

As he spoke, he glanced at Hels, sighing at the man’s lack of decorum.

Once, Hels had mimicked his every move—his seriousness, his focus. Later, he had gradually broken away, developing his own personality.

“…If this makes Hels uncomfortable, or if it’s no longer needed, I’ll step back.”

At those words, Hels immediately sat up and took two strides to sit beside Horne.

“I’m not uncomfortable at all. I think it’s not enough.” Hels hooked an arm around Horne’s and blinked at him, his eyelashes brushing lightly before pulling away.

Acting spoiled again.

He used to do this only when they were alone together, but now he was growing more and more brazen. Like a powerful beast staking its claim.

Wen Yu propped her chin on her hand and nodded calmly. “May you live happily for a hundred years.”

Hels rarely smiled at Wen Yu. “Thanks.”

“…‘Live happily for a hundred years’ is a bit much. We’re not lovers,” Horne said with a headache.

“We could be.” Hels cut in. Then, seeing Horne holding back unspoken words, he preemptively apologized with a sidelong glance. “Don’t be mad, brother. I was joking.”

Horne: “…”

He wasn’t actually angry.

“Enough of that,” Horne interrupted the topic in time. “Let’s discuss the next steps.”

Meanwhile, at the hospital.

Ben Yian sat in the waiting area, his head hanging limply, fingers buried in his hair, yanking so hard he nearly tore out his scalp.

Han Ya wanted to comfort him but didn’t know where to start. He paced anxiously in place before plopping down again.

He had escorted Ben Yian home, only to find Ben Mu covered in blood from a head wound. She hadn’t woken up, so the two rushed her to the hospital.

Ben Yian curled into a ball, his mind a chaotic mess.

Everything had piled up at once. Everything.

The stark, emotionless hallway saw medical staff hurrying past now and then, each person’s fate slipping by without grasp.

Minutes later, the operating room door opened. Ben Yian shot to his feet and rushed over, standing before the doctor, wanting to ask something but unable to speak.

The doctor shook his head at him.

The bed rolled out, the person on it with eyes gently closed, no trace of pain on her face.

She still breathed, but faintly. The smart medical system’s diagnosis: vital signs declining rapidly. Even if still alive now, she would die within a week.

Han Ya asked if they should contact Horne and Wen Yu.

“No, don’t…” Ben Yian trailed off in a daze. After a long pause, he stood and wandered out of the ward in a stupor.

The sun was about to hide in the night.

The next day, the four went to get their resident chips implanted, but Ben Yian didn’t show.

At the upgrade hall, Hels lingered behind Horne, refusing to enter.

“What’s wrong?” Horne asked.

Hels crossed his arms over his chest, listening to the noisy crowd around them. For once, he yielded. “Shouldn’t you wait for Ben Yian?”

Horne paused, then chuckled.

The displeasure and irritation on that face were now completely unmasked, yet even so, he still worried about putting Horne in a tough spot.

He did feel guilty toward Ben Yian, but he wouldn’t deceive his own heart.

Horne extended his hand. “Come on. I want to bind with you.”

The plan continued. During the chip binding, Horne received a message from Ben Yian—he had contacted Woody, but to build mutual trust, he suggested visiting the lab in person. He needed to confirm they could save Ben Mu, and they had agreed.

By the time the four finished binding and emerged, Ben Yian was at the government’s secret lab.

Ben Yian: [Warfallen Asylum Gray Building, top floor.]

Ben Yian: [Elevator to the top floor and lab door require a keycard swipe. Only lab staff and higher-ups have them—a circular ring.]

Ben Yian: [Data is on the computers.]

“How do we get the keycard?” Han Ya asked.

Infiltrating during the day was impossible; lab staff were always present. They could only enter at night. Though Warfallen Asylum had no curfew, the building closed evenings, so they had to wait inside during the day.

The Gray Building mostly housed severely ill patients needing special care. Foot traffic wasn’t as heavy as in the other building, which also made it more convenient for experiments.

Ben Yian: [One camera southeast corner, one southwest corner, one in the hallway facing the Blue Building—covers stairs and elevator.]

Ben Yian: [Lab has a long glass wall facing north.]

There weren’t many people on the roads. In this last remaining city, humans lived remnant lives. The sun shone on the city and the snowfield alike, ten years of unrelenting cold.

It was as if there had never been hope, nor a future.

The four headed back. Hels kept fiddling curiously with the freshly bound Resident Chip, occasionally touching the one behind Horne’s ear. It displayed Horne’s full personal terminal view, revealing any info about him.

It was a total boundary-erasing invasion, but Horne showed no reaction.

He looked up at the distance—the orientation of Warfallen Asylum’s tallest building and the similarly high structure opposite.

“Wen Yu,” Horne suddenly stopped. “I need you to do something.”

“What?”

–

It had been a long time since Horne had sought out You Wangwang, so he was surprised by Horne’s arrival.

Horne didn’t mention Han Ya’s discovery. As soon as he entered, he asked about their research progress and whether it involved human experimentation.

The scene was identical to years ago. The only change was Horne’s composure. He sat on the sofa, utterly calm without a ripple, staring straight at You Wangwang. When the man sighed, Horne’s gaze scanned elsewhere.

You Wangwang had aged greatly, his full head of white hair now sparse, his face etched with deep furrows. Hearing Horne’s question, he shook his head. “You still haven’t given up.”

Horne sat ramrod straight, as before, but his voice was much cooler. “If people knew the government they trusted was experimenting on their children, what would they think?”

“What do you think they’d think?” You Wangwang countered.

If xenomorph particles could grant humans immortality, how many would risk it? If the six-winged fusion truly stemmed from human and alien genes, how many such monsters had they created over the years?

Ordinary folk yearned to extend life and escape illness; decades of war had stripped life of meaning—they just wanted peace. Diehards clung to their goals, remembering history’s bloody lessons, resisting even unto death.

“It would bring unimaginable disaster,” Horne replied.

The office had an aged feel, from early 21st-century tastes—people back then disliked stark, high-tech whites and always added greenery in corners and by windows. This one did too.

The bookshelf held files and a few books lying sparsely across it. The brown shelves resembled those in Horne’s home study.

You Wangwang’s eyes had grown cloudy. He looked at Horne helplessly. “Have you heard the saying: ‘Survival is not enough; we must expand’? But in history, we’re ants dying on the frost path. Do you think the elephants will let you shake them?”

What did “upholding humanity” even mean? If true immortality or human fusion emerged, how would it upend social classes and order? Would only elites benefit? Spark larger upheavals?

You Wangwang’s hands rested on the spotless desk. He wore comfortable, loose cotton-linen clothes, mostly hidden by the desk.

Before Horne could respond, You Wangwang added, “They’re not worried about this leaking. The only difference is who exposes it—and you’re the last one who should. Humanity can’t survive without government and military, without hope. They’re right, you’re right, but evolution demands sacrifices. If you refuse them, you’ll be the sacrifice.”

“Then I’ll be the sacrifice.”

You Wangwang drew a sharp breath that turned into a sigh. He smiled wryly, self-mocking. “You’re truly rebellious saying that. Decades ago in our country, someone like you wouldn’t make the family registry or the ancestral grave.”

He sighed again, but before it fully escaped—

Bang! A massive shattering sound startled both men in the office. They turned toward the source in unison.

The window glass cracked with a crash. In an instant, the room’s quiet shattered; fragments rained down clattering, and the outside world’s clamor flooded in.

You Wangwang stood and hurried to the window, leaning out halfway to peer below. Nothing—just the unchanging city street below, sky above an unblemished blue.

Someone had smashed the deputy leader’s office window—a security issue. His expression turned grave. He headed out. “I’ll check it.”

He opened the door and left.

Half a minute later, Horne followed calmly.

In the surveillance room, the footage looped the window’s shattering seconds, but no suspects appeared nearby or downstairs. Slow-motion revealed the glass deforming under sudden pressure before bursting—no object had struck it.

The glass had shattered on its own, like some uneven stress accident.

“It’s nothing, probably just an accident.” You Wangwang said. He reviewed the tape again and relaxed. “Colonel, no need to worry. You’re free to go if you have matters.”

“Mm.” Horne remained utterly emotionless.

At the same time, Ben Yian came out of the Warfallen Asylum laboratory. He found an excuse to separate from Woody, turned a corner, and immediately ducked into the nearest restroom.

Ben Yian: [I’m here.]