Chapter 79

The next day, several people gathered at the city gate, hugging each other goodbye, not knowing when they would see one another again after this parting.

The city gate was a boundary line. Inside lay the dilapidated ruins of a human isolated city, while outside stretched the lifeless frozen snowfield.

“Be careful on the road. If anything happens here, I’ll handle it,” Horne said calmly. He stood straight, his gaze constantly looking back at the empty street behind him.

Ben Yian had not yet arrived, and some time had already passed since the appointed time.

Han Ya was also watching the street behind them, waiting to bid Ben Yian farewell before setting off immediately. But he did not wait for Ben Yian; instead, an item dropped from the sky. Han Ya reacted quickly and caught the thing Hels tossed over.

When he opened his hand, a keychain lay in his palm.

“What’s this?” Han Ya asked in bewilderment. “A keychain? So ancient? Wow, this little figure looks just like me.”

Hels was too lazy to explain, but Wen Yu told him that Hels had carved it, and she had one too.

“Oh, it’s obvious Horne forced him to make this,” Han Ya said. He did not believe Hels would be so kind as to specially make farewell gifts for them. As he spoke, his finger hooked the keychain, examining it closely. The ring spun a few times on his fingertip before he irritably stuffed it back into his pocket. “Fine, since it’s what Horne wants, I’ll reluctantly accept it.”

Horne thought Han Ya was sometimes even more childish than Hels.

“By the way,” Wen Yu suddenly spoke up, “these past few days, I’ve probed some internal information from them. There are a few points I need to remind you of.”

“Sister Yu has spoken; everyone, pay attention,” Han Ya teased.

Horne had been recuperating and had only woken up the night before, unable to do anything. Hels did not care about such matters at all, and Ben Yian was busy with other things. Wen Yu was not reassured about Han Ya’s attention to detail, so she had investigated herself.

What she found left Wen Yu incredulous: the government did not seem to prioritize finding the intruders in the gray building. A full week had passed since the gray building operation, and no information had traced back to them. The surveillance along the way had been destroyed, and with Hels’s mask, they had hidden well this time—but not without flaws.

“The first possibility is that they currently face a greater crisis and have no time to care who the intruders were, or they have a more important target. The second is that they already know who did it but are holding back for now. Combining this with the recent activity at the obelisk from the new base reports these past two days, I lean toward the first. If killing the aliens this time disrupted some contractual balance they maintained, it’s possible the aliens might counterattack. We need to be prepared at all times.”

Horne nodded. “I know.”

They had always been good at waiting. Perhaps the puzzle pieces in their hands were still missing one or two, and they would never know when they might find that missing fragment. But as Wen Yu said, the first possibility was more likely.

Even so, that did not mean they could let their guard down. On the chessboard of power games, it was not just one side laying plans—perhaps someone had blocked a knife for them.

“If it’s the second possibility, you must prepare multiple escape plans in advance. You two shouldn’t act together, and you absolutely have to listen to Horne.” As she spoke, Wen Yu’s gaze fixed on Hels.

“When have I not listened to him?” Hels raised an eyebrow.

Wen Yu did not hesitate. “Many times.”

Hels replied indifferently, “Oh.”

“If it’s the first possibility, there might be a major battle between humans and aliens. If they want to maintain the current balance, Ganal and the others might pull out a scapegoat, but I doubt the aliens would accept human societal norms, so I think it’ll come to direct conflict. In that case, I’ll notify the terminal in Ben Yian’s military district right away.” Wen Yu thought for a moment and recalled something else. “Last night, I asked Ben Yian to send me the data copied from the gray building, but he hasn’t sent it yet, and he hasn’t replied to messages either. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Hels sneered. “What’s going on? He’s afraid to send it to you all in case you make it public. Of course, he feels safest keeping it to himself. Shifty-eyed types are like that.”

Just as Hels said this, hurried footsteps suddenly stopped at the corner behind the city gate. After the words were spoken, those footsteps paused. The person intended to walk out casually and had even taken a step, but the next second, Han Ya’s loud laughter nailed him in place again.

“I’m truly impressed. It’s the first time I’ve heard someone call Ben Yian shifty-eyed. How do you describe things so perfectly?”

The footsteps retreated, and the person leaned against the icy wall. That laughter pierced like needles into the most sensitive depths of his heart.

He looked down at the tips of his shoes, knowing he should go out, but the laughter formed an invisible barrier, making him hesitate. He recalled the scene from last night when Wen Yu asked for the data: how he had repeatedly opened and closed the terminal.

A series of hearty laughs followed, along with complaints about why Ben Yian still had not arrived.

The footsteps remained rigid in place. Listening as the laughter went from explosive to quiet, he lifted his foot to walk out several times but ultimately turned on the spot, striding away in the opposite direction, step by step faster.

“It’s the first time I’ve heard that description.” Once Han Ya had laughed enough, he began accusing Hels. “But even if he’s shifty-eyed, he’s not as shifty-eyed as you, got it? Brat, I think you’re the most suspicious one.”

Hels replied coolly, “Think whatever you want.”

Horne glanced around. Contacting Ben Yian via the terminal yielded no reply either, which made him uneasy. He could only say coldly, “Enough. We need to stay united to get through this disaster. Don’t suspect your companions lightly; trust them. Broaden your mind, and what you see will change.”

“I was just kidding.” Han Ya smoothed things over.

“Mm.” Horne neither confirmed nor denied it. “Leave it with him. It’s fine if he doesn’t copy it over.”

In the end, Ben Yian never came. The farewell of five people turned into a hasty parting of four.

On the way to the laboratory, Ben Yian walked quickly but with unprecedented calm.

He was only thinking that perhaps Woody was right—this team had no place for him. The three of them had grown up together since childhood and could not tolerate outsiders, while Hels’s self-sufficiency meant he did not care about others at all. But he was different. He had once told Horne that he was the most irreplaceable, but in truth, he was the most insignificant.

The day after Han Ya and Wen Yu returned, Ben Yian received a message from the new base on the terminal in the command room: a massive alien gathering in the north, unprecedented in scale. It might be an attack. The military district was notified to prepare maximum defenses and deploy in advance. The information quickly spread to the entire military district leadership.

At the same time, the government’s backup plan reactivated. The original secret laboratory was in Loch City’s biological research institute, but the space was too small and limited. Now, as a temporary measure, it reopened to researchers.

“Humans will break free from the frail limits of life. Stubborn elements like the colonel won’t understand.” The speaker was Ganal, standing coldly in front of a door, with Woody beside him.

In the evening laboratory, most researchers had left, leaving only a few eerie white-green lamps. There were no settled human specimens here yet. New research results required new samples.

The sample now lay inside.

“From the moment of their birth, humans have been trapped in the cage of lifespan. This cage makes us fear aging, disease, and death, so we endlessly fight for resources, power, and security.” Ganal’s voice was deep and mature, echoing off the metallic walls and shaking Ben Yian’s heart. “Every great advancement in human history began with panic and opposition. When electricity appeared, people called it the devil’s spark. When genetic technology emerged, it was seen as humanity’s arrogant overreach of nature. Airplanes, antibiotics—every technological revolution brought conservatives crying doom, but these technologies ultimately benefited humanity. Particle fusion is the same. Though risky in the early stages, once breakthrough comes, we won’t fear aging, death, or even the alien threat.”

Conservatives were always complacent, but the existentialists believed humans should accept all possibilities in the universe. They accused: if not for the conservatives’ stubbornness, humanity need not have faced this catastrophe. Humans would enter a new era, transcending life’s limits.

Ben Yian only listened, saying nothing. His breathing was shallow, his hands hanging limply at his sides, fingers fidgeting against each other uneasily.

Ganal continued, “Xenomorph particles are essentially a higher form of life carrier. They rapidly repair human cellular genes. Cancers, aging, and organ failure that current medical technology can’t overcome—the particles can resolve. When they enter the body, they act like a precise, molecular-level life repair system. Not only restoring health, they enable the body to constantly renew, ultimately breaking lifespan limits and achieving true immortality.”

Seeing Ben Yian remain silent, Ganal changed the subject and pointed at the door. “Do you want to see your sister?”

Ben Yian immediately looked up.

A completely sealed room looked like a ward or operating theater, with a small bed in the center where Ben Mu lay, tubes of all kinds inserted into her body.

As the door opened, Ben Mu turned her head. Her eyes closed, she asked, “Who?”

Ben Yian froze for a moment before rushing over and kneeling beside the bed. “Ben Mu, Ben Mu, it’s me.” He gently touched her face, and in that instant, tears burst forth.

She had truly awakened.

Immense grief surged from the depths of his heart, leaving him sobbing uncontrollably.

“Brother?”

Ganal’s footsteps stopped behind him. His voice above was calm. “What we’re doing is truly for humanity’s benefit. Humanity will gain from this, and you will be pioneers in history.”

She was the first sent to the old laboratory. They had merely injected a strand of particles into her body. Though she still could not see and remained unable to move or stand,

this was hope.

The needle pierced her vein, transmitting that strand of particles through her body’s various parts.

The government hoped she would serve as a new fusion human experimental subject, providing real-time information during the experiment, unlike the previous ones who always cried and screamed.

Ben Yian buried his head, his entire face sinking into the bedding. After crying enough, he slowly lifted it.

Ben Mu’s voice was weak. She asked, “Why are you crying? Did something happen?”

“Nothing.” Ben Yian’s voice was hoarse.

It was just the shift from despair to hope, then back to despair, and now hope again. That feeling, like a massive bell striking through his heart, was almost unbearable. One more straw, and it would all collapse.

Fortunately, she had woken up. A giant stone fell, and Ben Yian could hear his own heartbeat.

“I heard them say you were bullied,” Ben Mu said softly. She had heard it from the people outside upon waking.

Ben Yian said nothing, only stroking Ben Mu’s face repeatedly. Endless tenderness filled his eyes as he etched that bloodless face, capable of subtle expressions, into his heart.

Ben Mu closed her eyes and whispered, “Brother, if life in the military district isn’t good, come home.”

Home, a place to catch one’s breath.

The ward door closed, and the three stood outside. Ben Yian could now only observe the ward through monitoring. The tubes connected to Ben Mu’s body were controlled by a machine that recorded her vital signs in real time.

Ganal looked at Ben Yian, a trace of pity in his tone. “I know you feel sorry for your sister, but precisely because of her, you can better understand that what we do isn’t cold-blooded experimentation. You’re smart; you should know what’s truly good for humanity. The cruel ones are those stubborn fools who’d rather watch people die than uphold the old order, not us seekers of new hope.”

He pointed to the various instruments in the ward. “The particles haven’t fully fused with her body yet. If they’re extracted now, she’ll die instantly.”

Ganal’s tone was matter-of-fact, without excess words, not sounding like a threat. Ben Yian fell silent for a moment amid the surging turmoil, then smiled soundlessly.

He did not think there was much in being human that one could choose for oneself. From birth, from the moment of having parents, people never truly owned their choices. Life’s vast expanse seemed to offer many paths, but each led to the same end.

Otherwise, why was he born into this era, living precisely in the soon-to-be-destroyed Langdao City? Why lose his parents, have his sister gravely ill, meet Horne—and why did Horne conflict with his lifeline? Were these things he could choose?

“He deliberately placed me by Horne’s side for eight years,” Ben Yian said very calmly. “Now, what do you want me to do?”

That night, an unprecedented huge black cloud shrouded the skies over Loch City. It was thick and deep, with no stars visible and no moon in sight. Ten thousand meters overhead, it no longer seemed like the sky, but an abyss.

Before Ben Yian left, Woody took him to the City Defense District and showed him a segment of surveillance footage. Ben Yian remained silent for a long time.