Chapter Nineteen: The Tyrant's Serum

“Experiment sample 279, tyrant serum injected at 2:08 a.m. Heart rate steady, no static muscle response.”

“Continue observation and report at all times.”

Who’s speaking?

Wasn’t I in prison? How could there be anyone else here?

Ji Cheng awoke to the sound of voices nearby.

Experiment sample?

Were they talking about me?

His heart skipped a beat. Rather than rashly opening his eyes, he slowed his breathing and pretended to remain unconscious.

“Doctor, I must remind you, Lord Snake’s patience is running thin.”

“Tell him to be patient. The serum will work. The Tyrant Project has persisted for years—we can’t just give up.”

“This is already the fourth batch of samples this month. The last one died from your electric resistance test. These are all high-grade, gene-primed subjects, not easy to come by.”

“That was a scheduled shock resistance experiment. Besides, we have plenty of people planted in the security bureau. Getting a few more samples isn’t a problem. But you do remind me—previously, we only tested blood samples. Could that be inaccurate?”

“You mean—”

“How about we dissect this subject and have a look?”

Dissection? How heartless.

Ji Cheng’s heart sank. He dared not feign unconsciousness any longer and abruptly opened his eyes.

What he saw first was a ceiling of clinical white. The room resembled an operating theater, lined with all manner of instruments and reagents. He lay atop a steel bed, his body covered in electrode patches.

Several researchers in full protective suits stood at the bedside, staring at him in terror.

“How is this possible? At that anesthetic dose, even a gene-primed subject should be out for at least five or six more hours!”

“Guards! Guards!”

Ji Cheng ripped off the electrode patches, rolled off the bed, and landed on his feet. “Where am I?”

The researchers screamed and scattered, none bothering to answer his question.

Bang.

The door burst open, and a guard rushed in.

“What’s going on?”

A researcher pointed at Ji Cheng. “The experiment sample woke up early! Kill him, quickly!”

“What!” The guard hastily reached for his gun, but before his hand could even touch the holster, his vision blurred—a tremendous force crashed into his chest.

Though armed, the guard was too close to draw, and being only an ordinary man, Ji Cheng’s single punch collapsed his ribcage. Without a glance at the blood bubbling from the man’s lips, Ji Cheng’s left hand flicked deftly, snatching the gun.

“PZ-845 suppressed pistol. Fifteen-round magazine.”

A mechanical genius, Ji Cheng needed only the weight in his hand to recognize the model.

The guard’s corpse hit the floor with a dull thud.

This place looked like a secret laboratory. Had he been drugged in prison and transferred here? Ji Cheng frowned in thought.

Judging by his level of dehydration, he’d probably only been unconscious for two or three hours, which meant this facility must still be within Southport New City. From the researchers’ earlier conversation, this seemed to be a site for human experimentation run by some underground organization.

There were traitors in the city defense security bureau. He just didn’t know if being sent here was an accident.

Beep—beep—

Within seconds, a piercing alarm blared through the room, and the status light above the door turned red.

Even standing where he was, he could hear the synchronized stamp of boots on metal not far away.

More guards must be converging on his position.

Ji Cheng tapped the pistol against his palm; the slide and spring responded, and a fresh bullet chambered with a click.

In a place where people were kidnapped for secret experiments, secrecy was paramount—they’d never let him leave alive. His only options were to die or use the terrain to drag out the fight.

After all, he was someone who always started with a perfect hand. So long as there were no superpowered enemies, using the environment and cover gave him a fighting chance. Besides, this was a secret lab—there couldn’t be too many guards.

Not one to wait passively for death, he immediately assessed the room. The walls were all metal, sturdy, with no windows, just a single door leading to a narrow, pitch-black corridor. There were plenty of machines for cover, and the steel bed could be used to block the entrance. If only he could find more ammunition.

“Experiment subject 279, I advise you to drop your weapon and surrender.”

A chill crept down Ji Cheng’s spine. He realized someone was holding a gun on him—a researcher who hadn’t managed to escape.

“Relax. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Smiling, Ji Cheng turned slowly to see a man in a protective suit aiming a gun at him, body trembling like a bow drawn to its limit.

It was the one they’d called “Doctor.” Ji Cheng picked this up instantly from his voice.

“You don’t need to know what’s happening. Your only task is to be dissected and stud—”

Squelch.

Crack.

Ji Cheng withdrew his blood-soaked hand from the doctor’s neck, the slender, distinct fingers playing with a fragment of windpipe.

“When an ordinary man stands this close to a lynx, he is already dead.”

Though he’d always abided by the law before crossing over, the first kill left Ji Cheng cold and unaffected. Clearly, the original owner’s memories and lawless nature were exerting greater influence over him.

The footsteps outside the room drew nearer.

He looked up toward the corridor, eyes brimming with excitement.

“Send more—preferably armed!”

...

“Team Seven, has experiment sample 279 been neutralized? Report, please respond.”

“This is Team Seven—engaged in heavy firefight with the target! Requesting backup, requesting backup!”

Ironscruff set down his radio, breathing hard. He drew a razor-sharp alloy knife, eyes fixed on the corridor ahead.

Before the radio call, gunfire had raged, but now, after mere seconds of silence, it was obvious his men hadn’t prevailed.

What kind of genetic stock was this, to have such terrifying combat prowess? Ironscruff himself was a gene-injected subject, yet this enemy filled him with dread.

Reports said the sample was not only immensely strong but also uncannily agile, with deadly aim.

He crept to the edge of the corridor, peeking inside with a shard of glass. The passage was pitch black; only his own face, bristling with steel-needle stubble, reflected in the glass.

He’s probably not here.

Cautiously, he moved inside. The stench of blood was thickening.

After ten meters or so, darkness swallowed everything. Knife in one hand, the other outstretched, he tested each step.

If he remembered correctly, there should be a door ahead. As that thought crossed his mind, his left hand met cold metal.

Clang!

He pushed the door ajar. Its screeching protested through the silence, setting his nerves on edge. Knife at the ready, he angled it toward the crack’s darkness.

The door inched open.

No one? Still, Ironscruff didn’t relax.

He braced the door with his shoulder, adjusting his position to open it fully.

At that instant, a pair of slit-pupiled eyes snapped open in the dark, accompanied by an overwhelming scent of blood.

“Welcome to the path of opposition.”

Thud-thud-thud!

Ironscruff’s heart nearly burst from his chest as he staggered back.

The figure before him lunged with uncanny speed. Ironscruff’s pupils flared; he barely managed to dodge aside.

But before he could feel relief, a terrible force crashed into his left arm, numbing half his body, followed by a heavy blow to the chest that made him cough blood.

Damn!

Ironscruff realized he’d lost his footing. Instinctively, he stepped right to regain his balance, but the next moment he was slammed to the ground, a cold sting tearing into his throat.

Bang!

The gunshot was barely audible—a PZ-845 suppressed pistol.

That was his last conscious thought.