Chapter 87: Naturally, It’s All for the Sake of Showing Off

“They’ve run into danger—they’re heading back. Everyone, get up and prepare.” Ji Cheng pulled Luo Rao out from behind the ventilation cabinet.

The flickering points of light drifted closer, gradually expanding into a luminous ring before their eyes.

The two scouts appeared within the ring, both in a miserable state. Fu Ting, especially, was visibly panicked. He switched off his flashlight and took several moments to steady his breath, then called out in an electronically synthesized voice, “It’s ahead!”

As expected.

Following their directions, everyone cautiously advanced down the passageway. Rounding a metallic pillar, they found the monster sprawled on the ground, its vicious form fully exposed without a hint of concealment.

Its mere appearance made one’s scalp tingle: a sharp, clawed arm covered in red and black sinewy veins, the entire limb swollen to the size of a calf. This only heightened the contrast with its other arm, which was slender and pale. Shreds of clothing hung from its body, but there were no wounds—clearly, the spots struck by bullets had already healed. Its regenerative ability was terrifying.

Its head had morphed entirely into a gaping maw filled with sharp teeth. Judging from the position of the jaws, it could probably swallow prey its own size with ease, like an anaconda.

No one dared move. A cold, tense pressure crept across the faces of the ability-users, spreading through their limbs.

At this distance—not too far, not too close—any sudden movement would mark whoever acted first as the monster’s primary target.

They all stood frozen, unable to react, not even the sound of a hammer being cocked.

“Looks like I’ll have to take care of this myself.” Ji Cheng sighed in frustration, flipping his wrist to draw out the angular, hard-edged Blackrock handgun.

The Blackrock K-90 didn’t have the magazine capacity or rate of fire of Centipede’s submachine gun, but its single-shot power was much greater. In practice, it could absolutely penetrate the monster’s defenses.

And since the creature wasn’t moving, hitting it was child’s play.

Had it shown any aggression, Ji Cheng would have fired without hesitation, but he was wary of a possible counterattack.

Given its displayed resilience, aiming for the torso could pierce its heart, liver, or lungs. Even a shot to the limbs might sever an artery—if it had any.

Ji Cheng waited, his finger wrapped around the trigger, unwavering.

“Why do I suddenly feel like two experts are facing off, a clash of energy and intent?” he whispered to Luo Rao, “Isn’t it kind of cool?”

“Ah Cheng, it looks a little strange,” Luo Rao replied softly, her voice sweet and alluring, prompting Ji Cheng to glance at her.

How beautiful she is.

“Ahem, what’s strange about it?”

“I can’t quite say.”

Her eyes, like a clear spring, contrasted sharply with the dilapidated, blood-stained corridor and the terrifying monster.

Strange… Ji Cheng pondered, when he heard Shana analyzing in his mind:

“It might already be dead.”

How could that be? It looked so ferocious, with drool still dripping from its jaws—how could it simply die without reason?

“Its tendons are grayish-white, suggesting a loss of vitality. And the chewing mouthparts have obvious breathing holes, but the chest shows no movement from breathing.”

“More importantly, the tough veins covering its body—look closely, the dark red blood inside isn’t flowing, it’s nearly coagulated.”

Ji Cheng examined it carefully, and found it was true.

Shana’s reasoning was sound, but no one had killed it—how had it suddenly died?

Could these monsters have a limited lifespan…?

It was possible. With Pang Weiwei’s ordinary ability-user physique, she could unleash power rivaling top-tier mutant beasts, and regenerate rapidly—surely there was a price.

The most reasonable explanation: its metabolism was tens of thousands of times faster than normal.

Rapid metabolism granted explosive strength and regeneration, but drastically shortened the life cycle.

So the feeling that it was moving slower before wasn’t an illusion—it was nearing the end of its lifespan.

Ji Cheng’s gaze swept over the others: Zhang Lingfei was trembling, her pretty face drained of color, terrified; Tian Gang’s expression was frozen, as if someone were choking him; many others had lips parted, jaws clenched.

In that instant, inspiration struck. He raised his arms, gun steady, and ordered sternly, “Everyone, retreat.”

Retreat? The monster was blocking the passage—shouldn’t they keep searching for the second-stage genetic prototype…? They hesitated, but their bodies instinctively backed away step by step.

All casualties in the team so far had been because of this creature, leaving a deep shadow in the minds of the ability-users. Besides, they already had five genetic prototypes—who would risk their life now for someone else’s glory?

Centipede stepped back, staring at Ji Cheng. “What are you doing?”

He noticed Ji Cheng wasn’t retreating with the group, his tone incredulous.

Of course I’m showing off… Well, that’s secondary. Mainly, I want that identity card… Ji Cheng glanced at the terrifying clawed monster and said in an even lower, more serious voice, “Stop talking and retreat. I can feel it’s stronger than before!”

Centipede didn’t hesitate, running off without looking back.

“Why haven’t you left?” Ji Cheng nudged Luo Rao with his shoulder.

“I want to watch you fight,” she replied coyly.

You’ll be disappointed, I’m afraid.

Ji Cheng deliberately exhaled, aimed at the monster’s chest, and slowly tightened his finger on the trigger.

Before becoming an ability-user, just maintaining a proper shooting stance for this long would have been exhausting, and bullets would likely stray from minor muscle tremors.

But now, with his physical control, he could hit any target at this range with perfect precision.

Bang.

He didn’t hear the expected crack of breaking ribs. Instead, a wet squelch sounded as the spinning bullet churned through bodily fluids—the monster exploded into a mass of blood and gore.

Its once-tough exterior was now just a thin, wrinkled membrane. Fetid, filthy blood flooded the floor, soaking their shoes and sticking to their soles.

“That’s all it took?” Luo Rao’s wide eyes fixed on the corpse, her delicate face filled with disdain and confusion. She turned to Ji Cheng, “I think I’m tougher than it is.”

“You mean in terms of taking a beating…” Ji Cheng felt a chill down his back, glancing anxiously around. Thankfully, everyone else had left.

“Yeah.” Luo Rao’s lashes were long, her smile radiant. “Why?”

“It’s nothing—just, anything you say can be easily misunderstood.”

If her wild words reached others, he’d never escape the rumors. Instead of being remembered for his wisdom, courage, and leadership in capturing the second-stage genetic prototype, people would associate his name with all sorts of unsavory things.

“All right, all right. Now that it’s settled, I’m going to claim my spoils.” Ji Cheng shook his head, pulled his foot free from the sticky blood, and strode toward the monster’s body.

“Claim them? Is it tasty?” Luo Rao asked, startled.

“I’m after something it has. Also, fire a few shots for me—make it sound like there’s a fight going on.” Ji Cheng handed her the Blackrock K-90.

He’d been eyeing the possible identity card.

Ji Cheng rummaged for a while, then stopped, frowning.

“It’s not here. How can that be?”

“What’s not here?” Luo Rao asked, firing the gun as instructed.

Ji Cheng stared at the tactical waist pack he’d extracted from the membrane. Its contents were just chemical reagents and small tools; the hard compartment for valuables held only a blue researcher’s identity card.

It was certainly Pang Weiwei’s monster, but not only did it lack the high-level access card he’d expected, even the advanced energy crystal mines were missing.

“How did she get in, then?” Ji Cheng felt his intelligence was failing him.

……

Central area, main hive.

The instruments and screens beeped incessantly.

It was like a giant’s chamber, vast beyond sight.

Enormous glass columns, requiring four or five people to encircle, stretched from floor to ceiling, arrayed in rows and columns, endlessly extending forward. Inside, transparent liquid immersed all sorts of bizarre plants.

The walls, as tall as a man, were lined with shadowless lamps, flooding the room with light, but even so, the depths remained unseen—the far end was pure darkness.

A phantom-like boy stood atop a central round pedestal, speaking rapidly:

“Failed to retrieve the full roster of second-stage genetic prototypes. Access still insufficient.”