101: Chapter 101 Dominant Plaka

Chen Feng approved Samantha's insane concept, causing the atmosphere within the command center to become somewhat peculiar.

Sarah had no feelings about that so-called "perfect soldier"; she only cared about the next target that needed to be eliminated.

Meanwhile, Chen Feng cast his gaze toward another screen thousands of miles away.

On the screen was the real-time surveillance feed of the Colombia branch.

...

In Colombia, the night was as dark as ink.

In the sultry rainforest, apart from the chirping of insects, there was only the monotonous hum of the generator.

Inside the makeshift command tent, Dr. Park stared intently at the surveillance screen in front of him. On the screen, a thin local man was meticulously moving heavy equipment crates.

His movements were precise and powerful, like a pre-programmed machine, with no unnecessary expression on his face.

Just twelve hours ago, this man was still a drug dealer in the interrogation room, cursing everyone with the foulest language.

But now, he had become the most obedient "worker" under Dr. Park.

"Perfect neural conduction replacement... direct control of the brainstem, bypassing the autonomous consciousness of the prefrontal cortex..." Dr. Park adjusted his glasses, muttering technical terms unconsciously.

In his eyes, one half was the obsession of seeing a breakthrough in frontier science, while the other half was an inescapable ethical struggle.

Was this still a human?

Or rather, was this just a tool wearing human skin?

He had created this tool with his own hands.

"Doctor."

The tent flap was lifted, and the security captain, Jonathan, walked in, bringing a wave of rainforest humidity and the smell of sweat with him. He slapped a file onto the table, his voice crisp and decisive.

"The new shipment has arrived. Here is the data."

Dr. Park shifted his gaze from the screen to the file. He did not reach for it immediately, but instead asked, " 'Volunteers'?"

Jonathan grinned, revealing a mouthful of white teeth. "Of course, they have all volunteered to contribute their insignificant strength to the great progress of humanity."

Dr. Park picked up the file in silence.

The profiles of the first four people were simple enough, nothing more than scumbags involved in drug manufacturing, trafficking, and murder.

When he turned to the last page, his fingers froze.

The man in the photo had a fleshy face with a hideous scar extending from the corner of his left eye all the way to his chin, his eyes as vicious as a hyena ready to devour its prey.

Codename: "Butcher."

His record was even bloodier than his face. A mid-level leader of a drug cartel, he had personally slaughtered two uncooperative villages and enjoyed torturing targets to death with blunt objects; there were over thirty recorded deaths at his hands.

"This 'Butcher,' " Jonathan pointed at the photo, his tone tinged with annoyance, "just used a razor blade hidden in his dentures to stab one of our brothers in the arm in the temporary holding cell. He was even clamoring about twisting off all our heads to use as chamber pots."

Dr. Park's eyes hardened.

He recalled the video Jonathan had shown him—the village chief who was tortured to death, the women and children lying in pools of blood.

A chill rose up Dr. Park's spine, freezing the residual academic sentimentality in his heart.

He slowly closed the folder, making a soft but distinct "click" sound.

"Jonathan."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Take that 'Butcher' to Lab One."

Jonathan paused for a moment, then revealed a knowing smile. "Understood."

Dr. Park watched his retreating back, then turned to his assistant, a young researcher who was also from MIT.

"Prepare for the implantation surgery of the 'Dominant-Type Plaga-Modified Type I'."

The assistant's face went pale. "Doctor, we've only experimented with that model on chimpanzees; the stability is still..."

"Now, we have the opportunity for human experimentation." Dr. Park interrupted him, his tone brooking no doubt. "Do as I say."

...

Lab One was brightly lit.

"Butcher" was tightly bound to the operating table with alloy restraints as thick as an arm, but he was still full of energy, spewing vicious curses in various languages, his spittle flying everywhere.

"Let me go! You yellow-skinned monkeys and white-skinned pigs! When I get out, I will definitely peel your skin off alive!"

"That four-eyed guy with the glasses! I've marked you! I will make you watch as I finish off your whole family!"

Dr. Park turned a deaf ear.

He put on a sterile surgical gown and latex gloves, his movements meticulous, as if he were not facing a living human being, but a frog waiting to be dissected.

From the assistant's cooler, he used tweezers to pick up an insect egg only the size of a grain of rice, which emitted a faint purple light.

This was the "Dominant-Type Plaga-Modified Type I."

Unlike the "Worker Bee-Type" he had implanted in the first test subject, this improved version would, after parasitism, retain a limited portion of the host's combat instincts and low-level intelligence.

It would not turn the host into a puppet that only obeyed simple commands.

It would turn the host into a more efficient, more intelligent weapon.

"Inject him with a sedative." Dr. Park ordered coldly.

"Ah—!"

As the sedative was injected, "Butcher's" curses turned into painful roars, but soon, his body went limp, leaving only heavy panting.

Dr. Park walked up to the operating table, held "Butcher's" nape with one hand, and held a specially made syringe in the other, aiming the needle precisely at the medulla oblongata.

This was the most dangerous, yet most effective method.

"Pfft."

With a soft sound.

The egg was precisely injected into the core life center of the human body.

"Ugh... hngh..."

"Butcher's" body arched violently, his muscles twitching as if struck by high-voltage electricity. Beneath his skin, it looked as if countless little snakes were scurrying, veins bulging one by one, and his eyeballs were almost popping out of their sockets.

This violent reaction lasted for a full minute.

Then, everything went quiet.

"Butcher's" body slumped back onto the operating table, and his heavy panting subsided.

In the laboratory, only the beeping of instruments remained.

The assistant watched the heart rate monitor nervously; the data on it had already returned to stability.

"Doctor... he..."

Dr. Park did not answer; he just watched "Butcher" silently.

The look in that man's eyes had changed.

It was no longer the vicious, violent look from before, nor had it become hollow and dead silent like the first test subject.

At this moment, a glimmer of something almost cunning flickered in his eyes, along with... an absolute, god-like submission.

Dr. Park stepped forward and personally undid the restraints on "Butcher's" wrists.

The assistant's heart jumped into his throat.

Dr. Park stepped back two paces and, in a tone that remained cold but carried a hint of strange power, issued the first command.

"Stand up."

That "Butcher" who had just been clamoring to kill everyone slowly and obediently sat up, then stepped off the operating table and stood barefoot on the cold floor.

His tall frame cast a shadow in front of Dr. Park.

But he only kept his head lowered, and in a voice that was still hoarse but devoid of any emotional fluctuation, he asked respectfully:

"Master, please issue your command."

"Master..."

Dr. Park chewed on the word, a shiver of mingled fear and power making him shudder.

He looked at this completely tamed monster before him, then remembered the four drug dealers outside waiting for "modification," as well as the countless "consumables" listed in the files.

A plan, bolder and even crazier than simply completing the boss's tasks, quietly sprouted in his mind like a newborn parasite.

If...

If he could turn all the "trash" in this rainforest into such obedient tools...

Then what he was building here would not just be a secret laboratory.

But a kingdom that belonged only to himself.