39: Chapter 39 The Dying Man in the Alley

Yan Zheng had already pulled a dark gray hoodie from his closet and put it on over his suit.

He took off his gold-rimmed glasses, stuffed them into his inner pocket, pulled up the hood, and zipped it up to his chin.

One hundred and eighty meters.

It only takes two minutes to walk there.

Yan Zheng: (ꐦ˘꒳˘)

"The Skeleton Soldier has to take a detour through the pipes, it will take at least eight minutes to arrive."

"A Mutant's survival time does not exceed thirty minutes, but the decay curve of gene collapse is exponential, and it will plummet in the last five minutes."

"Eight minutes is too slow."

He stood in front of the back door on the first floor, his hand resting on the doorknob, hesitating for three seconds.

Three seconds later, the door opened.

"Mr. Burns, your satellites shouldn't be watching a demoted Antique Shop owner going out to take out the trash at 11:00 PM."

Yan Zheng carried a bag of pre-prepared trash, went out the back door, and walked quickly along the back alley toward the southeast.

His pace was unhurried, his demeanor natural; he was just an insomniac shop owner coming out to throw away trash and taking a walk by the way.

Seventy meters.

One hundred meters.

One hundred and fifty meters.

In the Material Perception view, the flickering interval of that golden light spot had stretched from three seconds to five seconds.

Yan Zheng's pace accelerated involuntarily.

Turning a corner and passing through a narrow alley without streetlights, the end of the alley was a blind spot between two apartment buildings, where three walls enclosed a trash disposal area of less than ten square meters.

Yan Zheng stopped.

Yan Zheng: (ꉺ꒳ꉺ)

Beside the trash heap, a thin man was half-kneeling on the ground, one hand supporting himself against the wall, the other clutching his chest.

His skin was translucent.

It wasn't pale; it wasn't the white of blood loss, but a strange, translucent texture like ice cubes.

Light passed through his exposed forearm, and the blood vessels under the skin were clearly visible, with blue-purple veins and dark red arteries intertwined into a precise network.

The deeper muscle fibers and bone contours were also vaguely discernible, like a vivisection specimen, or a sculpture trapped in glass.

The liquid flowing in the blood vessels was glowing.

It was very faint, a pale golden fluorescence, spreading from the heart to the limbs, dimming with every beat.

"Sir?"

Yan Zheng crouched down, his tone as gentle as the most patient Doctor on duty in a late-night emergency room.

"Can you still hear me?"

The man's head slowly lifted.

His irises were also translucent, with fragmented golden light spots around the pupils, like an amber that was cracking.

"Don't... don't touch me..."

The voice was hoarse, weak as gossamer.

"My body is... is decomposing... you will be radiated if you touch it..."

Yan Zheng did not touch him, but the system panel had already completed a full scan.

[Target scan complete.]

[Race: Mutant. X-Gene type: Photon Absorption and Release (Intermediate-Advanced).]

[Current status: X-Gene chain broken, genome is undergoing an irreversible self-destruct program. Cells are disintegrating at a rate of 0.3% per minute.]

[Death countdown: approximately 5 minutes.]

[Material value assessment: Extremely high. Photon energy gene material (Quality: Rare), Reinforced Bone material × 1 (Quality: Excellent), Photon energy residue × 1.]

Yan Zheng: (✦ᴗ✦)

Photon Absorption and Release.

What would it mean if this X-Gene were integrated into an Undead Creation?

Ranged attack capability.

His undead army had been melee units from beginning to end; Brute used fists to smash, and Skeleton Soldier used bone claws to grab.

Once he had Photon energy-type material, the stitched undead could shoot beams of light from their fingertips, evaporating enemies from afar.

"Sir, may I ask what your name is?"

"No... it doesn't matter anymore..." The man's hand slid down from the wall, and his body began to tilt to the side.

"My genes... are out of control... no one can cure it... Professor X also... also said... this is the terminal stage..."

Yan Zheng reached out and supported his shoulder. Through the fabric of the hoodie, his palm could feel a faint burning sensation penetrating through.

It wasn't high, about forty degrees or so, not enough to burn.

"Sir, I am a Doctor." Yan Zheng told a gentle lie.

"Although I cannot save your life, I can guarantee you one thing."

The man's translucent eyes looked at him, the golden light spots in his pupils becoming increasingly shattered.

"Your talent will not be wasted."

Yan Zheng: (ˊ꒳ˋ)

The man seemed to want to say something; his lips moved twice, but no sound came out.

Four minutes.

Three and a half minutes.

Yan Zheng maintained the posture of supporting his shoulder, waiting quietly.

He was not doing a good deed; he was waiting for a corpse to cool down.

Just like a butcher waiting for a pig to bleed out its last drop of blood.

Three minutes.

Footsteps came from the other end of the alley.

Yan Zheng's spine straightened instantly.

Two black shadows slid silently out of the shadows at the alley entrance, landing as lightly as two black leaves blown by the wind.

Black tights, masks, short swords tucked at their waists.

Ninjas.

But the mark on their chests was different.

The Hand ninjas he had encountered before had a closed fist embroidered on their chests, representing the "Hand of the Black Sky".

These two people had an upright single eye embroidered on their chests, with dark red pupils.

"Shadow Eyes."

Yan Zheng quickly searched the fragmented intelligence he had pried from the mouth of that neck-broken ninja in his consciousness.

Shadow Eyes were the direct scout unit of Shadow head Nogami, specifically responsible for tracking and marking targets.

They weren't passing by by chance; they were here for this dying Mutant.

Yan Zheng: (ꐦ≖꒳≖)

The two ninjas saw Yan Zheng, who was crouching beside the Mutant.

They paused for half a second.

Then they drew their swords at the same time.

The sound of the short swords leaving their sheaths was particularly harsh in the deep night of the narrow alley, and the dark red blade light was one shade brighter than the ordinary ninjas he had encountered before.

No conversation, no warnings; drawing the sword meant killing.

Yan Zheng released The Hand supporting the Mutant's shoulder, stood up, and took two steps back.

"Number One, abort the collection mission, return at full speed, and come up from the number three drainage outlet on the east side."

As soon as the instruction in his consciousness was finished, Yan Zheng added another one.

"Brute, activate, come up from the emergency passage on the east wall of the Underground Room, target position 180 meters southeast, alley."

The two ninjas had already rushed within ten meters.

Yan Zheng pulled out the ninja short sword he had picked from the confiscated supplies from his hoodie pocket, not for a frontal confrontation, but to stall for time.

"Two minutes."

He counted silently in his heart.

"It takes two minutes for Brute to come up from the emergency passage."

"I just need to survive for two minutes."

The first ninja's blade had already reached his face, with an arc of dark red light slashing toward his throat.

Yan Zheng dodged sideways, his back hitting the brick wall of the alley, blocking with the short sword backhanded, and the sparks of metal collision exploded in the darkness.

The vibration from his wrist made the webbing between his thumb and index finger numb.

"Gentlemen."

The corners of Yan Zheng's mouth curled up in the shadow of the hood, panting but still polite in tone.

"The thing I hate most is cutting in line."

"I found this Mutant gentleman first, can we talk about first come, first served?"

The answer to him was a slash from the second ninja from the side.

Yan Zheng: (Ծ‸Ծ)

"It seems not."