87: Chapter 87 The Sampling Area's Rush Harvest
"Gentlemen, it's time for delivery."
Yan Zheng's voice still lingered in the corridor, but his feet had already stepped onto the metal floor of the third underground level.
Emergency red lights flashed from overhead every two seconds, causing the metal walls to alternate between light and shadow, turning rust stains and water marks into dark brown patches in the red glow.
The temperature was dropping.
The second underground level still had the damp, warm smell of disinfectant, but by the time he reached the stairs to the third level, cold air clung to his cheeks, carrying the dryness of evaporated liquid nitrogen and the rusty, fishy scent emanating from metal pipes.
Yan Zheng adjusted his glasses; the frames were ice-cold, seeping into his skin along the bridge of his nose.
The corridor split into two sides.
On the left were isolation rooms with observation windows on the iron doors, and shadows moved behind them.
At the end of the right corridor, a thick alloy door stood half-open, with white cold mist overflowing from the gap, spreading along the floor and tinted pale pink by the emergency lights.
The supervisor and two researchers had just gone inside.
Yan Zheng didn't look to the left.
The living subjects in the isolation rooms could wait.
The sample cabinets could not.
He strode quickly along the right corridor, his shoe soles striking the metal floor with short, rhythmic sounds, creating vortexes in the cold mist at his ankles.
He flipped a scalpel from his palm; the blade had no reflection, for the corridor was too dark.
Yan Zheng: ( κ¦ γ κ³ γ )
Behind the alloy door was a constant-temperature cold storage room.
The moment he pushed the door open, air at minus twenty degrees smashed into him, tightening the inner lining of his nasal cavity. His breath instantly turned into white mist, and a thin layer of frost hung on his eyebrows and eyelashes.
The cold storage was larger than he had expected.
Liquid nitrogen tanks lined both walls, their silver surfaces coated in white frost, the numbered stickers mostly covered by ice shards, revealing only blurred letters.
In the center were four rows of freezers, six units per row, heavy and thick. Some top indicator lights were green, still running, while others were red, having entered backup mode due to the power outage.
The cold chain had an independent circuit.
No. 6 hadn't touched this line, so the freezers were still alive.
Two researchers were squatting in front of the innermost freezer, frantically shoving things into a portable cooler.
One of them wore anti-freeze gloves that were too thick, making his movements clumsy. A sample tube slipped from between his fingers, clinking as it hit the floor and rolled to the foot of the cabinet.
"Hurry up!"
The other held three coolers stacked together, pinning the top one with his chin, his words half-swallowed by the white mist.
"Everything above is in chaos. We must evacuate from Channel B with the core samples within five minutes."
"How the hell are we supposed to finish packing in five minutes?"
The first researcher picked up the dropped sample tube, its surface coated in floor dust and ice shards. He wiped it with his sleeve and shoved it back into the box.
"Take the X-series and Batch No. 3 first. Forget the rest."
"What about the supervisor?"
"He went to open the safe. Never mind him, let's justβ"
Yan Zheng was already standing three meters behind them.
Yan Zheng: ( Λ΅ κ¦ β κ β Λ΅ )
When the first researcher turned, what he saw was a figure in a black jacket in the emergency red light, thin frost clinging to gold-rimmed glasses, the eyes behind the lenses devoid of warmth.
"Hello."
Yan Zheng's voice echoed briefly in the cold storage, the dry, cold air making every word sound brittle.
"Your packing efficiency is less than ideal. Would you like me to help?"
The researcher's mouth opened, but before his vocal cords could vibrate, Yan Zheng's right fist smashed into the side of his temple.
It wasn't a trained combat technique; it was the most direct blunt force strike.
The fist impacted the temporal bone, the vibration traveling from his knuckles to his wrist, the bones outlining clearly through the glove.
The researcher collapsed, his head knocking against the corner of the freezer with a dull thud, and he curled up into the shadow at the base of the cabinet, motionless.
The second researcher screamed and backed away, dropping the three coolers from his arms. The lids popped open, and sample tubes rolled all over the floor.
His hand reached for the wall.
There was a red button there, covered by a transparent plastic lid.
Emergency destruction.
Yan Zheng hadn't even had the chance to throw his scalpel.
The researcher flipped open the plastic lid and slammed his palm down.
"Go to hell! Nobody gets to take anything!"
The button sank.
A shrill buzzing sound erupted from the top of the cold storage, very close, vibrating against his scalp. Then, all the release valves on top of the liquid nitrogen tanks popped open.
White vapor sprayed from a dozen tank openings simultaneously. The temperature plummeted, and the moisture in the air instantly crystallized. Tiny ice particles struck his skin, stinging.
Yan Zheng: ( κ¦ β κ¦ )
"Idiot."
This was the first sentence Yan Zheng had spoken tonight without honorifics.
He didn't chase the researcher, instead pressing his hand against the nearest freezer.
His palm pressed against the metal panel; his glove stuck to the icy surface for half a second, and his fingertips felt a sharp pain when he pulled it away.
The system panel lit up in the corner of his vision.
[Identifying Mutant organization samples...]
[Ice Crystal Gene x1, Source: Low-level Mutant, Freezing-type ability user. Quality: Ordinary.]
[Collecting...]
The frost layer on the cabinet surface began to crack from the point where Yan Zheng's palm touched it, and Undead Energy seeped into the metal crevices, extracting the genetic information of the samples inside.
The freezer indicator light went out.
Yan Zheng moved to the second unit.
The liquid nitrogen fog grew thicker, reducing visibility to only two meters. White mist piled up along the floor, already rising above his calves.
The temperature was heading toward minus forty degrees.
Thick ice formed on the surface of his gloves, and he could hear the ice shells cracking when he bent his finger joints.
Breathing became difficult; every mouthful of air carried a blade-like coldness, scraping against his tracheal walls.
"Don't rush."
Yan Zheng muttered to himself, pressing his palm onto the second cabinet surface.
[Bone Liquefaction Gene x1, Source: Intermediate Mutant, Bone Reconstruction-type. Quality: Excellent.]
[Collecting...]
The second unit's light went out.
The third unit.
[Electric Shock Gland Gene x1, Source: Mutant, Bio-electricity-type ability user. Quality: Good.]
[Collecting...]
Yan Zheng: ( Λ΅ κ¦ β§ β β§ Λ΅ )
Three units.
The destruction program in the cold storage was still running, and the liquid nitrogen tanks were releasing gas faster and faster. The layer of ice on the floor was already half a finger thick; it was slippery underfoot.
The researcher who had pressed the button had managed to slip to the door and run away at some point.
Yan Zheng didn't pursue.
He squatted down, picking up the scattered sample tubes, pressing them one by one against his palm.
Some emitted genetic signals, while others were just ordinary frozen blood without Mutant characteristics.
"Not much time to be picky."
He collected everything he could identify and tossed the rest back onto the floor.
In the Mental Link, No. 5 sent a pulse from the direction of the corridor.
Someone was running.
Towards the stairwell.
The footsteps were heavy, each step accompanied by the sound of metal fasteners clashing.
Not researchers.
Armed security.
Yan Zheng looked up toward the entrance of the cold storage.
White mist overflowed from the door gap, and the emergency lights in the corridor refracted into a dark red halo through the fog.
The sound of guns being cocked came from behind the mist.
Crisp, cold, less than fifteen meters away.
"Stop right there! Raise your hands!"
"Get on the ground, or we'll shoot!"
The safeties of three rifles were switched off simultaneously.
Yan Zheng crouched behind a freezer, his left hand still pressed against a cabinet, the collection progress bar in the system panel at seventy percent.
He didn't raise his hands.
Yan Zheng: ( κ¦ Λ Ν Ο Λ Ν )
"Gentlemen."
His voice traveled out from deep within the white mist, the cold storage's echo giving every word a hollow tail.
"Please allow me to collect goods for two more minutes."
The rifles fired.
The gunfire exploded in the confined space, the sound source dense, the aim high. Bullets hit the tops of the freezers and the liquid nitrogen tanks.
A liquid nitrogen tank was pierced, a white column of gas jetting out from the bullet hole, dropping the temperature even further.
The freezer's steel plate was torn by bullets, leaving several jagged holes. Debris flew, striking Yan Zheng's side and shoulder. The pain was sharp and brief; his clothing was sliced open, and cold air poured into the wound.
Yan Zheng rolled behind another row of freezers, his knees hitting the ice, a dull pain radiating from his kneecap.
His hand did not leave the cabinet surface.
The system prompt was still flashing.
[Ability Gene collecting... Progress 89%...]
"Almost there."
Bullets swept across the top of the cabinet again.
A ricochet bounced off a tank, grazing Yan Zheng's ear. Hot air swept past his earlobe, and he experienced tinnitus for half a second.
Yan Zheng pressed his face against the cold cabinet wall; one temple of his gold-rimmed glasses had been knocked crooked by the impact, and he adjusted it with his free hand.
"Gentlemen."
He spoke to the Brute in the Mental Link.
"It's time for you to make an appearance."
"Also, tell Mr. Knight that the sample area is at the end of the right corridor on the third underground level."
"I've paid the entrance fee for them."
"Please come and collect the people."
π Text To Speech
Listen while reading