88: Chapter 88 Legendary Tremor

"Please come to collect them."

Inside the Mental Link, the dark red pulse of the Brute brightened to its maximum.

Yan Zheng lay behind the freezer, his ear pressed against the icy surface; gunfire came from the direction of the door, with a rhythm of three-round bursts and a two-second interval for magazine changes—a disciplined, standard tactical shooting pattern.

Three security guards had already advanced from the corridor into the cold storage.

The white mist was too thick, affecting their aim; the Impact points were scattered between the cabinets and tanks, failing to form an effective suppression.

But the distance was closing.

From fifteen meters to ten meters.

Any closer, and there would be no need to aim.

Yan Zheng's hand remained pressed on the last freezer.

[Collecting Ability Gene... Progress 96%...]

"Four seconds."

Bullets shattered the temperature control display on top of the cabinet, and plastic shards and circuit board debris fell onto his shoulder; one piece grazed the back of his neck, leaving a shallow sting and a sensation of moisture.

"Three seconds."

The security guard in the lead leaned out half his body, his flashlight beam piercing the white mist and sweeping over the position where Yan Zheng was hiding.

"Target spotted! Behind the cabinet!"

"Two seconds."

[Collection complete.]

Yan Zheng withdrew his hand and rolled out from behind the cabinet to the side, his shoulder colliding with the liquid nitrogen tank rack next to it; the tank wobbled, and the release valve at the top sprayed out a stream of white gas, perfectly blocking the view between him and the security guards.

"One second."

Yan Zheng: (˵ ꐦ ✧ ꈊ ✧ ˵)

A structural boom echoed from the direction of the stairs.

It was not gunfire, nor was it an explosion; it was the pure physical Impact generated when a 2.3-meter petrified body collided with the metal fire door.

The door frame deformed.

The hinges snapped.

The entire fire door, along with the frame, was pushed down into the corridor; the sound of the metal door panel slamming into the floor traveled far along the pipe system of the third underground level, the echoes layering three times before dissipating.

The Stitched Brute stepped in through the doorway.

Its 2.3-meter cross-section almost filled the width of the corridor; the dark red inscriptions on its Petrified Scales pulsed slowly under the emergency lights, and its dual-colored phosphorus fire flickered alternately in blue and red, like two signal lights embedded in an abyss.

The three security guards turned around.

The flashlight beams hit the Brute, but most of the light was swallowed by the rough texture of the stone armor, with only a few strands of dark red light refracting from the grooves of the inscriptions.

"What is that?!"

"Fire!"

Both rifles turned simultaneously, muzzle flashes exploding into orange light clusters within the white mist, and the sound of falling shell casings merged into a dense stream.

Bullets struck the Brute's chest.

Sparks flew off.

Bullet heads deformed.

The inscriptions on the surface of the Petrified Scales lit up for a split second, and the bullets left shallow white scratches on the armor, not even causing cracks.

The Brute did not stop.

Its right arm swung out, its speed mismatched with its size, so fast that the leading security guard only had time to lean back halfway.

The stone fist smashed into the bulletproof vest on the security guard's chest.

The vest didn't shatter, but the person wearing it was pushed back, their entire back slamming into the corridor wall; the concrete wall cracked in a radial pattern, the person embedded half an inch into it, their handgun flew from their hand, and the rifle sling snapped.

The second security guard dodged the Brute's left-arm sweep by sidestepping, retreated two steps, and pulled a grenade from their waist.

Pulling the pin.

Throwing it.

The military grenade bounced once half a meter in front of the Brute's feet and rolled under its petrified arch.

Yan Zheng yelled from behind the freezer.

"Mr. Brute, watch your feet."

The Brute looked down.

It was too late.

The sound of the explosion filled the entire corridor.

The Impact pushed all the white mist away, the temperature rose sharply near the blast point, and Yan Zheng felt the heat wave pouring in through the gaps between the cabinets; it was scalding.

Shrapnel hit the outer wall of the freezer, the metallic clinking forming a continuous string.

After the smoke cleared, the Brute retreated two steps.

Its left foot crushed a floor tile, its right knee was slightly bent, and a finger-wide crack appeared on the stone armor on its chest; deep within the crack, dark red light flowed, like magma suppressed by a thin shell.

But it was still standing.

Yan Zheng: (ꐦ ˘ ᗜ ˘)

"Mr. Brute, the medical report indicates a minor hairline fracture."

"I suggest you put the bill on that bomber."

The Brute turned toward the second security guard who had thrown the grenade.

The security guard stepped back, their hand reaching toward their waist.

There was no second grenade.

The Brute's right fist smashed down in a vertical trajectory; the security guard raised their rifle to block, but the rifle bent in the middle, and the fist didn't stop, slamming the person—along with the bent rifle—into a crack in the floor.

The third security guard turned and ran.

The Brute pursued for two steps.

Yan Zheng did not issue a pursuit order.

"Let him run."

"There is still Mr. Knight upstairs to receive him."

He stood up from behind the freezer, brushed the ice crystals and debris off his jacket, pushed up his crooked gold-rimmed glasses, and looked around the cold storage.

Nine samples had already been collected into the system.

Ice Crystallization Gene, Bone Liquefaction Gene, Electric Gland Gene, and six other pieces of low-level Mutant tissue of varying quality.

But the most important one had not yet been obtained.

"X-23-07."

Yan Zheng walked to the deepest part of the cold storage.

There was an independent partition wall there, and behind the wall was a reinforced safe, embedded in a concrete base, with a serial number label stuck on the cabinet door.

X-23 / SAMPLE-7.

There was a password keypad and a fingerprint verification area on the door.

Yan Zheng tried placing his hand on the fingerprint area.

[Verification failed. Unauthorized personnel.]

He glanced at the password keypad again.

A sixteen-digit password.

Yan Zheng: (˵ ꐦ ≖ ω ≖ ˵)

"Mr. Brute."

The Brute walked back from the corridor, its footsteps heavy, making the cabinets vibrate slightly with every step.

"Please help me open the cabinet door."

The Brute walked to the safe, tilted its head, and its dual-colored phosphorus fire swept across the cabinet surface in the darkness.

It extended both hands, its ten petrified fingers hooking onto the edge of the door.

The metal creaked.

The hinge bearings deformed under the immense force; the sound came from inside the door, dull and continuous—the distinct tearing sound of metal fatigue before snapping.

The inscriptions on the Brute's shoulder armor lit up for half a second.

The door was ripped off in one piece.

Hinge fragments flew out two meters, clinking on the floor and bouncing twice.

Cold air gushed out from inside the cabinet, even lower than the ambient temperature of the cold storage, burrowing against Yan Zheng's gloves toward his fingertips.

There was only one thing inside the cabinet.

A titanium alloy cryogenic container.

Cylindrical, about thirty centimeters long and fifteen centimeters in diameter, the surface was polished extremely smooth, and the alloy texture shimmered with a silver-gray luster under the emergency lights.

Four labels were stuck to the outer wall of the container, with the numbers overlapping; the bottom one had already yellowed, while the ink on the top one was still fresh.

Yan Zheng lifted the container out.

Heavy.

Much heavier than it looked.

He pressed the release button on the side of the container, the top lid popped open, and cold air shot out from the gap like a white snake.

Inside the container was embedded cushioning gel.

In the center of the gel lay a small fragment of bone.

The size of a knuckle, irregular in shape, with sharp edges.

The color was silver-gray.

Metallic luster.

Not the color bone should have.

Yan Zheng's gloved fingertips touched the surface of the fragment; it felt ice-cold, its hardness far exceeding normal bone tissue, and his fingernails left no marks when dragged across it.

The system panel popped up in the center of his vision.

The font was larger than any time before.

[X-23 Project sample scan complete.]

[Sample Attributes: adamantium symbiotic bone fragment + Super Healing Factor (Advanced).]

[Material Quality Assessment: Legendary.]

[Warning: This material contains high-density alloy components, requiring additional Mental Power consumption to collect. Estimated consumption: 33% of current total Mental Power.]

[Collect?]

Yan Zheng: (˵ ꐦ ✦ ᴗ ✦ ˵)

He did not hesitate.

"Collect."

Undead Energy poured from his palm into the surface of the fragment.

His Mental Power plummeted like a cliff, a tearing, throbbing pain came from both sides of his temples, the edges of his vision blurred for half a second, and the ringing in his ears sounded like someone playing a cello inside his brain.

The control precision of the Brute dropped a notch; its right shoulder shook, and the brightness of the Petrified Scales inscriptions dimmed.

The pulses of No. 4 and No. 6 also weakened.

Yan Zheng gritted his teeth, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth; his mouth was filled with the taste of blood and cold iron.

Three seconds.

The fragment disappeared from the container.

[Collection complete.]

[Legendary material entered into the gene bank. adamantium symbiotic structure and Super Healing Factor unlocked in independent storage area.]

Yan Zheng held onto the edge of the safe and stood for two seconds, waiting for the headache to subside for the most part.

Then he smiled.

White mist filled the cold storage, the emergency lights dyed the background dark red, ice crystals hung from his eyebrows and collar, one temple of his gold-rimmed glasses was crooked, but his mouth curved into the most genuine arc of the night.

"Mr. Brute."

"Tonight's unboxing session was worth it."