Chapter Seventy-Five: The Laboratory

Li Daoran stood on high ground, gazing at the distant entrance to an underground laboratory. It was one of the most concealed facilities in the White Deer Republic, and though he was not yet clear on its specific research, it was obvious that uninvited guests had arrived.

More than a dozen soldiers clad in black military uniforms, goggles on their heads and energy weapons in their hands, stood guard at the laboratory’s entrance.

This lab was the nearest green cluster on the map to Li Daoran, but it was clear that this cluster was no longer safe.

“What do we do?” Li Daoran whispered.

“Let’s observe for now. Why are soldiers from the Philid Empire here? Strange.” Chen Ming replied. In their eyes, the lab’s location was extremely secluded and seemed to hold little strategic value, far from the main battlefield. It should have been safe.

Li Daoran licked his slightly dry lips. Over a dozen soldiers without armor posed little threat to him at this moment; besides, he was hidden while the enemy was exposed. He felt a surge of anticipation.

“Looks like we could take them,” Li Daoran mused.

“Don’t rush. We don’t know what’s inside yet. Acting now is too risky. Besides, you’re only wearing an exoskeleton suit, not a true mech—no energy shield. It’s still too much of a gamble,” Chen Ming cautioned, though he too believed they could fight. Under his tutelage, Li Daoran was now more than capable of handling a dozen unarmored soldiers caught off guard.

They hadn’t waited long when the entrance came alive. An elderly man with graying hair was helped out by two young women who looked like students. Next came seven or eight middle-aged men, as well as over a dozen students, all shoved forward and immediately threatened with guns.

The old man glared angrily at the soldiers, but a voice from behind quelled his temper. Their lab, though modest, had housed two or three hundred people, but now, except for those remaining, all others had been killed by the butcher inside—or rather, that demon who toyed with human hearts using the vilest methods.

“Elder Yuan, there’s no need to quarrel with these ignorant soldiers, is there? Calm yourself.” The last to emerge was a soldier in the characteristic Philid Empire skin-exoskeleton armor; he was the company commander for this operation.

His name was Ichiki Okamoto, a lower-class citizen of the Philid Empire, dispatched to sweep the outer battlefield. Were it not for his status, his abilities would have earned him rapid promotion. Now, he had caught the eye of a powerful figure in the empire, which was why he had received this secret assignment. This is why the lower class flocked to the military: only there could they hope to break the chains of bloodline that bound them from birth.

Okamoto had stationed his men at the entrance not for defense, but for greater amusement. If Li Daoran had witnessed what had just occurred inside, his worldview might have been shattered, and more likely, he would have fought Okamoto to the death. After all, this was still being broadcast live; even an adult-only rating would not suffice for such carnage.

The vacant, despairing gazes of those emerging spoke volumes of the trauma they had endured.

Only Yuan Muye, half-buried in the earth by now and a leading scientist, still harbored thoughts of resistance. Yet he remained alive because of his concern for his students.

“I always knew Philid Empire skin was ugly, but this is just horrifying—worse than I imagined. It looks even more like excrement than excrement itself,” Li Daoran muttered as he zoomed in on Okamoto.

Sallow skin, speckled with green luminescent dots—entirely unappetizing. Truly, it was hideous.

But as Li Daoran mocked, Okamoto suddenly glanced in his direction, as if their eyes met, sending a chill through Li Daoran as if he’d been discovered.

“Hey, Chen Ming, I think I’ve been spotted,” Li Daoran whispered. This position had been hand-picked by Chen Ming; logically, it should have been undetectable.

“Just don’t move. As long as he doesn’t shoot, stay put. The guy’s got some skill, but he’s only a threat to rookies like you—just a few tricks,” Chen Ming replied.

“What tricks? It really felt like he saw me,” Li Daoran protested, recalling the unsettling eye contact.

“You’re at the best concealed spot—my usual choice, too. Sometimes there’s a lucky guess, because there are only a few optimal vantage points. He’s just running through the likely spots. Unless you move, you won’t be found. Stay still; your disruptor and light refraction are active. Watch—he’ll stare for a bit, then look to the next likely hiding place. Don’t panic; it’s just a little bluff,” Chen Ming said dismissively.

Chen Ming knew well—as a top soldier, finding counter-surveillance points was instinctive. This opponent, he admitted, had some skill.

As expected, after staring for a while, Okamoto shifted his gaze to another hilltop.

“See, just as you said. They’ve got hostages—what do we do now?” Li Daoran asked, seeing Okamoto act just as Chen Ming predicted.

“Don’t rush. Let’s think. With hostages, we can’t act recklessly. This isn’t a movie—saving them isn’t so simple. If they wanted to kill, it would take just seconds. Since they haven’t, we have time. We need a plan. Observe them, build profiles, find weaknesses, then decide. We must be thorough,” Chen Ming quickly cautioned, fearing Li Daoran might charge in.

Li Daoran nodded, but events below soon took another turn.

Suddenly, Okamoto drew his high-energy ion dagger and, with a swift motion, severed the head of the last person in line. Blood erupted a second later, spraying everywhere.

Li Daoran’s pupils contracted, and his hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

“Stay calm, Daoran. If you can’t handle it, pull back. Don’t be rash,” Chen Ming urged. Though he couldn’t see Li Daoran, even he was shaken by the brutality. This was a live broadcast—how could a young man bear to watch such horror?

Before Li Daoran could act on impulse, the elderly man below furiously berated Okamoto, clutching his chest.

A student, shocked by the sudden violence, clutched at the blood-soaked earth. Blood splattered into her eyes, mingling with tears as it ran down her face, streaking mud, blood, and tears together.

Yet the Philid Empire soldiers burst into boisterous laughter, unmoved, as if accustomed to such scenes. One soldier behind Yuan Muye even grabbed the hair of the girl supporting Yuan Muye, throwing her to the ground and pointing a gun at her. “Say another word, and she dies.”

The girl, her forehead swollen and bleeding from the blow, endured the pain in silence, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, but she uttered not a sound, staring defiantly down the barrel of the gun.