Cheng Feng, feeling quite resilient, stood up and said, “Take me over there to have a look.”
…
In a deep office on the basement level, a woman sat slumped against a desk, half-lying on the floor.
She had been shot several times in the chest, her clothes soaked in blood that had spread starkly across the floor. Her head hung low, her face concealed by long hair falling loosely on either side. An ID badge hung from her chest, clearly identifying her as a staff member of this research institute.
Everyone who could evacuate from the entire company had already left. She was the only one left behind, dying in such a brutal and agonizing manner, having endured what seemed like a punitive ordeal.
Sure enough, a system prompt popped up in San Yao, confirming that this NPC was the issuer of the rescue mission.
Cheng Feng picked up the optical computer on the floor and attempted to power it on.
The screen showed no response at all.
Song Zheng said speechlessly, “What are you thinking? There’s a huge hole in it – this optical computer has been shot through!”
“I thought it might still work,” Cheng Feng sighed. “San Yao really needs to step up its game.”
Song Zheng: “??” Is it really okay for you to say that right in front of San Yao?
He clasped his hands together and quickly bowed toward the empty air, murmuring, “The kid’s still young, not a member of the Alliance, doesn’t know any better – please don’t take offense.”
Cheng Feng laid the body flat on the floor. The woman’s limbs were already stiff; Cheng Feng pressed down but couldn’t move them, and not daring to use too much force, had to prop her back up.
Song Zheng crouched down and asked softly, “Could there be any clues on her?”
Cheng Feng said, “Nothing too important. The other side would have checked thoroughly before leaving.”
As she breathed, she could still feel a dull ache in her chest. Frowning, she braced herself against her knees and stood up, beginning to search every corner of the room.
Probably due to the haste of their evacuation, the other party had only destroyed the stored data and some experimental documents.
From the coat hanging on the back of an office chair, Cheng Feng found a wristband imprinted with an unknown code.
Not knowing what it represented, she casually tucked it into her pocket.
Then, from another pocket, she pulled out a handwritten note that briefly described the possible symptoms caused by this virus.
Apart from what Cheng Feng was currently experiencing – “difficulty healing wounds and blood coagulation dysfunction” – the most obvious and common symptoms were “skin erosion and immune system disorders.”
Cheng Feng thought of the patients she had encountered on the road and felt that the word “erosion” was by no means an exaggeration.
According to the note, the most terrifying aspect of this virus was its rapid rate of reproduction and transmission, compounded by the fact that existing medications and medical treatments were largely ineffective.
Although the virus didn’t cause immediate, pronounced symptoms in the short term, it would gradually cripple the body’s immune system.
Once the skin began to ulcerate, the human body would become an ideal petri dish for the virus, allowing many bacteria or fungal spores – typically harmless to people – to proliferate rapidly, ultimately leading to the patient’s death.
Hence, the virus was named “Whale Fall.”
The note ended with a heartfelt reminder: avoid injury, as wounds are highly susceptible to infection and difficult to treat.
Cheng Feng knew that too.
If it could be avoided, who would want to get hurt? Only a very small number of people in this world are twisted enough to seek it out.
…Probably most of them are concentrated in this very institute.
Cheng Feng crumpled the paper into a ball, clenched it tightly in her palm, and then tossed it aside.
What a bunch of lunatics.
Song Zheng went over, picked up the crumpled ball, tried unsuccessfully to smooth it out, then roughly stuffed it into his own pocket. “Sis, how can you just discard evidence like that?”
Cheng Feng: “??” This was at best junk information, or more euphemistically, browsing history.
Song Zheng muttered to himself and continued to stuff other not-yet-destroyed documents into his bag as if they were treasures.
Cheng Feng was silent for a moment, then looked away.
People like him… didn’t they understand the concept of data bloat? A data hoarding habit was considered a defect among robots.
Cheng Feng was about to alert Shen Dan about the virus situation. She pressed the switch on her headset, but before she could even speak after the signal connected, a roar came through from the other side, so familiar it felt like a blast from the past.
“Fill in! Don’t let them out!”
“Don’t chicken out in the gunfight! They’re only pushing hard because they see you backing off! Worst case, it’s a trade! Li Qing, grab their box! Shen Dan, cover from the right!”
Shen Dan noticed the incoming call and asked curtly, “Something up?”
Cheng Feng said, “…You guys go ahead and fight first.”
…
Shen Dan and the others had reached the third level and hadn’t gone far when they ran headlong into the opposing team’s evacuation unit.
The cooperation among these sophomores was fairly seamless. Bolstered by the warning cries from Cheng Feng’s team earlier, they quickly spread out upon making contact, found cover, and laid down suppressing fire.
Shen Dan stayed behind the group, occasionally peeking out to survey the interior, refining their map of the area while coordinating the team’s movements.
“They’re carrying a large case,” Shen Dan reported. “The person behind that desk diagonally opposite. He’s trying to leave. Li Qing, focus on sealing the exit.”
“Got it!” Li Qing responded crisply. Observing the shadow cast on the ground, he could tell their target had no intention of fighting and was just carefully edging toward the exit. He asked, “Could the case contain the vaccine? It looks that precious.”
Another teammate inquired, “Can we shoot the case?”
Shen Dan assessed the material of the briefcase and said, “Switch to air guns, fire away.”
Li Qing exclaimed, “Huh? I didn’t bring mine!”
Shen Dan replied, “Regular guns might work too, but the impact might not be enough. Just make your shots count.”
“You say that,” Li Qing remarked with a tone of supreme confidence, “but if I couldn’t shoot straight, I wouldn’t have made the team.”
His voice trailed off towards the end as he squinted one eye, focusing intently on his target.
The target had moved to the edge of their cover, the corner of their cap barely visible behind a white desk. Seizing a brief lull in the heavy gunfire, they tensed their muscles, poised to make a dash for the doorway.
They shot forward like a blur, body turned sideways and back arched in a posture designed to be hard to hit.
Li Qing fired rapidly. In a flash, a shot struck the target’s thigh, immediately followed by another bullet that pierced clean through their arm.
The target crumpled to the ground, their elbow slamming hard against the floor from the momentum with a loud crack, yet they still clutched the case tightly in their hand.
Li Qing clicked his tongue in frustration. The villain’s health bar was just way too thick.
From an angle, one of the senior students leaped out, kicking the case with a flying side kick and sending it skidding into the middle of the corridor. The moment he pulled his leg back, his expression shifted, lips turning down in a grimace of agony.
“Damn it!” The young man hissed in pain, sucking in sharp breaths, but still managed to fire off a few covering shots before limping heavily back, yelling, “That hurts like hell!”
From another direction, a continuous volley of bullets came flying, passing the case along like a hot potato, pushing it closer to Shen Dan’s hiding spot.
“Nice one.”
Shen Dan offered her teammate a perfunctory praise as she reached out for it. Just as her fingers were about to touch the surface of the case, she abruptly heard a faint moan from inside.
That tiny sound startled Shen Dan so much she nearly kicked the case back. She took a step back, and seeing that no one had noticed, she silently moved forward and pulled it back toward herself.
“It’s heavy,” Shen Dan said, her expression darkening. “There’s something alive inside.” That sound, mixed in with the background noise, had been too indistinct to make out specific syllables or identify what kind of creature it was.
Shen Dan moved the case to a safe corner and fired a few shots at the lock from above. Bullets ricocheted like sparks, but after the smoke cleared, the lock was only slightly dented, still as sturdy as ever.
“Can’t open it. Need an access card. What exactly is inside?” Shen Dan had a suspicion but hesitated to confirm it. She tapped the case with her knuckle.
This time, being closer, she heard it clearly – a faint, muffled “hurts.”
“A person!” Shen Dan’s tone shifted, and her usually half-lidded eyes opened wider. “There’s a person inside!”
Li Qing cursed under his breath, “They really are a bunch of lunatics!”
With the case snatched away, the opposition grew visibly agitated, some even recklessly charging out from cover.
Shen Dan glanced around, shoved the case into the gap under a desk, and squeezed in after it.
The senior students seized the opportunity, gritted their teeth, and rushed out, sweeping away the remaining opposition in a burst of gunfire.
“They’re not that tough after all. How did Cheng Feng and the others lose so many people?” Li Qing slung his submachine gun over his shoulder and said smugly, “Well, looks like all those meals over the past year weren’t for nothing. We seniors really are a cut above.”
They retrieved an access card from one of the bodies and tossed it to Shen Dan to open the case.
Shen Dan simply swiped the card, and after the internal locks clicked open, she immediately stepped back.
A hand pushed the lid open from inside, pausing hesitantly before slowly widening the gap.
Shen Dan’s eyebrow twitched slightly.
Inside was a frail adult woman, dressed in a loose, plain white short-sleeve shirt – the same attire as the patients they’d encountered on the road. She was curled up, limbs folded tightly to fit inside the case.
Sensing the light, her eyelids fluttered briefly before she struggled to open them. The first sight that greeted her was several dark gun barrels aimed directly at her.
“Can you get up?” Though she appeared harmless, Shen Dan still gestured toward the corner with her gun. “Sorry, but please cooperate and submit to a check.”
The woman looked dazed, her gaze unfocused. Having likely been cramped in one position for too long, she couldn’t move at first.
Shen Dan stepped forward, took her arm, and helped her up, patiently waiting for her to adjust. Only when the woman could stand on her own did Shen Dan release her and carefully pat her down.
She had nothing on her – just a wristband and the patient’s uniform.
Shen Dan gave an all-clear signal, and the young men finally lowered their guns.
“Who are you?”
“I… I’m the antibody?” The woman licked her dry lips. “I’m the antibody. Please don’t kill me.”
