A Major Incident

The city itself was still asleep in darkness, left to neon signs and streetlamps to embellish and paint it over. The urban glow-mist spilled into the sky as well, illuminating clouds that carried an ominous air.

The Earthquake Cloud had yet to disperse. Thankfully, the crows were still sleeping in the roadside trees, preserving the quiet that belonged to the early morning.

In a large tree near the high-rise apartments, Ink sensed something. It opened its eyes to watch Ronan run past beneath the tree, then closed them again and dozed off.

In a massive urban cluster like Xia City, skyscrapers were linked back and forth by maglev tracks, skybridges, green corridors, and moving walkways, like a dense forest tangled with leaves, branches, and vines.

Ronan was like a tiny insect, drinking in the morning dew as he trudged step by step through that forest.

His lips parted slightly, while his throat, mouth, and nasal cavity vibrated fully to produce a sound. At first listen, it resembled the buzzing of an insect's wings.

In truth, Ronan was repeatedly chanting the sixteen words, "My Heart is a Prison, My Heart is the Furnace; My Heart is the Mirror, My Heart is the Kingdom." Because the syllables flowed together in abbreviated reading and blended with his breathing rhythm, they formed that strange sound.

Occasionally, other early-morning runners passed him. Drawn by the sound, they turned to look at him. Ronan, however, remained focused on moving forward, keeping both his speed and rhythm within a relatively stable range.

After exercising continuously for an hour, Ronan turned onto a moving walkway to cross the broad gap between two skyscrapers. This was his scheduled "rest stop." His exercise paused, but his chanting did not.

His breathing was still fairly steady. The prolonged resonant vocalization had caused slight oxygen deprivation, leaving his skull faintly swollen and aching, but compared with the gradually accumulating and spreading effects of the drugs, it was child's play.

The psychoactive ingredients in the injection he had taken before leaving home were beginning to take effect one after another.

In fact, any normal person—including a longtime addict—would have their nervous system thrown into instant chaos after receiving such a dose of highly pure psychoactive compounds through intravenous injection. It would kill them in the shortest possible time.

Yet after more than five years and nearly two thousand sessions of gradually intensifying and constantly adjusted tolerance training, Ronan looked no different from an ordinary person, but the structure of his nervous system had undergone subtle yet profound changes.

He was still alive, and he carefully experienced every change in his body.

More than twenty psychoactive compounds broke through the barrier of the blood-brain barrier like over twenty invisible carving knives, selecting different target neurons for repeated modification and sculpting.

This "sculpting" was destined to be crude and violent.

The brain itself had no sense of pain, but under the effects of the drugs, the dozens or hundreds of neurotransmitters it secreted—dopamine, norepinephrine, glutamate, vasopressin, and others—released a tidal flood of signals. Carried through neurons, they acted upon every patch of skin, every organ, every corner of his body.

It was impossible to describe what that felt like, and Ronan did not want to try. All he could say was that it was far better than the early days, when his limbs convulsed, he lost control of his bladder and bowels, and even suffered heart and lung failure.

To alter the basic structure of the human body, inherited across countless generations, within just a few short years, a price had to be paid.

Ronan had long since accepted that.

He closed his eyes and focused even more intently on his chanting and breathing.

Ronan's Chanting Breathing had been passed down from his grandfather. Nominally, it was an "aid" to Drug Sculpting, but how could human will possibly control changes at the cellular and molecular level?

Thus, Ronan believed its primary function was to keep his mind focused and activate his Qi and Blood. Beyond that, it was the rather mystical practice of "contemplation."

With his eyes closed, the Regular Tetrahedron corresponding to the Sixteen-Word Incantation, along with its inscribed and circumscribed spheres, appeared clearly in Ronan's mind. They revolved layer upon layer around the center, as if right before his eyes.

About ten seconds later, Ronan opened his eyes and let out a long breath.

The Contemplation Graphic was running smoothly. Everything was fine.

The moving walkway had covered less than half its route. Ronan relaxed and surveyed the city at dawn. Not far away was one of Xia City's nightclub streets.

Many people said that Xia City's life only truly opened up after midnight, with dawn serving as the lingering afterglow. Daytime, meanwhile, was merely a mechanical recharging period. In this enormous, crowded metropolis, beneath every cluster of lights lay a playground where people released their pleasures. The most bustling nightclub districts were especially so.

Under the neon lights, a group of disheveled men and women stumbled out of a nightclub. One person in front slowed down slightly, the person behind crashed into them, and the whole group tumbled into a heap with a clatter, like writhing fat worms unable to crawl back up.

They were not angry. They simply shoved and pulled each other, laughing and giggling. They had clearly spent the entire night partying and exhausted all their strength, with only the excessive dopamine still traveling between their neurons.

They were so carefree and indulgent, as if declaring: Look, this is how young people are supposed to live!

Amid the chaos, a luxurious hovercar glided down the street in driverless mode and stopped nearby. Its classic butterfly doors opened with flair.

At last, one fairly tall man struggled up from the writhing bodies. During the process, he nearly kissed every woman around him. Amid his companions' laughing curses, he grabbed a long-legged woman beside him and half-dragged, half-carried her toward the car.

The nightclub street's neon lights happened to illuminate the man's face clearly, and Ronan happened to recognize him.

It's him... He'll make a good specimen.

Something stirred in Ronan's mind, and he observed the men and women more carefully. Half a minute later, the loose-leaf notebook he always carried came into use. With his Electronic Pen, he quickly sketched the rough outline of that area on the paper-like flexible screen.

The moving walkway carried Ronan for seventy-five seconds. After subtracting the time already spent, he only had a few dozen seconds left. Under his pen, only a rough draft of messy, crisscrossing lines took shape. He had no intention of continuing. When the walkway reached its end, he put away his pen, glanced down below, and left directly.

But when he turned his head, he saw that the man who had inspired him to draw had somehow noticed his presence. The man had raised his face and was staring blankly at him.

Their gazes crossed in the air. Ronan paid it no mind, continuing to chant the unbroken syllables that formed a wingbeat-like vibration as he resumed his morning exercise.

As for the faint noise drifting over from afar, he naturally filtered it out.

Xie Junping felt like he was going insane.

His throat-tearing shouts had done nothing. The figure on the moving walkway still left without even turning back.

The deadbeat friends and hookups at his feet were still giggling under the influence of stimulants. The Long Legs who had just seemed appealing in every way was hugging his waist with a silly grin, fumbling to undo his belt.

Xie Junping was really about to go insane.

"Get lost!"

He forcibly shoved Long Legs away and dove into the car. No matter how those idiots outside shouted, he locked the doors tight. At that moment, the Light Membrane contact lenses produced by Quantum Corporation performed a simple analysis of the data they had just collected and projected it onto his retina.

The "peeping tom" on the skybridge appeared in an instant snapshot, revealing a blurry side profile. Yet the "plum blossom and bamboo" school emblem of Zhi Xing Institute on his sportswear had been highlighted with a red box.

A moment later, the Phantom onboard Smart Brain also analyzed the surrounding environmental data automatically recorded by the security system. The results came back one after another.

They were far clearer than the hastily captured photograph, leaving no room for wishful thinking.

When Xie Junping saw that the hooded "peeping tom" was also holding a notebook and scribbling in it, he punched the steering wheel.

The hovercar honked. Some idiot outside who had been knocking on the window jumped backward in fright, but before his butt even hit the ground, the hovercar shot off with a roar.

He saw me. He saw me!

Xie Junping viciously smacked his own head. In another time and place, a sociable rich young master having a few problems in his private life would have been no big deal. But this was different.

According to the association's arrangements, he should have been in Mangzhong Satellite City, in charge of a post-disaster charity drive. He had indeed been in Mangzhong last night, but to attend the party, he had slipped away from the group and driven several hundred kilometers back to Xia City. He had planned to return immediately after the party, but who could have imagined that a student from his own school would catch him red-handed?

He was currently competing for the Elder Medal of the Honorary Association while trying to advance further in the school's Student Union. This was the crucial stage for establishing his "standing in the circle," as significant as an election.

By the standards expected of politicians, lying, breaking promises, and saying one thing while doing another were necessary qualities. But if they were exposed, it would be utterly... fatally stupid!

What was more, Xia City had been hit by continuous earthquakes. Human Hearts were unsettled, and everyone's psychological endurance was dropping. Things that normally would not matter might now become an issue; things that had once been minor might now become major incidents!

Yes, something huge had happened!

The car phone rang. It was one of those deadbeat friends. Xie Junping had left in too much of a hurry and forgotten to make arrangements for many things. He hurriedly answered, but before he could speak, Lian Yu's slurred, indistinct curse came through first.

"Xie Junping, you bastard!"

In the background came the strange laughter of those deadbeat friends.

Xie Junping closed his eyes. Right, he had actually forgotten... Lian Yu. That slut who had just tried to undo his belt already belonged to someone. Her official boyfriend was also a member of the Honorary Association!

"Fuck!"

Xie Junping slammed the steering wheel again, hard enough that even the onboard Smart Brain was about to issue him a warning. But after venting this time, he finally regained some clarity from his hangover and panic.

Calm down, calm down! As long as it doesn't get exposed online immediately, there's always a chance to salvage this.

He tried to keep his voice calm and said softly, "Lian Yu, go wash your face first. I need to talk to you..."

Lian Yu was still drunk. "Xie Junping, you—"

"Go wash your face, now!" Xie Junping roared, wishing he could shatter the car phone with his voice.

When an emperor was enraged, a million corpses lay fallen; when a common man was enraged, blood was shed within five steps!

However, the other end simply hung up decisively. Xie Junping could only be a common man in rage, banging his head against the wall...

Resting his head against the steering wheel, Xie Junping forced himself to calm down. He actually knew himself quite well. He knew he was more or less just an ordinary man, with mediocre intelligence and ability. All he had was his family background and connections to support him, plus perhaps a little social skill.

But how had he made it this far at Zhi Xing Institute, where talents were everywhere? Nothing more than being a qualified boss: offering suitable compensation and leaving professional matters to Professionals... Damn it, professionals!

Xie Junping slapped the steering wheel again. Why the hell was he getting tangled up with a woman like Lian Yu? Other than seducing men, where had she ever shown any professional competence?

Once his thoughts became clear, he immediately put Lian Yu out of his mind and dialed another number. The waiting ringtone was an exceptionally gentle female voice.

"Hello, Youlan Agency is at your service. Before nine a.m. and after five p.m. on workdays, as well as on all rest days and holidays, all services will be charged overtime fees. This is hereby announced. Thank you for your cooperation."

Xie Junping rolled his eyes.

A moment later, a bright, energetic voice completely different from the recording said, "Long time no see, Yang Gu."

Xie Junping was instantly defeated by that form of address. He wanted to protest but lacked the confidence, so he could only grit his teeth and say, "Yingying, right? Good morning. Is Boss Wu not there?"

"Huh? Are you sure you want to see Boss?"

"...No, no, you're fine. You're fine!" Xie Junping fiercely slapped his forehead. He had really drunk himself stupid today. Why was he arguing with this crazy girl?

"That's more like it. It's the same whether you tell me or her. Anyway, whoever it is, we're going to fleece you. Heh heh!"

Xie Junping wanted to eat the onboard computer, but this was not the time to fuss over such things. He could only get straight to the point. "I ran into some trouble today. I need your help dealing with it."

He described what had happened as quickly as possible and sent over the captured photos and video for further analysis.

Yingying responded quickly. "A peeping tom? Should I admire your imagination?"

"He wasn't taking pictures of us?"

"Standing on a moving walkway, waiting for you to come out of the nightclub, then taking snapshots?"

"Uh..." Xie Junping was suddenly at a loss for words.

Though she had shut him down sharply, Youlan's professionalism was beyond doubt. About half a minute later, Yingying sent him a set of location coordinates.

"Either way, verify it first. Ignoring complicated variables, if that person was merely passing through, he was probably out for an early-morning run. Today isn't a holiday, so his destination was most likely Zhi Xing Institute. Go wait here and see."

Xie Junping found that perfectly reasonable. He immediately turned the hovercar onto another maglev track and accelerated further. About five minutes later, he drove to the location Yingying had designated. It was an elevated pedestrian bridge in the high-tech Research Zone. The surroundings were excellent, and it was one of the main routes to the institute. Morning-running enthusiasts would find it hard to resist this route.

The hovercar stopped at the north end of the bridge, and then came the waiting. Xie Junping could not help feeling anxious. At that moment, a formatted profile appeared on his retina, personal information pulled from Zhi Xing Institute's Database.

The electronic photo showed a boy who looked quiet and introverted. He was fairly handsome, but there was no smile on his face.