Warning, Chaos

After the entire comprehensive academic report ended, Tang Yuyang, who had been somewhat distracted and hadn't listened very carefully, finally stood up, feeling that he had indeed gained a lot.

Carrying the "research recommendations" that made one's scalp tingle, he followed a group of base research talents of all kinds, from young to old, from black hair to white hair and even bald, as they exited the venue in an orderly manner from various entrances.

He made several turns along the way, with laboratory domes and green atriums scattered around him. After passing through several suspended glass platforms, he tapped on his assistant-level electronic verification card and swiped his fingerprint to pass the access control verification.

With a soft electronic beep, the smart locks separating the two areas opened automatically.

These "outsiders," who had only recently arrived, mainly interacted with the area currently occupied by the majority of the base's personnel, and the relatively less important primary work area behind him, which he had just stepped out of.

He had only been back in the living area for a short while, and was still thinking about whether to visit his parents in the family quarters later, when someone reached out and blocked his way near his personal dormitory.

"Yuyang, just a moment, just a moment."

The bald, middle-aged man standing by the roadside, still showing signs of panting, was also an old acquaintance of Tang Yuyang.

Everyone usually calls him "Director Lao". He probably has a research background, but he later switched to administration, where he is responsible for coordinating with the corresponding user groups. He is very amiable and everyone gets along quite well with him.

When we met today, he wasn't wearing his usual white lab coat. Instead, he was wearing a casual long-sleeved shirt with a loose collar, and his face was covered in sweat, indicating that he wasn't working.

"What's wrong, Director Lao?"

Since the other party took the initiative to speak, and it seemed like there was something else going on, Tang Yuyang naturally stopped as well.

His gaze swept briefly over the young man, or more precisely, paused slightly on the document tucked between the young man's waist and his hand.

I looked at it carefully for a moment.

Director Lao shook his head helplessly, his expression a mix of composure and a hint of bitterness, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor at work.

"Yuyang, you've been making quite a splash these past few days. Even people from other bases contacted us yesterday, subtly inquiring if we have a talent like you that they'd like to poach."

"Ah?"

Tang Yuyang didn't quite understand what the other person meant, and only uttered a questioning syllable.

Seeing the young man's somewhat bewildered expression, Director Lao's eyes also became complicated.

"Xiao Tang, you're a really good person, really. So, from a personal perspective, I wanted to give you a little reminder."

He took two steps closer, his voice extremely low.

"It's best not to get too close to any particular group, not even those elderly people who do scientific research; it could have a negative impact."

"Especially since they themselves may not have that much ulterior motive, but you have to understand, there are always some people who can indirectly influence these old scholars through roundabout means. And what those people are thinking behind the scenes is really hard to say."

"In short, just remember this: handle business strictly."

"Alright, I should go back to my workout now. You go ahead and do your own thing."

Laughing, the bald, middle-aged director stretched his body and walked over to the nearby fixed public exercise equipment, as if he had just run into an acquaintance after resting for a while and was exchanging a few casual greetings.

Tang Yuyang, who was left somewhat bewildered, stared intently at the top of his head, as if trying to see something extraordinary about it.

After Tang Yuyang's figure completely disappeared around the corner, Director Lao, who was struggling to hang from the horizontal bar, finally let go, panting heavily, and fell back to the ground.

As he rubbed his arm, an aged voice came through the tiny earpiece in his ear, "Is that the young man surnamed Tang?"

"Right."

"He's quite good-looking, with a bit of the impetuousness I had when I was young. He's also relatively clean-cut. It's a shame he got involved in those messy things."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Keep a close eye on him, don't let this young man go astray and get trapped. Staying in this base is safer than outside for now."

Walking up to the stretching machine, Director Lao gripped the horizontal bar with both hands to stretch his chest and back, while still talking in a low voice.

What's going on outside?

"Everything in the base must be done according to rules and regulations, as is clearly stated. But outside—" a cryptic chuckle came through the earpiece, "A lot of people are getting more and more involved, and more and more shameless."

"It's all a mess now."

"How many people can really sit still? Take it slow, what else can you do at a time like this?"

In fact, as the old voice in the communication said, "everywhere" is a mess.

The difference is simply that some people are in a state of utter confusion, while others are as cold-hearted as a fish that has been killed at RT-Mart for ten years.

The cold wind that came after nightfall was mercilessly kept out of the warehouse's corrugated iron walls, while inside, the air was thick with the smell of tobacco, old items, and a faint, almost imperceptible odor of cheap alcohol.

The spacious area was illuminated by a few emergency lights "borrowed" from the construction site.

Several people were now arranged around the perimeter, with Ethan Flores, who sat in the center on a relatively intact old sofa, exuding a godfather-like aura.

He even had an unlit cigar clutched in his hand, his dark face showing no extra reaction.

As for the few people standing in front of them, their expressions varied, some showing awe, some fawning, and others barely concealing fear.

Each person said one or two sentences.

"Boss, Skinny Monkey's people have already backed down and agreed to give up the reclamation rights to the area near the riverbank, on the condition that their men don't starve to death."

"The Latin Gang from the next block sent someone to say they want to talk to you about the border issue; they don't want any trouble."

"----All the management fees collected this week are here."

A rather gaunt man respectfully presented a bulging canvas bag, which was first carefully inspected by "Old Panko," the gang leader next to him, until it was confirmed that there was nothing unusual inside, before being placed on the table in front of the sofa.

Through the unzipped opening, one could clearly see a large amount of loose banknotes, and even some gold and silver items and decorative objects of considerable value as compensation.

Ethan didn't rush to speak, but simply scanned the canvas bag with his large, clear eyes, and then at the person who was speaking.

The man immediately fell silent, a light sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead.

He reached out his hand, but the black man didn't take the bag. Instead, he casually tapped a rusty iron frame next to him with his index finger.

With a soft "poof" sound.

The fingertip touched the rust, leaving a clear, small dent, as if it had been made by a blunt chisel.

But that finger, which was clearly made of human flesh and blood, was completely unharmed.

In the dimly lit warehouse, no one could clearly see that the fingers briefly flashed with an almost imperceptible metallic sheen at the moment of contact.

Only the few who were reporting paused for a moment.

"Remember, aside from the established shops in your area, don't let other shops just give you things as payment. These dropouts have a hard time discerning the true value of things. If you try to fool them—"

He didn't finish speaking; his gaze slowly swept across the faces of everyone present.

Those who were met with that gaze either nodded slightly or lowered their heads to avoid eye contact.