Lin Mo Three Years Later

What is more, he was still far from being a true Superman at present.

Over the past three years, Lin Mo had been brought to the surface quite a few times, because Vought initially wanted to research an ability like his that could absorb energy to grow stronger, but as time went on, the research still yielded no clues; the moment Lin Mo's cells left his body, they directly lost the ability to absorb radiation, at least in the eyes of the researchers.

Thus, he gained a fair amount of time to absorb Yellow Sun energy, yet because the research kept stagnating, the researchers recently reduced the time Lin Mo was allowed out in the sun, which made Lin Mo so angry he really wanted to curse those brainless idiots at Vought—if he ever found out who suggested cutting his sunbathing time, that person would be the very first one he carved up.

And ever since then, all the lighting fixtures in his long-term living area had been replaced with special light sources. Lin Mo discovered that these light sources were actually not much different from sunlight in essence, and could also provide minor boosts, but compared to real sunlight they were still too feeble, so he could only say it was better than nothing.

Having researched for so long, Vought did not know the true relationship between the yellow sun and his Kryptonian Bloodline, but they had also drawn conclusions through experimentation.

Natural light irradiation significantly increased the cellular activity of SOL-0, though as for the extent of the increase and whether a limit existed, the researchers were temporarily unable to determine.

Facing the unknown they could not control, Vought chose the most conservative method.

Restriction.

That meant reducing his light exposure time, causing his strength growth to become extremely slow.

His Super Hearing range was also limited to just the few nearby rooms.

Heat Vision, flight, Super Speed, X-ray vision, and the bio-electric field had still never truly awakened.

"Grip it."

A mechanical arm delivered a gray rubber ball.

Lin Mo reached out and gripped it.

"Gradually increase your force."

He began to tighten his fingers.

On the screen behind the wall, the strength reading slowly rose.

Fifty kilograms.

Eighty kilograms.

One hundred kilograms.

Upon reaching one hundred and fifty kilograms, Lin Mo deliberately furrowed his brow, and his arm also began to tremble slightly.

The rubber ball emitted a deforming sound under pressure.

"Stop."

Lin Mo immediately let go, panting a few times as if he could finally no longer hold on.

Inside the Observation Room, a researcher filled in data on a recording sheet.

"Upper-body strength is up 3.2 percent compared to last month."

"Still within the expected growth curve."

"No explosive growth has appeared."

Vogelbaum stood before the screen, watching that steadily rising curve.

In three years, Lin Mo had grown from an infant who could only block falling equipment into a test subject who could easily surpass an ordinary adult.

The growth rate was not particularly slow, yet compared to Vought's initial expectations, it still appeared far too stable.

No new abilities had emerged, no extractable cell samples existed, and no method to replicate his special defensive structure had been found.

"Still unable to replicate the cellular characteristics?"

Vogelbaum asked, looking at the experimental data.

"Conventional methods have all failed."

Barbara, the assistant, pulled up the latest results.

"We tried increasing the cutting temperature, and also switched to high-strength alloy instruments used in experiments with superpower users, but we can only leave a brief mark on the surface of his skin."

"What about fallen hair?"

"After leaving the body, the structure rapidly loses activity, showing no distinct difference from ordinary children's hair."

"Blood?"

"Stable collection is impossible."

Barbara paused, then continued speaking.

"From any angle, this looks no different from an ordinary child."

Vogelbaum furrowed his brow, looking at these data points, and for a moment he too was at a loss for where to begin.

SOL-0 was one of the most stable Compound V adapters Vought had ever produced, free of organ distortion, mental breakdown, and uncontrollable ability releases. He even lacked the growth pains and rejection reactions common among ordinary superpower users.

Judging by the results, he was nearly perfect.

Yet the more perfect he was, the more Researcher Vought could not understand; they were unable to analyze the deep tissue of his cells, unable to replicate his cells, and even unable to confirm just how much of an effect Compound V had ultimately had on him.

As the research entered its third year, it had gradually fallen into stagnation.

"Continue long-term observation."

"His abilities are still growing."

Since it cannot be duplicated right now, let's first determine what stage this growth will continue to, Vogelbaum finally said, looking at Lin Mo through the glass.

From now on, the scheduled time to take him to the surface remains unchanged... and also, take him to see that thing.

The conversation inside the Observation Room filtered intermittently through the walls and into Lin Mo's ears, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help curving slightly upward.

His hearing completely captured their conversation.

Long-term observation, continued testing, ability growth—these details were much as he had anticipated.

Lin Mo lowered his gaze to look at his hands, once again calling out to the system in his mind.

The system still gave no response.

For three years, he had tried calling out more than once: before sleep, after experiments ended, during brief exposure to anomalous energy, and even in the process of enduring high-voltage currents.

Yet the messages had always sunk like stones into the sea, and the interface in his mind remained pitch black.

The system that had thrown him into The Boys universe and given him a Kryptonian Bloodline seemed to have vanished completely.

If not for the very real existence of this indestructible body, Lin Mo would have even suspected that everything he heard three years ago was merely an illusion.

However, he no longer relied on the system; even without the system, he was still a Kryptonian.

As long as he could contact the sun again, his body would continue to grow. Moreover, the system hadn't given him an ordinary Kryptonian Bloodline, but a Superman bloodline comparable to Clark.

His potential was nearly infinite, and as long as he was given enough time, that would suffice.

His current goal was also clear: the most important thing wasn't rushing to leave, but surviving safely under Vought's nose.

He needed to constantly maintain a certain status—that his abilities were limited and his growth slow, or better yet, that he was worth continuing to invest resources into researching.

As for Vought researching the secrets on his body, Lin Mo could only say that Vought should go wash up and go to sleep; with just their technology trying to do research, if they really cracked the Kryptonian Bloodline on him, then his system could announce its retirement.

In Vought's eyes, he should be a child test subject with tremendous potential, temporarily controllable, and still immature in mind.

This identity could buy him a lot of time.

Today's checkup is over.

The voice came from the loudspeaker once again.

Lin Mo snapped out of his thoughts, feeling a lightness on his body as the restraints loosened. A caregiver walked into the room, preparing to take him back to his original living area.

Lin Mo looked up at the other person, only to find that today's routine seemed somewhat different.

After past checkups, he would go straight back to the single observation room.

There was a bed, a desk, toys, picture books, and a television that could only play Vought-filtered content. When necessary, he could also find his caregiver for help or to play.

Looked at this way, his treatment was much better than what Homelander had experienced as a child.

The room wasn't narrow, yet he was the only one in it.

Today, however, the caregiver didn't lead him toward the familiar corridor.

Instead, she stopped in front of the elevator.

Where are we going?

Lin Mo looked up, staring with wide eyes and preparing to act cute to see if he could pry any information out of her, and asked curiously on his own initiative.

The caregiver looked down at him, a gentle smile appearing on her face.

To a new place.

Why?

Because you've grown up.

The caregiver pressed the elevator button.

The company has decided to change you to a room better suited for a child's life.

Lin Mo tilted his head up and blinked.

On the surface, it looked as though he didn't fully understand her words, but in his heart, his vigilance spiked instantly.

Better suited for a child's life? When did Vought ever start caring about the living experience of test subjects?

He instantly remembered Vogelbaum's final words from earlier, which he hadn't taken to heart at the time. In this situation, he could only take things one step at a time; unless necessary, he didn't plan on upending the table just yet.

The elevator doors slowly opened.

The caregiver took him by the hand, stepped inside, and pressed the button for the seventh subterranean level.

That wasn't a floor he was familiar with; usually, he only lived around the sixth floor.

Lin Mo pretended to observe his surroundings with curiosity.

What's down there?

The caregiver replied:

Toys.

And what else?

Picture books, a Game Room... and other children.