“Your performance at Six Flags was impressive, and I hope to see something even more spectacular in the future,” Parsi smiled. “Some may want to erase you from the college’s roster, but those trying to protect you are also quite powerful. For now, neither side will have a decisive victory, so before that happens, give it your all.” He bowed slightly. “We’ll meet again, given the chance to have a private chat.”
Chu Zihang couldn’t stop him, even though he clearly knew that his blood sample must not be leaked. The surveillance of this special care unit was as tight as a prison, with steel layers in the walls and bulletproof glass. If it were possible, Norma would have placed cannons modified by the crazy Gear Department at the door to unload dozens of kilograms of bullets on anyone unauthorized. But this young man named Parsi had easily entered without any obstacles. Chu Zihang couldn’t exactly grab Parsi by the neck and yell for security.
Strangely, he didn’t feel a strong aversion to Parsi—not just because the young man seemed as gentle as a cat but also because there was a subtle sense of “we are the same kind of people” between them.
Even stranger, at first glance, one might get the impression that the person standing there was Caesar, although they didn’t look alike.
When the first rays of sunlight shone into the central control room, everyone in the news department looked exhausted like defeated dogs, but their eyes sparkled like stars.
They were destined to be legends in the history of paparazzi. Under the great leader Finger’s command, they had broken through all limits. Forget WikiLeaks and the Diana paparazzi chase; these accomplishments would seem like mere trivialities compared to their exploits tonight! The news department had gone all out, their connections with major media outlets reinforced under the direct guidance and earnest teachings of the Vice Principal. This team firmly believed that journalism could change the world, and over the years, they had accumulated vast media resources that were fully unleashed tonight.
They were confident that the investigation team would be shocked—or maybe enraged—or even brought to tears.
Finger waved his hand, “Wrap it up! Take everything we brought with us. Not a single piece of paper or storage device is allowed to leave this room! Not a word of what happened here tonight leaves this room!”
“Understood!”
Finger lowered his head and suddenly froze. A document had accidentally been pulled out from the college’s confidential folder—“Bloodline Records.”
He sneakily glanced left and right, humming a tune as he surreptitiously pressed the “Print” button. He then looked upwards, hands casually in his pockets, and strolled over to the printer, quietly rolling the printed document and tucking it into his pocket.
“Damn it! How could that secretary have entered the care unit without us knowing anything? Who gave him permission?” The Vice Principal, normally composed, was now pacing like an enraged bear who had its honey stolen.
In the morning, news from the care unit came that a nurse had encountered the secretary of the investigation team and even had a friendly conversation with him. The secretary had stated he was there to collect a blood sample and asked the nurse to let the Vice Principal know.
“How should I know? My authority at the college is the same as yours. I can even check what sleazy websites you’ve been visiting, but I found no record of the secretary entering the care unit. That room is sealed with all sorts of electronic locks, each one managed by Norma,” Anjou said, pouring himself a glass of gin. He added ice and lemon, making himself a simple dry martini.
“You, who’s been in such a rage, can stay so calm—I guess the blood sample taken by that secretary doesn’t pose a threat to us,” the Vice Principal said, stunned.
Anjou settled into the couch, gulping down his martini, “I said I would take care of the blood sample. We arranged a procedure to replace Chu Zihang’s blood. His entire blood was washed several times. For months, his bone marrow won’t produce sufficiently pure new blood. No matter how they analyze that sample, it won’t show any issues, because that sample isn’t his.”
“Seems like you managed to do something while ‘suffering from pharyngitis’ after all. One of life’s greatest joys is when allies aren’t fools,” the Vice Principal sighed in relief.
“The real sample of Chu Zihang’s blood.” Anjou handed the Vice Principal a sealed quartz glass vial. “As an alchemy enthusiast, I thought you might be interested.”
“Is this a blood sample? Are you sure you didn’t mix it up with cola?” The Vice Principal held the vial up to the light. Nobody would believe it was blood—it was a light black color, with tiny bubbles forming, gathering, and then bursting. It indeed looked like cola in a glass bottle.
“It was fresh and red when first drawn, but turned into this in just a few minutes. The container had trace amounts of human blood residue, which reacted violently with Chu Zihang’s blood,” Anjou said. “The reaction was quite intense—we had to use some advanced Gear Department equipment to suppress it. This blood is extremely active and only remains stable within Chu Zihang’s body. In other words, Chu Zihang is the only suitable vessel.”
“It definitely can’t be allowed to fall into the School Board’s hands. You wouldn’t even need a lab—just mix it with some pure human blood, and the problem would be evident,” the Vice Principal praised as he observed the vial. “This is truly an alchemical marvel. A hybrid, using his body as a vessel, conducting a high-level alchemical experiment, refining his blood towards a dragon’s blood! I’m genuinely moved by the reckless pursuit of research like this!”
“You’re right—it is reckless. We can’t determine when his blood will cross the critical threshold. The ‘Blood Rage’ skill has already severely damaged his body,” Anjou frowned.
The Vice Principal nodded, “Borrow your folding knife for a moment.”
Anjou took the folding knife from his sleeve and handed it over. The Vice Principal grabbed Anjou’s wrist and, with a flick of the knife, sliced his finger!
“Borrowing some more blood,” the Vice Principal said as he retrieved the knife, which now held a drop of blood.
Anjou resignedly applied pressure to stop the bleeding. “Couldn’t you have used your own blood?”
“Don’t be ridiculous—it hurts,” the Vice Principal said bluntly. He squeezed out a drop of cola-like black blood from the quartz vial and let it join the blood drop on the blade.
The two droplets moved on the blade like combatants forced into an arena. They slowly approached each other, made contact, then immediately bounced apart. The Vice Principal gave the knife a slight shake, bringing the two droplets together again at the blade tip, where they merged and fell.
Suddenly, there was an explosion of crimson in the air, blooming like an eerie, seductive flower before withering just as quickly. The red flower turned inky black, falling onto the carpet and burning a large black stain the size of a coffee saucer. The room filled with the acrid smell of burnt wool.
“The carpet is wool. Damn, this stuff corrodes anything that’s ever been alive, anything with genetic residue,” the Vice Principal said, taken aback. “It’s practically aqua regia!”
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