Chapter 476: Test

Qiu Ce Yuan, one hundred meters below the surface.

The elevator panel's number jumped to "-21" before stopping. When the doors opened, cold air surged from deep within the Corridor, carrying a dry scent of metal mixed with concrete.

Lu Yu was sandwiched by Su Ming and Chen Shao, one in front and one behind, and walked along the gray Corridor inward.

The Corridor was narrow; every five meters overhead a blast‑proof lamp was set, its light falling a pallid, pallid white that stretched the three people's shadows long. Footsteps thudded in the enclosed space, echo upon echo.

The walls bore no signs, no door numbers, and no cameras.

But Lu Yu knew that this Corridor contained at least seventeen hidden monitoring points. He had been here in his previous life.

At that time, this place had already been reduced to ruins by bombing.

"Change clothes," Su Ming said, stopping at the airtight door at the end and handing over a black restraint suit.

Lu Yu took it. The fabric was heavy; the lining was sewn with countless Weird sensing threads, and the outer layer was a high‑pressure suppressive weave. Once on, his whole body was bound tight, and even breathing had to be deliberately slowed so his chest wouldn't feel suffocated.

"A bit tight," Lu Yu tugged at the collar, his tone casual.

Su Ming gave no reply. Chen Shao, however, gave him another look; the crimson Demon Eye, under the Corridor lights, had dulled most of its edge, as if deliberately dimmed.

"Go in," Chen Shao said.

The airtight door had three layers.

The first layer was conventional steel alloy, forty centimeters thick. The second layer incorporated a Weird material isolation layer, its surface crawling with dark patterns; when close, one could hear an extremely faint hum. The third layer—Lu Yu saw correctly—was the Federation's highest‑spec Weird Domain sealing material.

Where was this material last used?

Chicago. Used to prevent Spider Humanoids in a nuclear blast zone from spreading outward.

The three doors opened and closed in sequence. Lu Yu stepped into the test chamber.

The chamber was huge.

So large it distorted perception.

By eye the diameter exceeded eighty meters, the dome rose at least thirty meters high, and the four walls and floor were a uniform lead‑gray, seamless, as if poured in one piece. The air was dry, temperature slightly low, and each exhalation produced a thin white mist.

The first thing noticed was light.

Dense probing red beams shot from microscopic pores in the walls, criss‑crossing to form a visible red light net. The beams moved slowly, each scanning his restraint suit and the … thing beneath the suit.

Lu Yu stood in the center of the chamber, slipping both hands into his pockets.

He looked up.

About forty meters ahead, high up, was a massive one‑way glass. From this side it appeared as a mirror, but he knew exactly who stood behind it.

Wei Gong.

Chen Shao.

And a group of Federation top scientists whose names he could not recall, but who had died on the first day of the apocalypse in his previous life.

Static crackled from the speaker, followed by a middle‑aged woman's voice, restrained in tone yet speaking quickly.

"Subject number Temporary‑01, 'Taotie' host Lu Yu. Stage One testing will commence shortly; please prepare."

It paused for two seconds.

"Target descending."

A metallic rail whirring sound came from above.

A twelve‑layer composite alloy defense array descended from the dome, layer by layer, positioned between twenty and forty meters in front of Lu Yu.

Each layer was different.

The outermost was a three‑centimeter‑thick titanium alloy plate; behind it followed tungsten carbide, a Weird material composite layer, an attenuation matrix, high‑density collapsed metal… the deeper it went the more absurd, and the final three layers were things Lu Yu had never seen in his previous life, their surfaces shimmering with a faint purple‑black aura.

Twelve layers. All in place.

Behind the one‑way glass.

Wei Gong stood at the front row, hands clasped behind his back. His Mao suit's buttons were fastened to the topmost one, his spine straight as an iron rod. His graying hair glimmered a cold‑toned silver under the lab lights.

Next to him, the chief scientist—a bald man wearing thick‑framed glasses—was rapidly swiping data on a tablet with his fingers; after a few strokes his hand trembled.

"Wei Gong, the defense coefficient of this array is one thousand six hundred standard units."

The old man swallowed.

"Enough for Jiang Yuan's full‑power output to fire seven times."

Wei Gong said nothing.

Chen Shao crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the rear wall. His gaze passed through the glass, landing on the teenage boy in the restraint suit at the center of the test chamber.

Silence lingered for a few seconds.

The speaker sounded again.

"Subject, please take position. Stage One—peak destructive power test. Countdown commencing."

"Ten."

"Nine."

Lu Yu did not move.

"Eight."

"Seven."

He drew his hand from his pocket.

"Six."

"Five."

His right‑hand fingers spread then clenched. The joints creaked faintly, and the sensing threads inside the suit's cuff lit up with a rapid dark‑red warning glow.

"Four."

"Three."

Deep within his chest, the thing that had been coiled turned over.

It's not pain.

It's hunger.

"Two."

Lu Yu's pupils contracted to the limit.

"One."

He threw a punch.

The movement itself wasn't flashy. No wind‑up, no opening stance, not even a bent knee. It was just the simplest straight punch. The right‑arm extension, if shown to any boxing coach, would probably score seventy points.

But the instant it met the air, everything changed.

From the fist outward, the color was devoured.

It wasn't black.

Black is at least still a color.

It was "nothing." It was the void left after light, matter, temperature, and the very concept of space were erased. As if someone had dug a hole in the canvas of reality, and beyond the hole there was nothing.

The shockwave detonated with the fist as its origin.

The first layer of titanium alloy plate—evaporated.

There was no shattering process, no intermediate deformation. In the previous frame it existed; in the next frame it was gone.

The second layer of carbonized tungsten—evaporated.

Third layer—

Fourth layer—

Behind the one‑way glass, on the tablet in the Chief Scientist's hand, the data curve rose vertically at an impossible angle. The equipment emitted a shrill buzz, followed immediately by—

The screen shattered.

It wasn't a physical break. It was a system crash caused by data overflow.

Twelve‑Layer Defense Array.

All.

Pierced by a single punch.

The residual shockwave slammed into the rear wall of the test cabin, and the entire Underground Base emitted a muffled tremor. The explosion‑proof lights overhead flickered a few times; two of them blew their tubes, and sparks crackled down.

The highest‑level safety alarm roared and detonated. Red rotating lights burst from the walls, dyeing the entire observation room a blood‑red hue.

No one moved.

The Chief Scientist froze in place, his glasses askew, mouth open, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down three times without producing a sound.

A few young researchers in the back felt their legs go weak. Their fingers gripping the console turned bluish at the joints, and their foreheads were slick with sweat.

Wei Gong didn't move.

In those clouded old eyes—

Chen Shao noticed—deep within those eyes, something flashed.

It wasn't fear.

It was hunger.

The greedy light exactly like a hunter's first‑sight of a top‑class beast on the wasteland.

"Activate the backup terminal," Wei Gong's voice was unnaturally steady.

The Chief Scientist finally snapped back to reality, fumbling to pull open the backup cabinet and reconnect the data link. Thirty seconds later, the calculation results came out.

He stared at the screen.

He read it the first time.

He rubbed his eyes.

He read it the second time.

When he turned to look at Wei Gong, his lips trembled.

"Re…report."

"Read."

"The subject instantly burst to a peak destructive power—"

He swallowed.

"—is Quasi‑S Deceiver Jiang Yuan, eight times the full‑power output."

No one spoke in the observation room.

The Chief Scientist's voice grew fainter, until it was almost muttering to himself.

"Evaluating model projection... if full power is continuously released... theoretically..."

"Speak in human terms," Wei Gong interjected.

"Ten minutes," the old man took off his glasses and put them back on, his hand shaking badly, "In ten minutes, it could level a city of a million people to the ground."

Silence.

Extreme silence.

Chen Shao's crimson Demon Eye flared up sharply for an instant, then dimmed. He stared at the boy's silhouette behind the glass, his facial muscles taut, his jawline hard enough to cut glass.

Inside the test cabin.

The alarm sound ceased.

The red‑light detection net was more than half broken, the remaining stray beams flickered crookedly in the swirling dust. The wreckage of the twelve‑layer alloy array lay scattered, some fragment edges still hot, emitting fine white smoke.

Lu Yu retracted his right fist.

Darkness receded from between his fingers, his skin returning to its normal hue. The right sleeve of his restraint suit had vanished entirely below the elbow, revealing the boy's slender forearm.

His knee buckled.

Then—

He knelt on one knee.

His left hand braced on the floor, his right hand dangled, the five fingers twitching slightly. His shoulders rose and fell dramatically, and a heavy panting came from his chest. His complexion, which had just been normal, quickly faded to a paper‑white, and the color in his lips vanished completely. A drop of sweat slid from the corner of his forehead, ran down his jaw, and fell onto the gray floor, forming an irregular wet spot.

He gasped for a few seconds.

Then he slowly lifted his head and glanced toward the one‑way glass.

That look.

Su Ming saw clearly from behind the glass.

In the boy's pupils there was no smugness, no flaunting, only a heavy, pressed‑down fatigue. Like a young beast shackled, after giving his all he was not basking in applause but silently bearing the cost.

Su Ming's fingers twitched.

He thought of Lei Yu.

He recalled the man in the Blood Moon Weird Domain who gave his life to block a blade for him; even at death he wore the same expression—not regret, but a genuine sense that he had done what he ought to.

"... Heh, this kid," Su Ming muttered half a sentence, not finishing it.

Beside him, Liang Wen had bandages wrapped around his arm, his black Windcoat rumpled, and he leaned against the corner.

"Listen, Old Su," Liang Wen's voice was pressed low, still with that adolescent swagger but without his usual chuckles, "Do you really believe he can't catch his breath?"

Su Ming gave him a glance.

"What do you think?"

"... I think this fourteen‑year‑old brat's acting is better than anyone I've ever seen," Liang Wen said, rubbing his chin with his uninjured hand, "But good as it is, his angle is right. Making everyone present think he's risking his life for humanity—this benefits everyone."

Su Ming gave no reply.

He looked at Lu Yu behind the glass.

The boy was still kneeling on the ground, unattended. The gray floor was littered with debris, and the distant array wreckage cast a chaotic shadow under the faint emergency lights.

A very frail person.

Placed inside this iron box capable of withstanding a nuclear blast, he was excessively insignificant.

—But the thing that just punched out, was it insignificant?

Su Ming withdrew his gaze.

Lord Wei turned around.

His hair was speckled gray, he wore a Mao suit, his back straight. No emotion could be read on his face etched with wrinkles, but when he reached out and pressed the red Communicator on the control panel, Chen Shao noticed—

The old man's hand was extremely steady.

Steadier than any of the young people present.

The Communicator connected.

Lord Wei's voice traveled through the encrypted channel into the test cabin's speaker, echoing in the vast space.

"Phase One complete."

A brief pause.

"Initiate Phase Two—Devour Test."

Another beat of silence.

"Let's see how big this little monster's appetite really is."