Chapter 598

One month later.

Qiu Ce Yuan, Building No. 3, infirmary.

3:17 PM.

Chu Che sat in a swivel chair, legs crossed, holding the latest issue of The Lancet in his hand.

Sunlight seeped through the gaps of the blinds, landing on the cuff of his white lab coat. The lenses of his gold‑thread glasses glinted, and everything was so quiet you could hear the second hand of the wall clock ticking.

He turned a page.

The sound of paper rubbing was very soft.

Then—

"Buzz."

An extremely low buzz rose from beneath his feet. It wasn't coming from any single direction, but from all around—from under the floor, inside the ceiling, within the wall cavities—vibrating simultaneously.

Chu Che's hand stopped.

The half‑turned page hovered at his fingertips.

The buzz surged within half a second into a piercing screech. The building's steel‑reinforced concrete structure began to resonate, and glass medicine bottles on the shelves clinked together.

White mist seeped out of every seam in the floor.

It wasn't ordinary water vapor. It was a thick gas laced with dark‑red particles, visibly condensing in the air into a net that layered over everything.

Chu Che's journal fell to the ground.

It wasn't because he let go in surprise—rather, the moment the paper journal touched the mist, all the faint weird pheromones clinging to it were instantly neutralized, and the perception field he maintained at his fingertips was forcibly severed.

He reached out his hand.

A ripple of gray‑white rule‑power spread from his fingertips, trying to push the fog away.

He couldn't push it.

The boundary of the rule was locked tightly within half a meter of his body surface.

Federal Weird Investigation Bureau headquarters, underground command center.

Twelve huge screens lit up simultaneously. From various camera angles, it was clear that the entire Building No. 3 was engulfed in white mist.

He Chuan stood before the control panel, both hands pressed on the board, veins bulging on the backs of his hands. The instrument panel before him displayed a series of rapidly jumping numbers:

"Anti‑Weird Magnetic Field power output—stable."

"Sinful Crown refined mist concentration—10.3 times the standard value."

"Target rule diffusion radius—0.47 meters, still compressing."

He Chuan licked his dry, cracked lips.

Done.

Su Ming recalled the previous capture in his past life, when they'd used a regular concentration—so low it couldn't even stop Chu Che from adjusting his glasses. This time was different. In the memories Su Ming brought back from one month later, he had all of He Chuan's data and insights from studying the fragments.

He spent one month compressing what originally would have taken half a year to finish—a refinement plan—into a single bullet loaded into the chamber.

Only one round.

Enough.

"Reporting to the chief," He Chuan turned, his voice trembling, "the target rule has been successfully suppressed. Window of opportunity—estimated ninety seconds."

At the center of the screen, Duke Wei's face appeared in the holographic projection.

The old man sat in a wheelchair. His hair was white‑flecked, he wore a plain Mao suit, and his back was ramrod straight. His cloudy old eyes now held a light that made the heart pound.

Ninety seconds.

Enough.

"Synchronicity Plan—" Duke Wei's voice came from the speaker, each word weighing a thousand jin.

"——Activate!"

Qiu Ce Yuan, underground fourth floor, synchronization rate test chamber.

Jiang Yuan, Su Ming, Liang Wen, and others lay side by side in the connection chamber. Silver brain‑machine interface patches were stuck to their temples, and thick bundles of cables ran from their bodies, converging into a stout main cable.

The other end of the main cable led to the adjacent room.

Liang Wen closed his eyes, his peach‑blossom eyes darting rapidly: "So I'm supposed to pour this king's noble spiritual power into Qin Team like a power bank? Is that analogy right?"

"Shut up." Su Ming and Jiang Yuan said at the same time.

"Fine, fine......" Liang Wen took a deep breath, then suddenly opened his eyes and looked at Su Ming, "Um, what if this king burns out again......"

"It won't happen." Su Ming didn't open his eyes.

"How do you know——"

"Because this time you're not carrying it alone."

Liang Wen froze for a moment.

Then he closed his eyes and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Well, then this king will reluctantly......"

The white light of the activated brain‑machine interface shone.

Everyone's bodies jerked simultaneously.

At the same time.

In another separate connection room.

Chen Shao sat in a chair, his right eye's Dominion Demon Eye glowing with a dark‑red light. The connection cable before him was one notch thicker than the others'.

At the door stood the liaison Su Ming had arranged.

"Mr. Chen, confirm your consent to connect?"

Chen Shao didn't speak. He looked at the cable in front of him, his expression calm.

This is his third collaboration with the Federation. The first two were both for Chen Yao. This one is as well.

If that Chu‑surname person truly is the source of all Weird—then for each day he lives, Chen Yao gains one more day of danger.

Just that simple.

"Connect."

The Demon Eye's red light traveled along the cable outward.

Beneath the Qiu Ce Yuan arena, the Seventh Enhancement Training Room.

Qin Zhixia stood alone in the center of the room.

She wore a full combat suit, and her mechanical left arm had already switched to combat mode. The silver‑gray metal surface displayed intricate engraved circuits, emitting a faint blue glow.

A "Obscure" hung at her waist. That Rule‑rank Weird lay quietly in its sheath, its surface pattern flickering now and then.

Five main cables from different directions linked to the conduit device on her back, each bearing the full output of an S-Class Combat Power.

In the command channel, Wei Gong's voice came through: "Zhixia."

"Here."

"You have only one chance."

"I understand."

"If you can't bear it, call stop; no one will blame you."

Qin Zhixia didn't respond to that sentence.

She clenched her fist. The mechanical prosthetic arm emitted a faint gear sound.

That hand— the one Chu Che had personally calibrated countless times— now clenched so tightly that even the iron fingers were deforming.

"Let's begin."

Wei Gong was silent for a second.

"Infuse—begin."

The first surge of power rushed in.

It was Jiang Yuan's.

Shadow. The cold, raging Shadow force, bearing the wrath of all the dead souls at the Abyss's bottom, poured along her spine into her meridians. Qin Zhixia's body jolted sharply, her jaw clenched.

The second surge.

The Time Marrow Worm power of Su Ming. The sense of temporal compression and distortion made her senses, in an instant, experience the tearing of aging intertwined with rebirth.

The third surge.

Liang Wen's Abyssal Reversal force. That burning heat that consumes the essence of life caused her capillaries to begin rupturing, fine red blood lines appearing on her cheeks.

The fourth surge.

Chen Shao.

The fifth surge, Lu Yu......

Seven, eight, nine......

A voice in her mind said: "Kneel."

She didn't kneel.

She stood.

Countless mutually distinct Rules collided, repelled, and tore within her. From a physical standpoint, the energy density her body bore had already exceeded the limits of human bone and muscle.

Her hair, in two seconds—

from root to tip—

turned completely snow‑white.

The white hair rose inverted, blown upward by the raging energy airflow.

Ultramarine and jet‑black cracks began at her neck, spreading along the clavicle across her chest, shoulders, and arms. It was as if an ancient incantation were forcibly etched onto living flesh.

The mechanical prosthetic arm emitted a shrill alarm.

Qin Zhixia did not call stop.

She drew the blade.

The blade became pure—white.

Blazing white.

White brighter than the Sun's core.

Qin Zhixia raised the blade. White hair, cracks, the overloaded prosthetic arm, the resonance of countless forces within her body—all of it, at this moment, was compressed, smelt, and condensed by the Rule framework of "Obscure".

Became a beam of light.

A death‑light that exists solely to pierce dimensions.

In the infirmary.

Chu Che stood up.

The white mist had completely sealed off his Rule domain. His ash‑gray power was compressed to only a thin layer covering his surface.

This feeling was very unfamiliar.

Just like... an ordinary person.

Interesting.

Chu Che lifted his hand and nudged his glasses. The lenses reflected the light of those dark‑red particles in the white mist.

The corner of his mouth even still held a smile.

It was a genuine smile.

Not a façade.

He sincerely thought it was interesting.

So good.

Chu Che lifted his head and looked at the sky outside through the window.

Then he saw that beam of light.

It was white.

It shot in from the direction of the Qiu Ce Yuan playground, piercing Building Three's outer wall, the Corridor, two blast‑proof doors, and then—

Boom— on him.

The thin regulatory shield on his body held for 0.03 seconds against the white light.

Then it shattered.

Chu Che's left shoulder, together with half of the scapula—

Vaporized.

There was no gore‑splattering visual impact. It simply… vanished. That area was erased by the white light on a physical level, leaving not even a molecule.

Then came the shockwave.

Chu Che's body was blasted by the raging aftershock. The right half of his Doctor's Lab Coat tore instantly, and his Gold Thread Glasses flew away, unknown where they bounced. His body ripped through the back wall of the school infirmary—

the first load‑bearing wall, shattered.

the second, shattered.

the third… the seventh… the thirteenth.

The cross‑section of Building Three from the first to the third floor was forcibly carved into a straight tunnel. Chunks of reinforced concrete flew everywhere, and dust and construction powder rose dozens of meters high.

In the Federation Zongbu Zhihui Zhongxin, everyone stood up.

The data on the screen surged wildly.

"Target vital signs—" the technician's voice trembled, "Scanning—scanning—"

He Chuan stared intently at the screen.

It hit. The god that had stood over humanity for three years bled.

In the synchronization test chamber.

Jiang Yuan snapped his eyes open, a hot gush flooded his nasal cavity—blood. The backlash of the brain‑machine interface made his head throb as if about to explode.

Next to him, Liang Wen rolled out of the connecting chamber, sprawled on the ground, his peach‑blossom eyes unfocused for several seconds before refocusing.

"Damn..." Liang Wen gasped, "I, the king, feel completely drained... not that kind of draining... never mind, it's that kind..."

Su Ming propped himself up against the chamber wall. The Time Marrow Worm's backlash made his right hand tremble continuously, but his eyes were bright.

"It hit," he said.

Qin Zhixia knelt on the ground.

Her white hair fell, covering most of her face. A mechanical prosthetic arm hung at her side, joints emitting blue smoke, completely overloaded and scrapped. A thin line of blood traced her mouth corner.

The dust slowly dispersed.

Among the wreckage of Building Three where it had been pierced, at the far end of the thirteenth load‑bearing wall, amidst rubble of broken bricks and piles of Reinforced Steel Bar.

Something moved.

A hand reached up from the debris.

Long‑slender. Fair‑skinned. Bones distinct.

That hand, familiar to everyone, propped against the shattered wall, slowly lifted the body in the rubble.

Chu Che stood up.

The left shoulder and half‑scapula area were empty; the Doctor's Lab Coat was so destroyed it was unrecognizable, revealing a finely tailored black shirt underneath—also torn apart for the most part. Large patches of abrasions and burns appeared on his white skin for the first time.

There was blood.

Flowing down from the broken shoulder.

Red.

The same vivid red blood as any ordinary person.

Chu Che looked down at his empty left shoulder.

Then he lifted his head.

The surveillance was completely destroyed, but everyone knew—he was watching them.

On that face, no longer hidden by glasses, warmth and kindness had been stripped away.

What emerged was—

a smile.

Not the usual gentle, spring‑breeze‑like smile.

But a smile that curved from the mouth to the eyes, bearing pure, twisted admiration and ecstasy.

"Great."

Chu Che's voice echoed from the rubble.

No anger. No murderous intent.

Only a heartfelt awe that made everyone's hair stand on end.

"It actually hurt me."

"Human will—"

He tilted his head, blood dripping drop by drop from the broken shoulder.

"Really great."

As the words fell, a gray‑white light began to emanate from his empty left shoulder spot.

Bones, muscles, skin.

Under everyone's gaze, at a speed visible to the naked eye—

slowly grow back.