A three-year-old child dragged his sister's coffin and cried out for justice in the military re

1993, winter.

Three hundred miles north of the capital, deep in the mountains.

The blizzard, like a maddened beast, roared as it tried to devour the entire mountain.

There is no name here; it is a blank space on the map. Only the locals vaguely know that a private hospital called "Ren'ai" is hidden in the valley.

On the surface, they are dedicated to saving lives, but underneath lies a living hell.

Three underground floors, negative pressure laboratory.

It was eerily quiet here, with only the cold, rhythmic "beep-beep" of the electrocardiogram monitor.

The air was filled with a strong smell of formaldehyde, mixed with a rusty odor that couldn't be washed away.

That's the smell of blood.

Three-year-old Lin Suisui was huddled in a dead corner of the ventilation duct.

The pipe was narrow and cramped, the cold sheet metal pressed against her thin back, and the biting chill seeped into her bones.

She was only wearing an outrageously large striped hospital gown with her number printed on it: S-001.

Here, she is not a child, nor even a person.

She was a backup test subject for the "Angel Project," an "observation sample" with a rare brain mutation in the eyes of those madmen.

She dared not move.

They didn't even dare to breathe.

Those large eyes, which should have been brimming with starlight, were now deathly still and gray, staring intently at the beam of pale light shining through the grille below.

Below is the operating room.

In the very center of the operating table lay a small figure.

That was her older sister, five-year-old Lin Nuannuan.

"All vital signs are stable. Subject No. 79 of the 'Angel Project' has extremely high tolerance."

A man wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a white lab coat is bent over recording data.

He was wearing a mask, so his face was obscured; only his eyes were visible.

The look in his eyes wasn't like he was looking at a person, but rather at a lab rat, a piece of pork, or a pile of waste.

He is respectfully called "Doctor" by the locals.

Sui Sui covered her mouth tightly with her little hands, her nails digging deep into her flesh until they bled.

The floodgates of memory were burst open by fear at this moment.

Six months ago, they were still children with families.

Her father had broad shoulders and wore an olive-green police uniform; he always lifted her high in the air. Her mother had a gentle smile and taught her older sister to play the violin. Back then, she was Lin Suisui, not S-001.

Until that rainy night, a group of desperados broke into that cozy little house on the border.

Gunshots shattered my childhood. My parents lay in pools of blood, their last breaths echoing as they cried out, "Nuannuan, take your sister and run!"

They ran, but they couldn't escape the darkness.

Because the two sisters inherited their parents' extremely rare "golden blood," they were treated as the most valuable "goods" by drug traffickers and sold to this cannibalistic place.

Over the past six months, the five-year-old sister has become the "perfect donor" in the eyes of those doctors in white coats, and has been pushed onto the operating table time and time again, exchanging her body for her younger sister's temporary safety.

Sui Sui, on the other hand, was forced to awaken a cruel talent in this hellish place.

She discovered she had a photographic memory.

She can memorize the gestures a doctor uses to enter a combination lock with just one glance; she can recite complex chemical reagent ratios after hearing them only once; she can even imprint the ventilation duct diagrams that a maintenance worker casually sketches on the ground into her mind like a camera.

This is the curse of genius, and also her only chance of survival at this moment.

On the operating table, Nuannuan was not fully anesthetized.

To maintain the "activity" of the donor, they used a special nerve blocker—the body could not move, but the consciousness remained clear.

Even the pain sensation is amplified.

That small body was no longer whole.

The left sleeve was empty, and the incision on the abdomen looked like a ferocious centipede.

She was trembling.

That was a muscle spasm caused by extreme physical pain.

The "doctor" put down his notebook and picked up a gleaming scalpel.

He moved with the grace of someone cutting a steak.

"Prepare to harvest the heart. The buyer is getting impatient; this is rare 'golden blood,' and not a single drop can be wasted."

The pupils of the child contracted violently.

It felt like something exploded deep inside my brain.

In that instant, her brain, with an IQ of 200, almost burned out due to overload.

Chemical equations, anatomical diagrams, escape routes, a hundred ways to kill... a deluge of chaotic information flooded in.

But in the end, the image froze on the sister's pale, paper-white face.

Just a second before the scalpel fell.

Lying on the operating table, Nuannuan struggled and with great difficulty to turn her head towards the air vent.

She knew her sister was there.

That was their last unspoken agreement.

Nuannuan's gaze had begun to glaze over, her pupils reflecting the stark white light of the operating lights.

But when she looked at the dark vent, a tender, almost wistful light appeared in her eyes.

It was the kind of look in his eyes that seemed to want to give all the love and warmth of his life to his younger sister.

Her lips moved slightly.

No sound.

Only the mouth shape.

I understood it every year.

That mouth shape was—

"Live on."

"Find Qin Xiao."

Qin Xiao.

I remembered this name every year.

That was the name my father had hidden behind the family photo before he passed away. It was the only comrade-in-arms he had ever trusted, the great hero who was said to be able to tear a hole in the sky.

puff.

The sound of a sharp blade cutting through flesh was amplified infinitely in the deathly silent operating room.

Sui Sui's whole body jerked violently, as if her heart had been struck by an electric current.

Tears welled up instantly, but she forced them back the moment they started to flow.

Can't cry.

If you cry, people will notice.

If they find out, my sister's death will have been in vain.

She bit her tongue hard until her mouth was filled with the taste of blood.

That sweet, metallic taste kept her from losing her last shred of cruel rationality.

Ten minutes later.

"Surgery complete, perfect."

The "doctor" took off his gloves and threw them into the trash can, his tone carrying the satisfaction of a completed work of art.

"Dispose of the remaining 'waste' and throw it into the No. 3 incinerator to burn it clean."

"Yes."

Two assistants stepped forward and, as if throwing away trash, casually tossed the small, motionless body into a broken wooden crate used for medical waste.

Those were packaging boxes that had contained imported equipment, and they were marked with the "Fragile" label.

How ironic.

My sister is indeed broken.

It's so broken that it can't be pieced back together.

The operating room lights went out.

The "doctor" and his assistants walked out chatting and laughing, and the iron gate slammed shut behind them.

Only the backup power supply emitted a faint humming sound.

In that very instant.

The grille of the vent was moved away silently.

A tiny figure, like a nimble ghost, slid down the pipe.

Three-and-a-half-year-old Sui Sui was so thin from long-term malnutrition that she looked like a hairless cat.

She was barefoot, and landed silently.

She didn't rush to the wooden box and burst into tears.

Her mind was as calm as a sophisticated computer at that moment.

There are 1 minute and 40 seconds left until the next patrol.

The preheating time for the incinerator is 5 minutes.

She had to take her sister away during this time.

Every year, I walked to the wooden box.

The box was large and heavy, and it contained her only relative in the world.

She stretched out her small, chilblain-covered hands and touched the rough wooden planks of the box.

"elder sister."

She silently recited it in her heart.

"I'll take you home, Sui Sui."

"Sui Sui will take you to find Qin Xiao."

"Sui Sui... I'll take you to kill ghosts."

She pulled a rusty wire that she had found in the ventilation duct from her pocket.

That was her only tool.

But that's enough.

For a genius who can understand complex circuit diagrams and mentally calculate high-order functions, it only takes three seconds to pry open the latch on an incinerator conveyor belt.

Click.

A soft sound.

The conveyor belt leading to the incinerator stopped.

But the alarm did not sound.

Because the moment Sui Sui came down, she had already pulled the fuse of the alarm.

She used all her strength, even her teeth, to bite down hard on a corner of the wooden box.

Drag and drop.

This body, which is only three years old, has unleashed a power that defies the laws of physics.

That is the power of hatred.

The wooden crate scraped against the floor tiles, making a harsh "sizzling" sound.

Sui Sui's little face turned bright red, and the veins on her forehead bulged.

The soles of my feet were blistered from the excessive force on the cement floor, and the blisters burst instantly.

Blood left a long trail on the ground.

But she couldn't feel any pain.

Because half a month ago, that "doctor" had injected her with a new type of reagent.

Dullness of pain sensation.

This was a "talent" that the demons bestowed upon her so that they could easily conduct experiments on her.

Now, this has become her means of revenge.

"Faster...faster..."

Sui Sui was frantically calculating the time in her mind.

30 seconds left.

She dragged the wooden crate, which was several times heavier than herself, step by step toward the garbage chute in the corner.

It leads directly to the garbage disposal site on the back mountain.

The moment she pushed the wooden crate into the passageway.

The operating room door was suddenly pushed open.

"I think I just heard a sound?"

An assistant returned, his flashlight beam sweeping through the darkness.

The beam of light swept across the operating table.

empty.

Sweep across the floor.

A glaring trail of blood stretched all the way to the corner of the garbage chute.

The assistant's face turned deathly pale instantly, and he pressed the alarm button on his waist.

"Waaaaah!!!"

The piercing alarm instantly resounded throughout the entire underground base.

"The scrap metal has been stolen! Seal off the exits! Unleash the dogs!"

But the only response he received was the muffled thud of a wooden crate sliding down from deep within the garbage chute.

thump.

That was the sound of the gates of hell being smashed open.