Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Lin Shen spread his five fingers and then slowly closed them. The silver-white seed deep in his consciousness suddenly lit up with a dazzling light. All his spiritual power condensed into an extremely thin silver needle, which passed through the chaotic crowd, through Zhou Weiqing's suppressed body, and precisely pierced his diaphragm nerve.

Zhou Weiqing's diaphragm suddenly spasmed, the entire muscle arching upwards, squeezing out the last bit of air from his lungs, and then instantly locking up.

His diaphragm stopped relaxing, his lungs could no longer expand, and he could no longer inhale air. Suffocation began to spread from deep within his chest cavity, as if an invisible hand was gripping his lungs.

His body arched violently under the restraint of the security guards, his spine bent into a stiff bridge, and a final hoarse, crushed howl escaped his throat.

That was the fear of dying from suffocation.

My chest heaved violently once, twice, then the amplitude gradually decreased, like a pendulum that had been de-wound.

His face changed from purplish-red to grayish-purple, his lips from bluish-black to grayish-white, and his eyes bulged out, staring intently at the dazzling crystal chandelier on the ceiling. His pupils first contracted irregularly, as if chasing something drifting away, and then slowly dilated, losing focus.

His fingers loosened from the floor, splinters and blood embedded in his fingernails, hanging limply to the ground.

In his final moments before his consciousness faded, he managed to utter three indistinct words, hoarse and almost inaudible: "It wasn't me..."

No one heard it.

His body twitched once, then once more, and then remained completely still.

Foam mixed with blood trickled from the corner of his mouth into his ears. His eyes were still open, his head tilted towards the crystal chandelier, the light inside gradually growing colder.

Lin Shen watched as he stopped breathing. The silver-white seed deep within his consciousness trembled for a moment, then slowly calmed down, like a fire that had burned out, with the last spark extinguished.

He tapped his knee lightly with his fingers.

Teacher, did you see that?

I avenged you.

The security guard on stage noticed something was wrong. Fang Yu raised his hand to check Zhou Weiqing's neck and breath, and his expression changed instantly.

"Call for emergency help! Quick!" he roared, pressing his knee against Zhou Weiqing's chest and lifting him up. His men immediately began CPR, pressing until Zhou's chest caved in, but there was no response.

The banquet hall doors were pushed open again, and people from the Provincial Government Affairs Commission's Discipline Inspection and Supervision Office walked in. Their black uniforms were neatly pressed. The leader of the team glanced around the chaotic scene and headed straight for Deputy Director Zhang, who was standing next to the sound control console.

Deputy Director Zhang was still in the position of unplugging the plug, his hand frozen in mid-air, his face ashen. The moment he saw the person who came, his body swayed.

"Deputy Director Zhang, please come with us."

Deputy Director Zhang's lips moved a few times, but no sound came out. His hands slowly fell down as the staff handcuffed him, his face ashen.

The other team members approached Director Sun, Director Qian, and Director Wu respectively.

Director Sun lowered his head, removed his hands from the table, and slowly stood up, his legs trembling. The section chief stared at the charred hole on the tablecloth caused by a cigarette butt, then suddenly looked up when he was patted on the shoulder, his face covered in cold sweat.

Director Wu stood up, holding onto the back of the chair. His whole arm was shaking, and he had to stand up twice before he could steady himself.

The two individuals were led away from the banquet hall separately. The guests below the stage automatically made way for them. No one spoke; only the crisp sound of handcuffs clinking was particularly clear in the empty hall.

Lin Shen stood up from the corner, his illusion-weaving ability still covering him. He walked along the wall towards the side door, and passersby glanced at him as if he were nothing more than an insignificant mass of air.

Behind me came Fang Yu's voice directing the scene, the wailing sirens of ambulances, and the steady footsteps of discipline inspection personnel.

He didn't turn around.

The emergency exit was deserted; only his own footsteps echoed on the concrete steps, clear and distinct.

As he pushed open the security door on the first floor, the sunlight rushed in, making him squint.

He walked across the street, opened the car door, got into the driver's seat, started the engine, and the van emitted a deep roar.

In the rearview mirror, the outline of the State Guest Hotel grew farther and farther away. Several black official vehicles were parked at the entrance, and the red and blue security lights rotated silently, hurting one's eyes.

He stepped on the gas, and the bread truck merged into the traffic, driving forward along the road at the beginning of the pen.

The wind blew in through the car window, making the stray hairs on his forehead flutter wildly.

He touched the inside pocket of his coat; the photocopies of Song Yuanming's notes were still there, the pages warm from his body heat.

Teacher, I've avenged you.

Aunt, junior brother, I have avenged you.

His fingers pressed lightly against his pocket, his knuckles turning slightly white.

The heavy weight that had been pressing on my chest for half a year finally settled, leaving an empty crater. The wind that rushed in was a little cool, yet so relaxing that I felt like crying.

The van drove steadily toward Gwangyang City, toward the abandoned research institute, and toward the other people like him who had crawled out of despair.

The sun rose higher and higher, illuminating the road ahead.

------

The underground conference room of the National Bureau of Abnormalities.

The meeting room had no windows, and cold white incandescent light tubes hung from the ceiling, illuminating the long tabletop in a stark white light.

Eight files with the word "Top Secret" stamped in red on their covers were lined up on the table, their name tags on the spines illuminated by the light.

Han Qiming sat in the main seat, tapping lightly on the cover of the file with his fingertips, and his subordinates opened all eight files.

Across from him, Gu Mingyuan sat stiffly, his hands flat on the table, his fingertips turning a faint bluish-white from the pressure.

After Fang Heming's death, he was transferred to the National Bureau of Abnormal Affairs to take over as special commissioner, holding all the leverage that the faction had placed in this new violent institution.

The name tags on the table flashed past the eyes of everyone present in turn.

The first document is about Chen Guohua, with the note "Yunding Tiangong Incident, confirmed dead" next to it;

The second document, concerning Xu Suyuan, is followed by a long list of incidents: the Chenxi Biological Laboratory incident, the Jinmao Tower incident, and the Nanshan Nursing Home incident.

The third document, concerning Han Xiao, has the words "Nanshan Nursing Home Incident, Presumed Death" written in parentheses.

Li Rui, from the Xifen branch, is marked "Yunxiaofu Incident, confirmed dead";

The fifth document was by Liu Zhen, and the sixth by Meng Zhaowen. Both names were associated with two major cases: Jingyuan Villa and Yunyin Villa.

The seventh document is the case of Shen Qinghou, Gu Yanzhi, and the case of Fang Heming's special operations team being wiped out; the words are bright red and eye-catching.

The eighth document, printed by Lin Shen, ends with the line "Qingyun Horse Ranch Incident, Zhou Weiqing Case, Questionable".

Han Qiming slowly began, "Yunyin Manor, Song Mingzhang case. The headquarters detected energy fluctuations, and the Sharp Blade Squad rushed there at full speed. By the time they arrived, the battle was already over. Seventy-two corpses, and all the targets have disappeared."

"Qingyun Horse Ranch has set up a western blockade line, with armored vehicles, drones, and infrasound suppression equipment all in place. The Western superhumans broke through head-on, tearing an opening from the northeast corner, and all escaped successfully. Our side suffered seventeen wounded and three dead."

Han Qiming's gaze then moved down to the name "Fang Heming," and paused for three seconds: "In the old city of Chenxi, Fang Heming volunteered to lead an entire special operations team trained for superhumans."

As a result, all twenty-three people died. Fang Heming himself died in the old building corridor, bleeding from all seven orifices. Only residual abnormal sound waves were detected at the scene; the target was nowhere to be found.

He withdrew his hand and tapped the table lightly with his knuckles: "Three initial engagements, three complete failures."

Read "Desperate People, Accept My Seed of Soul!" and enjoy your reading time.