Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

He reached under his pillow, grabbed the gun, and fired a shot at the door.

boom--

Gunshots rang out in the enclosed lounge, deafeningly loud.

The bullet slammed into the thick metal door, making a dull, terrifying impact.

The banging outside the door stopped abruptly.

Outside the door, Gin stood a few steps away, his face so gloomy under the pale light of the corridor that it looked like it could drip water.

He stared at the fresh bullet hole dent on the door, his pupils contracting slightly.

Fiano, who had been ordered to come along, adjusted his glasses and silently moved half a step to the side and behind Gin.

"Koniak seems to be in a rather bad mood."

He began to worry about his personal safety.

Koniak wanted to kill him, but the boss stopped him every time.

Now that he has to go out on fieldwork, unlike in the lab, if he suddenly has a relapse, there's really no one who can stop him.

But no way.

The Aptx series was previously led by Sherry, but after Sherry defected, the project was forced to fall into his hands.

Top researchers aren't like cabbages; they're not something you can just find anywhere. Each person's research project has a different focus.

His main research area is the evolution of life, which overlaps quite a bit with drug A.

Even so, after taking over for more than half a year, he has only just barely mastered the drug.

To upgrade and iterate, we need to find a breakthrough.

Now that the organization has started drug trials, there seems to be a breakthrough.

Not long after, the door lock was opened from the inside.

Dressed neatly, Qingze opened the door and appeared in the doorway.

He leaned against the door frame, his figure shrouded in the boundary between the darkness of the unlit room and the light of the corridor. His face was expressionless, but his scarlet eyes, like two cold embers, stared coldly at the two people outside the door.

He was surrounded by a heavy, almost tangible, low-pressure atmosphere.

Upon seeing Fiano, a murderous glint flashed in his eyes.

Without warning, he stepped out of the shadows inside the door, his fingers like the iron pincers of a bear trap, and grabbed Fiano by the neck, lifting him up with one hand.

Fiano hadn't expected him to suddenly attack. His glasses were askew, and he gripped Fiano's hands tightly, his face quickly turning red and then purple.

"Koniak!"

Gin's sharp shout rang out almost at the same moment that Aozawa made his move.

Beretta raised his gun, pointing it steadily at Qingze's temple.

His index finger rested on the trigger, ready to pull it at any moment.

"Koniak! He's the BOSS's handpicked mission collaborator!"

Facing the gun barrel, Qingze did not loosen his grip on Fiano's fingers at all. He didn't even turn his head to look at Gin; his scarlet eyes remained fixed on the face that disgusted him.

Fiano's bloodshot eyes were also fixed on Qingze, confronting the beast that was on the verge of madness.

Time began to stretch out.

Qingze watched as Fiano's face turned ashen and contorted in agony, his face teetering on the brink of death.

Gin's hand gripping the trigger tightened further.

Qingze let go of his hand as if he were throwing away trash.

Fiano collapsed like a lump of mud, returning from the brink of death to the world.

He covered his throat with both hands, bursting into a heart-wrenching cough and dry heaving, the purplish-blue marks on his neck were horrifying.

Qingze shook his hand as if he had just touched something extremely filthy.

He turned his head to look at Gin, who was still pointing a gun at him, and a neurotic smile appeared on his lips.

"What, you want to experience it too?"

Gin frowned slightly.

Is he having an attack?

Gin had just lowered the muzzle of his gun a few inches when Aozawa moved.

That wasn't the speed a human should have; it was more like a blur that tore through our vision.

A terrifying force suddenly surged through Gin's wrist, and a tingling, numb sensation shot through his entire arm. His fingers involuntarily loosened.

The Beretta in his hands has changed hands.

The cold gun butt landed in Qingze's hand, the same hand that had just gripped Fiano's throat.

boom--!

The second gunshot rang out in the narrow corridor, the echo making people's eardrums ache.

The scorching heat whizzed past Gin's temples, and a few strands of silver hair were severed by the bullet trajectory, slowly drifting down.

The bullet grazed his skin, then rammed into the hard concrete wall behind him, blasting open a shallow, jagged crater, from which rubble fell in a shower.

The smell of gunpowder mixed with the subtle odor of burnt hair suddenly filled the air.

A burning stinging sensation ran through the skin on my forehead where it had been grazed, and warm liquid slowly seeped out, leaving a thin trail of blood.

Gin's pupils trembled, his expression as cold as ice.

Qingze slowly shook his right hand that had taken the gun, turned his head slightly, and looked at the bloodstain on the other person's forehead.

His lips slowly twitched upwards, forming an increasingly large and distorted arc. His eyebrows arched, but there was no hint of a smile, only a chilling, neurotic sense of danger.

Gin stared at him, his facial muscles taut as if carved from stone. Blood slowly trickled down his forehead, sliding down his cheekbone.

He didn't wipe it, nor did he try to take back the weapon. He didn't even change his breathing rhythm. His eyes were filled with a violent killing intent that almost materialized.

It's started again.

This madman... is having another episode.

Gin raised his hand and used his black-gloved thumb to wipe away the blood that had slid down to his chin.

He looked at the dark red mark on his fingertip, then turned his gaze back to Qingze, his voice devoid of emotion.

Should I give you some tranquilizer?

The smile on Qingze's face slowly faded, and the excitement in his eyes receded like the tide, turning back into a bottomless, weary scarlet.

He weighed the Beretta in his hand, then flipped his wrist and casually tossed the gun back.

Gin caught the gun smoothly, checked the safety, and put it back in its holster. His movements were fluid, as if the life-or-death moment had never happened.

Qingze seemed to have completely lost interest, and without looking at the person who was slumped on the ground, he turned around and left.

I sat in the back seat of the Porsche, still dressed as I had during the day, still the same person, still the same car.

But at this moment, he was like a silent statue, completely different from his state during the day.

Gin glanced at him and got into the driver's seat.

These extreme and volatile mood swings mean that the illness has not improved at all; it hasn't gotten better at all.

Fiano rubbed his aching neck and got into the empty passenger seat.

Given the extent of Koniak's dislike for him, going on a mission with Koniak was like dancing on the edge of death.

But when he thought about the changes in the experimental subjects in the back-transmitted surveillance footage, his eyes blazed with intense excitement.

That's an achievement even greater than the evolution of life!

Compared to that, Koniak's death threat was insignificant.

Chapter 528 Switching Experimental Mode

The atmosphere inside the car was eerily quiet.

The person in the back seat sat silently, the large hood covering his entire face, only the outline of his stubble-covered chin could be seen.

Gin was tense, maintaining peak concentration at all times.

Koniak is actually quite safe when he's trash-talking and annoying people, but it's a different story when he's silent.

No one knows what he might suddenly do; it's unpredictable and unpredictable. A moment's carelessness could lead to a car crash and death.

Fiano completely ignored the silent, unsettling atmosphere in the back seat.

People with bipolar disorder are like this; their moods fluctuate wildly, often swinging between two extreme states.

He opened his laptop, the cold white light of the screen illuminating his neck, still bearing the marks of his fingers, and his focused, indifferent face.

He carefully reviewed the previous experimental records, his fingertips slid rapidly across the touchpad, pausing occasionally, frowning, before refining the subsequent experimental observation procedures.

In his eyes, Gin and Koniak's brutal "drug-observe-record-leave" approach was outrageously crude.

Beyond the most superficial death or temporary "rejuvenation" phenomenon, what kind of cellular-level cascade reactions actually occur inside the body?

The order and speed of organ failure, the final changes in electrical signals in the nervous system... are all unknown.

This is an absolute waste! A squandering of valuable clinical data!

He suddenly spoke, his voice unusually hoarse and broken due to damage to his vocal cords, like sandpaper rubbing.

"I think it's better to select specific targets and transfer them directly to my lab than to continue this inefficient and uncontrollable experiment."

He didn't even look up; his gaze remained glued to the screen.

“The laboratory environment is controllable, the monitoring is complete, and the amount of data that can be obtained is completely different.”

"No."

Gin refused outright, saying, "The sudden disappearance of people, especially a series of disappearances, will immediately alert the police."

Their current focus is still on elderly people living alone or on the margins of society, using the illusion of natural death at night, which is still within a controllable range.

But if there are mass disappearances, it's a completely different story.

Which family wouldn't look for an elderly person who has gone missing?

With so many people disappearing on the same day, are they afraid of not attracting the attention of the police?

Fiano was not annoyed that his proposal was rejected.

He gently pushed up his glasses, the pain in his neck making the subtle movement appear somewhat stiff. He continued, in his hoarse, bellows-like voice, to state his position steadily:

"Our next target is a family of five, spanning three generations. We can create the illusion that they are on a short family trip, pack their essentials, and drive away in their car. Even if neighbors or relatives notice something amiss, their reaction and search will be delayed for quite some time."

He paused, then finally raised his eyes slightly from the screen to look at Gin, his eyes behind his glasses flashing with a cold, cruel light.

"In this way, we can not only obtain a complete age gradient control sample from children to the elderly and observe the differential response of APTX-4869 at different developmental and aging stages, but also achieve the optimal experimental environment and data collection."

"Efficiency and data quality will far surpass the current laissez-faire model..."

Qingze, sitting in the back seat, opened his eyes, his scarlet gaze fixed on Fiano, who was explaining his detailed plan.

Countless fragments of memories flashed through his mind. He stroked the pattern on the lighter in his hand, his heart surging with murderous intent.

A moment later, he closed his eyes again.

Gin drove in silence, the shadows of the streetlights flickering across his cold, hard face.

He weighed the options quickly.

The risk of this approach lies in the complexity of creating the illusion of travel and the potential traces left behind, but the benefits are obvious: more concentrated, in-depth, and comparative experimental data is indeed incomparable to the current scattered drug administration.

Fiano is right, APTX-4869 has shown clear and encouraging signs of "activity".

The next step is to increase the sample size, conduct detailed comparative studies, identify patterns, and even... ensure that the direction is controllable.

“Okay.” Gin made a quick decision.

Their original plan was dynamic, prioritizing the progress of the experiment and the needs of the mission.

Fiano's lips curled into a smile, a smile full of anticipation for the upcoming experiment.