Chapter 9: More Secrets
"Confirmed: the target has joined a company. However, this is a private firm. Here is the detailed information about the company," a young man with golden hair announced as he produced a document.
The bald man examined the paper document and immediately grasped the gravity of the situation. After reading it, he gasped, "It's actually this company?"
"Yes, sir. It's Anzhijie Services—one of the three giants in the gray zone. They often handle the unsavory tasks for celebrities, politicians, and the wealthy, yet they steer clear of the truly black areas," the young man explained.
The supervisor's voice turned tense as he asked, "What exactly do you do, and when did the target begin showing abnormal reactions?" The question sent a shiver down his spine—when handling such dirty work for politicians, no one knows who might be lurking behind the scenes.
"The target's observation level is the lowest. His physical exam from six months ago showed no issues at all, and in another three months—once he turns twenty—the monitoring will be completely dropped. Were it not for the missing data from his watch, we would almost never receive any updates on him," the young man replied matter-of-factly.
The bald man pressed further, "What was the success rate for that batch of test subjects back then?"
"None whatsoever. In fact, there was a 12.4% mortality rate," the young man replied, shaking his head.
Gazing at the virtual image of Yang Bo, the bald man pointed; a series of data appeared, revealing that more than 50% of the figures were marked in red.
The significance of the red data troubled him even more—it signified that the target's current performance was completely different from before, while the normal (green) data represented his watch's readings—heart rate, pulse, etc.
At that moment the young man added, "There's good news: the target has not yet signed a formal contract with Anzhijie; his trial period expires in just one day."
"Find a way to stop him from joining, and get me a plan as soon as possible," the bald supervisor commanded immediately.
"Understood," the young man replied and promptly went off to make preparations.
The bald man scrutinized Yang Bo's virtual feed again, then shifted his gaze to the glaring big data. He frowned—statistics showed that the target's average speaking frequency per hour had dropped dramatically, nearly to zero, meaning he was almost entirely silent in his room.
"Something's off," he murmured as he observed Yang Bo working silently. Although Yang Bo had tidied up the room per the intelligent system's suggestions, the system had alerted him over five times about potentially dangerous carpets—yet the target had not replaced any. This was not just unusual—it was extremely abnormal.
After carefully reviewing Yang Bo's current data, the bald man found no indication of any trend toward genetic evolution.
"Should we stage an accident to get him into the hospital and thereby obtain complete data? The government-issued equipment, with its strict oversight, doesn't have the capability to detect energy levels," he mused, stroking his chin.
Meanwhile, Yang Bo—working at home—forced himself to remain calm. Having to work for others in his previous life had made him numb over time, and now he clung to that resigned mindset.
Once his chores were done, Yang Bo moved a chair over and sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the airport in the sky—a dazzling, ring-like structure that resembled a brilliant band.
His mind raced as he pondered Wu Bing's words about the darkness of this world and wondered what creatures might be hidden among the stars. As for the details Wu Bing mentioned, Yang Bo refrained from searching them up; in his previous life the world was so backward that any such search would trigger the attention of certain agencies—let alone here.
He also recalled the ability he had gained: "Killing ordinary animals yields +1, yet that bizarre D-level fish gave +4. Could it be that normal animals are +1, E-level ones +2, D-level +4, and C-level +8—doubling each time?"
"When will I get a chance to verify this? And is it possible that my time-traveler perk is incomplete, or that I haven't fully unlocked its potential?"
"Also, how do I further develop my time-traveler benefits?" Yang Bo mused silently.
"And what about that ancient martial arts faction of genetic evolution—what's their deal?" he added.
"Ask me in detail tomorrow," he resolved, burdened with thoughts that made sleep impossible.
Elsewhere, the bald supervisor too lay awake, poring over the submitted plan. Due to confidentiality concerns, much of the material on his end was handwritten on paper—after all, digital traces are too easily tracked.
"This plan won't do," the bald man said, shaking his head at the young man.
The young man responded, "According to our big data, the target is fond of video games and the actress Li Aido. His greatest wish is to own a robot modeled after Li Aido."
"Gaming involves companies ranked far above us. There's no alternative but to target that actress," the young man continued.
The bald man glanced at the data regarding the video game that Yang Bo liked—it was produced by a subsidiary of one of the world's top ten companies. This company is so formidable that their intelligent filming equipment automatically blurs any footage of its games; otherwise, bankruptcy would be imminent.
The bald man shuddered—the involvement of an entertainment company was well beyond his authority. After a moment's thought, he proposed, "How about staging an accident?"
"Not a problem, though it will undoubtedly be costly."
"But, supervisor, if something goes wrong, our department will be held fully responsible. The previous plan even requires approval from higher-ups…" the young man whispered.
The bald man's heart sank. In a company, if an incident truly occurs, the company will never admit it, and we might end up taking the fall ourselves…
"Furthermore, supervisor, although the target's abnormal behavior isn't directly our fault, if an accident implicates the company, won't those higher-ups force us to shoulder the blame?" the young man added.
"I'll report this immediately," the bald man replied.
Unable to sleep, Yang Bo found his home no longer felt like home—it resembled a prison.
The next day, Yang Bo arrived at the company looking rather dispirited. Wu Bing escorted him to a room and, before entering, removed their watches.
"Have you made up your mind? I can lend you some money to buy a house," Wu Bing said bluntly as he looked at Yang Bo's troubled face.
"Brother Wu, I find it hard to believe what you say. You claim that those celebrities and politicians don't have chips implanted—does that mean none of them are genetic evolvers?" Yang Bo asked, rubbing his forehead.
Wu Bing shook his head. "Not at all—they're all extremely powerful."
"Then how do they become genetic evolvers?" Yang Bo pressed, the question he truly wanted answered.
"Yang Bo, your thinking has taken a wrong turn. Isn't it possible to simply use genetic agents without needing a biotech chip?" Wu Bing replied with a light chuckle.
For a moment, Yang Bo was dumbfounded—how had he not thought of that?
"There are many paths to becoming a genetic evolver. First, by using genetic agents; second, through ancient martial arts; third, via various secret techniques."
"As for genetic evolution agents, there's no need to elaborate further—those celebrities and politicians undoubtedly use genetic agents manufactured by their own families."
"Can genetic agents be self-produced? Isn't that illegal?"
"Manufacturing genetic agents isn't illegal. It's illegal to produce and sell them for profit, or to cause serious harm to others with them. But manufacturing them for personal use is not against the law," Wu Bing continued.
(End of Chapter)