Jiang Lian had been in an extremely irritable state the entire day.
When Zhou Jiao was around, he was irritable.
When she wasn't around, he was even more irritable.
But when Zhou Jiao was nearby with the scent of another man on her, the irritation became like boiling oil over fire, nearly enough to make his eyes bleed red.
Yet once Zhou Jiao was completely enveloped within his body, that violent restlessness vanished—replaced by an indescribable sense of satisfaction.
Jiang Lian lowered his eyes.
Perhaps it was because Zhou Jiao's head was very close to this body's heart, but his chest felt tight, a tingling numbness spreading inside it.
To a beast, any unfamiliar sensation was cause for extreme alertness—such things in the wild often meant poison or illness.
But Jiang Lian knew this feeling came from Zhou Jiao.
She always brought him sensations he couldn't explain.
His head dropped further.
He stared at Zhou Jiao, eyes dark and murky. Red veins surged in and out of the whites of his eyes—but on closer inspection, they weren't blood vessels at all. They were writhing, blood-engorged tendrils, twitching with restless agitation inside his sockets.
—He had to know what this feeling was.
·
Zhou Jiao finally managed to break free from Jiang Lian's "embrace."
She looked at herself, then at Jiang Lian, still rattled and wide-eyed.
…What the hell just happened?!!!
The moment she was pulled into his chest, her hearing and vision vanished—only an overwhelming warmth and security remained.
It felt like plunging into a dark, bottomless dream, where she could rest forever in blissful ignorance.
In that instant, she forgot where she was.
She only wanted to close her eyes and stay in that pitch-black sense of safety for eternity.
After pulling herself out of his "embrace," her scattered thoughts quickly came back into focus. Her lips twitched.
No doubt—it was that damn tentacle she ate causing this.
Now that the tentacle had returned to the main body, how could she not feel "safe"?
But she didn't want this kind of safety!
Zhou Jiao wiped her face, flustered. Her face was flushed with a strange red from the emotional upheaval.
Jiang Lian stared at the blush on her cheeks, and the tingling in his chest intensified.
He watched her silently, thinking:
Why is it that when her face flushes, my chest feels numb too?
Zhou Jiao remained on high alert.
When she saw Jiang Lian take a step toward her, she instantly took a step back.
Before she could say anything, he reached out and wrapped one hand around her throat.
Unlike the times he'd tried to kill her before, this grip wasn't tight.
He wasn't choking her—nor was he letting go.
Like an apex predator toying with prey, she wasn't in immediate danger, but her scalp tingled from the pressure alone.
Jiang Lian's gaze clung to her neck. He knew that if he just squeezed a little, her face would quickly turn red, maybe even purple.
But he couldn't bring himself to do it.
That wasn't the kind of red he wanted.
Then what was?
His expression grew colder. Not knowing the answer made him restless again.
His fingers slowly slid from her neck into her hair, cupping the back of her head.
The killing intent, restlessness, and some thick, indescribable emotion crawled from his chest to his fingertips, numbing his hands—he could barely hold her hair.
If I kill her, he thought coldly, will this feeling disappear?
But instead of killing her, he lowered his head and kissed her.
Zhou Jiao blinked, caught off guard.
She was already used to kissing him these past few days.
When he leaned in, she instinctively stuck out her tongue, brushing his lips with its tip.
She thought he'd remain passive as usual and let her feed him her saliva.
But this time, he was like a hunting snake—capturing her tongue and sucking on it fiercely and aggressively.
Her tongue ached from the force.
He tugged her hair as his Adam's apple bobbed, drinking down her saliva like a man dying of thirst in a desert.
Not a single drop was wasted.
When a string of saliva dripped from her lips, Jiang Lian's peripheral vision caught it. Instantly, a crack split open in his body and a tentacle shot out to catch the droplet.
Zhou Jiao was already breathless from the kiss.
Only when she was nearly suffocating did he finally let her go.
His face remained expressionless, but his thumb gently wiped his lips.
After spending some time with him, Zhou Jiao had learned:
He only did that when he was extremely hungry.
Her eyelid twitched. "???"
No way. He just drained my mouth dry—he's still hungry?!
—It wasn't hunger.
But it felt just as searing—an intense burn in his throat.
That strange tingling sensation on his tongue was gone, replaced by an unbearable emptiness.
It felt as if only tearing her apart and swallowing her whole could ease it.
Jiang Lian pressed his thumb against his lips and stared at Zhou Jiao for a long, long time. His expression grew darker, like he was trying to decide what to do with her.
The air itself seemed to pull tight, tension mounting by the second.
At last, Jiang Lian spoke coldly:
"Wait for me outside."
"…?"
Zhou Jiao thought he was acting downright strange today—completely irrational.
Then again, he wasn't human. That alone explained a lot.
With a shrug, she left to wait outside.
Almost the moment she stepped out, purple-black tentacles flooded the walls, floor, and ceiling.
Had she looked back, she would've seen that these tentacles were ten times more terrifying than what she'd witnessed before—each one bristling with shark-like barbed cilia underneath.
Jiang Lian pushed open the door to the operating room.
Xie Yueze was packing up, preparing to leave. When he heard the door creak, he looked up in surprise.
"…Dr. Jiang?"
He hadn't expected Jiang Lian to show up and was caught completely off guard.
But he was trained—bred by biotech as a special operative. His instincts kicked in immediately, and he reached for his earpiece to call in a report and request backup.
His hand never made it.
A tentacle lashed out, grabbing his wrist mid-air.
Xie Yueze froze.
He looked up to see the operating room completely swallowed by writhing purple-black tendrils—twisting, weaving, pulsing across every surface.
Anyone witnessing the scene would've been chilled to the bone, despite the ethereal bioluminescence they gave off, shimmering like glowing plankton.
Xie Yueze opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Jiang Lian didn't give him the chance.
With a sharp crack, his throat was crushed by the tentacle. His body went limp, and his head dropped at a horrific angle, unsupported.
At the same moment, Xie Yueze's communicator began flashing wildly, attempting to establish contact with Jiang Lian.
But Jiang Lian didn't even spare it a glance.
He closed his eyes briefly. Still not enough.
Killing him didn't calm his agitation.
Maybe it was time to kill a few more.
The senior executives on the other end of the transmission watched this unfold in stunned silence—these people weren't just employees. They were biotechnological agents, specially modified with combat-grade chips that responded to their hormonal levels. Some even had enhanced muscle capabilities, able to unlock over 95% of their potential strength.
In short, these individuals had undergone heavy bio-enhancement—some to the point where they couldn't even be considered human in the physiological sense. They should never have died so easily.
Yet Jiang Lian slaughtered them as effortlessly as mowing down grass.
Every room he entered was filled with the sounds of bone-breaking screams and crushing cries.
A few attempted to fight back—back-to-back, one wielding a gun and the other holding a riot shield, they unleashed a storm of bullets at Jiang Lian. These weren't ordinary rounds but high-temperature alloy rounds, heated over 1,000°C. Upon impact, they would immediately release a super-cooled liquid, freezing anything they hit.
Even the toughest mutant shells couldn't withstand this attack.
But Jiang Lian wasn't just any mutant.
A tentacle shot into one of the men's bodies, and in less than two seconds, everyone—including their riot shields—was pierced through. The tentacle twisted and thrashed, blood sprayed in torrents, and bones cracked audibly. The scene was like something out of a horror film.
The executives stared at this grotesque display, their faces shifting between horror and disbelief.
They had drastically underestimated Jiang Lian's power.
Time was running out. They needed Zhou Jiao's scent—quickly.
With that thought, the executives hastily cut off the feed.
What they failed to see was that the first man to be pierced by the tentacle suddenly stiffened and jerked his head toward the door, his eyes fixed in a blurry, jerking stare.
"...So fragrant..." he murmured. "So fragrant, so fragrant, so fragrant… she's so fragrant…"
Jiang Lian's eyes turned ice-cold, a terrifying chill radiating from him. He spoke in a voice colder than the grave:
"—You dare covet her?"
With those words, the man's bones erupted from his body, as if some horrific force was pushing his bones out of his skin. His joints stretched and broke free, bloodied and dislocated, until his skeleton was fully exposed.
Before the man could even scream, he collapsed into a lifeless skin sack.
Meanwhile, Zhou Jiao, growing impatient from waiting outside, glanced at a neon sign among the endless piles of trash. It depicted Jesus, illuminated in garish nightclub neon.
She wanted to laugh but couldn't.
This damned city even reduced martyrdom to a grotesque parody, using neon lights to form a mockery of Christ.
Maybe her end would be like that—like Jesus, lying discarded in the trash.
Or maybe, her end would be worse.
Zhou Jiao was a woman of strong will.
From the moment she saw Jiang Lian's true nature, she knew her goal:
—Survive.
She would survive this monster's grasp.
But to survive, was she willing to cooperate with the company?
On one side stood the flesh-eating monster; on the other, the flesh-eating capital.
Which one was the true threat?
She stared at the neon Jesus for several minutes, unmoving, lost in thought.
How much time passed? Seconds? Minutes?
Then, with a glint of cold steel in her eyes, she sent a message to Xie Yueze:
ZJ: I'm willing to cooperate, but you'll need to offer more substantial terms.
Two minutes later, a response came:
BIOTECH HQ: Meet us at Pier 7 at 8 PM in one week. Bring Jiang Lian. We'll be waiting for you. If the deal goes through, we'll transfer 50 million new yen into your account—enough to live worry-free for ten lifetimes.
Zhou Jiao arched an eyebrow at the message.
Just then, a cold presence pressed into her back—Jiang Lian had stepped up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply.
She smelled the thick scent of blood.
His breath was heavy against her skin—he had killed again.
At that moment, her decision was final.
Yes. Until now, only Jiang Lian had ever given her that indescribable thrill.
She knew, deep down, that only he could give her that.
But she couldn't spend her life with him choking her throat just to feel that fleeting rush.
Working with the company? That was like striking a deal with a tiger for its skin.
But if she didn't try… how would she know who would come out on top in the end?
Just then, Jiang Lian's cold breath tickled her ear.
He whispered, "...What's dermatophilia?"
Zhou Jiao froze.
Damn—she almost forgot about that excuse!