At 7:40 a.m. the next morning, a helicopter at Dark Moon Headquarters prepped for takeoff. Its rotors bit the pale morning air like knives through mist.
Night Cat tilted his head, a curious sparrow under the hangar lights. “Captain Tang, why’re you going alone?”
Tang Ke’s grin was easy, a paper lantern bobbing on calm water. “Just a routine recon. Why bring a crowd? You all take a few days off. Sigh… hard life for the captain.”
By the skids, the whole Shadow Division clustered like reeds in a breeze. Princess Gu Xin watched Tang Ke trade jokes, her quiet gaze rippling like a lake disturbed by rain.
Meng Yuting drifted in with a fox’s smile, perfume curling like smoke. “Yo, Captain Tang’s in a good mood. Had fun last time? When you’re back, let’s play something new.”
Her words were honey with thorns; Tang Ke felt a chill slide in like a shadow. Bad omens perched like crows on the fence.
He coughed, eyes on the sun’s rim. “Ahem, the hour’s auspicious. I’m off.”
He seized the window and climbed aboard; the metal door slammed like a lid on a drum. The light helicopter rose like a gull skimming a wave. Faces below shrank, lanterns receding in fog, and his gaze snagged on Gu Xin, her eyes a thin silken thread tied his way.
…
The craft dwindled to a dot; the team scattered like leaves in a breeze. Laughter and footsteps washed away like tidewater. Meng Yuting noticed Gu Xin’s stillness, a pine tree holding snow.
“Xin, what’s wrong? Something on your mind?”
Gu Xin felt Meng Yuting draw close, warmth pressing like a shawl. Her eyes left the shrinking dot, that iron dragon fading into cloud. “I don’t know why, but I’ve got a bad feeling—like a cold wind under the door.”
She touched the half-transparent ring on her left wrist, frost-clear with irregular patterns like river maps. It wasn’t a simple accessory; it was the tangible shell of Tang Ke’s Anomaly Power. His Anomaly Power was a rare mechanical type, letting him wield ultra-tech weapons and Armor like stars forged into steel. It could extend to others, so Gu Xin’s wrist ring carried his gift like a seeded charm. The other four had similar pieces—Meng Yuting wore a pretty earring, silver as moonlight. These artifacts could grant short bursts of Armor, a team Anomaly woven like shared breath.
“It’s fine,” Meng Yuting said, voice warm as tea. “Just a recon.”
“I hope so.” Gu Xin exhaled; her sigh drifted like mist across water. She turned and walked back inside with Meng Yuting, feet soft as cats on tatami. But her thoughts threaded like incense smoke: A recon that mobilizes the Shadow Division… could it really be that simple?
Over the Pacific, the helicopter slowed, hanging like a hawk above slate water. Tang Ke dove out into the sky, a stone slipping through silk.
“Neptune, engage.”
As if the sea answered, blue particles flared around him, starlight spilling like rain. Pale-blue Armor flowed over his frame, a shell of ice and iron. He knifed into the water; thrusters on his back burned like twin comets, driving him toward the target.
An island surfaced on the horizon, a dark turtle shell rising from green glass. He eased speed, drifting toward the shore like a shadow. Patrol boats squatted at the docks like sleeping dogs; none prowled the water.
He slipped onto land and dropped his Anomaly Power, the shimmer folding like a cloak. He wore the most forgettable skin: a filthy coarse jacket and trousers, grimed like workbench rags; plain sneakers, and a gray baseball cap dull as ash. He adjusted his disguise and headed into the trees, a traveler vanishing into bamboo gloom.
The forest wasn’t thick, its canopy a patchwork fan. Beyond it stood a research facility, concrete bones under a sterile sky.
A virtual scope floated before his eyes, glass lines humming like dragonflies. At the gate, four guards drank, bottles chiming like bells. He watched their swagger, let the idea settle like ink, then turned away, ghosting back into the green.
He returned soon, soaked to the skin, water beads clinging like fish scales. He walked toward the gate, steps loose as reeds in wind, playing drunk to the rhythm of their laughter.
They spotted him quick, four pairs of eyes bright as matchheads. He staggered to the door, swaying like a boat in chop.
“Hey! What’s with you?” one guard called, voice rough as gravel. “Why’re you soaked?”
Tang Ke spat to the side, a dark seed on concrete. “Damn it, don’t ask. Went to take a leak, and a sea gust blew me into the drink. Nearly drowned.”
“Hahaha! Nice one, brother,” another jeered, grin oily as spillwater. “You’ve had plenty, huh? Can’t even stand.”
“Screw you. You’re the one who’s hammered. I’m not drunk!”
He barked like a dog tugging its chain, playing the fool with eyes half-lidded.
“Alright, alright,” the guard said, laughter rolling like lazy waves. “Go swap your clothes, then come back and keep drinking.”
Tang Ke’s thoughts clicked like a hook setting in a gill. Gotcha.
He wobbled through the doors, the facility’s mouth closing like steel jaws behind him.
Room after room, mercs drank with red faces, celebration foaming like beer heads. Whatever they toasted was a dark harvest; good news for them meant smoke for others.
He moved deeper, corridors winding like veins in stone. The reek of alcohol on him worked like a pass, smearing questions flat.
After careful probing, he found the core lab. He scanned the corners—no cameras, no blinking red eyes. At the threshold, he sent out Anomalous Energy sense, a ripple like sonar through still water, and felt only emptiness. He manifested a device like a hard drive, small and quiet as a loach. He pressed it to the fingerprint pad; soft blue light rose like moonwater. The door slid open.
He eased inside. Sterile air clung like hospital sheets. He saw huge cultivation tanks standing like glass tombs, instruments neat and sharp as surgeon’s knives. He stepped to a tank and peered in; the yellow fluid swirled murky as swamp water. He squinted—and saw a person floating within, a pale leaf trapped under ice.
His fists tightened, stones grinding in his palms. “Those bastards. Human experiments.”
He began to scan the equipment and files, eyes flicking like swallows. He didn’t notice the central tank, larger than the rest by a full ring, a silent whale sleeping in the middle of the room.
