Star Hunter

Chapter Two: Subject

Xilin's nose was highly sensitive, capable of isolating and analyzing the mixed scents it detected. It was precisely for this reason that Xilin felt a surge of astonishment.

Who could possibly be using such reagents—were they just idle or driven by a peculiar interest, or perhaps some other unknown motive?

The scent did not waft in from the rain outside; it was clear from the wind and the mix of air currents that it emanated from within the building itself. But in such a desolate structure, who would be using those ancient chemicals? And in this day and age, aside from certain eccentric research departments, who would still resort to such archaic methods?

Following the trail of the scent, Xilin found a pipe, as thick as a thumb, hidden among the debris. As he traced it, he soon discovered that the pipe's end was concealed within the wall.

Hidden quite well, indeed.

He activated a small, handheld light projector, casting a pale blue beam across the wall. The pipe, buried within the structure, became clearly visible. The more he examined it, the more his curiosity deepened.

Interesting.

In addition to this pipe, Xilin discovered several more hidden in similar fashion.

He became increasingly cautious. Though leaving would have been the wisest course of action, a strange feeling compelled him to keep searching, pushing him to uncover the source.

Following the pipe, he navigated through winding corridors, some of which required him to crawl through ancient ventilation shafts. Reaching the first floor of the building, he uncovered a hidden hatch and descended through a narrow staircase.

The silence was almost complete, but not absolute. After a careful assessment, he discerned that there were no immediate signs of life nearby. With the light projector in hand, he proceeded further into the depths.

The number of pipes grew steadily, and Xilin knew he was drawing closer to his objective. Taking a deep breath, he switched off the light, sensing that the path ahead would not be as straightforward. Although he had not detected any movement in front of him, his instincts told him to proceed with caution. Despite the minimal energy fluctuations within a ten-meter radius, it was safer to turn off the projector.

The surrounding darkness pressed in. Relying on the subtle movements of the air, Xilin navigated around obstacles, moving forward carefully. About thirty minutes later, the space began to open up. Tiny electronic lights flickered into view, revealing a long-forgotten history. The dust on the light panels indicated that no one had been here for at least a month.

As Xilin glanced at the wall, unease stirred within him.

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong! This place felt like... a trap! A trap!

A surge of danger instinctually gripped him, and without hesitation, Xilin turned and fled. As a seasoned hunter, his instincts told him that he could not handle whatever threat lay ahead.

However, faster than he could react, a thick, custom steel plate sealed off his escape route.

In a swift motion, Xilin drew a metal blade from his side. Though a laser knife could easily cut through the steel, it would take time, and the energy fluctuations it produced would betray his position.

Leaning against the steel plate, Xilin remained still, knowing someone was ahead.

Tap, tap, tap...

The footsteps approached, slow and unhurried, with no attempt at concealment, exuding a confidence born of certainty.

Click.

A beam of light illuminated the path, flooding the corridor with brightness.

Xilin squinted, quickly adjusting to the harsh transition from dim to bright light. However, the person standing before him seemed in no hurry, patiently waiting for Xilin to regain his bearings.

The figure was an elderly man, appearing frail, as though on the verge of death, his skin a deep yellow, his limbs shriveled. Despite wearing protective goggles, Xilin could not discern his eyes. Yet, even with his brittle appearance, the man radiated an aura that sent chills down Xilin’s spine.

The man walked toward Xilin, leisurely, as though taking a stroll.

Strike first!

With a sudden burst of speed, Xilin shot forward, leaving no afterimage in his wake. His speed was so remarkable that even a D-class genetic subject would be hard-pressed to match him.

Clang!

The sharp sound of metal rang out.

A hand, as thin and frail as a twig, grasped the blade's tip beside the elderly man's carotid artery, holding it with the ease of snapping a branch.

Despite Xilin's preference for cold weapons, using them to strike silently and swiftly, this specially crafted alloy blade was easily stopped by the old man’s hand—no, it was more accurate to say it was crushed effortlessly.

Years of hunting experience gave Xilin no time to waste on further thought. This person was not someone he could confront. He had to escape!

But before he could make a move, his body was suddenly bound by tendrils of liquid metal. Looking back at their source, Xilin was stunned to see these tendrils emerging from the five fingers of the old man's other hand—more precisely, from the extensions of his fingers.

A human? A machine? A mutant? Or something else entirely?

The cold, metallic touch was enough to make Xilin sense the unmistakable presence of death. Every pore of his skin seemed to radiate a chill.

Crack!

The alloy knife, which had claimed so many lives, was crushed. The old man's skeletal fingers tightened around Xilin’s throat, lifting him off the ground with a simple twist, like lifting a chicken by the neck.

His limbs were tightly bound, and the pressure on his neck was cutting off circulation.

"Heh, you’ve arrived just in time," the elderly man chuckled, his voice laced with a certain eagerness.

While most people would have already begun to lose consciousness in such a hold, Xilin still retained enough strength to think, considering his options.

The old man studied Xilin with increasing satisfaction.

Doors opened and closed one after another, filling Xilin with dread. Beneath this dilapidated town, such a place existed!

This underground chamber was far older than thirty or fifty years and far more intricate than Xilin had imagined. Its security and concealment were impeccable; otherwise, it would not have remained undetected for so long. Or perhaps, those who had discovered it had already perished.

Xilin caught a glimpse of an open room, where individuals, preserved in liquid vats like specimens, were being kept. Their distorted faces and contorted expressions sent a chill down his spine. It was clear that these people had endured unbearable t*****e before their deaths.

Perhaps, the next person to join them would be Xilin himself.

The old man showed no intention of killing Xilin immediately. His grip was controlled, neither allowing Xilin to escape nor causing immediate harm to his physical state.

He had said Xilin arrived at the perfect moment because, just as the previous test subject had died and been placed in the liquid tank, Xilin had conveniently arrived.

Xilin was brought into a room filled with various instruments and tools. In one corner, a table held several bottles and jars. Some of these Xilin recognized from the gas he had detected earlier, and they were the very reagents used to purify DNA.

In this day and age, almost no one, except for the old scholars, still used or even understood such primitive DNA purification methods. Xilin had conducted similar experiments, but only out of curiosity, never pursuing them with any great depth.

Purifying DNA today required only a palm-sized device—fast, precise, and capable of analyzing genomic functions. However, every such device required real-name registration, and each machine was bound by a registration code, a chip, and data connectivity.

Since the old man chose to purify DNA by hand, and clearly in large quantities, it suggested that his research was illegal, and he was likely a wanted criminal. However, Xilin found no trace of him in the planet’s wanted lists, which were public, containing only a picture and a bounty amount.

This underground laboratory had evaded detection by "sky-eye" surveillance, and its data was most likely isolated from the outside world. This ensured it had avoided detection—or perhaps, those who had found it had already died.

What was this old man trying to accomplish?

Placing Xilin on a floating white table, the old man pressed a button on a nearby machine. Xilin's wrists and limbs were shackled by restraints that emerged from the surface, while fine threads of material penetrated his clothes and burrowed into his body. Within moments, he became an experiment, his body filled with red and blue fibers, while the monitor beside him displayed fluctuating data.

With Xilin immobilized, the old man withdrew his hand, allowing his fingers to return to their twig-like form. After injecting Xilin with a thick, cold liquid, he swiftly pressed more buttons, analyzing the data from more than ten other machines.

The pain was excruciating, as though it were drilling into his very bones. His fingers trembled, and his blood coursed in irregular patterns, each moment testing the limits of his nervous system. His mind almost fractured, but after a brief blank period, Xilin struggled to refocus. Otherwise, he too would soon join the ranks of those preserved as specimens.

The thick, viscous liquid injected into him was, in fact, a series of miniature, custom-designed biological chips, some with properties resembling genetic carriers. These chips integrated into the chromosomes, synchronizing replication and division.

The red fibers induced metabolic acceleration, promoting rapid cell division, while the blue

fibers suppressed this process. The old man was clearly manipulating his genetic expression, manipulating Xilin's DNA.