The Last Werewolf in History

Chapter 21

A blinding red light erupted. A piercing alarm shrieked—drilling deep into his eardrums like an auger.

Qin Lie's fingers danced across the control console. The progress bar on the screen was stalled at ninety-nine percent; the flickering red warning lights reflected in his pupils, burning like twin flames. Behind him, in the corridor, came the heavy tread of boots—not just one pair, but many, marching in perfect unison. It was the Silver Cross Society's Emergency Response Squad.

The progress bar filled to completion.

The storage device ejected; Qin Lie snatched it up and shoved it into a hidden compartment on his tactical belt. *Click*—the clasp locked shut.

A new pop-up window flashed across the screen: "Neural Inhibitor Failure," "Test Subject Uncontained." On the surveillance feed, a massive werewolf was tearing at its alloy restraints; the screech of rending metal blared through the speakers, distorted by static. The creature's body was bristling with tubes, its muscles bulging so violently they threatened to burst through its skin; with every struggle, the tremors in the floor traveled up through the console to shake the ground beneath Qin Lie's feet.

Qin Lie spun around. At the far end of the corridor leading to the exit, several intersecting laser sights swept across the room.

"Drop your weapon!"

The command, amplified by a loudspeaker, sounded cold, hard, and utterly devoid of inflection.

Qin Lie didn't move. He lowered his center of gravity, pressing his back against the console's heavy metal base. The instant the bullets flew, he executed a lateral slide-step. Sparks flew as rounds ricocheted off the alloy walls; stray bullets whizzed past his ears, severing several dangling cables.

A shower of sparks landed on the back of his hand, leaving a stinging red welt.

Two squad members leaned out from behind their cover, muzzle flashes flickering from their weapons. Qin Lie held his breath, then exploded into action during the brief pause as they paused to reload. His leg muscles tensed, and the floor tiles beneath him cracked. He slammed into the left-flank trooper's defensive line like a cannonball; his short sword flashed from its sheath, a streak of cold steel slashing across the man's throat.

Blood spurted onto the faceplate of the trooper's gas mask, quickly trickling down the glass.

The other trooper immediately swiveled his weapon toward him. Qin Lie snatched up a heavy metal keyboard from the console and hurled it at the man; seizing the moment while the trooper's vision was obscured, he lashed out with a kick, striking the man's wrist. The g*n clattered to the floor, immediately followed by a sharp chop to the back of the neck. The squad member slumped to the ground.

Silence fell over the corridor for a few brief seconds. Only the blare of the alarm continued to ring out.

Qin Lie gasped for breath, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. A ricocheting bullet from the earlier skirmish had grazed the skin beneath his tactical vest. He had no time to inspect the wound; instead, his gaze swept across his surroundings. To the side of the control console, a half-open isolation chamber—constructed of reinforced glass—caught his eye.

Inside lay a gaunt, skeletal figure.

It was a werewolf. Yet, unlike the frenzied beast he had seen on the monitors moments ago, this one showed barely any signs of life. A complex network of tubes and wires snaked across its body, its chest rising and falling faintly in rhythm with a respirator. Most jarring of all was the device implanted at the base of its skull—a metal interface embedded deep within the flesh, its blinking red light resembling some grotesque parasite.

Qin Lie's fingers tightened around the hilt of his short sword.

This was "Project Chimera." Not mere s*******r, but the transformation of living, sentient beings into obedient weapons. Stripped of their will, implanted with controls, and left with nothing but the primal instinct to kill.

The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder once more. This time, they were more numerous—and far more dense.

A frontal assault was out of the question. The exit had already been sealed off; fighting his way through now would only serve to drain his remaining strength.

Qin Lie reached for his waist, his fingertips brushing against a cold, cylindrical object: a miniature stun grenade given to him by Su Hongxiu. He would have only one chance.

He yanked the pin, counted two seconds in his head, and hurled the device deep into the corridor.

*Boom.*

A blinding flash of white light erupted, followed immediately by a high-frequency sonic shockwave. The screams echoing through the corridor were drowned out by the blare of the alarm system. Smoke billowed outward, carrying with it the acrid scent of ozone and scorched metal.

Instead of making a break for the exit, Qin Lie spun around and charged toward the wall behind the control console. There, he spotted a ventilation grate; the tremors caused by the test subject's earlier rampage had shaken its mounting screws loose.

He jammed the tip of his short sword into the gap and pried with all his might. The metal buckled and twisted, emitting a jarring, screeching protest.

The grate tore free.

Qin Lie scrambled inside. The ventilation shaft was narrow and cramped, its razor-sharp edges tearing through his combat uniform and leaving several b****y gashes across his arms. He pressed on relentlessly, scrambling forward on all fours. Gunshots rang out behind him; bullets ricocheted off the outer wall of the duct, sending dust sifting down in a steady shower.

After crawling for roughly twenty meters, he reached a bend in the duct ahead. Qin Lie paused and glanced back.

The smoke had not yet fully dissipated, and the figures of his pursuers flickered in and out of view amidst the red glow. For now, he had shaken them off.

He continued to crawl forward. The air inside the duct was thick and foul, carrying the metallic tang of rust.

At that very moment, in the surveillance room...

The captain of the Silver Cross stared intently at the screen. The image—captured just a second earlier—showed a profile view of a face caught by a camera at the ventilation duct's entrance. Although the image was blurry, the subject's gear was clearly identifiable—particularly the tactical belt cinched around his waist and the short sword clutched in his hand.

"Target confirmed to have escaped."

The captain's voice was devoid of emotion as his fingers tapped across the keyboard, bringing up a different interface. "Subject is in possession of 'Chimera' core data. Initiate 'Scavenger' Protocol."

A red confirmation box popped up on the screen. The captain clicked to confirm.

"Lock down all exits in the industrial zone. Shoot to kill."

The sound of orders being relayed to various squads crackled over the comms channel. The captain cut the transmission, his gaze darkening as he watched the figure on the screen vanish into the shadows.

"This time... don't let him leave alive."

Inside the ventilation duct, Qin Lie paused.

His ears twitched. From the distance came the roar of vehicle engines and the buzzing whine of drone rotors. The sounds were muffled—filtered through thick concrete walls—yet he could tell their intensity and density were rapidly increasing.

The encirclement outside was tightening.

Qin Lie wiped the dust from his face. Blood seeped from the wound on his arm, leaving a sticky trail. He shoved the data storage device deeper into his tactical belt, ensuring it wouldn't slip out.

Just ahead lay the junction for the sewage system. Once he passed through there, he would gain access to the vast underground sewer network.

He resumed crawling. His elbows scraped against the rough surface, tearing the skin and smearing blood along the inner walls of the duct.

A glimmer of light appeared at the end of the tunnel. It was moonlight.

Qin Lie halted, cautiously poking his head halfway out. Outside lay the rooftop platform of the abandoned industrial park, where weeds sprouted from the cracks between the roof tiles. The distant high-rises blazed with light, resembling a second forest.

Several beams from searchlights swept across the ground. A black sedan came to a halt at an intersection; its doors swung open, and a group of figures clad in black stepped out.

Qin Lie pulled his head back inside.

Stepping out now would be tantamount to making himself a sitting duck.

He felt the data cable in his pocket. It held the truth—but it was also his death warrant. The Silver Cross Society would no more spare him than they would spare anyone else privy to their secrets.

A vibration rippled from deep within the ductwork. It was likely the pursuers systematically sweeping through the ventilation system.

Hesitating no longer, Qin Lie scrambled out of the duct and landed in the deep shadows of the rooftop. The roof tiles gave a faint clatter, a sound instantly swallowed by the wind.

Keeping his body low, he moved along the roof ridge. Beneath his feet lay a scattering of broken tiles and accumulated dust.