Chapter 120: What Are You Afraid Of?

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

Shiyuan Star was an intelligent livestock world with almost no permanent residents. Three hours earlier, a beast invasion had struck, but it caused no casualties among the local ranch staff. Because the Bogela System lay so close to the Federation’s central territory, no one had ever expected beasts to appear there. The only armed presence was the star police assigned to routine patrol duty.

The star police were completely unfamiliar with beast warfare, and their weapons were limited in power. By the time they had killed the thirty-some large beasts that landed on Shiyuan Star, dozens of officers had suffered severe injuries.

The Bogela System lay near the Rose System, a heavily populated region, and news of the attack could not be contained. The moment the story broke, Federation citizens were thrown into panic. In less than half an hour, wild speculation ran rampant.

The star network, which had not collapsed in decades, was on the verge of freezing. And this happened even while part of the truth had been deliberately suppressed by the Federation government. If the “infection” intel that Chang Jian had privately shared with Lu Yao ever became public, no one could predict how great the wave of terror would be.

What unsettled Lu Yao even more at that moment was another fact—Carriedo and Yan Jiujiang’s asteroid was near Shiyuan Star. Since beasts could fly through space, would they be in danger?

Pressing his lips together, Lu Yao turned and left the noisy, chaotic conference hall. Even though the room was filled only with scientists and engineers, not strategists or politicians, everyone could sense the ominous storm gathering.

Outside the meeting room, Lu Yao found an empty corner and opened a channel to Yan Jiujiang. The call rang for thirty seconds before it connected. The moment he heard Yan’s voice, Lu Yao finally breathed easier.

“I saw the news about the beast attack on Shiyuan Star,” he said quickly. “Are you all right?”

“For now, yes. The beasts only attacked Shiyuan Star, though they destroyed several aircraft. We saw the lights of battle out in space,” Yan Jiujiang replied. “You… there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“The beasts brought infection.”

“I know. Chang Jian told me the livestock on Shiyuan Star were infected, but I don’t know the details.”

“It’s not just that. Humans have been infected too.”

“Humans?” Lu Yao’s mind went blank for a moment. The more rational he tried to be, the harder it was to grasp.

“Yes, humans,” Yan confirmed.

“How could beasts infect humans?” Lu Yao asked, incredulous. “They’re an entirely different lifeform—not even carbon-based. How could they infect either humans or livestock? What exactly do you mean by infection?”

In carbon-based organisms, infection usually meant viruses or bacteria—still within the carbon domain. But beasts were tungsten-based lifeforms, built on an entirely different foundation. How could they “infect” humans or animals?

They were called “beasts” only because, when confronted with such unprecedented creatures, humanity had reached for a familiar word shaped by fear.

“Animals that were infected developed metallic skin, similar to the beasts’ shells. Beyond that…” Yan hesitated. “Qian Shan has already gone to Shiyuan Star to take over post-incident handling. He passed me internal reports. Some of the infected star police and livestock began emitting the same signal radiation as the beasts.”

“That’s how the beasts locate and communicate with each other.”

“Exactly. Which is why this is now very serious. Qian Shan can’t determine whether that radiation will draw larger beast swarms into the Bogela System. He suggested that Carriedo and I leave for a while and only return when things are safe. Your grandfather, Lu Shiyan, is also part of the investigation. His recommendation is to transport the beast corpses and the infected people and animals out of Bogela and conduct the research at the frontlines instead.”

Lu Yao asked, “He’s going to the frontlines too?”

Yan sighed. “I don’t know. But his proposal will likely be adopted. Shiyuan Star is far too close to the Rose System. The Federation can’t afford the risk. Still, no one knows if bringing those signal sources into a frontline lab might trigger a beast attack even sooner. Observations of the Alien Void show the beasts are becoming more active.”

Lu Yao was silent for a moment. “All right. I understand. Are you and Carriedo planning to return to New Blue Star?”

“Probably not. We’ll go stay on a remote asteroid for a while. You have my contact. If things get critical and you need our help, call anytime.”

When the call with Yan Jiujiang ended, Lu Yao immediately tried contacting his grandfather. He called three times without an answer. Just as he was about to try a fourth time, a message arrived from Lu Shiyan: Busy with work. Do not disturb. If you’re asking about Shiyuan Star, I cannot disclose details right now.

The grandfather and grandson were accustomed to such businesslike exchanges, but in the current situation, receiving no concrete information left Lu Yao deeply uneasy. Half a minute later, a second message appeared: The military is handling security. Do not worry.

As the screen went dark, Lu Yao leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Internal security in Federation territory should have been the responsibility of the star police. Yet with beasts involved, the military’s presence did bring more reassurance. At the same time, it was a stark sign that Lu Shiyan might truly be headed for a border lab to continue the research.

Beast infection—or perhaps beast assimilation. Aside from far-fetched sci-fi films, Lu Yao had heard of such a thing only once before. The CROSS Laboratory. Their goal had been to graft beasts and humans together. They had poured tremendous effort into it. Though they were destroyed before creating a successful specimen, they had developed plenty of related technology. And that technology should have—

No. Something didn’t add up. The investigation and subsequent cleanup had indeed been handled by the Federation Intelligence Bureau. Lu Yao had known Mr. Teng—then just a low-level agent—for decades. If the Bureau were secretly researching CROSS’s leftover technology, Teng, who was now deputy director and had tirelessly pursued that very case, could not possibly have missed it.

Moreover, the Bureau had no motive to lure beasts into the Bogela System so close to the Rose System. Destroying a livestock star brought them nothing but trouble. Who else could it be…?

A researcher from the new energy lab spotted Lu Yao standing in the corner of the hallway, his expression complicated. The man jogged over and asked, “Chief Engineer Lu, the meeting has resumed inside. Will you be going back in?”

Lu Yao paused for a moment. “No. My part is already finished. Please, tell Professor Wang for me—I have other matters to attend to, so I’ll be leaving.”

“All right, you—” The researcher never finished his sentence. All that remained was the faint gust stirred by Lu Yao’s coat as he strode away in haste. “Stay safe,” the man called after him.

Lu Yao boarded his personal flier and sealed the hatch. In the darkness of the underground garage, he switched on the protective isolation mode, then dialed a number.

Ten seconds later, the call connected. The other side refused to open video; in the narrow space, only a voice sounded. Before Lu Yao could speak, the man said, “Lu Yao, I know why you’ve come to me. Yes—it’s exactly as you suspect.”

“The CROSS Laboratory’s technology succeeded?”

“Perhaps. Or it may be another technological path.” Mr. Teng’s tone was utterly flat, as lifeless as if spoken by a machine made of stone.

Chang Jian would likely have been gratified—because in an instant, Lu Yao understood the unspoken meaning. The CROSS Laboratory had not been independent. Its investors had very likely continued funding other illegal labs after CROSS was exposed, all pursuing the same research into fusing beasts with humans. “Who’s behind the labs?”

Mr. Teng fell silent. Lu Yao pressed a hand to his forehead. “Are you telling me… you already know?”

“Yes, I know. But we cannot reveal it. And we must not let them realize we’ve uncovered the truth.” Mr. Teng hesitated. For the first time, a hint of exhaustion bled through his measured voice. “But they’ve probably already guessed that the Federation Intelligence Bureau knows who they are. They’re only gambling that we don’t dare speak.”

“Why?”

“Lu Yao, many things are about to happen. We’ve known each other for so many years—there’s some bond between us. I want you to take care of yourself.”

“What things? Tell me clearly!”

It was the first time Mr. Teng had ever heard Lu Yao raise his voice in something close to a roar. He opened his mouth slowly, then shut it again, as though the words weighed too much to carry. After a pause, he finally said, “You’ll know soon enough. You cannot stop it. Fate has already reached this point, and none of us can turn it back.”

Lu Yao did not end the call, and Mr. Teng hesitated as well, unable to disconnect. He could hear Lu Yao’s ragged, restrained breathing, sharp with anger. Then Lu Yao demanded, “What are you afraid of?”

“If you insist on asking… I fear that everything I’ve done will turn out to be meaningless.” His voice broke for the briefest instant. “Don’t worry. Even if the beast tide truly erupts, humanity will not be destroyed. That was never their goal.”

With that, Mr. Teng cut the connection. He dared not speak further, worried that another word or two would cause him to spill everything.

The message Call Ended flashed across Lu Yao’s personal AI assistant. He furrowed his brows, his gaze piercing into the blackness ahead. The beast tide… Were the people behind the scenes trying to provoke it? But the tide in the Alien Void was already brewing on its own. Why were they in such a hurry?

Too many threads tangled in Lu Yao’s mind, with no loose end to pull. In the end, all he had was a snarl of knots. Drawing in a deep breath, he switched off the flier’s isolation mode and guided it toward the central district. He did not return to his mountaintop villa but detoured instead to Zhou Yunchen’s residence, asking Mo Feng to pick up Torque on his way off duty and bring the cat over.

Countless crises pressed against Lu Yao’s nerves, scattered and jagged like the hidden depths of a lake where monsters might lurk. On the star network, noise and chaos reigned, conspiracies about beasts spreading like wildfire.

But within the villa, there was nothing except Lu Yao and Torque. Ruth’s billion-year-old light spilled gently over the world, and the rose-colored sunset stretched long shadows across the wooden floor.

When the door shut, silence fell. The sky swelled with violet-blue clouds, hiding the stars and the vastness of space. For that moment, it was as if the wars, the bloodshed, and the chaos had never happened at all—mere illusion.

“Meow~” Torque tilted back his head and called. Lu Yao rubbed the cat’s chin, then went to the storage room to find the leftover kibble he had not taken with him months ago. He poured it into a dish for Torque to eat.

Author’s Note:

Lu Yao: Annoyed. Time to cuddle the kitten.

 

 

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