Like a Mad Dog Seeing a Sweet and Tempting Bait
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As soon as Zhou Jiao stepped out, she saw a scene of devastation.
She couldn’t help but furrow her brows. How could these fish eggs have self-destructed in just the time it took to complete a disinfection procedure?
She had encountered this situation before, but that was because mutant species had come into contact with an even more terrifying existence.
— Among mutant species, hierarchy was strict. Lower-level mutants, when faced with the pressure of higher-level mutants, could only explode and die, just like how humans were powerless against landslides and tsunamis.
Could there be a higher-level mutant among these corpses?
Zhou Jiao’s expression subtly changed.
If that were the case, then this was bad. She did not have the ability to handle a high-level mutant alone.
The last time she encountered a high-level mutant was six months ago.
Even though so much time had passed, she could still remember the scene vividly: a tsunami over ten meters high suddenly erupted along the coastline, like a surging glass wall of waves.
When they arrived, they realized it was not a tsunami at all but a high-level mutant slaughtering wantonly.
By the time she drove over, the high-level mutant had already been forced onto a bridge, letting out a piercing howl.
Its eyes were hidden beneath its semi-transparent silicified skin, contracting rapidly, with pupils compressed into a thin line, as if it was afraid of something.
Yet, standing before it was only one person.
— Jiang Lian.
At the time, Zhou Jiao was too far from Jiang Lian to see the details clearly.
The beach was packed with vehicles from the special bureau, voices were clamorous, and special agents were doing their best to disperse the onlookers.
At that moment, Jiang Lian, for reasons unknown, suddenly extended a hand toward the mutant.
The mutant’s entire body bristled with bone spurs, seemingly startled by his movement—after all, before this, the special agents had emptied entire magazines at it without making it retreat even half a step.
In the end, under countless gazes, the high-level mutant fled.
As a close-contact individual, Jiang Lian was taken for a full-body examination.
Zhou Jiao was present throughout the entire process.
The examination results showed that all of Jiang Lian’s indicators were within normal range—he had neither been infected nor undergone any mutations.
However, his brain scan revealed an unprecedented level of activity, with billions of neurons simultaneously releasing abnormally intense electrical currents.
Although the entire process lasted only a few seconds, his neurons were not burned out, which immediately attracted the company’s attention.
The company sent researchers to conduct a ten-hour-long interrogation.
This included, but was not limited to, psychological assessments.
Before this, no matter what kind of psychological test scale they used on Jiang Lian, the final conclusion was always “antisocial personality disorder.”
Jiang Lian originally knew he could lie on the test scales, but he could not falsify brain scans or genetic tests. Thus, he always carefully controlled his test scores, keeping them around “23 points” — surpassing “25 points” would result in being classified as a “high-risk individual.”
But this time, his test score had become abnormally low.
The results indicated that Jiang Lian had somehow become an introverted, kind, and inarticulate ordinary person.
This was completely different from his previous test results.
Last time, he was still a highly emotionally intelligent, socially adept, supremely confident, and selfish perfectionist.
Clearly, he had lied during this test.
But why would he lie?
Everyone knew what kind of person he was.
Zhou Jiao was not someone who meddled in other people’s business. In the past, during many such “routine interrogations,” she had turned a blind eye—there was no point in interfering, as everything was decided by the company’s higher-ups.
Yet this time, for some inexplicable reason, she stopped scrolling through short videos, got up, and rewound the researcher’s video interrogation of Jiang Lian by five minutes.
On the screen, Jiang Lian was dressed in a meticulously tailored suit, his expression calm, yet faintly exuding an eerie and unsettling aura.
Zhou Jiao stared at the screen for over ten seconds before finally realizing what was strange about him.
He was staring straight at the researcher, and his orbicularis oculi muscle1The orbicularis oculi is a circular muscle around the eye that controls eyelid movement. It is responsible for actions such as blinking, squinting, and closing the eyes tightly. had not contracted even once from start to finish.
For a normal person, this was something that could never happen—the orbicularis oculi muscle was not subject to voluntary control.
Moreover, although he appeared to be sitting properly, his hands were hanging loosely at his sides, neither clasped together nor resting on the table or his lap, as if… he was unaware that he even had hands.
It wasn’t until the researcher also sat down that he finally lifted his hands—at an extremely slow pace—and placed them on the table, his ten fingers coming together in a staggered, frame-skipping motion, like a glitched video.
A chill ran down Zhou Jiao’s spine.
Was it just her imagination?
It seemed as though Jiang Lian had only realized his hands could move after seeing the researcher.
Researcher: “Name?”
Jiang Lian did not respond.
Those who had been in close contact with mutants all exhibited some degree of mental disorientation.
The researcher was unfazed and continued asking:
“The secretions of high-level mutants are highly corrosive. As an external hire for the special bureau, you should know this. We want to understand why you wanted to approach it at the time, and even reached out a hand toward it?”
Jiang Lian still did not respond.
The researcher marked the unanswered question and moved on.
Half an hour later, the researcher reached the final question:
“How do you feel now?”
Jiang Lian finally reacted.
His orbicularis oculi muscle activated, and for the first time, he blinked—but it was as slow as a deep-sea benthic creature buried in the ocean trench, filled with an unnerving sense of disharmony.
Zhou Jiao’s eyelid twitched, and a bizarre thought surfaced in her mind—he had learned how to blink.
Jiang Lian exhaled a word at an excruciatingly slow pace:
“…Hungry.”
“What?” The researcher was momentarily stunned.
“I,” Jiang Lian said, enunciating each word slowly, “am very hungry.”
“Oh, oh, hold on, I’ll get you something to eat.” The researcher got up and left.
The instant the researcher stepped out, Jiang Lian’s eyes underwent an incredibly terrifying transformation—his eyeballs became densely covered in countless blood vessels, each thread-like vessel emitting a faint bioluminescent blue glow.
However, to the naked eye, these wisps of bioluminescence flickered and vanished in an instant—he seemed to realize that this was not a place of eternal darkness, and releasing bioluminescence would not help him capture food.
Soon, the researcher returned with a pre-packaged meal box.
These meal boxes didn’t appear to contain much, but they were extremely high in calories—one box was enough to sustain an adult male for an entire day.
Even though Jiang Lian was tall, with his arms, chest, and waist covered in well-defined, powerful muscles, he was ultimately not a field agent. One box should be enough for him.
Jiang Lian took the meal box.
He was dressed in a fitted dark gray coat, with a white dress shirt and black trousers underneath. His entire demeanor appeared cold yet elegant, and his hands, as though inherently untouched by grease or filth, were flawless from his knuckles to his wrist bones, down to the faintly raised pale blue veins on the backs of his hands—immaculate, like the first light of dawn.
Someone like him should not be accustomed to the salty and greasy biscuits and dried beef inside the meal box.
Yet Jiang Lian stared intently at the box, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he let out a clear and urgent swallowing sound.
Zhou Jiao found it extremely unsettling.
…Could he really be that hungry?
What followed in the next ten seconds was the most horrifying scene Zhou Jiao had ever witnessed.
—Jiang Lian suddenly opened his mouth, and a purple-black tentacle shot out, its tip flaring open like a sea anemone, tightly wrapping around the metal meal box.
Almost in the blink of an eye, the meal box was completely dissolved by the mucus on the tentacle.
Not even a scrap remained.
“…”
The researcher was dumbstruck, standing frozen on the spot. It took him half a beat to jolt back to his senses, stumbling backward in panic, his voice trembling as he stammered, “J-Jiang—Jiang Lian, Doctor Jiang…? A-Are you still Doctor Jiang?”
Jiang Lian’s expression remained eerily calm. Though the muscles on his face did not move in the slightest, a few veins bulged at his neck.
The next moment, those veins began to shift and expand, spreading across his entire face in an instant—only to vanish the next second.
“I am.”
After a long pause, Jiang Lian answered. His tone was as usual, yet each word carried a chilling, sticky resonance, like a damp, abyssal creature:
“I’m just… too hungry.”
At the same time, Zhou Jiao also snapped back to her senses with a jolt—she finally realized where that strange feeling had come from!
The researcher, despite being a graduate of a prestigious international university and highly respected in academia, had the same shortcomings as most scholars—introverted, inarticulate, and unable to refuse others.
So, even though Jiang Lian had remained silent throughout most of the questioning, the researcher had not forced him to speak.
Introverted, inarticulate… Weren’t these Jiang Lian’s latest psychological test results?
A cold sweat seeped from Zhou Jiao’s palms, and a chill shot up from the base of her spine.
—Jiang Lian had likely been infected by that high-level mutant to an unimaginable degree.
She acted immediately and pressed the alarm button.
In an instant, the interrogation room erupted with blaring sirens, flashing red lights illuminating the space.
Amidst the glaring crimson light, Jiang Lian seemed to pause for a moment before slowly standing up. He turned his head and, with unerring precision, locked onto the hidden surveillance camera in the corner of the room.
His gaze was straight, cold, and inscrutable.
It did not seem as though he had seen Zhou Jiao but rather that he had sensed her presence through some faint, imperceptible scent trail—more akin to sniffing her out.
Zhou Jiao’s lips pressed into a thin line.
To be infected by a mutant to such an extent…
Could Jiang Lian… still be considered human?
No one knew the torment Jiang Lian was experiencing.
His body was being split in two—one half still belonged to himself, while the other was being devoured by an incomprehensibly terrifying, unknown existence.
It seemed to be a creature that defied all natural laws—something humans could not gaze upon, could not resist, could not even fathom.
—The mere act of attempting to imagine its form would cause his mind to be overwhelmed by an unbearable pressure, creaking under the strain as if it would collapse.
Although mutants had only appeared in recent times, Jiang Lian had studied them extensively.
The monstrous entity consuming him was definitely not any known mutant species.
He had to admit—the Special Bureau’s psychological profile of him was entirely correct.
He was indeed a cold-blooded, empathy-lacking, highly aggressive psychopath, but unlike the degenerates in his family, he held no interest in feasting on human flesh.
Until now, apart from Zhou Jiao, the only thing that had ever piqued his interest was mutants.
Jiang Lian had no appetite for Zhou Jiao—he simply liked her. As her name suggested, Zhou Jiao (娇) was exquisitely beautiful, her porcelain-like skin pristine, her mist-laden, coldly alluring eyes carrying an air of untouchable grace. But she was far from a fragile, decorative vase—he had personally witnessed her drive a blade straight through the eye of a low-level mutant.
He admired women who were calm and intelligent. But perhaps due to genetics, whenever he became interested in someone, he would inevitably become addicted to their scent.
To avoid succumbing to his biological impulses, he had no choice but to keep his distance from Zhou Jiao for now.
The process of being devoured by the monstrous entity was excruciating.
Jiang Lian could feel it distinctly—his consciousness, his organs, his very flesh and bones were being devoured bit by bit.
He was not a weak-willed person. Yet, in this moment, he felt a fear unlike anything he had ever known—something was burrowing into his chest cavity, writhing violently within his flesh and bones, emitting a low, buzzing sound that sent shivers down his spine.
The sound was deep and mechanical, a ceaseless droning that seemed to originate from more than just a single vocal cord.
It did not sound like the noise of a monster chewing flesh and bone.
It was more like… the frenzied, devout hymns of worshippers welcoming the arrival of their god.
—Was it a follower that was devouring him?
Or was it a god?
As more and more of his body was consumed, Jiang Lian’s mind grew increasingly disoriented.
His hair was damp with cold sweat, strands falling over his glasses, obscuring one lens. His face was drained of all color, his breathing growing weak and shallow.
Soon, he would die.
He would become a vessel devoid of thought.
A mere shell, awaiting the descent of an unknown being.
Since he was destined to die either way…
Since he was fated to become a vessel for this unfathomable existence…
Then why shouldn’t he seize control—
And offer himself to it first?
His body was fragile and weak.
His mind was obsessive and deranged.
His genes were riddled with defects.
You want it?
Then take it all.
Jiang Lian closed his eyes.
In an instant, his cold and sharp features twisted into an expression of sheer madness and contortion. His palatal bones and facial muscles convulsed uncontrollably, trembling violently. The veins on his pale, slender neck bulged one by one, as if the next second, blood would burst forth.
For a brief moment, he looked utterly terrifying.
After a while, he suddenly opened his eyes—
A glimpse of a grotesque tendril flashed across his eye socket.
The devouring was complete.
In the end, the unknown entity had won.
The original Jiang Lian, as the defeated, had been consumed completely, leaving not a single trace behind.
Now, “he” had become Jiang Lian.
Dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, with strikingly handsome features and an aura of cold, untainted elegance.
But at certain angles, “his” pupils would contract into needle-thin slits, filled with an eerie and inhuman sense of otherness.
In this struggle between human and monster, Jiang Lian had suffered an overwhelming defeat—his will had been utterly digested by the creature.
And yet, in the process, the monster had also inherited his obsession, madness, and defective genes.
Thus, the moment “he” opened his eyes, he was overwhelmed by a terrible hunger.
An infinite, insatiable hunger.
And yet, this hunger was not purely physical.
It was a strange fusion of desire, hunting instinct, and sadistic craving—
As deep as an abyss, as slippery and elusive as an aquatic creature.
It coiled and twisted in the pit of “his” stomach, clenching tightly.
“He” had never experienced such a complex sensation before.
It was… irritating.
Humans, whether in mind or body, were simply too fragile.
—Being bound by time and space was one thing,
But even their cognition was limited to what the naked eye could see and what the hand could touch—
How pitiful.
This body was even more pathetic.
To think that it could develop such an intense fascination for a mere fellow human.
Luckily, “he” was not truly human.
Soon, this hunger would no longer be an issue.
On the other side—
The moment Zhou Jiao pressed the alarm, Jiang Lian was immediately restrained by the special forces.
The special bureau had an established response protocol for dealing with infected individuals. Jiang Lian was taken to an isolation ward, where they tried over ten different medications before finally forcing a high-level mutant parasite out of his body.
It was said that this parasite had affected his mental state, making him desperately ravenous.
Fearing that Jiang Lian might have suffered side effects from consuming the metal meal box, the medical staff performed multiple stomach flushes before finally allowing him to be discharged.
Zhou Jiao wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but ever since Jiang Lian was discharged from the hospital, the way he looked at her seemed to carry not gratitude—but disgust and contempt.
…She could understand the disgust, but why contempt?
Zhou Jiao shrugged and didn’t dwell on it.
After that, Jiang Lian became more and more distant from her. Unless absolutely necessary, he refused to say a single word to her.
But every time he did speak to her, his Adam’s apple would roll violently—
As if a rabid dog had just caught sight of a sweet and tantalizing bait.
Zhou Jiao found it strange.
She wanted to tell him to get checked at the hospital, but at the same time, she didn’t want to be accused of meddling.
Now, six months had passed since Jiang Lian had been parasitized by a high-level mutant.
Half a year later, she had mostly forgotten the horrifying scene from back then.
And yet, she could never forget the tingling sensation at the back of her head when she locked eyes with the high-level mutant.
High-level mutants were not something she could handle alone.
She had to work with Jiang Lian.
She could only hope that, in the face of this crisis, Jiang Lian wouldn’t pull some kind of “Women are not allowed near me. I’m not interested in you.” act.
—
Author’s Note:
Everyone, don’t overthink it.
Jiang Lian 1.0 was a psychopath.
Even before he was devoured, he was already a psychopath.
Jiang Lian 2.0 is simply a monster + psychopath.