Inside a small roadside diner, a bearded old man sat at a corner table, chugging bottle after bottle of beer.
"Old Master Gongming, that's your third crate today—enough already," a Fat Auntie said, walking over to warn him.
"I understand—thank you." Xie Gongming gave her a polite smile, then lifted the trembling bottle to his lips again.
Seeing this, the auntie simply shook her head and said no more.
Tap-tap-tap!
Just then, footsteps sounded at the entrance.
The auntie turned to greet the customer, only to see a man in a Derby Hat step forward, smiling: "Kindly leave us alone for a moment; we have business with Xie Gongming."
She glanced toward the doorway, noticed several fierce-looking Bodyguards, and hurriedly forced a smile. "I'll be on my way."
Xie Gongming paid no attention—he didn't even look up, just kept drinking.
Jiang Yan sat down opposite him, eyed the drunkard, and raised a brow. "Xie Gongming?"
Xie Gongming set the beer down, expressionless. "If you're here to hire me, go home. I retired years ago."
Jiang Yan wasn't put off; he simply looked puzzled. "I don't know why you quit the research world, but your papers show you loved it. You can't have vanished into obscurity willingly."
Xie Gongming shook his head. "Please leave. I've met your type—once I explain why I stepped back, every eager smile flips to indifference."
Jiang Yan said nothing; he stared at the hand clutching the beer.
It trembled slightly, beyond control, and in that instant Jiang Yan seemed to understand.
"You've got Parkinson's?" he asked, looking straight at him.
Even today Parkinson's remains incurable; even Awakened Ones struggle to treat it.
Perhaps some ability could, but no one would waste it on an ordinary man.
Though Xie Gongming was a titan of neurology, with twelve billion people on the planet, geniuses like him weren't rare.
Xie Gongming kept drinking. "Now you know—leave."
Yet Jiang Yan stayed, eyes glinting. "Work for me and I'll cure you. I'm sure you hate being barred from the research you love."
Xie Gongming lowered his bottle and stared as if at an idiot. "Young man, I'm old, not senile—spare me the jokes."
Jiang Yan merely waved to Lei Xiangchen behind him. "Show our future Supervisor Xie your true self."
Baffled, Xie Gongming watched the hatted man.
The man smiled, lifted his derby, revealing a pitch-black Third Eye.
"An Awakened One?" Xie Gongming's gaze flickered; he'd seen plenty to reach his stature.
Then the man's frame suddenly ballooned.
Clothes tore as he rose to two meters sixty, his lower body morphing into a black equine form.
"This—!" Xie Gongming's eyes bulged in shock.
He'd ignored recent Monster incidents, spending his days here drowning in beer.
"This isn't any Awakened ability—what is it?" he exclaimed, thrilled.
Once, under the Báishān Federation's orders, he had led research on Awakened Ones, to no avail.
Yet it left him knowing them intimately.
"A Monster!" Jiang Yan moved beside him.
He grinned, pointing at Lei Xiangchen, words racing: "Humanity's greatest creation—freeing the weak from sickness and frailty, forging a new mankind!"
Xie Gongming trembled; he stepped forward, running a hand along Lei Xiangchen's equine leg.
Solid muscle, sleek black hair, seamless fusion—no rejection whatsoever.
Jiang Yan glanced at the Bodyguard by the door; receiving the cue, the man drew a vial of Tyrant-III Serum and approached.
Jiang Yan took the vial and offered it, voice silky: "One injection ends disease and age. Return to the research you love instead of drinking yourself to death here."
Normal Monsters live two to three times longer—two centuries easy. The stronger the Monster, the longer the lifespan; Level-Five Awakened Ones gain only a couple of decades.
This was a recent finding. Even Jiang Yan's team were still probing the secrets beneath those monstrous frames.
Xie Gongming stared at the Purple Serum; his left hand seized it, shaking.
"No more sickness, no more aging… I don't want to be a drunken waste. I want to study nerves, to study these new Monsters!"
He muttered, voice rising, eyes blazing with frenzy.
He didn't care if Jiang Yan was toying with him—he was already ruined; death meant nothing.
He flipped the syringe cap, but his hand shook even harder from excitement.
Smack! Jiang Yan gripped the trembling wrist and drove the needle into Xie Gongming's neck.
As purple fluid flowed, searing heat surged from neck to every extremity.
"Aaargh!" His shaking stopped; he arched, roaring.
Rrrrip! Two black claws burst from his back, tearing his shirt—four fingers each, fine hairs bristling.
Black antennae sprouted from his forehead; eyes bulged into black compound orbs.
Rrrrip! His back split again, unfurling thin black wings. His frame stabilized at two meters tall…