IABI – Chapter 95 The Truth of the Jungle (8)

Chi Xin didn’t spare another glance at the room that had turned into ruins. She ran along the dim corridor toward the stairwell.

The explosion just now had triggered the building’s internal alarm system, and at this moment the entire corridor was flashing with blood-red warning lights, making it hard to see the path clearly.

As she ran, Chi Xin swept a glance around—and abruptly stopped in her tracks.

Like the fourth floor, the fifth floor also had many locked laboratories. But unlike the fourth floor, these labs seemed designed for convenient observation. Each room had a large transparent glass window, and above every window hung a liquid-crystal screen displaying streams of data Chi Xin couldn’t decipher.

Through those glass panes, she could clearly see the “experimental subjects” inside.

At least… they should be experimental subjects? Chi Xin wasn’t entirely sure about that guess.

They were completely different from the clones she had just seen. Those clones, for all their uncanny resemblance to her acquaintances and the eerie uncanny-valley feeling they evoked, still retained intact human appearances and thus weren’t visually unbearable.

But the experimental subjects in these rooms—every single one had an appearance that was a violent shock to the eyes.

Chi Xin stopped in front of one window, staring blankly at the figure fully submerged in a large transparent container, sustained only by the oxygen tube inserted into its mouth. Its entire body had melted into a mass of rotting flesh. She was momentarily speechless.

She moved to the next window. This one contained a bed. Lying on it was… something Chi Xin no longer dared to call a person—only a humanoid shape.

It hadn’t melted, but its whole body was covered in a pitch-black hard substance, like tree bark corroded by sulfuric acid. If not for the faint rise and fall of its chest, Chi Xin wouldn’t have believed it was still alive.

The next one was a creature whose chest boiled like scalding water, pus bubbling up and overflowing…

There were even various incomplete beast-transformation subjects—semi-beastmen whose bodies appeared warped but whose eyes still held frightening clarity.

Chi Xin suddenly met a pair of ochre-gold beast eyes through the glass—rational, pained, and cruel all at once. She instantly tore her gaze away.

One after another, Chi Xin felt that what she was seeing wasn’t a laboratory at all.

These scenes reminded her of everything she had witnessed earlier in the underground market. Rage and sorrow surged through her, and she thought bitterly: No wonder Dr. Hughes could produce a monster like Raphael—after all, he himself was someone who disregarded all life, a true enemy of humanity.

Chi Xin refused to look at any more of these soul-chilling experimental subjects. Her heart was still tied to her companions’ safety. She gritted her teeth, turned away, and rushed toward the stairwell.

When she passed a corner, she suddenly realized a massive shadow was extremely close to her. Her mind calculated instantly—in her current speed, she would collide with the figure in 0.1 seconds!

If this were a romance drama, Chi Xin might have run straight into the person’s arms, maybe even knocked them both down, and some absurd accidental “intimate contact” might happen.

Unfortunately, this was an apocalypse drama.

Even though the figure had appeared from her blind spot, her years of combat training and instinctive reflexes kicked in. Within that 0.1-second window, she forcibly halted her movement in place.

But she forgot—she could brake. The other person couldn’t.

And when Chi Xin recognized who the incoming figure was, she helplessly chose not to dodge.

To keep him from crashing to the floor, she even spread her arms.

With a resounding thud, Jing Xiubai fell straight into her embrace.

At such close range, Chi Xin could clearly hear his rapid heartbeat and harsh breathing. She tilted her head slightly, glanced at Jing Xiubai’s stunned profile, and teased, “Do you still need me to find you a cane so you can stand up?”

Jing Xiubai jolted as if struck by lightning and instantly straightened.

His dark eyes stared fixedly at her face—so intently that even Chi Xin’s smile stiffened. She touched her own cheek uncertainly. “Did I forget to wipe the blood off?”

But then she saw an expression appear on Jing Xiubai’s face—profound, relieved, almost as if a great weight had been lifted. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was even a hint of moisture at the corner of his eyes.

Although that moisture quickly vanished, Jing Xiubai still reached out and pulled her into a careful, gentle hug.

“It’s good that you’re okay,” he said quietly.

Despite the tense situation, Chi Xin forcefully ignored the stirring in her chest and patted his back firmly. “Of course I’m fine. Why did you still come all the way here?”

Jing Xiubai glanced around, his brows showing a trace of disgust. “Jiang Congyun stayed behind. They won’t be in danger.”

Then he looked at Chi Xin again. “I was worried about you. I couldn’t stay there and wait for news. Sorry.”

Chi Xin’s gaze flickered away instantly, as though burned. “A-anyway… no need to apologize. Let’s go back first.”

Jing Xiubai noticed her reaction. A hidden delight flashed in his eyes, but this wasn’t the time for that, so he nodded quickly. “Follow me.”

The two turned around and were just about to rush out through the stairwell—

BANG!

The heavy steel door of the stairwell suddenly slammed shut right in front of them.

They exchanged a glance and immediately sprinted toward the elevator instead.

But the moment the elevator entered their sight, the red floor number display flickered twice, struggling under some load.

“Not good!”

Chi Xin accelerated. Jing Xiubai only saw a blur sweep past him before Chi Xin appeared at the elevator doors—

But she was still a step too late.

With a harsh zzlaa sound, the red number “1” and the flickering overhead indicator light both went out at the same time.

The entire fifth floor was swallowed by darkness.

Jing Xiubai reacted quickly as well—he immediately turned his back to Chi Xin and positioned himself beside her against the elevator doors. Judging by the sound, Chi Xin should have drawn some type of heavy firearm.

He opened his eyes wide, but human vision had its limits. With no windows, only the faintest glow leaking from a few of the laboratory rooms, he could barely see anything at all.

He glanced to the side. Chi Xin’s breathing was still steady, not the least bit flustered. Amid the chaos, she even asked him calmly, “Should we kick open the elevator doors and climb down the shaft?”

“Maybe they’ll help give us the answer,” Jing Xiubai replied. After a few seconds of silence, his voice carried a hint of confusion. “Strange… what are they waiting for?”

The moment he finished speaking, an eerie stillness spread.

Amid the pitch-black darkness, the sound of the laboratory’s automatic doors opening echoed sharply.

“Right, no need to kick them open,” Chi Xin said, her tone still devoid of emotion. Two crisp clicks followed—the sound of her chambering rounds. “If those things crawl out through the elevator shaft, that’ll be even worse.”

Even under circumstances like this, Jing Xiubai still felt the urge to laugh.

These monsters—any one of which could scare a person to death if released outside—were, in Chi Xin’s eyes, nothing more than a nuisance.

A horde of demons unleashed from their cages, stepping onto the stage of darkness. The two people trapped above the elevator shaft were the perfect prey. Whether conscious or not, the experimental subjects were drawn by instinct, heading straight toward the feast prepared for them by their handler.

“This is the first time it’s just the two of us fighting together,” Jing Xiubai said. “Sister Chi, anything you want to tell me?”

Chi Xin paused, then let out a soft sigh. “If possible, give them a quick death.”

Watching these not-quite-human, not-quite-beast creatures struggle on in agony, she could barely restrain the murderous intent rising in her chest.

If past battles were for survival—for saving herself or her companions—then in this moment, Chi Xin suddenly had something else: conviction. A fierce, unwavering resolve.

Those who trampled human life, who believed they could toy with the world in their palms—one day, every single one of them would pay the price.

A deafening blast erupted. Fire spat from the muzzle of Chi Xin’s weapon as she fired a shell into a densely packed cluster of experimental bodies. The entire building shook violently.

Flames illuminated her outline. She turned in the glow of the fire, her back framed by roaring flames and the monsters forcing their way toward them.

“Just put up the ice wall. Leave the attacking to me,” she said. “I can charge in without holding back, right?”

Jing Xiubai’s eyes reflected the blazing firelight, though none of it shone as brightly as the person standing at the center of it all.

“Go,” he said softly. “I’m right behind you.”

Chi Xin shot him a brief smile, then turned and strode into the flames, rifle raised.

At this moment, the battlefield was split in two—one front on the fifth floor where Chi Xin and Jing Xiubai stood, the other outside the fifth-floor laboratory where the rest of the squad was holding the zombie horde at bay.

The surveillance cameras recorded everything.

A few minutes later, in a third-floor office-like room, Dr. Hughes and his daughter, Sero, were watching the monitors. The moment Sero saw Dr. Hughes press the button to seal the fifth floor, her face instantly paled.

“Father!” she cried.

“What?” Dr. Hughes didn’t even turn his head, responding impatiently, “I may feel sorry about losing the experimental bodies on the fifth floor, but for Chi Xin and the perfect specimen, any price is worth paying!”

He spoke while reaching for the button to open the fifth-floor laboratory doors.

“Father, no!” At the critical moment, Sero grabbed his wrist.

Her skin was already pale, and under the bright lights she looked ghostly white. Her lips trembled as she pleaded, “Are you going to abandon every single experimental subject on the fifth floor… all of them?”

Only then did Dr. Hughes glance at her. “Relax, I already backed up all the data. And those subjects were used up long ago—they’re waste. Using them one last time is the only value they have left.”

Sero’s mouth opened, her beautiful green eyes filling with despair.

Dr. Hughes reached again for the button, but despite trying several times, he failed to press it—Sero’s grip held his hand firmly in place.

Growing irritated, he snapped, “Sero, get a hold of yourself. Experimental subjects can always be replaced. But if Chi Xin and Jing Xiubai escape, finding them again will be nearly impossible.”

“I… I know,” Sero stammered. “But Father, we’ve already made some progress, haven’t we? Why must more innocent people die? We can run more trials, repeat them—we’ll definitely be able to—”

“Have you gone stupid?!”

A burst of force slammed into her. Dr. Hughes threw her aside.

Her stomach hit the edge of a table hard. Her eyes filled not only with despair, but also with something faintly resentful.

Dr. Hughes sighed. “Sero, I know you still can’t let go of Albert. But he’s a failure. Anyone who mutates into a beastman is beyond saving. As a foundation for our cause, he served his greatest purpose. You must learn to forget him. Emotions are meaningless. Only science—only experimentation—reveals truth. Truth lets humanity rise above ignorance.”

Sero suddenly spun around, losing control for the first time as she shouted, “All emotions are meaningless? Then what about your feelings for Mother? What about your feelings for me? What made you abandon your wife? What makes you so coldly willing to kill your own son-in-law?”

Though her voice had no sobs, tears streamed down her face. “No one is stopping you from pursuing science—but why can’t you act like a normal father… like a human being!”

Smack.

A sharp slap rang out. Sero’s head snapped to the side.

“Sero, you’re not thinking clearly,” Dr. Hughes said coldly. “When your mother was dying, modern science couldn’t save her—just like these people.” He pointed at the monitor showing the fifth floor. “Offering herself to science was the only contribution she could make. As for your husband—call his name now, would he respond? Stop deluding yourself. Humans are insignificant. Nothing lasts. Only the pursuit of truth gives our fleeting lives the slightest value. Those people are like that… and so are you and I.”

With that, Dr. Hughes decisively pressed the button.

“Stop being childish. On the road of scientific pursuit, nothing is irreplaceable. As your father, I’ll forgive you this once—but not again.”

Sero didn’t try to stop him anymore. She stood to the side, tears streaming down her face.

That brief conflict was exactly what caused Chi Xin and Jing Xiubai to hesitate for a moment.

Then the shockwave hit them.

Dr. Hughes was old, after all. He collapsed headfirst to the ground. Sero extended her hand for a moment, then withdrew it, allowing him to fall against the table corner with a painful grunt.

“This lunatic!” Dr. Hughes roared as he pushed himself up. “She fired a shell like that? She’s not afraid of burying herself with the entire building?!”

Sero said nothing. She stared at the monitor swallowed by flames until, in the swarm of experimental bodies, she spotted the half-wolf, half-human young man.

Her eyes trembled violently. From her lips escaped a trembling whisper—

“Albert…”

“Damn it, I refuse to believe she’s some cold-blooded, emotionless monster.” Dr. Hughes didn’t hear a single word his daughter was saying. He sneered and turned around. “Just wait. I’ll make her obediently fall into my hands.”

He stormed out. Sero’s complicated gaze fell on his retreating back.

On the other side, Chi Xin pushed deeper into the tide of experimental subjects. The heavy cannon in her hands had already been replaced with a rapid-fire machine gun.

Unlike before, this time she didn’t even need to dodge. As long as any experiment subject approached her, the dark-blue ice wall would form instantly around her, protecting her from every direction with no gaps at all.

Expressionless, she bulldozed her way through. Nothing survived in her wake.

With the two working seamlessly together, the fifth floor’s experiment subjects were quickly wiped out. Chi Xin swiftly changed the magazine with practiced ease, then lifted her eyes—only to meet a pair of amber-yellow beast pupils.

It was the half-beast she had locked eyes with in the laboratory earlier.

Now that they were close, Chi Xin could tell this one was likely a half-werewolf. The mutation wasn’t fully complete—its face still retained faint traces of human features, and those features were twisted in pain.

Meeting those eyes, Chi Xin’s hand, which was lifting her gun, slowed a beat.

“You… still have consciousness?” she asked.

But the only reply she received was a long, resonant wolf howl—and the claws that slashed toward her.

With a heavy thud, the half-werewolf slammed into the ice wall that had instantly formed.

Chi Xin sighed inwardly. Her expression didn’t change as she raised her gun, ready to send the suffering creature on its way.

Just then, the incandescent lights along the ceiling suddenly snapped on. The stark white brightness lit up the entire corridor like it was daytime.

The half-werewolf seemed startled by something. It panicked and immediately turned to flee.

Chi Xin remained where she was, not giving chase. Narrowing her eyes, she watched as thin streams of water sprayed down from the fire-suppression system. In moments, she was soaked from head to toe.

The flames along the corridor sizzled and were extinguished. All that remained were burned, incomplete monster corpses, twisted beyond recognition, charred dark brown. The water hitting them sent up wisps of white steam—gruesome to behold.

Chi Xin quickly retreated until she reached Jing Xiubai’s side. Frowning, she asked, “What are they trying to do now?”

Jing Xiubai didn’t answer. He merely tilted his head upward, staring at the display screens above—uncertain whether they had burned out or not.

With several crackling bursts of static, all the screens flickered violently before stabilizing, showing Dr. Hughes’ face—trying hard to appear calm, but the agitation bleeding through.

“Good. Very good.” His voice echoed through the entire corridor, amplified through the speakers, dripping with barely restrained fury. “Chi Xin, you truly are strong. All that time I spent observing you was worth it.”

“Thanks for the compliment.” Chi Xin clicked her gun back into place and looked up at the camera. “Now that all your precious experiments have failed, what other tricks do you have? Go ahead, use them.”

Dr. Hughes swept a cold gaze across her and Jing Xiubai before letting out a smug smirk. “Don’t rush to provoke me. Take a look—who is this?”

He stepped aside, revealing a row of people tied behind him.

Chi Xin’s pupils shrank sharply. Jing Xiubai’s entire aura dropped several degrees.

The ones captured… were their companions.

On the screen, Yu Xiang wore a bitter smile. His mouth opened and closed as if speaking, but the sound didn’t come through. Then Han Zimo punched him in the side.

Chi Xin couldn’t help but take a step forward.

“I can’t say I’m surprised you’d do this,” she said coldly. “Say it. What do you want?”

“Be good and surrender.” Dr. Hughes’ face twisted with barely concealed glee. His original features mixed with that expression created something disturbingly warped. “As long as you and the perfect specimen obey quietly, I might consider being a little kinder to your companions.”

Chi Xin looked back at Jing Xiubai. He nodded.

“Deal,” Chi Xin said. “You let them go, I won’t resist.”

“You think you’re in any position to negotiate?” Dr. Hughes snapped.

“Whether I am or not, you’re welcome to test it,” Chi Xin replied coldly.

Dr. Hughes hesitated, then gritted his teeth and gestured to Han Zimo. “Let them go.”

Han Zimo had been staring at Chi Xin through the camera this whole time. Hearing the order, he only rolled his eyes. “Let them go, and you’ll have no leverage over her.”

“You think my suppressant medicine for ability-users is worthless?” Dr. Hughes glared. “If I can create ability-enhancing drugs, I can create suppressants too. In this field—I am God!”

Han Zimo pressed his lips together and let out a mocking laugh. “Whatever.”

And he untied them.

Whether it was Han Zimo, Dr. Hughes, or Sero watching from the surveillance room, all of them assumed that these people—who had just been traded for Chi Xin and Jing Xiubai’s lives—would at least be grateful.

Unexpectedly, led by Yu Xiang, every single one of them wore an expression like “wow, free escape?”

Not only were they not worried—in fact, the moment they confirmed no one was going to attack them, they turned around and bolted straight into the thick forest, vanishing in seconds.

The last one, Zheng Junzhi, even tossed them a “take care” look before running off.

Everyone watching was dumbfounded.

Dr. Hughes forcefully shoved down his unease and turned back to the screen. “Someone will go up to find you now. Time to honor your promise.”

On the screen, blood-splattered and ash-covered, Chi Xin suddenly smiled—beautiful enough to stun.

“Alright,” she said. “Come on, then.”

After that, she pulled out a dark object and casually tossed it toward the camera.

Realizing what it was, Han Zimo’s expression changed instantly. “Grenade!”

Exactly.

Now that Yu Xiang and the others had escaped into the forest, there was no reason for her to waste time.

She said she wouldn’t resist—she never said she wouldn’t escape.

With that mindset, Chi Xin threw the grenade at the camera and simultaneously handed several to Jing Xiubai.

He immediately understood. At unprecedented speed, he pulled the pins and hurled them into the remaining laboratories.

At the same time, Chi Xin delivered several kicks to the elevator door. From intact to dented to completely caved in, it finally burst open and fell away.

The elevator was parked on the floor above. The falling door echoed dangerously through the shaft.

The grenades’ timers ticked faster and faster. Chi Xin looked up at Jing Xiubai. “Do you trust me?”

“Just as you trusted me earlier,” Jing Xiubai replied.

“Good.”

Without waiting for him to react, Chi Xin grabbed him by the waist and dove headfirst into the elevator shaft.

“BOOM—!!”

A wave of scorching flames swept toward them, filling the entire shaft with raging heat.

In that moment, Chi Xin recalled the day she first arrived in this world.

Controlled by the system, she had accidentally grabbed Jing Xiubai’s waist.

And then—wearing the same stunned expression—both of them had fallen off a dozens-meter-tall wall.

Who would’ve thought that after all this time, she’d use the same move again. Only this time, they had become people who could entrust their lives to one another.

Their coordination was flawless. Chi Xin grabbed the rope inside the shaft one-handed, slowing their descent. Jing Xiubai formed an ice wall beneath them. Chi Xin let go, and they landed safely on the ice—completely unhurt.

“The explosion’s already reached the fourth floor. We’ll exit from the third,” Jing Xiubai said. “Be careful not to get spotted.”

“Spotted, then spotted.” Chi Xin scurried back up the rope and motioned for him to follow. “Move faster. It’s fine.”

The ice wall below vanished. They slid down the rope and reached the third floor.

“Don’t kick the door in,” Jing Xiubai warned. “It’ll be too loud.”

Chi Xin shot him a glance. “Okay.”

Then Jing Xiubai watched as Chi Xin placed both hands on the crack between the elevator doors.

In his widening eyes, her silhouette took on the look of a mythical hero lifting mountains.

With a low shout, Chi Xin forcibly pried the metal doors open.

Jing Xiubai had no idea whether to praise her or be horrified.

Chi Xin turned back. “Hurry, don’t waste time—”

Then her eyes narrowed.

Someone was coming.