PCJ – Chapter 616 King of the Rats

Zhang Jiaohua didn’t know when these white mice would be considered fully developed, but he no longer used “cesarean section” methods to extract them from their “eggs.” Then one day, the “eggshells” began to change—the nutrient-absorbing cilia on the eggs started to fall off, and the shells grew smoother and smoother, becoming as flawless and white as porcelain. They increasingly resembled real eggs in shape and texture. Although their appearance changed, their size remained the same.

“Zhang Jiaohua, what’s going on now?” Mei Qing asked, looking at the incubator through bulletproof glass.

“They’re probably about to hatch,” Zhang Jiaohua replied, though it was beyond anything he had anticipated. He had no idea what they would ultimately become.

Crack!

A crisp sound came from the incubation room. One of the mouse eggs cracked, and from the break emerged a small paw, gleaming like a sharp blade—clearly very sharp.

Zhang Jiaohua quickly rushed in.

“Be careful, Zhang Jiaohua!” Mei Qing called out.

After entering, Zhang Jiaohua shut the heavy steel door behind him and hurried to the cracked egg. From the opening, a small head poked out, peering around. Upon spotting Zhang Jiaohua, its eyes spun briefly, then it ignored him and began gnawing at the shell.

Crunch crunch…

The little white mouse chewed contentedly, and in no time devoured the entire eggshell. Exposed to the air, its full form shocked Zhang Jiaohua—not because it had grown bigger, but smaller. Despite absorbing so much nutrition, it had shrunk. Zhang Jiaohua was baffled by this.

Still, he didn’t think the mouse was simple. Right after hatching, it had metallic silver fur and shimmered as it moved.

Its intelligence was clearly higher than the underdeveloped giant mice. It darted around the cage like a curious explorer.

Soon, the other eggs began to stir.

Crack crack…

The sound of breaking shells filled the room. One after another, the mice emerged and began eating their shells. Out of hundreds of specimens, except for a few premature ones removed manually, none were dead. They all hatched almost simultaneously.

“Why are the mature mice smaller than the premature ones?” Mei Qing asked.

Zhang Jiaohua shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’m sure these mice are far smarter and, despite their size, definitely more powerful.”

“Zhang Jiaohua, look!” Mei Qing exclaimed, pointing at a cage. The first-hatched mouse was fiercely biting at the steel wires. After a while, the wire snapped. The mouse squeezed through and bolted out.

It charged straight toward Zhang Jiaohua and Mei Qing.

Thud! It hadn’t noticed the tempered glass and slammed into it, dazed, spinning in place for a few seconds before stopping.

“If these mice escape, they could cause serious trouble. You need to be careful,” Mei Qing warned.

“If necessary, I’ll destroy all the specimens humanely,” Zhang Jiaohua said.

“Try another way if you can. Keep your experimental methods—especially the materials and procedures used in the last batch—confidential. If this technology falls into the wrong hands, the consequences could be disastrous,” Mei Qing advised.

Zhang Jiaohua nodded. “There’s an academic conference coming up. Many labs have asked to tour our facility and are seeking cooperation. I don’t know how Professor Huang plans to handle it.”

“Then let’s inform him,” Mei Qing said immediately.

Zhang Jiaohua checked the door to the incubation room, then released Fat Cat from the Daoist Diagram, letting it and a group of black cats guard the lab’s perimeter. If anything went wrong, Fat Cat could act. These mice had all become spirit beasts—ordinary people couldn’t handle them.

“This is indeed a concern,” Professor Huang Zhongfang said, “but invitations have already been sent out, and academic groups from around the world have confirmed attendance. It’s too late to cancel now. But you can keep key steps confidential—for example, those special reagents you used in the final stage.”

Meanwhile, Dr. Yorks was being interviewed by CNN.

“Dr. Yorks, what impact do you think China’s recent biotech breakthrough will have?” asked blonde reporter Glenn.

“If their experiments are legitimate, the results are groundbreaking. This could change life sciences and, by extension, society. For example, if humans can grow complete organisms externally, we can also cultivate organs. Eventually, we might copy and transfer consciousness into new bodies, potentially achieving immortality.”

Glenn might not fully grasp the science, but she understood that transferring human consciousness to healthy bodies would render disease meaningless and theoretically allow eternal life through repeated transfers.

“You mean this technology could make humans immortal?” Glenn asked in surprise.

“In theory, yes. But many challenges remain. Most importantly, we don’t yet know if the Chinese actually possess this technology. No other lab has replicated their results. It’s possible they won’t share it at all,” Yorks replied.

“You visited their university recently. Did you access the lab?” Glenn asked.

“I did, but the researchers declined to engage with us, citing a busy schedule. That was disappointing. As scientists, we should share knowledge—science knows no borders. Shared discoveries drive progress.”

“So, they see commercial value and won’t share?” Glenn asked.

“That’s likely. But I haven’t seen any data or samples, so it’s too early to judge,” said Yorks.

“What are you hoping to see in China this time?” Glenn asked.

“I hope to see the cultivated samples, join the experiments, and witness this milestone in global science.”

“But you don’t sound optimistic,” Glenn smiled.

“No, I’m not. I suspect the Chinese will keep this secret again,” Yorks admitted.

Clearly, Yorks was trying to pressure Huang Zhongfang’s team into revealing their results.

Time passed quickly. Scholars from around the globe arrived in Beijing, turning the city into the world’s focus.

Several national TV stations entered the university, seeking more news.

“The success of this research marks China’s rise to the forefront of biotechnology. The lead scientist is a freshman from the gene engineering lab. The university provided special training, letting him conduct real research. Interestingly, this same student also solved a global math problem during his exams…”

Zhang Jiaohua had unwittingly become a national celebrity. Stepping out of the lab risked being swarmed by reporters, so he mostly stayed inside.

He had to keep a close eye on the lab. A few days ago, the newly hatched mice caused chaos. Although they didn’t escape, they nearly destroyed the entire incubation chamber—and even broke into a massive group fight.

Through surveillance footage, Zhang Jiaohua saw that within just an hour of hatching, the mice engaged in a brawl to choose a leader. These mice were social animals. Just like a country needs a king, the mice needed a king too. The very first one to hatch won the fight. If not for a unique spot on its fur, Zhang Jiaohua wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart.

Once they chose a king, they quieted down and no longer tried to break out. It seemed they had no intention of leaving.

When Zhang Jiaohua brought food into the (now renamed) taming chamber, the mouse king hopped excitedly toward him like a pet, without any of a king’s airs. The others dared not compete for attention. They waited patiently until the king had eaten, only then approaching in an orderly manner. There was no scrambling or fighting.

Zhang Jiaohua didn’t know how they communicated, since no adult mouse had taught them “mouse language.” Yet they seemed to have no trouble understanding each other.

The repeat experiments were also progressing smoothly. The pouch-like structures formed just like in the first batch, with no significant differences.

The invited scholars had all arrived. Xu Qingze hosted the welcome ceremony and addressed the attendees:

“Thank you all for traveling so far to join our research into artificial embryonic cultivation. Our scientists have achieved a high-difficulty breakthrough, drawing global attention. Many leading experts have already visited. Today’s conference is to share this technology with the world…”

Zhang Jiaohua sat awkwardly on stage. He wasn’t used to such formal occasions.

“Don’t be nervous,” Professor Huang whispered. “Just read from your notes. If someone asks questions, avoid revealing core technology.”

Zhang Jiaohua nodded, and soon heard Xu Qingze announce: “Now let’s welcome Dr. Zhang Jiaohua, our young scientist, to present his report.”

The school had already decided to award Zhang Jiaohua a doctoral degree, so Xu Qingze referred to him as “Doctor.”

Zhang Jiaohua stood and bowed to the audience: “Thank you for coming to discuss our research project…”

As soon as he finished speaking, the crowd rushed to ask questions.

Glenn was quickest: “Dr. Zhang, does the completion of your experiment mean the project is finished, or will you continue? Is your ultimate goal to eliminate human disease through this technology?”

“We’ve completed our preliminary objectives. As for what’s next—I haven’t decided yet,” Zhang Jiaohua replied.

“Will you stay at your alma mater?” asked Hu Dan from the national TV station.

“I’ve already reached an agreement with the school,” Zhang Jiaohua said.