Chapter 72

Chapter 72

"Incarcerating a high-ranking Judge in my laboratory, how quaint," Dr. Ji said, laying a stack of documents on the table with a mocking smile. "Shall I bring you some food?"

Sitting on the soft chair that belonged to Dr. Ji was not the doctor himself but a Judge in a black uniform. He crossed his arms nonchalantly, his long legs intertwined, lacking only the silver badge on his chest. However, the silver tassels on his uniform compensated for the absence, ensuring his attire and appearance remained impeccable.

His frosty gaze swept across the silver laboratory. "Do you really think I want to be here?"

"I suggest you treat me better. My expectations aren't high, just a fraction of the friendship we had when we were kids would suffice," Dr. Ji replied. "You need to understand the situation. The Court of Judges is in no position to protect itself. If even I, your only friend in this base, stop taking you in, you'll be torn apart by those outside. I've heard that the Unification Center has held three consecutive meetings, discussing whether to revoke the clause in the Judges' Act that allows Judges to kill without consequence."

At this, he winked playfully. "Are you regretting coming back from the wilderness?"

He intended to provoke an emotional response, but failed. Lu Feng's expression remained unchanged from before.

—Ever since the discovery of uncontaminated genetic exchanges with inanimate matter, the base had been gripped by an atmosphere of constant fear. Perhaps at any moment, they might succumb to the Mutations, becoming monsters, objects, or merging with the steel base. These eight thousand people were the cream of the crop, the leaders and elites of both the military and Lighthouse, the most superior remnants of humanity. Their intellectual superiority allowed them to keenly anticipate the impending apocalypse, and the base, on the brink of death, maintained a tense peace, like a lake frozen with thin ice. Seemingly solid, it could collapse with just a single stone thrown into its waters.

It all started with a shooting ten days prior.

"For anyone else, it'd be fine, but you…" The doctor gritted his teeth, frustrated by the Judge's indifference to his words.

The man who was slain was a venerable scientist within Lighthouse, renowned for his exceptional contributions to ballistic calculations and ammunition improvements — an towering figure in the field of military technology. Naturally, he was beloved by the younger generation of researchers in the domain and held in high esteem by the military personnel.

Ten days prior, Lu Fen and Selan had crossed paths with the scholar in the corridors of the Unification Center, even exchanging cordial nods as a greeting.

Yet, in the fleeting moment as they passed each other, Lu Fen swiftly drew the pistol tucked at Selan's waist. His marksmanship was ever precise; the pull of the trigger was swift and decisive. The bullet struck the ordnance expert square in the back of his head, and blood sprayed out like a burst of fireworks, preceding the lifeless body that crumpled to the ground.

This incident nearly shook the entire base.

The deceased's pupils and acquaintances, scattered across the compound, attested to his sharp mind, courteous demeanor, and gentle nature, asserting that no signs of infection were evident in his behavior. They demanded an explanation from the court.

Yet the living had perished, and the genetic testing equipment, its core components damaged during the wave of material fusion two months prior, had ceased functioning entirely, leaving no evidence to substantiate the Judge's verdict. In response, the Judge's sole declaration was that he had acted in strict accordance with the judging criteria.

Many long-standing issues have been brought to light, and the demand for the court to disclose the details of the trial has reached its peak during this period. However, due to the powers granted to the court by the "Judgment Act," they were unable to bring Lu Fen to a military tribunal—thus the controversy over the "Act" also reached its zenith. A young man named Colin— who claims to be a vanguard of the original Outer City anti-judgment movement, managed to escape the disaster that left only eight thousand survivors in the main city because he was a teacher working in Eden. At this moment, this young man full of fervor once again shouted out the slogans that once resounded throughout the Outer City, while vehemently criticizing the rest of the military's system for its ruthless trampling on human nature, and he quickly gained a large number of loyal followers.

In response, the United Front Center, after a long silence, opted for a suppressive approach. However, the human forces in the base were primarily composed of Lighthouse and Eden members, with limited military strength and unable to employ ruthless tactics. At this moment, the loss of a single life would mean a reduction of one in eight thousand humans. A riot in a chaotic society of eight thousand seemed an insurmountable problem.

Amidst such tempestuous times, a set of previously little-known data had leaked from the lighthouse's inner sanctum, spreading far and wide.

It was a top-secret dossier from the "Synthesis School," a faction whose existence was shrouded in secrecy, yet their scientific prowess was undeniable. Over a decade of experimentation and observation, they had calculated the odds: One in ten thousand individuals infected with the genetic anomaly stood a chance of retaining a certain level of human consciousness alongside their monstrous traits. And one in six thousand five hundred, having fully transformed into a monster, might regain a degree of human consciousness within three years.

Adding insult to injury, the data was accompanied by a neutral note stating that the one in ten thousand and six thousand five hundred to one ratios were theoretical estimations; in reality, the actual probabilities might be slightly higher.

On the day the data was leaked, the entire base was thrown into an uproar.

In response, Colin wrote a lengthy article titled "The Tribunal's Century - Sins That Cannot Be Proven."

Simultaneously, a crazed soldier lurked outside the Tribunal, taking a shot at the judges. It was rumored that his beloved superior and comrade had fallen to their guns, but unfortunately, in every aspect, the judges were military men far superior to him. The bullet missed its mark. Nevertheless, this act fueled others, and for a time, the Tribunal became a target from all sides, metaphorically and literally.

It wasn't until Dr. Jibril submitted an application to the Lighthouse that the situation changed.

Dr. Jibril proposed that the spore samples from the Abyss exhibited unprecedented resistance to both infection and mutation. If the underlying mechanism could be understood and applied to humans, they might acquire this invaluable trait. Strangely, this active and peculiar spore showed an extraordinary affinity with Colonel Lu of the Tribunal. Upon contact with the colonel, its growth rate and cellular activity increased.

Thus, Colonel Lu had to cooperate with the research project, and the base needed to ensure his safety – he might hold the key to humanity's last hope.

And so, a certain Colonel Lu found himself in Dr. Jibril's laboratory.

"The anticipated three months are almost up. Although lacking concrete evidence, humanity's fate is ticking away," Dr. Jibril said as he sat beside Lu Fen. "The main city once cared little about the Tribunal system, but now, like the outer cities before them, they're about to face judgment. You must understand, if the polar distortion prevails, everyone becomes vulnerable to infection, subject to judgment, and potentially your gun. Though the Tribunal hasn't done anything yet, it has become their mental adversary. The inevitable full-scale distortion is approaching, and they hope to be among the one in ten thousand or six thousand five hundred to survive a little longer. This has nothing to do with you personally; fear of death is a basic instinct."

Pausing, he furrowed his brow and whispered, "For years, despite the pressure on the Tribunal, not a single detail about the judgment criteria was leaked. I'm sure you had your reasons. But there's another question I've always wanted to ask: regarding the Fusionist data, did you... know about it before?"

Lu Fen's gaze swept past him, landing on the floating spores in the green nutrient solution.

Due to his presence, the mycelium of the spore had relaxed and expanded. It had grown larger, now the size of an adult's palm.

"Any progress?" he asked coolly.

"Unfortunately, none. It's just like that damn creature An Zhe. Both are deceivers. Its only use now is to shield you, but for how long, I don't know." Dr. Ji met Lu Fen's eyes.

Those eyes—green eyes. In the Northern Base, where Asians were the majority with other ethnicities coexisting, black irises were common, but colors like blue and brown were not uncommon either. However, this frosty green was unusually distinctive. Sometimes, Ji felt as if they were inorganic, devoid of emotion, just like the man's usual gaze.

It was as if no matter how many lives were taken or how others perceived him, nothing could faze him. He didn't need understanding nor forgiveness; he had always been above it all.

A sense of futile frustration welled up within the doctor.

"I shouldn't care about you or try to comfort you. You don't give a damn," he took a deep breath, spreading his hands. "Every time I try to convince myself that you're a good person, your actions tell me that when it comes to cold-heartedness, you truly...truly have a goddamn natural talent for it."

He scrutinized Lu Fen's face—his features were so finely chiseled they resembled a doll, but unfortunately, his demeanor was as cold as eternal ice. The situation outside was so tense that the doctor feared someone might break into the lab at any moment to throw stones at the Judicator. Yet, there was no sign of inner torment on the man's face. On the contrary, his slightly lowered eyelashes carried a solemn composure, like a black butterfly resembling a ghost perched on the solemn windowsill of a temple.

The Judicator Act had yet to be officially abolished, and Lu Fen's authority in the electronic system remained high. At that moment, the computer screen beside him still displayed real-time surveillance footage of crowded areas in the base, ensuring no infections had occurred.

The doctor, in his despair, resorted to another sarcastic remark, "I'm genuinely curious, on the day when everyone in the base hangs you, what expression will you wear?"

As he spoke, he fixated intently on Lu Fen's eyes, attempting to discern any emotional fluctuations, but unfortunately, Lu Fen's attention remained unwavering. He was focused on the spore, the entire incubator, or perhaps something in the void.

"Thank you," came the detached voice, "It's what I deserve."

Dr. Ji's clenched fist on the table relaxed and then tightened again. Ultimately, he slumped back into his chair, "I should have pushed you out. You've been insane for a long time."

"I am quite lucid," Lu Fen finally redirected his gaze back to the doctor, "Is there anything in the lab that I can assist with?"

"Keep an eye on that little fungus of yours and make it grow faster," the doctor instructed, "If possible, monitor the research facility's communication channel for me."