Chapter 71: Jumping from Ji An’s Lab to Han Yaokun’s Lab

Chapter 71: Switching from Ji An's Lab to Han Yaokun's Lab

Zhao Zhen couldn’t contain his excitement—he jumped and roared like a wild beast letting it all out.

Nearly the whole institute was roused, with everyone flooding out to see what was happening.

Zhang Yi, the head of the institute's logistics department, was naturally present as well. Having previously got help from Ji An to purchase a spatial storage device, he had some connection with Ji An's lab. Seeing Wu Youyang, who had come out to see what the fuss was about, he asked, "What's going on? Why is Zhao Zhen so worked up, acting crazy?"

Wu Youyang curled his lip. "Probably made some breakthrough in research."

He felt uneasy—not out of envy or resentment toward Han Yaokun's lab, but because of the timing...

Boss Ji had just lost his superpower. The gap between an ordinary person without abilities and a psychic superpowered researcher was like an impossible gap.

With Boss Ji's future now uncertain and his experiments stuck at a standstill, Han Yaokun's lab had coincidentally made a breakthrough at this very moment. Wu Youyang was really concerned about Ji An's mental and emotional state.

Zhang Yi asked, "Judging by Zhao Zhen's smug, overexcited act, Han Yaokun must have achieved something major, right?"

Wu Youyang didn’t answer. He didn’t want bad things for Han Yaokun, but he hoped they could show some restraint during Boss Ji's low point, avoiding excessive provocation.

People’s feelings don’t align—you can’t expect others not to laugh while you weep.

So Wu Youyang could only hope that Boss Ji had the resilience to endure and that Commander-in-Chief Gu was strong enough to protect him mentally, helping him get through this.

After all, a major research breakthrough was cause for celebration, and even if Zhao Zhen went wild, no one would criticize him. On the contrary, many in Han Yaokun's lab were caught up in the excitement.

Many joined in, dancing and cheering.

Researchers and students split into small groups, gossiping about the key players in their circles.

One researcher remarked, "Ji An is done for now. With Han Yaokun figuring out how to make antigen and antibody co-exist in the zombie virus—something even M country couldn’t achieve—he’s crushed Ji An."

"That stomp was brutal. Ji An will never crawl out of this!"

"Honestly, how could he even dream of a comeback?" sneered Wang Zhenghao, a researcher who had once tried to join Ji An's lab but was rejected. "A powerless ordinary man like him? There’s an unbridgeable gap between him and us mental superpowered intellectuals—something no ordinary person could ever cross in their lifetime!"

"Does Ji An actually dare to compare himself to Han Yaokun?"

At this, Wang Zhenghao rolled his eyes dramatically, his voice full of contempt, as if Ji An wasn’t even fit to shine his shoes.

"Let me make this clear: from now on, Ji An can’t even measure up to us researchers, let alone Han Yaokun. At least we’re still psychic superpowered—what does he have?"

No one responded to that.

Ji An had been too outstanding—achieving breakthrough after breakthrough at a young age, far surpassing the era’s technology, with techniques veteran researchers still couldn’t crack. Envy was inevitable.

For every person who admired and genuinely appreciated Ji An, there was another who deeply resented him, praying daily for his downfall.

Such was the fate of the extraordinarily brilliant—they inevitably stood out.

Even though Commander-in-Chief Gu and the Jing City base had suppressed leaks about the nutrient solution’s creator, how could such a secret stay hidden within the institute?

With only two major factions in the research institute, if Han Yaokun’s side had made the breakthrough, his own people would have known.

That left only Ji An’s lab. Though they had kept a low profile about the nutrient solution, never publicly claiming credit, everyone had pieced it together.

Now, the entire institute tacitly acknowledged Ji An as the inventor—including Han Yaokun, who had openly denied involvement and even formed a task force to reverse-engineer the solution.

The result? The same as with the spatial storage device—utter failure.

Even if we only consider the two aforementioned technologies, even if Ji An never achieves another scientific breakthrough in his lifetime, his contributions are already monumental enough to be recorded in history, securing his place in history, for future generations to remember and be grateful for his life-saving achievements.

And what about them? They are just ordinary researchers with no remarkable accomplishments to their names. Researchers like them are countless, but someone who can save countless lives and be revered throughout the ages—there is only one Ji An. How could they ever compare to someone like him?

Not everyone is blinded by jealousy. More people remain clear-headed, which is why the crowd fell silent, with no one echoing Wang Zhenghao’s words.

This left Wang Zhenghao both embarrassed and humiliated, his frustration turning to anger. At the same time, he found his colleagues hypocritical. His eyes darted through the crowd, eager to find an ally.

Suddenly, Wang Zhenghao’s gaze landed on a researcher from Ji An’s lab, standing right beside Wu Youyang. The researcher was staring at Han Yaokun’s boisterous celebration with unmistakable envy, his longing to join in so obvious Wang Zhenghao could see it even through the crowd.

This was just the yes-man Wang Zhenghao was looking for. His lips curled into a wide grin.

"Hey, Li Fengying!" Wang Zhenghao waved. "Here to share in the celebration too?"

Li Fengying made no effort to hide his envy. "Yeah," he nodded.

Hearing Li Fengying’s blatant, open desire to join in, Wu Youyang glared at him furiously.

Li Fengying could feel Wu Youyang’s burning glare, but he didn’t care. He continued in the same envious, eager tone, "Such an exciting, lively celebration—I doubt I’ll ever get to be part of something like this in my lifetime!"

As a member of Ji An’s lab, wasn’t this tantamount to saying Ji An would never produce another breakthrough?

This wasn’t even a veiled hint—it was a blatant insult!

Wu Youyang was livid. "Li Fengying, do you even realize what you’re saying right now?"

Li Fengying put on an innocent look, as if he’d merely stated an obvious fact. "I’m just telling the truth. Boss Ji’s done for, his abilities gone. How can anyone expect him to produce any more research? It’s absolutely impossible!"

His calm, dismissive tone only infuriated Wu Youyang further, who almost punched Wang Zhenghao in rage.

But Wang Zhenghao was overjoyed. He laughed heartily and strode over, clapping Li Fengying on the back like a buddy.

"Brother Li, we used to work side by side for years. I can’t bear to watch you waste your potential there. Let me show you the right path—why don’t you come back? With Dean Han’s recent success, he’s in a great mood. If you appeal to him sincerely, he might just agree! Dean Han isn’t petty—he values talent. Who knows, he might welcome you back!"

Wang Zhenghao put on a look of genuine concern. "Brother Li, with all your talent and ambition, it’s such a waste to see you stuck in Ji An’s lab. I truly feel sorry for you!"

Li Fengying’s eyes lit up. "You’re right, Brother Wang! You’re absolutely right!"

With that, Li Fengying stepped out of Ji An’s team and walked straight into Han Yaokun’s celebrating crowd, calling out, "Dean Han, Vice Dean Zhao, do you remember me? I’m Li Fengying—I used to work in your lab!"

His voice successfully drew the attention of everyone in Han Yaokun’s lab, including Han Yaokun and Zhao Zhen themselves.

Han Yaokun might not have recognized Li Fengying—he was far too busy to hold grudges against a defector—but Zhao Zhen certainly remembered him.

Li Fengying continued, "Dean Han, Vice Dean Zhao, I was once blinded by short-term gains and took the wrong path. Now, I wish to return to the right one—to your lab. I sincerely beg you to give me this chance to redeem myself!"

Wu Youyang was seeing red. Fuming, he roared, "Li Fengying! Has Boss Ji ever treated you unfairly, even once? Whether it’s benefits or projects, is this how you repay him?"

Li Fengying kept up his fake innocence. "I never said Boss Ji treated me poorly. But what does that have to do with my ambitions and talents? In his current state, it’s obvious he won’t make any more breakthroughs. Just because he gave me decent treatment, should that chain me down and waste my potential?"

He turned the tables on Wu Youyang, mock righteousness in his voice. "Even if I accepted that, would it be fair to the countless people out there? Just because of my personal gratitude, should millions suffer the loss of a brilliant researcher who could change their lives?"

With this, Li Fengying claimed the moral high ground, painting his betrayal as noble—as if he weren’t motivated by personal gain at all, but solely for the sake of the people!

Wu Youyang was infuriated by Li Fengying's hypocrisy—playing the saint while acting like a hypocrite. His eyes burned with fury, and he no longer spared Li Fengying any face. "Li Fengying, don’t forget how you got into the lab in the first place! If you hadn’t groveled on your knees to Boss Ji, how could he have taken you in?"

Li Fengying’s expression instantly darkened, and Zhao Zhen’s face also turned unpleasant. However, Zhao Zhen soon thought—so what if Li Fengying had indeed begged Ji An on his knees to enter Ji An’s lab?

The fact that someone who had once been willing to grovel just to join Ji An’s lab was now desperate to get out only proved that Ji An was finished!

A perverse satisfaction filled Zhao Zhen’s heart. His smile returned, and he spoke magnanimously, "Wu Youyang, there’s no need for such words. Shouldn’t you instead reflect on Ji An’s mistakes? Why is it that someone who once abandoned dignity and everything just to enter his lab is now desperate to get out?"

Wu Youyang shook with rage. Everyone knew why—it was because Ji An had lost his superpower, and these people believed he could no longer produce research, doomed to never rise again!

But Wu Youyang couldn’t say it out loud. He had to endure it.

Zhao Zhen, seeing Wu Youyang’s bottled-up fury, felt immensely pleased. He tilted his head with smug superiority, adopting a condescending tone. "Well, neither Dean Han nor I are petty people. Especially Dean Han—a leader who treasures talent. You can come back."

Han Yaokun hesitated. "Isn’t this inappropriate? Shouldn’t we discuss this with Researcher Ji first?"

"I’m sure Ji An isn’t so petty as to care about such a trivial matter. Right, Team Leader Wu Youyang?" Zhao Zhen gloated.

Wu Youyang sneered. "Indeed, our boss wouldn’t sweat something this trivial. I can make the decision right now!

Since Researcher Li wishes to leave, he’s free to go. As for his salary, rest assured—we’ll pay him up to his last day, every last credit, down to the decimal!

And as for the rest of you..."

Wu Youyang swept a cold gaze over the crowd behind him. "I’ll make this clear—every single one of you is included. If you want to leave, you can go right now!

Anyone who leaves today won’t be pursued. But after today, don’t blame me for not valuing past ties!"

The members of Ji An’s lab exchanged glances. Some were clearly wavering, and within minutes, a dozen or so people straggled out.

"Sorry, Team Leader Wu, it’s just that..." Most researchers still had some shame, knowing they were stabbing someone in the back. But compared to their futures, honor seemed insignificant.

Wu Youyang closed his eyes briefly and waved them off. "Save it. Just live with yourselves!"

Zhao Zhen’s eyes gleamed with triumph as he chuckled at Wu Youyang. "Though Wu’s just a baseline human—hardly meeting our lab’s recruitment standards—if it were Researcher Wu, I’d be willing to make an exception! Care to switch sides?"

"Keep dreaming, Zhao!" Wu Youyang retorted before turning sharply and leading Ji An’s team away.

Shi Jun, hidden in the crowd, sighed quietly. "No matter what Wu Youyang’s future holds, at least he’s got backbone."

Someone whispered, "Please, it’s just his only option! We’re stacked with mental superpowered elites. What future does Wu Youyang, an ordinary person with no awakened superpower, have here? He’s better off sticking with Ji An, at least playing the loyal dog!

Besides, Ji An still holds the patents for nutrient solutions and spatial storage devices—enough for Wu Youyang to live off for life!"

A student from Han Yaokun’s lab remarked to Meng Changan, "I saw Rong Fan earlier. He looked like hell—probably stressing over his future. You’re lucky, Meng Changan. You chose to stay."

Meng Changan couldn’t suppress his grin, his lips curling upward. "Well, Boss Ji’s swamped—spatial storage devices, nutrient solutions... With his injury, all that work must’ve fallen on Rong Fan and his mentor. Maybe he’s just exhausted from overwork!

We’d love to help, but Dean Han’s lab has plenty of researchers. No room for interns like us."

"Just riding on coattails!" another student scoffed, though not without envy. Sure, it was just "past achievements," but that kind of golden ticket could sustain generations. They wished they had such a safety net.

"I doubt Rong Fan’s just tired. He must be worried. Unlike his mentor—an ordinary person with no superpower—he’s awakened psychic superpower and is a top-tier psychic. With his boss’s superpower gone, he’s hit a dead end. How could he not be anxious?"

"Do you think Rong Fan will come back?"

"As a student, it’s unlikely. He’s not an experienced researcher."

"What a damn shame for someone that sharp. Didn’t he used to run circles around Meng?"

Ji An was completely unaware that the research institute had been in an uproar because of him. After admiring the spectacular fireworks in the sky, he went into isolation with Gu Jinsheng.

Ji An had the kitten in a cage and kept it alone in a corner. Gu Jinsheng asked, "Do you like cats?"

Ji An treated all small animals equally—neither particularly fond nor disliking them—but he never kept pets.

Ji An replied vaguely, "It's alright. Just for experiments."

Gu Jinsheng knew Ji An was working on organ regeneration experiments, which seemed unrelated to an unmutated kitten. However, seeing that Ji An didn’t want to elaborate, he didn’t press further.

Fortunately, three days later, Ji An’s entire team passed the quarantine without a single infection. Seven days later, the kitten also cleared the quarantine period, with no trace of the zombie virus.

Notably, during this time, the kitten remained in good health and never developed a fever, indicating it had never been infected with the zombie virus. Its wounds were probably just from branches rather than zombie attacks.

Ji An only started studying the Space Necklace after confirming the kitten was virus-free.

Ji An sent his awareness into the Space Necklace and found it unchanged—still dark and formless, as if time stood still and light didn’t exist. The entire space was a formless void.

When Ji An picked up the kitten, the moment his hand touched it, he felt the Space Necklace grow hot again—a reaction of hunger.

Despite the strong reaction, Ji An was unsure about putting the kitten inside the Space Necklace. He still couldn’t confirm if this was the correct method to evolve it.

After all, the spatial storage device he had developed couldn’t store living beings. Any living creature placed inside would die the moment they entered.

Moreover, the Space Necklace had a track record—it fed on energy from Superpowered Crystal Cores while ignoring zombie cores.

Who knew whether its reaction to the kitten stemmed from a craving for life, a desire to consume its energy, or something else entirely?

However, Ji An quickly brushed the idea aside. If it were simply a thirst for life, he had handled other animals before without any reaction from the Space Necklace.

During his regeneration experiments, various mutated animals had been in his care, yet the Space Necklace remained indifferent.

Considering its aversion to zombie cores, it was possible the Space Necklace disliked the zombie virus and, by extension, animals once infected by it.

Regardless of the reason, Ji An decided to try. If the Space Necklace merely just wanted unmutated animals as food, he could simply stop feeding it in the future.

Ji An attempted to send the kitten into the Space Necklace. The process went smoother than expected—the Space Necklace didn’t hold back, sucking it in forcefully that instantly pulled the kitten inside.

Before Ji An could react, he felt the kitten was gone from his grasp, its tiny paws landing within the Space Necklace.

As soon as the kitten landed, the space underwent a miraculous transformation.

The chaotic sky seemed split by an invisible axe—pure energy rose as the sky, while turbid energy descended to shape the earth.

Once the sky and earth were formed, a beam of light appeared from an unknown source, filling the once-dark void with light.

The space had evolved into its own world.

Ji An noticed that the direction of the light matched the position of the sun in his real-world environment, suggesting the space was simulating Earth’s time.

The transformation resembled Earth’s primordial state—when heaven and earth were indistinguishable, and the world was filled with chaos.

This phenomenon reminded Ji An of ancient myths from China.

Legend stated that in the beginning, Earth was a formless void until Pangu split the chaos with an axe, creating the sky and the land.

The Space Necklace’s state was like Earth before Pangu split the chaos, and perhaps the kitten was the "Pangu" that initiated creation—or more fittingly, the origin of life.

After landing on all fours, the kitten kicked its hind legs and started sniffing around its strange new world.

In fact, there was no real environment to speak of in the space. Ji An used to keep his supplies there, but once he created his own spatial storage device, he took everything out. Now, the entire space was completely empty.

In this newly lit miniature world, the emptiness was stark—just barren desolation, an endless stretch of wilderness.

What seemed like a tiny space within Ji An's mind's eye felt boundless to kitten. Though kitten ran far and long, in Ji An's perception, it had only covered a distance no larger than the span of a hand.

This didn’t unnerve Ji An—it just set his heart pounding.

The space was a spatial storage device, a miniature world where a single flower, a single tree, or a single enlightened thought could embody the universe, capable of embracing countless living beings within it.

Since it could accommodate life, Ji An wanted to test whether humans could enter. If possible, the apocalyptic crisis humanity faced could be resolved effortlessly.

Ji An had never considered entering the space himself—this was the first time he tried. Yet, it didn’t work. He attempted multiple times, employing various methods, but none succeeded.

It occurred to Ji An that the spatial storage device had never shown any reaction to humans. He had encountered many uninfected ordinary people, yet the spatial storage device seemed entirely indifferent.

Ji An couldn’t help but think of the "Noah’s Ark." Could this pocket dimension be humanity’s new Noah’s Ark?