Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"I've already notified the Admiral and both young masters; they are rushing back to the central district at top speed. Have the hospital immediately summon the best doctors from all departments to stand by, and ensure the operating room is prepared before the ambulance arrives. There can be no mistakes on the hospital's end!"

"The ambulance must arrive within five minutes—where's Roy?! Get the local police to cooperate, block off intersecting roads, and clear the route. I don’t want to see a single red light along the way! If there’s even a second’s delay, everyone will pay the price!"

The ambulance was crammed with doctors. The cacophony of male and female voices, mixed with the chaotic traffic outside, sounded muffled, as if heard through water. The only sounds Shi Jian could clearly discern were his own rapid, labored breathing and heartbeat, each thump heavier than the last.

Lying flat, his limited vision showed only blurry figures bustling around him in a frantic, silent-movie-like manner from the last century.

The only somewhat clear image was that of his adjutant gripping his hand with a white-knuckled grip, his expression more panicked than ever before. Yet, his voice remained remarkably steady, betraying only the slightest tremble as he fielded calls from multiple phones, reassured the panicking young master, and assisted the medical staff with initial interventions. He seemed more terrified of something happening to the person on the emergency stretcher than of his own death.

The flashing red lights of the medical instruments emitted sharp, piercing alarms. The figures of the adjutant and the medical staff gradually overlapped, their faces etched with identical anxiety and fear, unease spreading in their eyes.

Shi Jian curled up on the emergency stretcher, his skin burning as if he were a shrimp cooked and curled. Trembling, he tried to recall what had happened before he lost consciousness. All he remembered was finishing his last exam and heading out to celebrate Lei Yu’s upcoming eighteenth birthday. He was walking along the familiar road as usual when he suddenly lost all sensation, only to be jolted awake by an excruciating pain that felt like his gland was being torn apart. At first, they stuffed a towel in his mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue, then gave him painkillers and sleeping pills, which proved ineffective. Next came morphine, but it only lasted a few minutes.

After weighing the risks, the adjutant stopped the doctors from administering further injections. To prevent Shi Jian from harming himself in his delirium, four B-grade Alpha bodyguards were called in to restrain the violently struggling person on the emergency bed. Logically, pain of this intensity should have sent anyone else into shock—the body’s natural self-preservation response. But Shi Jian, then still an S-class Omega, was immune to all pain relief due to his high-grade status, forced to consciously endure the rupture and breakage of his still-developing glandular cells.

His retinas swelled and filled with blood, seeing vast expanses of sky stained red with blood, shrapnel and large particles of wasteland floating in the air, and an endless expanse of scorched earth. He clearly realized this was not a hallucination but something truly seen. As he stared directly at the blood-red setting sun, countless voices exploded in his ears—men, women, old people, children—whispers, clamor, and a familiar murmur of "Xiao Jian." A man held him in his arms, whispering something. He could even hear the wind conversing with the leaves and the communication of ant colonies.

Then, in an instant, everything fell silent. The wind stopped, the trees stood still, and the ants vanished. Shi Jian’s mind was flooded with chaotic, disordered fragments, far too much to contain. His thoughts felt as if they were being irregularly stirred with a stick, his memories shattering into disjointed pieces.

Fragmented images flickered before Shi Jian’s eyes. Suddenly, three dazzling white lights made him tear up, as several hands holding gleaming silver knives approached. His jumbled thoughts left him unaware of who he was or unable to move. All he knew was that his head hurt, his body convulsed, and sweat pooled in his clothes, clinging to him like cling film.

His ruined gland ignited a fire that spread to his internal organs, even making his blood vessels seem to boil. Yet, his surroundings were freezing, like an ice cellar, his pores feeling the chilling cold emanating from within.

Shi Jian thought he was self-immolating in ice water. He struggled to escape, but his body was numb and heavy—in stark contrast to his chaotic yet weightless soul.

He couldn't remember when he finally managed to close his eyes, escaping the searing pain a hundred times worse than death. As he plunged into boundless darkness, he thought he had finally died, no longer needing to endure such agony, and a smile of relief touched his lips.

But Shi Jian lived, and lived well.

It was merely an unexpected secondary differentiation, one that stripped him of his superior genes but didn't claim his life. The bone-deep pain was merely a collateral disaster accompanying the anomaly, a probability equally distributed among everyone. Shi Jian was simply unlucky.

After the surgery, Shi Jian remained in the central district's military hospital for recovery. The Federation's top experts in glandular biology gathered there, working tirelessly to mitigate the damage.

"How could secondary differentiation occur so early? There's no precedent in the family's genetic records, no history of congenital glandular diseases among direct or collateral relatives, nor any prior history of glandular damage. Logically, this shouldn't be possible... It doesn't make sense..."

"We've already allocated 10,000cc of A-grade and above Omega pheromone extract from the central district's main repository. Let's try our best to see if we can reverse the differentiation outcome."

"Sigh, still no effect. Even the reserves from the Ninth Military Region have been brought in, and we've already transfused 20,000cc. Why is there no effect at all? Even if he doesn't reach the predicted S-grade, at least it shouldn't be... it's..."

After exhausting all available methods without success, the experts had no choice but to declare that Shi Jian had completed his secondary differentiation, transforming from a predicted S-grade Omega into an E-grade Alpha.

The cause was unknown, and the outcome irreversible.

"E-grade Alpha? Are you joking?! How could the Shi family have E-grade differentiation genes?!" After his initial rage, Wen Yuan muttered in confusion, "No, he can't be an Alpha, he can't be an Alpha... How can he be an Alpha!"

Shi Xu remained calm.

"Understood. Thank you for your efforts."

"Prepare his discharge."

"Remove all Alpha bodyguards from the household and replace them with Betas."

"From now on, until Xiao Jian learns to control his pheromones, he must not come into contact with high-grade Alphas. That includes all of you. Do not exacerbate the situation."

"Shi Xu won't be available for a while. Wen Yuan, teach your brother well."

Shi Cangfeng meticulously arranged everything.

Shi Jian was half-sitting on the hospital bed at the time, gripping the covers tightly. The veins and bones on his thin, narrow hands protruded sharply, covered by a thin, pale skin that spoke of a recent severe illness.

Most of the elders and close friends from his family and their long-standing acquaintances were high-grade Alphas, making it inconvenient for them to visit in person. They expressed their concern via video calls instead.

"Ah, how could this child... What a pity."

"Indeed. The eldest is in the High Senate, and Wen Yuan is adopted. The Shi family was counting on him to take over... Now, it will be difficult for him to establish himself."

"I admire how he acts like nothing's wrong. If I had fallen from an S-grade Omega to an E-grade Alpha overnight, I definitely wouldn't have been able to handle such a disparity. I'd rather die."

"Poor thing..."

"What a shame..."

By the time the registrar also looked at him with pity, over two months and ten days had passed since the incident.

And now, Muye had brought it up again in front of dozens of people.

The moment the words left his lips, even those dozing off were jolted awake. All eyes in the classroom converged on Shi Jian.

A heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by the muffled hum of the air conditioner outside, its warmth seeping through the windows along with the sunlight.

Shi Jian sat quietly at his desk, replaying everything he had experienced since his secondary differentiation in a few fleeting seconds, as if watching a slideshow.

He had actually thought he had mostly forgotten—

Wasn't there a theory about the withdrawal protection mechanism, where the body actively saves itself after experiencing immense pain, and the brain subconsciously avoids and forgets the experience?

But Shi Jian realized he was an exception to this mechanism. The chaotic thoughts and fragmented memories had only appeared that one night. From then until now, his memory remained as clear as a leaf's veins, remembering every minute detail, even who said what, and the expressions on their faces when they said it.

Pity, sympathy, regret, compassion... So many emotions.

None of which Shi Jian needed, yet kind-hearted people always bestowed them upon him, like offering food to a stray cat on their way home from work.

But stray cats could catch mice to fill their bellies.

Muye grew a little impatient, an inexplicable unease gnawing at him. He irritably flipped through his lesson plan, about to call on someone else, when suddenly, the screech of a chair dragging across the floor cut through the silence. The slender young man stood up, his back ramrod straight, casting a long, thin shadow.

Muye froze.

Shi Jian’s voice had the slight hoarseness of a teenage boy who had just gone through vocal changes, yet it was clear and cool, like ice water.

With a faint, composed smile, he calmly said, "Reporting, Instructor. My secondary differentiation resulted in an E-grade Alpha. I have no awakened abilities. When I logged into the population system, a pop-up suggested I apply for a mild disability certificate at the civil affairs office to receive federal subsidies. I don’t know why the First Military Academy kept an unqualified student like me. Perhaps the military academy also has quotas for supporting disabled Alphas?"

He laid bare his secret without hesitation, speaking of his E-grade Alpha status as calmly as if discussing an academic theory. There was none of the embarrassment, anger, or outbursts many had expected. His pale blue eyes were like mirrors, reflecting not his own weakness or cowardice, but the twisted and aberrant mindsets of some, exposing their malice in stark relief.

Shi Jian had already said the harshest words himself, leaving Muye speechless for a long moment. When he finally recovered, he gestured for Shi Jian to sit down, his emotions complicated.

Truthfully, the moment Shi Jian pulled out his chair and stood up, Muye felt a pang of regret. In the end, Shi Jian had done nothing wrong in becoming an E-grade Alpha—he was simply an unlucky victim. Muye’s impulsive question, born of unfounded frustration, had been unduly cruel.

Even if Shi Jian seemed unbothered, the reality was that in the First Military Academy, where the elite and high-grade Alphas dominated, an E-grade Alpha would face immense hardship—a situation Muye had selfishly exacerbated. As Shi Jian had argued when he first arrived, Muye had to admit he had indeed abused his authority, imposing his own biases onto this young man he despised.