Chapter 505: Erased Traces
by xennovel“Sister Yan.”
Zhang San’s lab was outfitted with the best soundproofing and anti-eavesdropping gear. Yan Long knew to keep her distance, so there was no way she could overhear anything inside. That’s why Xia Qing had no worries as she walked over, greeting Yan Long with a calm gaze meeting hers.
Just when Xia Qing thought Yan Long might give her a warning, Yan Long delivered a cold, decisive order: “Special training starts at 8:35 a.m. on the 16th. Ten hours daily. First day’s location: Second Peak, Hill Fifty.”
Xia Qing straightened, answering crisply, “Understood. I’ll give it everything I’ve got. Please guide me, Sister Yan.”
Watching the scene through surveillance, Huo Zhun couldn’t help thinking Xia Qing looked an awful lot like that strength-evolved sheep back in Section Three.
Satisfied, Yan Long lifted her chin, signaling Xia Qing she could go.
“Yes, ma’am!”
Just that tiny gesture from Yan Long radiated irresistible authority. It made Xia Qing’s blood surge as she strode out with newfound energy in every step.
In the monitoring room, however, Huo Zhun felt a wave of dread. He quickly grabbed his phone and called his old man, urging him to get that hardness-evolved snakeskin jacket sent over—fast. Huo Zhun doubted Xia Qing could survive Yan Long’s training without it.
Xia Qing rushed back to her territory to gear up, then headed straight for Third Peak on Hill Fifty. She sent Idol a message, waited until Yang Jin left, and only then went up the mountain. After a quick word with Hu Zifeng, she used her key to unlock the heavy iron gate of the Bear Cave’s command center.
Yang Jin had only given her that key earlier this morning—she hadn’t expected to need it so soon.
Once inside the Bear Cave, Xia Qing made straight for the stone hut and the graves hidden in the secluded valley.
Inside the stone hut, she gathered every small item that could reveal the owner’s identity: the decaying family photo, moldy clothing, bedding—everything went into her bag. Large pieces of furniture, pots, and tools were smashed to bits on the spot.
After clearing the house, Xia Qing hefted her sledgehammer and shovel, turning toward the graves of Shi Jiayi’s family.
The five intricately carved tombstones were ones Xia Qing herself had propped up and set right her first time here. Now, she knocked them all down and shattered them with the sledgehammer.
The rumble of heavy equipment prepping the firebreak below and the whine of chainsaws made a racket. Hu Zifeng was on-site, so if anyone heard strange noises, he’d cover for her. Xia Qing could work in peace.
Once the tombstones were smashed, she dug up the graves, pried open the stone coffins, and emptied out every bone from the family of eight, stuffing them into her bags. Shi Jiayi’s bones were easiest—she just hauled out the bag holding them from her husband’s coffin.
That bag was one Xia Qing herself had placed there not long ago.
After smashing the coffins, she secured the bags she needed, contacted Hu Zifeng on-site to confirm the Disaster Elimination Team and the work crew positions, and only then left the Bear Cave, carrying her heavy pack in a roundabout way down the mountain, making her way back to Section Three.
The eight bags of bones found their new grave: Xia Qing buried them deep in the old basement beneath the abandoned village within her territory. She’d originally dug that basement for food storage, only to realize it was useless without proper temperature and humidity controls, so it had been abandoned.
Now, it was a fitting tomb for all eight of them.
After burying the bones, Xia Qing burned everything else she’d brought back, leaving only the family photo, a kindergarten textbook, and a workbook bundled with a phone.
With those three things in hand, Xia Qing thoroughly disinfected her protective suit and sprayed on the scent-blocker, then made her way to Territory Seven.
Yang Jin had just left when Xia Qing returned to Territory Seven. No one found it odd—one was in charge of disaster elimination, the other managed Hill Fifty. It made sense for them to report to Zhang San.
After a security scan confirmed Xia Qing wasn’t carrying any contraband or weapons, Ji Li walked her a short way before stopping. “Yan Long’s just ahead. Go on and meet up with her.”
“Thanks, Ji.” Xia Qing hurried over, greeting Yan Long.
Yan Long watched her quietly. The scents told her all she needed: a faint hint of yellow weasel, with an undertone of mildew. Nothing out of the ordinary for anyone who’d survived the calamity years.
Yan Long nodded slightly and led her into Zhang San’s lab.
Once Yan Long left, Xia Qing double-locked the door and pulled out the items. “Third Brother, I think we should keep these. Would it be better to leave them with you, or should I hold onto them?”
Zhang San shot her a look. “Do you have a level-one bulletproof vault that can withstand an explosion?”
Xia Qing answered without missing a beat, “No, you keep them. Your place is the safest—nothing will touch them if they’re here.”
Zhang San gave a dismissive snort. His tone was flat but his words were ruthless. “Nothing’s totally safe. Someone could take down Ji Li and the others, capture me, and force me into the vault. But once we’re inside, I trigger the lockdown and self-destruct. No one leaves alive—including me.”
“Third Brother.”
Xia Qing stood, solemn. “That kind of person isn’t worth your life. I know you’ve got ways to stay alive and still off your enemy. You have to survive—only by living do you have hope, only then can you find happiness.”
Zhang San stared at Xia Qing for several seconds, then leaned back in his chair, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Step back, you’re stinking up the place again.”
Xia Qing, long since nose-blind to herself, plopped back into her seat and tried to bargain. “Idol, maybe when you’ve got a moment, could you research how to get rid of the evolved yellow weasel stench?”
“No time,” Zhang San shot back. “Yang Jin only went into the valley once for supplies, never poked around much, so he never saw the tombstones or the photos in the hut. You already watched all the photos and videos on the phone?”
Xia Qing replied, “No, just skimmed them after the disaster. I only paid close attention to the last two videos. I remember in an earlier one, she mentioned having a sister in college who went missing.”
Zhang San turned his laptop screen toward Xia Qing. “Anything from before the disaster’s useless as evidence. Just memorize this face—this was right after she was rescued. No matter how someone tries to hide, the distance between their pupils, eye position, and shape of the orbital bones never change—those are anatomical facts.”
On screen, Shi Jiaran, her head shaved, sat curled up on a hospital bed in baggy patient clothing. Her face was pale and thin, her eyes empty and fixed on the camera. Both her features and her demeanor were eerily similar to Shi Jiayi in the last video on the phone.
Her head, face, and neck were crisscrossed with angry red cuts, as if slashed by flying glass. None of the wounds seemed life-threatening.
What made Xia Qing’s skin crawl were the deep bruises and needle marks dotting the backs of Shi Jiaran’s hands and arms—stark evidence of trauma.
So this is the state of a prized lab subject—one who supposedly suffered far less than Fire Phoenix ever did?