Chapter 77: Shen Qingyi?

Chapter Seventy-Seven: Xin Qingyi?

The red warning lights in the laboratory flashed ceaselessly, their pulsing glow accompanied by the blaring alarm that cast a pall of tension over the entire room.

“Stabilizer injection.”

As another vial of liquid was delivered through a conduit, the violent tremors racking Xin Qingyi’s body inside the cultivation chamber lessened.

“All values are stable,” reported the youngest technician of the three, her eyes never leaving the glowing screen before her.

“Increase the level of psychic field protection—no psychic contamination must occur,” the eldest technician commanded in a grave tone.

The other two nodded, not even pausing to wipe the sweat beading on their foreheads. It wasn’t the heat that made them perspire, but the intensity of their concentration.

“Psychic field is stable. The enhancer is beginning to react.”

All three of them held their breath as they watched Xin Qingyi within the chamber. The enhancer was only a catalyst, its purpose to trigger the enhanced genetic transformation within. The process of genetic enhancement had begun from the very inception of this cloned body. Unlike Liu Shaoyu, whose cloned body underwent only the complete Human Supplementation Program and cellular protein enhancement during its cultivation phase, Xin Qingyi’s clone utilized an entirely different technology—a technology derived from the core code of the Carter human body.

In theory, genetic enhancement cannot be achieved through mere injection. Since a living organism’s hereditary genes govern protein synthesis, only by altering the genes can one change its traits. Injection alone is useless and potentially lethal. Therefore, only by modifying the gene code at the earliest stage of cloning could any internal genetic leap be accomplished—whether it could reach Carter’s level remained unknown.

Previous live experiments on condemned prisoners had shown a hundred percent survival rate. This had been Wang Weifu’s research focus of late. The data Liu Shaoyu brought back was nothing short of astonishing—decades, even a century ahead of Earth’s most advanced genetic technology.

However, many of the synthetic materials used in Carter’s body had never been seen before. Wang Weifu had spent countless trials searching for substitutes among existing materials. After thousands of experiments, he had finally found replacements. While the resulting body, when paired with Carter’s core code, was still inferior to Carter’s original, it represented the pinnacle of human achievement.

Strictly speaking, Carter was a new organism bearing human appearance. Its internal organs were markedly different from those of humans—the most obvious being the absence of lungs. Research indicated that Carter’s body did not need lungs; it did not require oxygen. Instead, it was powered by something resembling an energy matrix, sustaining the system like a machine driven by energy.

Yet human thought remains bound by the flesh; no matter how advanced the technology, it cannot yet be applied to the living.

No one wishes to become a machine—except, of course, for the death-row inmates used in these experiments. They could hardly be called human any longer. These experiments, of course, were conducted under the strictest secrecy. Were the outside world to learn of them, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Xin Qingyi’s clone, therefore, had only undergone limited genetic strengthening—a quantitative enhancement, so to speak—bestowing the body with greater vitality and resilience. Of course, there might be unforeseen changes, but fundamentally, it remained human, within the bounds of what people recognized as human.

Carter’s body, on the other hand, was a qualitative leap.

At that moment, Wang Weifu stood before a massive holographic display, its surface covered with countless figures and tables.

“Rest assured, though this experiment is still in its early stages, the safety rate is as high as ninety-nine percent,” Wang Weifu said to an elderly man whose image appeared in a corner of the display.

“It’s not you I doubt, but the experiment itself. Even a one percent chance of anomaly is still a possibility,” the old man replied, his voice steady and forceful. Even through the transmission, there was an undeniable authority in his tone that made every conversation tense for Wang Weifu.

“But I am curious—why Xin Qingyi?” Wang Weifu’s eyes reflected his confusion. This technology could easily wait until further, more mature trials. Why insist on her as the first subject?

“At my age, I can no longer bear the pain of loss,” the old man said with a faint smile, though his words were tinged with deep sorrow.

Wang Weifu only nodded respectfully, not daring to interrupt.

“There are things you know as well—the sooner we enact change, the better our chance to weather the coming storm,” the old man continued.

Wang Weifu understood, to a point. But had matters truly reached this stage? To make one’s own granddaughter the first subject—was it ruthlessness, or love?

“Your young friend should be back soon, shouldn’t he?” The old man abruptly changed the subject.

Wang Weifu instantly understood who was being referred to. “Yes, he’s already on his way.”

“Have him come to Jiuzhou. I want to see him,” the old man said, a smile growing on his face as if recalling something pleasant. He added, “And since he was the one who brought the data, the big toy you’re working on—let him handle it.”

A flash of joy crossed Wang Weifu’s face. “The theoretical equations are already complete, and the body has been manufactured. We’re only waiting for his return to collect the psychic sample for comparison.”

“Good. Just do what you need to. These things are beyond an old man like me,” the elder replied with a touch of self-mockery.

“On the contrary, you’re still in your prime. I heard from Hong that you refuse to change bodies. I hope you’ll reconsider—we still need you to shelter us from the storm.”

It was clear that Wang Weifu and the old man spoke candidly, their words unvarnished by formality—a result of their longstanding acquaintance.

“Haha! You youngsters keep trying to persuade me. But do you know how many people would be displeased if I lived a few years longer?”

The old man chuckled. The God Project had long since matured, but none of its earliest supporters had been among the first to undergo transformation—Wang Weifu himself was not counted, being merely a beneficiary of the plan and not among its original advocates. Thus, he had less to worry about.

“Those old fellows are all watching us. If I go first, I won’t be able to shield you all anymore,” the old man said with a laugh.

Wang Weifu, as a technician, had little interest in or understanding of the power struggles among the upper echelons. It was not in his nature to speculate—life is finite, and wasting it on such intrigue seemed pointless.

But what if life became infinite?

“Psychic transfer complete,” the computer’s automated announcement interrupted their conversation.

“It’s done,” Wang Weifu informed the elder, nodding at the display.

Inside the cultivation chamber, Xin Qingyi struggled to open her eyes. The searing white light was overwhelming, followed by a stabbing pain that pierced straight into her brain.

“Aaah—!”

At last, she could no longer endure the pain burrowing into her very soul, and she screamed.

Crash! Crash! Crash!

The sound of shattering glass erupted throughout the laboratory, leaving chaos in its wake.

Author’s Note:
The story enters a new chapter—please recommend and add to your favorites!