Chapter 2: Three Years
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“Warden, the projection has been cut. Should we wake the maintenance AI and begin inserting the test subjects into the gene pods for thorough scans?”
“Start the examination. Even the unstable ones—put them all in the genetic chamber. We’ll deal with the consequences afterward.”
“Yes, Warden.”
After issuing the command through the Eclipse Core, Chen Mo no longer paid attention to the prisoners below, who had broken into a panic at the sudden activation of the surrounding robotic units.
He walked straight into the inner chamber.
Inside, grotesque biological limbs and organs of various unknown species were laid out. Vats of vibrant, glowing serums lined the walls.
“We’re running out of time,” Chen Mo muttered, glancing up at the projection on the chamber ceiling. Scarlet-red numerals were ticking down in an ominous countdown.
1,100 days.
Only 1,100 days left before the creatures imprisoned in the deep sea would break free of their abyssal cages… and march onto land to hunt down their creators—humanity.
That’s right.
The so-called “dominant species” of Earth—humans—were nothing more than a large, fast-breeding food source created millions of years ago by an alien species known as the Almarans. Their purpose? To feed massive ornamental sea beasts kept as living exhibits.
Any one of those “pets” could easily trample an entire city into ruin.
Even as a transmigrator, Chen Mo was deeply shaken by the truth.
He still didn’t understand how that derailed train back on Earth had somehow killed him and flung his soul to the moon of this parallel world—but that wasn’t important now. What was important were two terrifying problems:
The Almarans had mysteriously withdrawn. No one knew if they’d return.
The deep-sea holding pens—long neglected—had turned into battlegrounds. The creatures had begun devouring and evolving, and even birthed several leader-class monsters.
Now, those monsters were pounding endlessly at the containment doors. The power core was nearly depleted.
After millions of years, even the smallest system error becomes inevitable. A tectonic shift had already cut the energy supply. The only reason the facility hadn’t collapsed yet was because the monsters were too busy killing each other to notice the exit.
But now, the internal hierarchy had stabilized. The leaders had emerged, and their inherited memories were awakening. They remembered: they did not belong to the sea—they belonged to the land.
“Human adaptability is pathetic,” Chen Mo muttered. “Even I, with a transmigrator’s body, only achieved 10% compatibility. I can’t imagine what the bio-combat suit could do at 100% sync.”
As it stood, humanity’s modern weapons were only effective against miniature creatures, about 1–2 meters long.
But monsters over 10 meters? Nearly bulletproof. Only artillery might slow them.
Some creatures had unique physiologies. Even nuclear explosions served only as nutrients to them.
Chen Mo couldn’t help but think of Godzilla. Did this world even have such movies?
“Eclipse,” he called out, “Prepare for Experiment No. 317. Bring me the specimen labeled ‘Blood Queen.'”
Meanwhile, on Blue Star (Earth), humanity remained completely unaware of what was unfolding on the moon.
All they knew was that Anping City, which had been functioning normally, suddenly went into full lockdown.
Troops swarmed the city. All roads in and out were sealed. Even the mountains and forests were under heavy surveillance.
Helicopters patrolled the skies day and night. Thousands of safety control officers were dispatched to Anping. The city entered a high-level alert.
Only critical infrastructure—power, water, basic utilities—remained operational. Everything else was forcibly shut down.
Naturally, this strange situation ignited massive online speculation:
User “嵟嵟最爱看”: “What the heck is going on? Why’s Anping suddenly under martial law? It’s not like we’re hosting the Olympics.”
User “NoCilantro”: “I don’t get it. The Safety Bureau’s lost its mind! They inspected my house and told me it was messy. Like that’s any of their business?!”
User “嵟开富贵”: “Everyone just obey the government. The government won’t hurt us.”
User “Unnamed15575647”: “I’ll let you in on a secret—it’s the prison! Something happened there!”
User “Doggo”: “Wait, what? Dude above—why are you banned? Where’s your profile pic? Why’s your username ‘Unnamed’ now?!”
Online discussions were being strictly censored, and offline arrests were conducted rapidly.
Even so, rumors still leaked out. People knew something had happened at the prison—but no one knew what.
And they couldn’t imagine how a prison incident could require the national Safety Bureau and military to intervene… even locking down the entire city?
Time dulled the panic.
The lockdown on Anping lasted a month before it was lifted. But the public’s confusion only deepened. No one could uncover what truly happened.
That June, a new agency was formed in Anping, led by Tianfu City:
The Bureau for Special Incident Management and Containment.
This bureau answered only to Tianfu’s leadership. Even the Anping Mayor had no authority over it.
Its power was absolute—it could act first and report later, even if that meant overruling local officials.
The government sector went eerily quiet. Whispers of the Anping prison incident began to circulate among insiders. Everyone agreed—it was unnatural.
Three years passed.
In all that time, not a single missing inmate was found. The Dragon Nation poured every available resource into the search—nothing.
Even families of prisoners nearing release were refused visitation.
Instead, the government issued financial compensation to the families—paid continuously, until the day their loved ones were found.
Anping No.1 High School — Grade 12, Class 2
“Hey, I heard… your dad’s in prison?”
Wang Xiuya hesitated for a moment, but asked anyway.
“Yeah.”
Xu Yi’s hand paused over his homework. Just yesterday, he had finally gathered the courage to confess to the girl he’d crushed on for three years. And today—this rumor leaks out.
He’d only told two people: the principal and their homeroom teacher.
Could it have been… Li Haoran?
“I’m sorry,” Wang Xiuya said softly. “I don’t think I can say yes.”
She bit her lip. Though she knew Xu Yi was outstanding—always in the school’s top ten, and a guaranteed admission to a top national university—his family background…
It was just too hard to ignore.
“You made the right choice, Xiuya,” sneered a nearby classmate. “A prisoner’s son? He dares confess to you? He’s not even worthy to clean your shoes!”
