The Heavens: A Qing, the Yue Girl at the beginning

The rain slid down Yuan Zhisheng's brow, stayed briefly on his eyelashes, and finally dripped onto the black ice plate in his hand.

The cold touch brought him back to his senses a little, but the shock in his heart became more intense.

Painted pear clothes.

When this name came out of Chu Zihang's mouth, Yuan Zhisheng's fingers tightened almost subconsciously, and his knuckles turned white due to the force.

The existence of Uesugi Erie is the top secret of the Snake Eight Clan. No one knows her true identity except a few high-ranking officials of the Executive Bureau and Tachibana Masamune. But this taciturn young man mentioned her lightly and even... brought medicine specially prepared for her?
——How could he know?
Yuan Zhisheng's golden eyes flickered slightly in the rain, with a mixture of vigilance and suspicion. He stared at Chu Zihang's face, trying to read something from that cold face, but the other's eyes were as calm as a knife, without a trace of ripples.

"Chu Jun."

Yuan Zhisheng's voice was low and dangerous, "You just said... this pill is for Eri?"

Chu Zihang nodded, and said briefly and directly: "Yeah."

——He didn't even deny it.

Yuan Zhisheng's breathing paused slightly.

If Chu Zihang knew about Eri's existence, does that mean that the intelligence network of the Snake Eight Clan has been secretly infiltrated? It would be fine if they did something like this, but they actually revealed it openly. Aren't they afraid that I will investigate after I go back and find the traitor?
His eyes fell on the three jade pill bottles again. The cloud patterns engraved on the bottle body were simple and mysterious, and the three characters "Xixuedan" on the cinnabar label were written in sharp strokes, like some kind of ancient contract. If this medicine can really stabilize Eri's bloodline, then its value is indeed immeasurable.

Could it be... that he really means well?

But what is the price? What is the purpose behind it?
"Where did you get this medicine?" Yuan Zhisheng finally spoke, with a barely perceptible waver in his tone.

"If the mind is restless, it will be chaotic; if the mind is calm, it will be clear." Chu Zihang did not answer directly, but asked calmly: "The medicine that Tachibana Masamune gave Eri was made from the serum of Deadpool's fetus, right?"

--boom!

Yuan Zhisheng's mind seemed to be struck by lightning and went blank for a moment.

Deadpool…fetus?
As far as he knew, the medical environment provided by Tachibana Masamune for Eri did use some kind of filtering and blood washing technology, which required the addition of unknown chemicals to purify the high-purity dragon blood before injecting it into the body, but he had never delved into its source. He just thought that expensive equipment should have such an effect.

Now that I think about it, every time a treatment is performed, Tachibana Masamune will personally supervise it and forbid any outsiders to approach the purifier. If this is true, then it means... Dad is secretly breeding Deadpool? Raising corrupt monsters? Even using their fetuses to extract serum?
This is simply a fantasy! How could the Sheqi Eight Clan do such a thing?

Unless... Dad is hiding something from me?
As soon as this thought came to mind, it was ruthlessly suppressed by Yuan Zhisheng.

impossible!
Tachibana Masamune is the person he trusts the most, and he would never do such a thing!

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Yuan Zhisheng immediately cut off the doubtful thoughts in his heart. His voice suddenly turned cold. His fingers slowly tightened, and the sheath of the Spider Cut made a slight friction sound: "Are you slandering me? Are you trying to sow discord between me and my father?"

Chu Zihang remained calm: "Believe it or not, but you can let the 'ghost' try the elixir first."

"Chu Jun."

Yuan Zhisheng's voice was low and dangerous, his golden eyes burning in the rain, "You'd better have enough evidence, otherwise..."

Just as the atmosphere between the two sides was tense——

"Young Master!" The sound of hurried footsteps came from behind, and a commissioner from the Executive Bureau rushed over, soaking wet, his face as pale as paper.

Yuan Zhisheng turned back suddenly: "What's the matter?"

"The Prime Minister... The Prime Minister died suddenly on live TV!" The Commissioner's voice trembled, "His body... showed signs of dragon transformation!"

——Dead silence.

Yuan Zhisheng's pupils suddenly contracted and his heart beat like a drum.

Prime Minister? Dragonization?

How is this possible? He is not a mixed-blood, how could his bloodline get out of control? Is this a conspiracy by the ghosts?
Chu Zihang's eyes also sank slightly, and he whispered, "It's started."

Yuan Zhisheng looked at him suddenly: "What started?"

Chu Zihang did not answer, but just looked up at the gloomy sky, as if he had already anticipated all this.

"The media is going crazy, and public opinion is fermenting wildly. The head of the Fuma family is leading a group of people to the scene to investigate." The specialist continued to report in a hurried voice, "The head of the Inuyama family is on standby. Do you need to protect other cabinet members?"

Yuan Zhisheng's thoughts raced. The Prime Minister died suddenly, and the dragon transformation phenomenon was exposed... This was no longer just a problem among the hybrids. The entire Japanese society would fall into panic!
"Notify Inuyama He, immediately seal off the scene and control all witnesses. The Fuma family continues to investigate the cause of the Prime Minister's death. I want to know who did it." He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressed the shock in his heart, and ordered in a cold voice: "There must be someone controlling it in the dark! Contact Cassel headquarters for me and request support!"

The commissioner took the order and left, the sound of his footsteps fading away in the rain.

Chu Zihang sighed and looked at Lancelot who was also shocked: "The situation is worse than expected."

……

10:37 Tokyo time, press conference room at the Japanese Prime Minister’s official residence.

In the live camera footage of NHK, Prime Minister Koizumi stood in front of a blue background board with "Asia-Pacific Biodefense Consensus" printed on it, wearing a neat suit and a neatly tied tie.

More than thirty international media cameras were pointed at him, with flashbulbs flashing as frequently as in a summer thunderstorm.

His voice spread across the country through the microphone: "Our country will jointly establish a joint defense... mechanism with our allies... In the face of this new biological threat, the viper crisis that broke out in the Japanese Sea is no longer an isolated incident in a certain country, but a challenge that all mankind needs to deal with together..."

Economy, Trade and Industry Minister Shoichi Nakagawa, sitting in the front row, noticed that the prime minister's right index finger was twitching unnaturally on the podium.

He frowned, thinking of the Prime Minister's unusually excited state at the cabinet meeting this morning - his eyes were frighteningly bright, and his speech speed was nearly a third faster than usual.

On the live TV screen, the Prime Minister suddenly paused. His right hand twitched unnaturally and grabbed the edge of the podium. The director quickly switched the camera, but it was too late - millions of viewers saw the painful expression flashing across the Prime Minister's face.

"...We believe that through international cooperation..." The Prime Minister's voice became hoarse, and he loosened his tie as if he was having difficulty breathing. Chief Cabinet Secretary Yasuo Fukuda, who was standing nearby, cast a concerned look at him, but the Prime Minister waved his hand to indicate that he should continue.

Mark Weston, a BBC reporter in Tokyo, quickly wrote down in his notebook: "At 10:39, the Prime Minister showed obvious symptoms of discomfort, suspected of heat stroke, but..."

At this moment, Junichiro Koizumi's body suddenly leaned forward. He grabbed the podium with both hands, and his nails - no, they couldn't be called nails anymore - black keratin pierced from his fingertips, leaving ten deep scratches on the wooden podium.

"Mr. Prime Minister!" The security personnel rushed forward, but everything happened too fast.

The camera of Tokyo TV captured that moment: the other person's pupils split vertically in front of the camera, like a snake. The back of his suit suddenly bulged, accompanied by the sound of tearing cloth, and some kind of blue-gray substance squirmed under the skin.

"Cut off the live broadcast! Cut it off immediately!"

There was chaos in the director's room, but NHK's satellite signal had already transmitted the images to the world.

The Prime Minister fell to the ground, his limbs twisting and twitching at angles that were impossible for a human being to do. His jaw made a creepy "click" sound, protruding forward, and the corners of his mouth were torn to the roots of his ears, revealing two rows of fine fangs.

The most horrifying thing is that despite the horrific mutation of his body, the Prime Minister's eyes remain clear - they are full of fear and disbelief, as if a lucid soul is trapped in a mutated body.

"Call an ambulance! No...wait..."

Chief Cabinet Secretary Fukuda's voice was particularly sharp in the chaos, "Seal off the scene first! Don't let anyone leave!"

But it was too late. Millions of viewers around the world witnessed the horrific process of the Japanese leader turning into a dragon in front of the camera.

Amid the chaos, Ryoichi Tanaka, a senior reporter from the Asahi Shimbun, squeezed to the front row. His professionalism allowed him to press the shutter even in extreme shock.

Through the telephoto lens, he saw the blue-gray scales spreading on the Prime Minister's neck, and the completely dragonized right hand exposed from the cuff of his suit - it was no longer a human palm, but a sharp claw covered with a hard cuticle.

"Is this...squamous disease?" Tanaka whispered to himself, remembering the Guatemala epidemic reported internally by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs three days ago.

The sirens of the ambulance were getting closer and closer, but everyone knew that it was no longer necessary.

The Prime Minister's body stopped twitching and he lay stiff on the floor in a strange, reptilian posture. His eyes were still open, but his pupils had turned into vertical golden pupils, reflecting the luster of cold-blooded animals under the strong studio light.

The scene was dead silent, with only the camera still running silently.

……

At the same time, in Nevada, at the seventh-floor underground biosafety laboratory in Area 51.

Dr. Wilson looked at "Sample No. 7" in the isolation chamber through the observation window of the Level Biosafety Laboratory.

This ordinary man, who was once a Mexican immigrant worker, now had his golden eyes wide open and glared, emitting bursts of mental pressure, but his limbs were fixed to a special bed with high-molecular polymer restraints.

"How's the serum extraction going?" Wilson asked, his voice transmitted into the isolation cabin through the internal communication system.

"The seventh batch has completed centrifugation," the technician in a positive pressure protective suit replied, "After nanofiltration, the concentration of viral particles has been reduced by 99.9%, retaining all active proteins."

In the refrigerator on the other side of the laboratory, dozens of tubes of pale golden liquid were neatly arranged. Each tube was labeled "Silver Wing-7" and barcoded. These serum samples would be sent to several secret medical centers designated by the Pentagon for human trials of "special projects".

……

On the seventh underground floor of Fort Detrick, Maryland, there is a biosafety level 4 laboratory of the same specifications.

Dr. Elizabeth Wu looks at samples in a petri dish through her protective mask.

The light golden liquid just separated by the centrifuge has a strange pearly luster under the LED light. Under the electron microscope, countless giant viruses as long as 15 microns are like mini feathered snakes, with their flagella-like tails constantly swinging.

"The latest test results of trypanosome extract." The synthetic voice of the laboratory AI echoed in the sterile room. "The telomerase activity of the macaques in the experimental group increased by 300%, muscle density increased by 47%, and neuronal conduction velocity increased by 62%. No abnormalities were found in the control group."

Dr. Wu's fingertips flew across the keyboard, calling up the comparison images taken late last night. In the images, the elderly macaques injected with trypanosome extract not only regained thick hair, but also even tore through the cage bars made of special alloy in a strength test.

"This is simply...the perfect evolutionary drug." She muttered to herself.

The door of the explosion-proof elevator slid open, and three-star Lieutenant General James Warren, wearing an Army uniform, strode in, followed by five fully armed biochemical soldiers. The Lieutenant General's eyes went straight past the layers of security protocols and were fixed on the display on the central console.

"The President needs clear answers, Doctor. Are these 'gadgets' biological weapons or gifts from God?"

Dr. Wu called up another set of data streams, and in the three-dimensional projection, the structures of trypanosomes magnified a million times were rotating. The surface of those spiral bodies was covered with breathtakingly precise geometric patterns, and they looked more like some kind of nano-scale mechanical devices than microorganisms.

“Both and neither.” She pointed to a stretch of self-replicating DNA. “Let’s start with basic science. Quetzalcoatlus is a taxonomic subversion. It is the second giant virus to be discovered after Mimivirus in 2003.”

The lieutenant general waved his hand. "What is a giant virus? A large virus?"

"It's not that simple."

Dr. Wu continued, "Giant viruses have very ancient origins, and their self-replication patterns are extremely complex, containing unimaginable mysteries. Before this, most known viruses were generally 10 to 500 nanometers in diameter, but giant viruses have completely broken this boundary."

"They are even larger than some bacteria and can be directly observed under a light microscope, but they do not have basic organelles such as ribosomes and cannot reproduce independently."

"In fact, Quetzalcoatlus is almost the size and length of a typical spiral bacterium, while common cocci are usually 0.5 to 1 micron..."

The image is enlarged to show the complex scaly patterns on the surface of the trypanosome, as well as the elegant and beautiful regular icosahedrons that are connected to each other.

"The most confusing part is its genetic material."

Dr. Wu clicked on the removed capsid of the simulated virus, "We found DNA fragments from at least forty different organisms, including humans, various reptiles, some extinct dinosaur groups, and...some unrecognizable sequences."

"It has more than 3000 million base pairs and tens of thousands of coding genes. The former is thousands of times more complex than typical viruses such as HIV, and the latter is as complex as humans themselves... Among them, only about 3% are homologous to known organisms on Earth, and the other 97% are primitive existences."

"As I recall... humans have 30 billion base pairs, a hundred times more than this Quetzalcoatlus, but the number of their genomes is actually the same? The utilization rate is too high!"

The lieutenant general sounded surprised, and he seemed to be a learned man: "How can organisms evolve to such an exquisite level?"

"Yes... If it is not a gift from God, then it is bait from Satan. In short, it is no different from a miracle."

Dr. Wu took over the topic: "With its incredible genetic chain, Quetzalcoatlus can significantly modify the functions of host cells, transforming them into another new organism. We call this the 'dragonization' process."

"To put it in a figurative way, the trypanosome is like a miniature sperm. It treats the host cell as an egg, drills into it, and fuses the genetic code with each other, thus giving birth to a cross-species 'hybrid' life unit. When this unit spreads throughout the body -"

"That means the 'Dragonization' has entered its advanced stages." The lieutenant general expressed his understanding: "So this is how the mutation occurs."

Dr. Wu nodded. "This is the internal mechanism of 'squamosus'. During the incubation period of infection, the physical condition of most patients will rapidly improve, and they will develop a series of saurischia characteristics, increase their aggressiveness, and continuously transform into bloodthirsty 'reptile' monsters..."

"But interestingly, some individuals - about 1.6% of those infected - always retain their normal human form."

The lieutenant general's eyebrows knitted together: "You mean the super soldier?"

"I call them 'evolutionary adaptors.'

Dr. Wu nodded, and his fingertips slid across the virtual screen, calling up a new set of data charts:
"Not only will these evolutionary adaptors not 'transform into dragons' and lose their personal consciousness in the late stages of the disease, but they will also be able to gain extraordinary physical and intellectual enhancements. There is some unknown harmonious symbiosis between their DNA and the Quetzalcoatlus, allowing them to utilize the power of the virus without being harmed by it."

"Then... these people are the test subjects for the 'special project' we are looking for?" The lieutenant general's eyes flashed with excitement: "Can the evolvers be controlled? Are there any hidden defects? Finally, what method can be used to detect the 'evolved adaptors' in the crowd?"

"...we haven't obtained any reliable results yet. After all, the time is too short. We have only been researching for more than a month." Dr. Wu's fingers paused on the keyboard for a moment. The blue light of the laboratory cast shadows of varying shades on her protective mask.

"But we have found a key clue—" She pulled up a brain scan image, "The prefrontal cortex of the Evolutionary Adaptors will have a special synaptic reorganization. This change does not exist in ordinary infected people."

"As for the possibility of 'losing control'... my monitoring results show that every evolver and infected person will witness the 'Seraphim descending to the mortal world' in their dreams. It is a pure white six-winged dragon and an endless metal city... No one knows what this dream represents."

"It sounds like some kind of collective subconscious projection." The lieutenant general stroked his chin thoughtfully, "Continue to monitor this phenomenon. The president needs to see a feasibility report before next week, no matter what method you use - the current situation is becoming more and more tense, and new forces must be obtained."

"By the way, how contagious is Quetzalcoatan? It shouldn't cause the 'Resident Evil' in the movie, right?" Before leaving, he couldn't help but ask a few more questions: "Have you studied it?"

"Lieutenant General, your concern is warranted, but the actual situation is more complicated than we expected."

Dr. Wu's expression turned serious. "The transmission route of Quetzalcoatlus Trypanosoma is indeed mainly through body fluids, including blood, saliva, and vaginal fluid. However, in existing cases, it is widely found that infected people actively participate in the transmission, such as deliberately contaminating food and water sources... It's like they are driven by something."

She called up a surveillance video, which showed an early infected person who was only beginning to transform into a dragon and had slightly bluish-gray skin, injecting black mucus into the beverage shelf of a supermarket.

"Even more disturbing is that we have detected trace amounts of virus aerosols in the air. Although the concentration is not high enough to cause direct infection, long-term exposure in confined spaces still poses a risk."

The lieutenant general's face turned livid: "So this thing will indeed cause a biohazard?"

"Not exactly." Dr. Wu quickly switched slides. "Quetzalcoatan has a peculiar property - it consumes a lot of energy to transform its host. Our computational model shows that when the infection rate reaches 15% of the population, the virus will automatically slow down its spread due to lack of resources."

Lieutenant General Warren just breathed a sigh of relief, but Dr. Wu's next words made him tense again:

"But the problem is that those infected who have completed dragon transformation...they are establishing some kind of social organization."

The main screen of the laboratory suddenly lit up, showing a set of satellite images. In the suburbs of Guatemala City, dozens of dragonizers were building some kind of pyramid-like building in an orderly manner. Although there was no communication during the process, their movements were incredibly coordinated.

"Oh my God..." The lieutenant general involuntarily made the sign of the cross on his chest, "Do they still have intelligence?"

"It's worse than that." Dr. Wu's voice lowered. "They seem to have retained some human memories. The communications intercepted by the NSA yesterday showed that the dragonizers used a kind of sound wave communication that evolved from human language, and..." She paused, "They are performing religious rituals."

The screen switched to infrared images, showing a group of dragonized beings forming a circle. In the middle was an obviously larger individual. The keratinous protrusions on its head had formed a crown, and it was using its claws to carve complex symbols on the ground.

"What are they worshipping?" The lieutenant general's voice trembled a little.

Dr. Wu did not answer immediately. She pulled up a comparison chart, with the left side showing the symbol carved by the Dragon Transformer and the right side showing the totem of the feathered serpent god in Mayan civilization.

"Quetzalcoatl..." The lieutenant general read out the difficult name: "You mean they are worshipping Quetzalcoatl?"

"Or..." Dr. Wu brought up the third picture, which was the white six-winged dragon that appeared in the dreams of the infected people:
“Waiting for their ‘God’ to come.”

……

At the same time, Wilson frowned.

He walked quickly to the secure communications room deep in the laboratory, entered the twelve-digit password, and the video conferencing system automatically connected.

The screen lit up, showing a dim conference room. At the end of the long table sat Deputy Defense Minister Richard Krauss, flanked by several high-ranking military officials and an elderly woman in a white coat, all with solemn expressions.

"The Tokyo incident has already occurred," Klaus said straight to the point, "The president has requested that Project Silver Wing enter its second phase."

"But sir, we don't yet know the long-term effects of the serum—" Wilson tried to explain.

"No need to clarify," the elderly woman interrupted him, "The White House medical team has confirmed that a 1000-fold diluted serum can restore aging cells to a youthful state within 72 hours. The President himself has already received the first injection."

Wilson felt a chill and broke out in a cold sweat. He knew that the serum came from those seemingly "evolved" infected people - those lucky ones who had hidden dragon genes in their bodies and therefore had not been corroded mentally. They escaped the fate of becoming dragons, but could not escape the other fate of being imprisoned and having their blood drawn.

"Doctor, are you listening?"

Kraus' voice brought him back to reality, "We need to increase production, at least 500 standard doses per week."

"This requires more evolved donors," Wilson said, "and the existing nanofilters are clearly insufficient."

"Then expand the infection base," Klaus said coldly, "Several slums in South America have been marked as 'natural epidemic areas'. Someone will contact you about the nanofilter issue."

After the video conference, Wilson returned to the main lab.

Technicians were packing the latest batch of serum into shipping boxes with military logos. He picked up a test tube and observed the golden liquid under the light. At this moment, an encrypted message suddenly popped up in Wilson's private mailbox. The sender column showed only a code name: "JH".

“Dear Doctor:

You must have noticed that subjects of the Silver Wings serum will experience irreversible genetic collapse within 3-6 months. The evolution brought about by Quetzalcoatlus is a beautiful lie, just like the wax wings of Icarus in Greek mythology.

I have developed a bloodline-stabilizing drug that perfectly neutralizes the side effects of trypanosomes. If you are interested in collaborating, please publish a book review on the Mayan calendar in the next issue of Nature.

Sincerely,

Herzog
——A friend who shares the same concern for dragon civilization"

Wilson's fingers hovered over the keyboard. Herzog - this name appeared in the few dragon research intelligence that circulated, usually associated with dangerous biological taboo experiments. Military intelligence showed that he was most likely the mysterious leader of the Japanese underworld organization "Ghost Group" "Wangjiang".

The door of the laboratory suddenly opened, interrupting Wilson's thoughts. His assistant rushed in in a panic: "Doctor, I just received an urgent telegram from the Pentagon! The secret party provided two sets of new exoskeletons and Gauss rifle prototypes through secret channels, requiring us to immediately stop all research related to trypanosomes!"

Wilson smiled bitterly. The Secret Party - this organization hidden in the shadows of history has finally made a move. The technology they provide may be enough to change the form of modern warfare, but compared to the possibility of immortality brought by Quetzalcoatlus, what is it?
He looked towards the isolation cabin. Sample No. 7 was staring at him with his snake-like pupils, his mouth twisted into a weird smile. Wilson suddenly realized that this infected person might never have lost his mind, he was just waiting for the right time.

The computer screen flickered again, and another anonymous message arrived:
"Time is running out, Doctor. When the first wave of black tide comes, only those who stand at the top of evolution will survive."

Outside the window, the scorching desert sun burned the concrete runway at Area 51.

Wilson didn't know what the so-called "black tide" was, but he vaguely felt that a disaster far more terrible than the Guatemalan epidemic was approaching, and he was its leader and detonator. Thinking of this, the doctor couldn't help but reveal a gloomy and cruel smile:

"Prepare for the seventh shipment. Inform Fort Detrick that we need to triple the centrifuge capacity."

The assistant hesitated and said, "But Doctor, the dosage required by the President's medical team has already been..."

"Follow orders," Wilson interrupted, his eyes still fixed on Herzog's email.

——Since those idiots in the White House were determined to fly to the sun, why should he stop them? When those high and mighty people began to turn into dragons, rot, scream and collapse, and turn into a pool of mud, that would be the day when the real "gods" would send down fire from heaven to destroy Sodom!

He tapped away on his keyboard, deleting the email without replying.

The blue light from the screen cast shadows of varying depths on Wilson's face. At a certain moment, the light refracted strangely, casting a shadow like a silver mask on his face, as if some unspeakable great existence was possessing and staring at him - cold, smooth, and inhuman.

The assistant shuddered for no apparent reason, but couldn't explain why he was afraid.

……

At the same time, in the underground warehouse of Tsukiji Market in Tokyo.

Twenty tons of bluefin tuna injected with trypanosome culture medium are being cut up and loaded onto trucks to be sent to various high-end restaurants in the metropolitan area.

The man wearing the Noh mask used a scalpel to precisely cut open the capillary network in the fish's gills, and then inserted a microcapsule filled with light green liquid into the wound. The scarlet corners of the mask's mouth stretched to the ears, and under the dim light of the cold storage, he looked like a demon. (End of this chapter)