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The torrential rain continued to wash over the city's neon lights, blurring the illusory glow. But in the hidden underground laboratory, time seemed to stand still. This was Qin Yue's safe house, and also Su Wan's domain.

The air was thick with the chilly smell of ozone and disinfectant, with only the monotonous hum of the incubator echoing in the background. Su Wan, dressed in a white sterile protective suit, stared intently at the screen in front of the microscope behind her mask, her fingers flying across the control panel as if playing a silent piano piece.

On the metal autopsy table to the side lay the key evidence brought back from the site of the unfinished building—the remnant of the heart that had been almost completely "erased" from the "idol's" body.

At this moment, this mass of organic tissue, which could only be described as "residue," was submerged in a pale blue culture medium. It was no longer beating, and it was even difficult to recognize from its texture that it had once belonged to a human heart. The surface tissue had a strange charred appearance, as if it had been instantly carbonized by some kind of high temperature, or as if it had been rapidly corroded by strong acid, but under the microscope, Su Wan saw a deeper horror.

"Qin Yue, bring up the data from the spectrometer. I need to look at bands 420 to 480."

Su Wan's voice came through the loudspeaker, sounding somewhat distorted, with a hint of barely perceptible seriousness.

Qin Yue sat at the monitoring station separated by a wall, her fingers tapping the Enter key on the keyboard. In an instant, a torrent of complex data poured down like a waterfall. "Data out. Wavelength anomaly detected. This chemical bond structure... doesn't seem to be a substance that exists in nature."

"Of course it doesn't exist in nature." Su Wan snorted coldly, reaching out to control the robotic arm, inserting an extremely fine probe into the center of the charred residue.

The molecular model on the screen instantly rotated and rearranged. It was an extremely delicate and unstable lattice structure, like a miniature bomb ready to explode at any moment.

"This is a high-purity synthetic inducer," Su Wan explained, pointing to the wildly fluctuating curves on another set of comparison charts. "Its monomer itself does not possess hallucinogenic properties; it can even be described as inert. But that's the most terrifying part."

She paused, her eyes sharpening: "This stuff is a catalyst. Once it enters the bloodstream, it attaches to the blood vessel walls like a parasite, waiting for the moment the host's emotions erupt."

"You mean... adrenaline?"

"Bingo." Su Wan snapped her fingers, and the simulation on the screen began to play. "When the victim is in a state of extreme excitement, fear, or fanatical faith, their adrenaline levels will surge. This synthetic agent will instantly react with the overloaded adrenaline, transforming into a potent neurotoxin."

In the video, the red liquid turned into an eerie purple, rushing straight to the brain through the blood vessels.

"This toxin acts directly on the prefrontal cortex and optic nerve, not only producing a strong hallucinogenic effect, but also giving people a 'blissful' physiological feedback in a short period of time. In other words, what the believers in the unfinished buildings felt was not a miracle, but a final burst of energy before their brains struggled on the edge of death."

Qin Yue shuddered as she watched the brutal biochemical reaction on the screen. "You mean, that so-called 'idol' is actually a living biochemical reactor? It absorbs the fanaticism of its followers and then feeds them deadly hallucinations?"

"It's not just feedback." Su Wan withdrew the probe, watching a wisp of black smoke gradually dissipate in the culture medium. "This stuff can also burn the host's tissue. The reason why the heart in that 'idol' disappeared was because it was completely burned off by this chemical reaction during the believers' most climactic sacrificial ritual. This is not some supernatural phenomenon at all; it was a meticulously designed chemical sacrifice."

The laboratory fell into a brief silence, with only the whirring of the cooling fans.

Just then, the heavy electronic door made a soft sound, and the hissing sound of pressure equalization broke the silence.

Li Haotian walked in.

He hadn't changed his shoes; the rain and mud clinging to his boots left a trail of dark footprints on the clean floor. His trench coat was still dripping wet, carrying the damp smell of the night air, instantly dissipating the disinfectant odor in the room. His face appeared somewhat pale under the cold white light, but his eyes shone with an alarming brightness, like those of a predator patrolling in the polar night.

"The results are in?" Without wasting any words, he walked straight to the dissection table and looked down at the mass of residue.

Su Wan removed her mask, revealing a slightly tired face, and casually handed over a data report. "It's even more disgusting than we expected. This isn't just technological killing; it's industrial exploitation of human weaknesses. Li Haotian, the person who created this thing, is a physiologist, a psychologist, and... an extremely fanatical madman."

Li Haotian took the report, but instead of glancing at the dry chemical formulas, he flipped directly to the last two pages—the component traceability analysis.

There's a red marker there, right next to a registration code.

"Tianqi Biotechnology." Li Haotian pronounced the name in a flat tone, as if he were saying the name of a convenience store, but a blizzard-like chill surged in his eyes. "The registered address is an offshore island, the legal representative is a puppet holding shares on behalf of someone else, and the actual controller cannot be found."

"A typical shell company." Qin Yue walked out of the monitoring room, holding a tablet computer. The light from the screen illuminated her serious face. "I checked their tax records and business operations. On the surface, they are a research and development company for biological pesticides, but their purchase list doesn't contain any fertilizer raw materials, only large quantities of adrenaline extract phenylethylamine and special organic solvents. Moreover, this company's backend firewall is quite professional, even featuring military-grade encryption algorithms."

"Apocalypse... quite a grand name," Su Wan said with a sneer. "If this synthetic agent were mass-produced and combined with some kind of brainwashing ritual, it would be nothing short of a weapon for large-scale mind control. They've turned 'faith' into an assembly line, and people into batteries."

Li Haotian looked at the report, his fingers gently stroking the edge of the paper, making a soft rustling sound.

He recalled the scene he had witnessed in the unfinished building. Those believers kneeling on the ground, weeping bitterly, sacrificing their lives for a mere illusion. They thought they were seeking salvation, unaware that they were merely expendable resources, fuel for this enormous machine to keep running.

"The industrialization of faith." Li Haotian repeated the phrase in a low voice, a mocking smile curving his lips. There was no warmth in that smile, only a chilling coldness. "Turning sacred things into chemical reagents, turning ignorance into exorbitant profits. These people truly deserve to go to hell."

"Should we make a move? Apocalypse Bio has an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, which is said to be their transit point." Qin Yue hovered her finger above the tablet, awaiting orders.

Li Haotian raised his head, his gaze sweeping over Su Wan before finally settling on Qin Yue's face. He didn't immediately give the order to act, but instead turned and walked to the waste bin next to the lab bench, crumpled the report in his hand into a ball, and then slowly unfolded it.

"No rush."

He turned around and tossed the information about "Apocalypse Biotechnology" directly to Qin Yue. The paper traced a precise arc in the air, and Qin Yue caught it steadily.

"Since they like playing these tricks, then we'll play along to the end." Li Haotian walked to a potted plant in the corner, reached out and rubbed off the dust left on the leaves, his tone indifferent, "This shell company is just the tip of the iceberg, the vine that's just above the water."

He turned around, his back to the light, as if he had merged into the shadows behind him.

"Follow this vine and find that melon."

"I need to uncover this company's financial system, logistics network, and all its connections. I want to know who is supplying them and who is backing them up. If it's a corrupt umbrella, I'll dismantle the ribs; if it's a powerful tree, I'll dig up its roots."

Qin Yue looked at the documents in her hand and nodded vigorously: "Understood. Give me three hours."

"Two hours," Li Haotian corrected, then glanced at his watch. "It's getting late; I should go meet these 'god-makers'."

After saying that, he pulled up the collar of his trench coat again, not giving Su Wan and Qin Yue a chance to say another word, and strode out of the laboratory.

As the heavy electronic door slowly closed, the damp rain was once again shut out, but the chilling aura left by Li Haotian seemed to take root and linger in the laboratory.

Su Wan looked at the tightly closed door, sighed helplessly, put her mask back on, and picked up the scalpel: "Looks like tonight will be a sleepless night. Qin Yue, hurry up, the secrets hidden in this heart may be more than we imagine."

Qin Yue did not answer. Her fingers had already blurred across the keyboard, and countless data streams intertwined in her eyes, casting the first real net towards the abyss called "Apocalypse".