Courtyard House: I fish in the heavens, a professional bird abuser.

He Yuanchao squatted in front of the last row of culture tanks, his fingers brushing against the metal container shell covered with white frost.

It was icy cold.

The temperature inside the liquid nitrogen container is minus 170 degrees Celsius. Even through the specially made alloy outer wall, the chill can still seep into your bones through your fingertips.

"Only five left."

He stood up and released the invisible beam of light from his system space. One by one, the five containers vanished from the metal support, as if swallowed whole by some unseen behemoth.

Only a few rings of fixing clips covered with white frost remained on the bracket, along with a few drops of water left after the liquid nitrogen evaporated.

He Yuanchao clapped his hands.

"The move is complete."

He turned and glanced at the storage room he had looted. The culture tanks that were originally filled with various mutant samples were now mostly empty, with only a few C-grade junk items that he thought were of little value still soaking in green nutrient solution, like unsold leftovers in a supermarket.

The ground was littered with severed pipes, and nutrient solution had spilled everywhere, making it sticky to walk on.

The strange smell of chemicals and biological tissue mixed together in the air was even stronger.

"Consultant He, there are abnormal airflow fluctuations in the ventilation ducts on the east side of Zone B."

Nicolai's voice came from the doorway of the storage room.

The veteran of the task force, who had been doing all the hard work, leaned against the door frame, holding the MP5 submachine gun he had picked up from the Hive security room, his expression as calm as if he were reporting the weather.

He Yuanchao didn't even turn his head: "Abnormal airflow? Which direction?"

"Northeast. It could be that a sealed door somewhere was forced open by a horde of zombies, or it could just be a malfunction in the cooling system's exhaust valve."

"Just keep an eye on things. We have one last place to go—the server room."

He Yuanchao walked out of the storage room and strode towards the other end of the corridor.

Alice kept watch for him from a distance of about ten meters ahead. Her figure was silhouetted against the ghastly green glow of the emergency light, the muzzle of her shotgun pointing downwards, her entire body taut like a fully drawn bow.

He Yuanchao quickened his pace.

His mind was racing, calculating how long it would take for data transmission from the server room, how to deal with the three adult Lickers, and how much time he would have left to reach the evacuation point after leaving.

There's so much to do.

There isn't enough time.

The very second that this thought flashed through my mind—

The air behind me suddenly changed.

That change was extremely subtle.

It wasn't a sound, nor a smell, but an indescribable—killing intent.

He Yuanchao had fought the Japanese for so many years in the world of "Bright Sword," surviving countless battles amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood. He was all too familiar with the feeling of having a gun pointed at his back.

It felt like there was an invisible needle pricking your skin on the back of your neck.

He Yuanchao's steps did not stop.

But the muscles in his entire body had already tensed to their limit in an instant.

"Click."

A very faint metallic clanging sound came from behind.

That was the sound of the safety being released on an MP5 submachine gun.

"Put down what you're holding, Mr. Advisor."

Nicolai's voice changed.

It was no longer the taciturn tone of a veteran, but a cold, well-trained tone, like a professional killer reciting lines.

"My employer said you know too much."

He Yuanchao stopped in his tracks.

He did not turn around.

"Who is your employer?"

"You know very well." Nicolai's gun was pointed at the back of He Yuanchao's head, less than three meters away. "Umbrella's Special Operations Division. Codename 'The Scavenger.' Mission—collect combat data on the Hive incident, then eliminate all those in the know."

"Including teammates from the task force?"

"They were already expendable. From the moment they entered the Hive, Xue De and his group were already on the 'acceptable loss' list."

He Yuanchao's lips twitched slightly.

Alice, who was in front, also heard Nicolai's words. She turned around abruptly, and Beretta's gun was instantly pointed at Nicolai's chest.

"Put down your gun, Nicolai!" Alice's voice was as cold as a knife.

"Don't be impulsive, Miss Alice." Nicolai's tone remained steady, even carrying a hint of professional politeness. "At this distance, I can pull the trigger faster than you. You can try."

The three people formed a triangular standoff in the dimly lit corridor.

The emergency lights flashed twice, lengthening and shortening everyone's shadows.

A low, rustling sound, like the turning of a large creature, came from the depths of the corridor—it was the Licker in the server room writhing restlessly in its shallow hibernation.

The air seemed to freeze.

He Yuanchao never turned around.

His voice was as calm as if he were discussing a math problem.

"Nikolai, do you have family?"

This question clearly caught Nicolai off guard.

"What?"

"Your accent is Eastern European. Russian? Ukrainian? You have an old scar on your finger, from a ring—you were once married, but you don't wear it anymore. Not because of the divorce, but because after doing this job for so long, wearing a ring makes it inconvenient to hold a gun."

He Yuanchao spoke very slowly, each word sounding as if it had been precisely calculated.

"Your right foot is exerting force—not in a shooting stance, but a defensive one. You're leaving yourself an escape route. A truly determined killer doesn't leave themselves an escape route."

"So, you don't want to kill me."

"You only had to kill me."

"Because the umbrella protects people you care about."

The silence in the corridor stretched on.

Nicolai's breathing became heavier.

The gun was still pointed at the back of He Yuanchao's head, but He Yuanchao could feel that the index finger on the trigger had loosened its grip a little bit.

"Shut up." Nicolai's voice was hoarse. "You know nothing."

"I know far more than you think," He Yuanchao said. "Your daughter, Ekaterina, is seven years old. She is currently under 'protective supervision' by Umbrella Corporation's Eastern European branch in a safe house outside Moscow."

Nicolai's hand trembled slightly.

The tremor was very slight, but He Yuanchao's ears caught the extremely faint "hiss" sound of the gun barrel rubbing against his palm.

enough.

This is the flaw he needs.