Onboarding

The lighting in the meeting room was dim, with three people seated at different spots along the long table.

“I thought you were actually going to make him your partner.”

A man in sunglasses sat in an office chair, pushing himself back and forth with his feet on the floor, his tone dripping with mockery.

Song Junhe ignored him and poured himself a glass of water.

The sunglasses man slid over beside him, the chair wheels screeching against the floor: “What, did I hit a nerve?”

“Partner or lab subject, either way.”

Song Junhe took a sip of water, then set the glass down. “Either way, we need his cooperation. Forcing control isn’t a good idea—you two haven’t forgotten the Witch Incident, have you?”

The moment those words left his mouth, the sunglasses man stopped sliding.

The white-haired old man sitting across from them had stayed silent the whole time, his fingers tapping the table in a steady rhythm. When he heard the words “Witch Incident,” the tapping stopped.

“The Witch Incident absolutely cannot happen a second time.”

The white-haired old man finally spoke, his voice calm and level. “So you need to keep this Piao Guochang in check, and tonight’s arrangements have to be handled properly as well.”

“Don’t worry.”

Song Junhe pushed the glass to the side, leaned back in his chair. “The Spirit Eye Bureau is watching closely—so let’s use that to our advantage. Create a situation, make them collide with the Yanhuang Awakened. Once the two sides start fighting, we take out both Lin Mo and the Spirit Eye Bureau people at the same time.”

The sunglasses man let out a whistle: “Killing two birds with one stone, Executive Song.”

“Three birds.”

Song Junhe raised three fingers. “We get the goods in hand, the Yanhuang Awakened and the Spirit Eye Bureau people both get cleaned up—doesn’t that make it three birds?”

The white-haired old man made no comment on the plan. He only asked: “For Piao Guochang, how confident are you?”

“Seventy percent.”

“Not enough.”

“With tonight’s arrangement, ninety.”

Song Junhe stood up from his chair. “I need to go soothe my new partner. We’ll skip today’s physical, do it after tonight—best if he ends up with a few scrapes. A guy carrying some injuries won’t think twice about any checkup.”

The white-haired old man stared at him for a few seconds, then nodded.

All three rose at once, fists pressed to their chests.

“For the Shouxin Society.”

The slogan was short, and the three dispersed right after, as if saying “see you tomorrow” meant nothing more.

But those three words revealed who they were.

Song Junhe left the office first, his steps light, his expression already switched back to that reliable senior persona.

Switching like that came more naturally to him than changing clothes.

On the other side.

Lin Mo’s clone followed the front desk girl through all the procedures.

The gear was complete—combat uniform tailored exactly to his current body measurements, standard-issue firearms, tactical vest, comms earpiece, and a decent-looking electronic wrist device.

“Is this wrist device for communication, or is it just decorative?” Lin Mo picked it up and turned it over.

“Both.”

The front desk girl answered with a smile. “Location tracking, communication, emergency call, heart-rate monitoring—and it tells time.”

“...That last function really is important.”

The front desk girl glanced at him, gave a sweet smile, then kept walking ahead.

Iris scan, fingerprint scan, signing a pile of documents. Lin Mo cooperated throughout, but he still asked whatever needed asking, and the front desk girl answered everything one by one.

She led him down a corridor toward the area behind the headquarters. They barely ran into anyone along the way—quiet enough to be unsettling.

Until they pushed open a set of double doors.

The lounge.

The vibe inside was a whole other world compared to the corridor outside.

Someone was slumped in a beanbag chair playing video games, mashing the controller with loud clicks.

Someone else had headphones on, head bobbing to the beat.

It was like one of those old-school break rooms—had a little bit of everything, and people doing a little bit of everything.

In the corner, a shirtless guy was lifting dumbbells, muscles bulging in exaggerated lines, but his face was bored out of its mind.

As Lin Mo walked past, a few people glanced up at him.

Just one glance.

Then the gamers went back to gaming, and the lifter went back to lifting.

A fresh face probably wasn’t anything special around here—or maybe they just didn’t care.

One kid still gaming didn’t even turn his head, hurled a curse at the screen, and only mashed the buttons faster.

These people were all cheap expendables of the Super Youth Corps—Lin Mo had their files memorized.

But for now, no need to announce himself.

The front desk girl brought him to a private room at the end of the hall, pushed the door open, and gestured inside.

“Your temporary personal quarters. If you need anything, just call the internal line and someone will bring it over. Executive Song will be here shortly—please wait.”

“Alright, thanks.”

She gave a slight bow, turned, and walked away, the sound of her heels fading down the hall.

Lin Mo scanned the room. TV, game console, computer, a few of the latest magazines.

The mini-fridge had drinks and snacks—a decent variety.

Not bad treatment.

Not exactly everything under the sun, but everything you’d actually need.

Lin Mo touched nothing. He sat down on the sofa and closed his eyes.

His main body was simultaneously processing all the information collected from the moment he stepped into this building—structural layout, personnel distribution, placement of the security systems, camera models and angles in the corridors.

Plus, after breaching the place, he’d siphoned physical current to pull data from the non-networked files.

Just that alone had already yielded a mountain of intel.

Of course, the truly sensitive secrets were probably stored in paper archives.

Before long, the door swung open.

No knock.

Song Junhe walked in carrying a silver briefcase, closing the door one-handed behind him.

Lin Mo opened his eyes and glanced at the case.

Song Junhe set it on the coffee table and snapped it open. Inside, six bags of plasma sat neatly arranged, the dark red liquid swaying faintly under the light.

“Grabbed these from the medical department. O-positive—that work for you?”

Lin Mo looked at the plasma, then at Song Junhe’s earnestly sincere face.

“The way you say that, you’d think I was a vampire.”

“So you’re a blood-type mage, then.”

Song Junhe pushed the case a bit closer to Lin Mo, pulled up a chair, and sat down with one leg crossed over the other. “From today on, you’re my partner. Your rating is A-rank.”

“What kind of treatment does A-rank get?”

“The good kind, trust me.”

“Those guys out there—don’t worry about them. They’re all lower rank than you.”

Song Junhe gestured vaguely toward the lounge with his chin. “But if you run into any S-ranks, show a little respect.”

“How much respect?”

“Just don’t glare at them.”

Lin Mo didn’t respond, but he filed that information away.

On the surface, Song Junhe was playing the senior guiding a newcomer, but every single sentence was drawing lines and setting boundaries.

In their country, there was a culture of age—older meant elder, and no matter how talented you were, you used honorifics toward those older than you.

To peers and those younger, you used casual speech.

So Song Junhe was also reminding Lin Mo that inside the Super Youth Corps, hierarchy ran deep.

Lin Mo raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue.

“What do we do next?”

“We wait—wait for tonight to begin.”