Evolutionary Elixir (Extra Chapter)

[Actually, this is a bonus chapter that’s long overdue, but everyone knows my condition hasn’t been great—still, delayed doesn’t mean forgotten]

Lin Mo’s clone walked in the direction of the main battlefield.

His pace wasn’t fast—there was even a leisurely, stroll-in-the-park vibe to it.

But every time he passed a corpse, the residual blood inside the body was forcibly drawn out by an invisible force, flowing into the floating mass of blood hovering beside him.

Song Junhe followed behind, his lips twitching slightly.

He wanted to say that this scene was a bit creepy, but then he thought—the person was already dead, and leaving the blood behind would just be wasteful.

Forget it.

In the darkness of the night, the blood kept gathering and churning, growing larger and larger in volume.

Meanwhile, Lin Mo also had several bottles of blood hanging from his waist.

Lin Mo bent down and picked up a long blade from beside a corpse. With a casual flick, the blood spread along the blade, coating the entire weapon in a tight layer.

Then he picked up speed, heading straight for Eric.

That guy who could alter the terrain was standing at the edge of the battlefield, the ground beneath his feet bending to his will like a living thing.

Sensing someone closing in, Eric didn’t even turn his head. He stomped his right foot hard.

The ground split open, and a boulder over two meters tall erupted from below, slamming directly into Lin Mo’s path—a solid wall blocking his way.

Lin Mo didn’t stop.

He raised the blade, its blood-red edge stretching to nearly double its length.

“Mountain of corpses, sea of blood.”

Two strikes.

The first came down vertically, the second cut across horizontally. The boulder was cleanly split into four pieces, crashing to the ground in a burst of flying gravel.

Then, the blood on the blade instantly vaporized in the air, expanding into a thick, dense blood mist that spread toward Eric.

His vision was completely obscured.

But Eric reacted fast.

Rather than charging through the blood mist, he kicked his heel backward, and a stone slab on the ground tilted up on its own like a skateboard, carrying him sliding a dozen meters away with ease, escaping the mist’s range.

“Interesting,” Lin Mo muttered, but his steps slowed.

The other A-rank superhumans had already charged forward, their abilities interweaving in a chaotic, noisy spectacle.

And Lin Mo? He was jogging in the back.

Yes—jogging.

A man who could split a boulder in two with a single stroke was jogging along behind.

Slacking off was something he did without a shred of guilt.

Song Junhe walked beside him, and the two of them matched pace with eerie precision, both deliberately dragging their feet in the rear.

“Don’t rush,” Song Junhe suddenly said, his voice low. “Save some cards for later. Something might go down.”

Lin Mo glanced at him.

“What kind of something?”

“Can’t say for sure.”

Song Junhe’s gaze swept over the superhumans charging ahead. “But pay attention to the people around you.”

The words were vague, but the meaning was clear—danger didn’t necessarily come from the enemy.

Lin Mo didn’t ask further. He turned his gaze back and kept up his unhurried pace, following along.

The truth was, he knew more than Song Junhe did, but he had no intention of tipping him off.

Meanwhile, on the other side.

Lin Mo’s main body had already reached the black sedan.

Everyone had run off—the car was just sitting there, abandoned.

The surroundings were eerily quiet. All attention was fixated on the main battlefield, and no one noticed two figures wandering around over here.

Lin Mo opened the trunk.

As the lid popped up, a metal case lay inside, stamped with a bold biohazard symbol.

“Tsk.”

Lin Mo eyed the symbol and shook his head.

“Something this important, just tossed in the back of a car, without even a single person sent to retrieve the dirty bomb? Do the people from the Peninsula think they have nine lives, or do they think everyone else is blind?”

Dongfang Shuye couldn’t help but chime in.

Lin Mo reached in and lifted the case out, popping the latches open with a click.

The lid swung open, revealing professional shock-absorbing foam lining. Nestled in the center groove was a single vial of agent.

It gave off a faint, eerie blue glow.

Dongfang Shuye leaned in to look and frowned. “This is the core material of the dirty bomb? Just this one vial?”

“Who told you it was a dirty bomb?”

Lin Mo picked up the vial and held it up to the trunk light, tilting it slightly. The blue liquid flowed slowly within the glass.

“...What do you mean?” Dongfang Shuye stiffened, then realization hit. “Those guys from the Superpower Youth Corps lied to us?”

“If they didn’t lie to you, then who would they lie to?”

Lin Mo weighed the vial in his hand, then casually placed it back in the case.

“The Peninsula not telling the truth isn’t exactly rare. Song Junhe’s acting was pretty solid—he told quite the tale, and it’s normal that you bought it.”

Dongfang Shuye’s expression soured.

Being played for a fool didn’t sit well with anyone.

“So what is it, then?”

“Evolution serum.”

Just hearing the name made it sound impressive.

Dongfang Shuye felt a sense of awe without fully understanding why.

“The Peninsula has a secret lab overseas dedicated to researching this. Inject it, and it unlocks the genetic lock on artificial superhumans.”

He turned and leaned against the rear of the car, facing Dongfang Shuye.

“In simple terms, the lifespans of the Superpower Youth Corps members are capped at thirty. This serum removes that limit.”

Dongfang Shuye fell silent for two seconds.

He wasn’t a dull person—he quickly pieced together the implications.

The reason artificial superhumans hadn’t been mass-produced on a large scale was the major bottleneck: their lifespans were too short.

High training costs, short usage windows, terrible cost-effectiveness.

On the surface, this thing didn’t seem so special, but if it fell into the hands of the Superpower Youth Corps, the result might be far more than one plus one.

“So that means... they’d be able to mass-produce superhumans,” Dongfang Shuye said.

“Correct.”

“Wait—if they can already make them, why bother bring this back here?”

“Because the Eye of God Bureau caught on.”

Dongfang Shuye figured it out.

The Eye of God Bureau had also discovered the problem, so they stormed the place and destroyed it.

The key point was that a single vial of this serum had been smuggled out.

So the four agents of the Eye of God Bureau chased the serum all the way here.

Staring at the blue-glowing vial, Lin Mo waved his hand and closed the case again.

“Wait—are we actually going to hand this over to them?” Dongfang Shuye asked, surprised.

“Hand it over? Sure, why not.”

Lin Mo flashed a smile.

That smile sent a cold chill down Dongfang Shuye’s spine.

“When I opened the case earlier, I casually tweaked its molecular structure.”

Lin Mo extended a finger and drew a lazy circle in the air. “Right now, injecting this serum would most likely do nothing useful. But if someone insisted on using it...”

He paused, tilting his head slightly.

“The side effects would probably be pretty entertaining.”

Dongfang Shuye: “...”

Lin Mo didn’t consider himself a good person. A bit of underhanded cunning now and then was simply necessary.

“Let’s go. Even if we’re slacking off, we shouldn’t make it too obvious—we still need to take down one of them.”

With that, Lin Mo grabbed Dongfang Shuye and launched into the air.

Snowflakes drifting in the night sky obscured much of the view below, but the intermittent flashes of red light were still clearly visible.

Along with the earthen spikes rising from the ground and the kaleidoscope of attacks being thrown around.

And then—

A spear dropped from the sky.