boyutpedia Chapter 378 Conclusion and Report
Chapter 378 Conclusion and Report
Two days later, at the headquarters of NaDuTong Logistics in Beijing.
An unassuming black van slowly drove into the headquarters building's underground parking lot after passing through multiple security checks. The explosion-proof barrier at the entrance rose and fell, and an infrared scanner swept a thin red line across the vehicle before allowing it to pass.
The car door slid open, and a group of people filed out, all looking exhausted, bearing injuries of varying degrees, and their clothes were somewhat disheveled. Some had tears in their clothes, revealing bandages wrapped around their exposed skin; others had dried, dark red mud on their trouser legs, indistinguishable as either blood or sewage. This was Nie Lingfeng and his group, who had just returned from the northeastern border region.
The underground parking lot lights were blindingly white, a stark contrast to the dark red hell of two days prior. There was no smell of blood, no stench of decay, only car exhaust and a faint scent of disinfectant—a smell so ordinary it made you want to cry.
"Oh my god, I'm finally back! This feels like a dream!"
Zhang Chulan was the first to jump out of the car. His movement was so abrupt that his left leg buckled upon landing, almost causing him to kneel. He quickly braced himself against the car door. He took a deep breath of the air in the underground parking lot—not exactly fresh, but at least free of the stench of blood and sulfur—and stretched dramatically. As he raised his arm above his head, it aggravated the wound on his chest—where a sonic wave from a "Screamer" had grazed him, leaving a purplish-black bruise on his skin—causing him to grimace in pain, his face contorted in agony.
"Ouch—that hurts! I almost forgot about that!"
He clutched his chest with one hand and braced himself against the car door with the other, taking several seconds to straighten up. His face showed a mixture of relief at surviving the ordeal and helplessness at his battered body.
"Serves you right, who told you to show off?"
Wang Zhenqiu also got out of the car. His injuries were less severe than Zhang Chulan's, but his left arm was still in a sling, and his wrist was wrapped in thick gauze—he had been bitten by a "Bone-Eating Worm," causing a small patch of flesh to rot, which was saved only after Chen Duo cleaned the wound with Gu worms in time. After simple treatment, he was almost fully recovered, but his face was still a little pale, and the color in his lips had not completely returned.
But he couldn't resist teasing Zhang Chulan.
"But then again, it's truly a blessing from our ancestors that we were able to come back alive this time."
He spoke with unusual seriousness. During those days in the underground base, he had thought he was going to die there several times. Especially when the "Nest Guardian" sprayed venom at him, he couldn't dodge in time, and it was Feng Baobao who kicked him away, saving him from certain death. That kick made his ribs ache for three days, but it was better than being melted by the venom.
Others also got off the bus one after another.
Master Wang Ye's face was still somewhat pale, but his spirits were much better than before. His foundation in Qimen Dunjia was profound; although he had severely overexerted himself underground and had even fallen into a coma, he had recovered considerably in the past two days thanks to Chen Duo's medicinal herbs and a period of quiet rest. However, his steps were still a little unsteady, as if he were walking on cotton. Zhang Lingyu walked beside him the whole time, occasionally reaching out to support him, but each time Wang Ye waved his hand and said, "It's alright, it's alright," before continuing on his way.
Zhang Lingyu remained silent, his face expressionless, but a lingering gravity hung between his brows. He rarely spoke, but everyone could sense that he was constantly recalling the things in the underground base—those twisted creations, a mixture of human and beast genes. No one knew exactly what he was thinking, but his fingers on the steering wheel were unconsciously tightening.
Feng Baobao was still the same as always. She was the last to get out of the car, still holding the katana in her hand. The blade was full of nicks and nicks, like a saw. She looked down at it, said "Oh" expressionlessly, and then threw the katana into the car. It landed on the floor with a "clang," bounced twice, and then lay still. It was as if her experience at the underground base had no effect on her; she was just curiously looking around the parking lot—the illuminated signs, the fire hydrants, the underground drainage ditches—which were probably more novel to her than the underground base itself.
Chen Duo held the still somewhat listless Xiao Yun in her arms. The little girl hadn't fully recovered from the fright, clinging tightly to Chen Duo's clothes, her eyes darting around. When she saw strangers, she would bury her face in Chen Duo's shoulder, only a small section of her hair showing. But there were no strangers in the parking lot, only the people who had escaped with her. She relaxed a little, turning her little face away from Chen Duo's arms, her big eyes blinking as she studied the fluorescent light tubes on the ceiling, seemingly unfamiliar with that white light—having been underground for too long, she was no longer used to such brightness.
Nie Lingfeng was the last to get off the bus.
He moved slower than everyone else. First, he turned to the side, then stretched out one leg and placed it on the ground. He paused for a second before moving the other leg out as well. He didn't help anyone, but when he got off the car, he pressed his right hand on the door—not to hold on, but to use it for leverage. The metal door was slightly dented by his press, leaving a shallow fingerprint.
His face was still pale, not a healthy ivory white, but a pale with a thin layer of bluish-gray, like the white of someone recovering from a serious illness. But his eyes had regained their former sharpness and calmness, like water in a deep pool, calm on the surface but with undercurrents surging beneath.
His injuries were far more severe than they appeared. The wound on his left shoulder, extending from his collarbone to his deltoid muscle, had been stitched up and treated with medicine by Chen Duo using Gu worms, but it still ached faintly every time he raised his arm. The charred burn mark on his ribs, where the gray shadow had grazed him, had faded considerably, but a dark ring, resembling a bruise, remained on his skin.
Especially that final, life-draining strike, which almost destroyed his very essence. Two days have passed, and the Qi in his dantian is still less than 30% of its peak. His meridians are like a riverbed eroded by a flood, cracked and empty, each breath of Qi accompanied by a slight stinging pain. Although he has Chen Duo's spiritual medicine and Master Wang Ye's treatment, it won't be a matter of just a day or two to recover.
But he still stood ramrod straight. After getting off the bus, he straightened up and took two steady steps—not fast, but very steady. With each step, the sound of his shoes hitting the concrete was even, like a metronome. It was as if the injuries that would have kept an ordinary person bedridden for months had no effect on him at all.
Seeing that he looked unwell, Zhang Chulan asked worriedly, "Brother Nie, are you alright?"
Nie Lingfeng glanced at him and shook his head slightly: "It's alright."
Two words. Not many. But Zhang Chulan gleaned three meanings from those two words: I can still manage, you don't need to worry too much, let's get down to business first.
"Go report the situation first." Nie Lingfeng's gaze swept over everyone, his voice not loud, but everyone could hear him clearly, "This matter is more serious than we imagined."
Everyone nodded, their expressions turning serious. Their experiences at the underground base, especially the discoveries regarding the "Mother Nest" and the "Polaris Council," needed to be reported to the company's upper management immediately. Those things—that massive lump of flesh tens of meters in size, those countless experimental subjects, that dark red light still pulsating slightly beneath the ice—were not something a few of them could handle.
Guided by the company's internal staff who were already waiting, the group took a private elevator directly to a heavily guarded, non-public conference room on the upper floors of the headquarters building.
As the elevator doors opened, two security guards in black suits stood in the corridor, their company executive badges pinned to their chests, and the walkie-talkies on their waists humming softly in the quiet space. They nodded slightly upon seeing the group and stepped aside. The conference room door was a heavy solid wood door with a combination lock, a fingerprint reader, and a small iris scanner embedded in the door panel. One of the security guards stepped forward, entered the password, pressed his fingerprint, and then blinked at the scanner. The lock clicked softly, then popped open a crack.
Several people were already seated in the conference room.
At the head of the table sat an elderly man in a Zhongshan suit, his hair white, his face gaunt, yet his eyes unusually sharp. The suit was dark gray, buttoned neatly, with a small company badge pinned to the collar. His hair was thoroughly white, but meticulously combed, each strand lying flat against his scalp. He had few wrinkles on his face, only a few shallow horizontal lines on his forehead and fine crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. But his eyes—those eyes didn't seem like those of an old man. His pupils were bright, the black irises controlled, and when he looked at someone, they were like two unsheathed knives, not piercing, but you knew they were sharp.
It was none other than Chairman Zhao of Nadutong.
Sitting beside him were several key figures who exuded a composed aura and were clearly high-ranking executives of the company. There was the regional manager in charge of North China, a middle-aged man in his fifties with a plump figure but eyes as shrewd as a fox; there was the chief engineer in charge of technology research and development, a thin old man with thick glasses, messy hair, and who looked like he had just been dragged out of the laboratory; and there were several other faces that Zhang Chulan did not recognize, but judging from their seating arrangement and aura, they were all in high positions.
And there was a general in military uniform, with stars on his shoulders and a dignified expression. The uniform was dark green, with golden pine branches and a gold star on the collar—the rank of major general. He sat very upright, his back as straight as a steel plate, his hands resting motionless on his knees. His face had strong features, a square jaw, and his lips were pressed into a line, giving him an impression of being unsmiling.
Clearly, the seriousness of this incident has alarmed higher authorities. The military has even sent people.
"You're back? You must be tired."
When Chairman Zhao saw everyone enter, especially noticing Nie Lingfeng's pale face and the injuries on everyone's bodies, a hint of seriousness flashed in his eyes. That seriousness quickly disappeared, but those who caught it knew that it was rare for Chairman Zhao to show such an expression.
But his tone remained calm, like an elder greeting a younger person who was returning home late.
"Please sit down. Tell me the details."
Everyone took their seats. The chairs were black leather swivel chairs, very comfortable to sit on, with a backrest. Zhang Chulan plopped down, almost sinking in—after sitting on rocks and mud for two days in the underground base, his back was a little uncomfortable sitting on such a soft chair.