The moment she turned around, Zhang Chi threw the water straight at him.
"Ah!"
The water splashed across the face of the figure behind her. Eyes shut, water dripping from his lashes and forehead, he was momentarily blinded, shaking his head furiously.
Zhang Chi took a sharp step back.
What the hell was that?
The man had a giant head and a tiny body, like someone who'd been caught between two closing doors—one hitting him front-on, the other from the side—leaving him squashed into a matchstick with a face. His shoulders were thinner than Zhang Chi's thighs, limbs short and spindly, his spine unnaturally long. At a glance, he looked like—
An ant?
The "ant" wiped his face with a sleeve, glaring at her.
"Today's the day you die."
The moment he moved, his speed spiked unnaturally. In an instant, he was right in front of her.
Zhang Chi kicked. The "ant" rebounded off the nearby wall. She kicked again, aiming higher.
He didn't dodge—instead, he launched himself onto the wall.
His limbs, though short, clung to the smooth surface like suction cups. He skittered across the wall with no resistance, spine arched like a reptile.
In that moment, his form was even faster than human.
Smack!
A blob of slime shot from his mouth and landed squarely on Zhang Chi's neck.
It didn't smell, but it was neon green and filled with little clumps—like mashed-up kiwi.
Did he just… spit on her?
Zhang Chi was stunned.
The "Ant-Man" looked even more stunned.
"Why didn't it work?!"
He spat another mouthful of kiwi-colored slime directly at her face.
Zhang Chi dodged to the side, right hand tightening into a fist, then slammed it into the wall.
The ant dodged just in time—but the wall shuddered from the impact, a deep thud sounding as cracks spidered out from her fist. Dust trickled down in clouds.
The "Ant-Man" launched off the wall and onto the ceiling, limbs spread like a bat. He dive-bombed toward her, wrapping himself around her head, straddling her shoulders.
Zhang Chi clawed upward, each hand grabbing one of his legs. She clenched, twisted—and pulled.
"AAAHHHHHHHH—"
"OH GOD—PLEASE—AAAARGH—"
"LET ME GO! PLEASE—LET GO!"
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHH—!!"
The pain was too much.
He lost all grip strength and toppled backward.
Zhang Chi twisted her body, still gripping his legs, and slammed him into the ground.
WHAM.
"OWOWOWOW—!"
He writhed on the floor, his limbs returning to normal. The flattened matchstick body began to swell like a balloon, gradually returning to full human proportions.
The noise had been so loud, it drew the guards.
Neither Zhang Chi nor the "Ant-Man" admitted to fighting.
As for the giant crack in the wall—they both claimed it must've formed naturally.
The guard didn't ask questions.
Zhang Chi returned to her station, finished the rest of her shift, then headed to the cafeteria—where she ran into Zhou Ke.
Zhou Ke asked, "Did you go to the mines today?"
Zhang Chi nodded. "Yeah."
"There's something wrong with that mine."
"What kind of wrong?"
"My buddy says the Lanmingsha mine is toxic. You're not supposed to stay inside for more than three hours."
"Yeah, I've heard that too."
They got their meals and sat across from each other.
Zhou Ke asked, "Did anything… weird happen to you today?"
"Why do you ask?"
He pointed at the bandage on her head.
Zhang Chi answered calmly, "Got hit by a rock while mining."
Zhou Ke nodded. After a moment's pause, he couldn't help but ask, "No one tried to… you know, mess with you?"
Zhang Chi stared at him. "What do you know?"
Zhou Ke hesitated. "Nothing much. Just rumors. Glad you're okay."
In the days that followed, Zhang Chi was attacked again and again.
In the mines.
The break room.
Bathrooms.
Stairwells.
Cafeteria corridors.
Anywhere she might be alone—there was a fifty-fifty chance someone was lurking, or had already set a trap.
Luckily, she never ran into anyone as weird as the "Mine Boss" or the "Ant-Man."
She was tough—or at least this body was.
Reflexes fast. Muscles strong. In close combat without firearms, she never came out worse.
But it wasn't without cost.
She kept ending up in the infirmary.
Twisted ankle.
Bruised forehead.
Dislocated shoulder...
She knew almost none of these attackers.
Especially the ones with cybernetic enhancements—mechanical limbs and body mods.
Some had metallic fingers. Others had synthetic ears. Teeth came in all colors—red, blue, green, pink. Some had one or two metal teeth, others had a full mouth of fifteen or more.
Most of these seemed purely aesthetic, no special function. Just style.
Each enhancement varied in material and hardness.
Some ears were soft as cotton. Others were hard as stone.
Hand augmentations were the wildest of all.
Like sports cars—same four wheels, wildly different designs.
Some hands were so intricately crafted, they were works of art.
Zhang Chi felt completely out of her depth.
The library was enormous, but the book collection wasn't—at least not in proportion to the space.
A huge central area was left open, filled with tables and chairs like a giant classroom.
Only the walls were lined with rows and rows of books, journals, and magazines.
The lighting was bright and clean.
Even though the library was three floors underground, there wasn't a single dark corner.
Zhang Chi walked past the bookshelves…
There weren't many proper books. Most of what filled the shelves were magazines—outdated ones, at that. Many of them were stamped Donated.
During the day, inmates worked. After 5 p.m., people would trickle into the library, though it never got crowded—talking wasn't allowed here. Most preferred to hang out outside the building, on a fenced-in courtyard surrounded by electrified wire, where they could get some fresh air, chat, and even trade information.
Zhang Chi settled into a corner of the library.
By 9 p.m., she had flipped through at least a dozen magazines and newspapers that seemed related to hybrid-blood individuals and cybernetic prosthetics. Before leaving, she grabbed two of the thickest volumes at random.
The magazines were dense with information, and they corroborated each other. From what she could gather, a few key conclusions stood out:
First, about hybrid-bloods.
Roughly fifty years ago, a massive environmental contamination event caused an unknown fusion of human genes with animal DNA in certain individuals. These fusions gave rise to what people now called "hybrid blood."
Physical traits started manifesting in those affected—traits that were clearly non-human. Even when two people shared the same animal DNA, the traits appeared in different ways: different timings, body parts, or levels of expression. Some could control these traits; others couldn't. Some were infectious; most were not.
Even though less than 1% of hybrid-bloods were contagious, the entire population lived under a cloud of fear.
Society outright rejected them.
Some even called for bans on hybrid-bloods having children. But current evidence showed that unless both parents were hybrid-bloods, the gene wasn't passed on to the next generation.
They were barred from government roles. Universities restricted what majors they could pursue—biology, law, criminal justice, and weapons development were completely off-limits.
Hybrid-bloods made up less than 5% of the global population. Marginalized even among the marginalized. And yet, their crime rate was disproportionately high—far above the average for any country.
Statistically, one in every three hybrid-bloods had served prison time.
It was as if crime was in their DNA.
That alone was enough for society to keep rejecting them.
Next, about cybernetic prosthetics.
The technology had been in use for over a century. Three major companies dominated the industry: Hain Technologies, Zhisheng Biotech, and a research institute from the Aotian Empire.
Cybernetic modifications required government approval. The bureaucracy was intense. On average, it took at least three years for a concept design to be approved and manufactured. The biggest ongoing debates centered around ethical issues and the social risks of cybernetic enhancements.
Hain Technologies had a military branch—Hain Defense—that produced hardware and components exclusively for armed forces. They were one of the earliest players in the field, and their products were the most expensive across the board.
Zhou Ke's prosthetic arm was one of theirs—a military-grade model not yet released on the civilian market.
Then again, these magazines were several years out of date, so who knew.
But the real cost wasn't the prosthetic itself—it was the installation and the maintenance. Cybernetic limbs had a limited lifespan, and the neural specialists certified to install them charged astronomical fees. A whole black-market industry had sprung up to meet demand:
Unofficial sourcing, unlicensed installation, underground repairs.
Naturally, it was illegal.
And because it was unregulated, quality varied wildly. There were frequent reports of botched procedures by underground "doctors," causing permanent nerve damage.
In short, both cybernetic prosthetics and hybrid-bloods were issues far removed from the lives of ordinary people—even though they showed up regularly in the news and in cutting-edge journals.
Governments (outside of the military) overwhelmingly preferred to hire "natural-borns"—people with no modifications at all.
The more chaotic a region, the higher the concentration of modified humans and hybrid-bloods.
Slums. Gangs. Mercenaries. Thugs for hire…
For people in those worlds, prosthetics weren't just tools—they were weapons.
Like gangsters always carrying a pistol, a prosthetic limb was a symbol of identity and status.
But for regular folks, people living in the civilized world, chances were they'd never meet either type of person in their entire lives.
Zhang Chi dropped a magazine across her face with a sigh.
It really was like winning the lottery—how had she managed to run into so many hidden dragons and crouching tigers?