Cyclops had witnessed many strange phenomena throughout his career.
But after reading that file, all he could do was marvel.
He had never seen a patient quite like this.
"I want to meet him," Cyclops said, the spark of curiosity lighting his voice.
To have cheated death so many times—electrocution and all—yet walk away alive, was nothing short of unnatural. His only explanation: perhaps this man was one of those rare, once-in-a-century prodigies.
The kind of martial arts genius people whisper about in legends.
"If this young man ever unlocks his inner energy channels, won't he ascend into the heavens?"
"What time is it?" Dean Hao asked, rubbing his temples.
"Three o'clock," Cyclops replied.
Dean Hao rolled his eyes. "So you do know it's 3 a.m. In case that wasn't obvious, that means it's time for humans to be asleep. I'm in my fifties, hair's gone white, and my only lifelines are goji berries and red dates. Maybe take the hint and let an old man rest?"
"You can meet him tomorrow," he added, ruffling his thinning hair. The message was clear: Find one black strand in here, and I'll admit defeat.
Cyclops didn't argue. He turned and left.
"Hey! Fine, leave if you want—but give me back that file! That's my life's work! You've got some nerve—"
Dean Hao's voice echoed down the corridor.
Night fell.
The world lay deep in slumber.
Back at headquarters, Cyclops sat in his smoke-filled office, flipping through the file once more. The room swirled with misty clouds of tobacco. He lowered the folder, walked to the window, and gazed at the still-buzzing night market below.
"Interesting fellow…"
The "Scavenger Hound" had infiltrated the asylum disguised as a common dog. Ordinary people would never have seen through the deception. Only they—those in the know—could identify such beings.
They would have to initiate a citywide sweep. Not a single inch could be overlooked.
If more of these creatures could camouflage as effectively as the hound, things would quickly spiral out of control.
March 3rd.
Clear skies.
The sun was bright, though the air carried a chill compared to the day before.
Inside Room 666, Lin Fan opened his eyes, sitting upright in bed with a blank stare. He remained motionless, dazed, until finally extending his arm.
"Old Zhang… my arm feels a bit sore."
"I'll just poke a few needles in, you'll be fine."
Old Zhang glanced around like a thief, making sure no orderlies were watching. Then he pulled out silver needles and pierced Lin Fan's arm in swift, precise jabs—his accuracy borderline surgical.
"How's that feel?"
His acupuncture skills were unrivaled. He called it The Galactic Circulation Method, honed over years of experimentation—many of which ended with Lin Fan being rushed to the ER. But if it didn't work, how would they end up in the ER, right?
Lin Fan looked down at the needles, then casually pushed one all the way into his arm.
"Hmm… now that's the feeling I was looking for."
Old Zhang stroked his chin, deep in thought.
"Seems like I didn't go deep enough…"
"Forget it."
"How about some soy milk?"
"I want cola," Lin Fan replied, completely serious.
"Alright, I'll take Sprite," Old Zhang said, opening the cabinet and pulling out two warm pouches of soy milk. One for each of them.
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
The elderly man and the young one sipped contentedly. White liquid dripped from the corners of their mouths, only to be quickly licked away. Waste not.
Outside on the grassy field, the psychiatric patients ran joyfully in the sunlight.
It was their happiest time of day.
But Lin Fan and Old Zhang weren't watching ants migrate or counting clouds.
They sat perfectly still on a bench, staring off into the distance.
They were contemplating something important.
What should we do today?
From afar, Dean Hao and Cyclops stood in a quiet corridor, observing the pair.
Cyclops had arrived early, eager to see this alleged prodigy for himself.
"The younger one on the bench—that's Lin Fan," Dean Hao pointed.
Cyclops narrowed his eye.
"If… just if I confirm he has special potential, would you be willing to release him?"
Dean Hao froze for a moment, then grew serious.
"Wait, you're serious? As in, not bringing him back?"
"I'm asking if you'd let him go," Cyclops said plainly.
"Don't ask if I'm willing—just say the word and I'll personally deliver him to you. Hell, I'll even throw in a second one for free. My only condition is this: you do NOT bring him back. Also, you'll need to sign a legal waiver."
"If anything happens, it's got nothing to do with me or Qingshan Psychiatric Hospital."
Dean Hao almost found Cyclops adorable now.
If today were my birthday, he thought, this offer would be the perfect gift.
"You're afraid he might get hurt?" Cyclops asked.
"No," Dean Hao said inwardly. I'm afraid your people will be the ones getting hurt.
Just yesterday, Li Ang had been taken to the hospital. Nothing major—just a mild psychological scare.
But after a full medical exam…
They discovered a reproductive issue. Low sperm motility. Future fertility in doubt.
A brutal blow for Li Ang, who, in his words, was "half a virgin."
Cyclops approached Lin Fan quietly, footsteps as light as air.
When he was close enough, he suddenly raised his hand—and struck.
A lightning-fast palm, powerful enough to shatter steel.
If Lin Fan were truly gifted, he'd react, right?
But no.
The hand stopped just short of Lin Fan's skull.
Lin Fan casually scratched his head, as if swatting a fly.
No reaction whatsoever.
Cyclops felt a pang of disappointment.
Had he been wrong?
Was it all just in his head?
Trying a different approach, he walked around and faced Lin Fan.
"Mind if I sit here?" he asked.
Lin Fan glanced at him, then scooted over silently.
The three of them sat on the bench—no words, no motion, just the breeze.
Finally, Cyclops broke the silence.
"What are you looking at?"
"Dunno."
"If you don't know, why are you looking?"
"Dunno."
Cyclops: "…"
"…Did you two eat a dog last night?" he asked, gently prodding.
The Second-Class entity had been eaten—an unbelievable claim. He wanted confirmation.
"No."
"I didn't either."
Both shook their heads with complete innocence.
This man must be an undercover orderly, they thought. Dangerous. Best not to say too much.
Then—
"Hey!"
"You've only got one eye!"
"He's missing an eye!"
They stared at Cyclops like they'd just discovered a new species.
Old Zhang stood up and lifted the eyepatch.
Then lowered it again, his expression suddenly solemn.
"I can fix it," he said. "But you'll have to let me stick in a few needles."
"He's really good," Lin Fan added, pulling up his sleeve and patting his arm. "Fixed mine just fine."
Cyclops took a deep breath.
This was exhausting.
"I heard you like to 'train' by electrocuting yourself," Cyclops asked.
Lin Fan shook his head. "Nope."
"Then… smashing yourself with weights?"
"Nope."
"Can you at least tell me about the weird stuff you do? I'm genuinely curious."
Lin Fan: "Can't."
Cyclops clenched his teeth.
Damn it. This conversation is going nowhere.
(End of Chapter)