The night had been dreamless.
When Xiang Lie's eyes fluttered open, the room was already bathed in the soft, diffused light of dawn filtering through the window. He stretched, a symphony of pops and crackles erupting from his joints, his body humming with a newfound, potent vigor.
Yet, this surge of power brought not elation, but a profound, unwelcome wave of guilt.
He sat bolt upright, his hands instinctively tracing the magnificent, swollen muscles on either side of his neck. His face, usually a mask of focused determination, was etched with self-reproach and a crushing sorrow.
"Ah Zuo, Ah You…" he murmured, his voice thick with devotion, almost a prayer. "I have failed you. Mundane distractions have allowed your sacred regimen to falter. Lethargy, my kings, is the first crack in the throne! I swear, from this moment on, I will atone for my neglect, and double your tribute!"
A wave of spiritual absolution washed over him, and Xiang Lie felt a renewed sense of purpose. He dressed swiftly, then pushed open his door, eager to find a suitable sanctum for his daily, hallowed ritual.
The corridor was hushed. He leaned against the railing, gazing down at the expansive common area below, mentally weighing the merits of starting with shrugs versus farmer's carries, when a voice, barely a whisper, floated up behind him.
"Y-you… hello."
Xiang Lie turned, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
It was Mo.
Today, she had clearly gone to great lengths. The drab, shapeless garment of yesterday had been replaced by a simple, elegant floral dress. Her long, moonlight-silver hair, meticulously brushed, cascaded softly over her shoulders, making her seem like a neighbor's daughter, plucked straight from a pastoral painting.
She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, a delicate blush painting her pale cheeks. Her hands, clasped tightly, worried the hem of her dress, a picture of shy vulnerability that would stir protective instincts in any normal man.
Xiang Lie's eyes brightened considerably.
He gave Mo a slow, appraising once-over, then, in the gravely professional tone of a seasoned coach addressing a rookie, declared, "This outfit won't do."
Mo blinked. "...Huh?"
Her head snapped up, those silver eyes wide with confusion, a flash of utter bewilderment.
"The skirt is far too long; it will restrict your squat depth. And the fabric lacks elasticity, which will severely limit scapular mobility during shrugs," Xiang Lie explained, his expression a profound mixture of earnest analysis and professional disappointment, as if witnessing a cardinal sin of training. He gestured to his own athletic tank top and shorts. "Proper training requires proper attire. Only then can your muscles receive optimal stimulation. Understood?"
Mo's face crumpled instantly. Her fingers, still clutching the hem of her dress, whitened as she squeezed them tighter, as if trying to wring out the insult.
Around a corner, a few dozen meters away, Ling hunched behind a partition, monitoring the scene through the high-definition camera of her tablet. When Xiang Lie delivered his 'professional critique,' she nearly crushed the device in her furious grip.
"Idiot! Imbecile! Brain-dead boulder!" Ling hissed, her voice a furious whisper. "I spent the entire night coaching her, every inflection, every angle of repose, meticulously planned! And this is what you talk about? Does that giant's skull contain nothing but… trapezius muscle tissue?!"
She watched the data curve on her screen, the one labeled 'Emotional Escalation Probability.' After a hopeful, fleeting climb, it plummeted like a cliff-face avalanche, hurtling straight towards absolute zero.
Ling clapped a despairing hand over her face.
Her meticulously cultivated data analysis skills, her very pride, had suffered an ignominious and unprecedented defeat in the face of the Xiang Lie genus. Today's 'honey trap' operation was officially a catastrophic failure.
Back at the scene, Mo was clearly crestfallen. She lowered her head further, her voice barely audible as she mumbled her defense. "Yesterday… thank you. If it hadn't been for you, I would have…"
"Don't mention it!" Xiang Lie scratched the back of his head, a guileless, broad grin spreading across his face. "Just lending a hand. By the way, how did it feel, mimicking my movements yesterday? Did you manage to find that distinct sensation of trapezius activation?"
At the mention of his sacred craft, Mo's earlier dejection vanished instantly, replaced by a rekindled spark of intellectual curiosity in her eyes.
"A-a little!" she stammered, then her brow furrowed. "But it always feels like… my neck gets so sore, yet my shoulders don't feel anything." She sought his wisdom with the earnest eagerness of a diligent student.
"Ah, that's because your core is unstable, and your point of engagement is incorrect!" Xiang Lie's eyes lit up, a zealous fire igniting within him. He'd found his true calling: the profound joy of imparting knowledge. "Here, stand still. Let me show you…"
Before his impromptu lesson could begin, a bloodcurdling scream, laced with pure terror, ripped through the tranquil air of the Ark!
"Ah—! It's Ye! She's broken loose! She's out of containment!"
The scream spread like a contagion, instantly igniting panic throughout the entire facility. The previously calm, almost serene atmosphere evaporated, replaced by palpable fear. Every silver-haired girl halted their activities, their faces stark white with terror.
"Quick! Activate the defense barriers!"
"Too late! She's through!"
"Run! Don't let her see you!"
Piercing alarms blared through the cavernous underground space, red warning lights strobing maniacally, painting every face in an ominous, blood-red glow.
Xiang Lie, still processing the sudden chaos, found his arm seized by Mo, who dragged him towards the deeper recesses of the corridor.
"What's happening? Who is 'Ye'?" he demanded, even as he was pulled along.
"She… she's one of us… our sister…" Mo's lips trembled, her face utterly drained of color. "She's… withered. She's incredibly dangerous now!"
Just then, with a violent clang, a ventilation shaft not far ahead was kicked open from the inside. A figure, like a wraith sprung from shadow, darted out, landing silently and perfectly centered in the corridor, blocking all escape.
It was a girl.
Her long, crimson hair, eerily vibrant like living flame, writhed without a breeze. A grotesque, maniacal grin stretched across her face, while her eyes—twin pools of the same malevolent red—gleamed with the undisguised hunger and savage cruelty of a predator.
Her gaze, precise as a hunter's scope, swept over the trembling girls cowering around her, and then… locked on Xiang Lie. Unwaveringly.
"Heh heh… so delicious…"
Ye extended a long, black tongue, slowly tracing her cracked, dry lips, a morbid, lingering chuckle escaping her throat. Her body tensed, lowering into a predatory crouch, every muscle coiled taut, like a panther poised to strike.
She utterly ignored Mo beside her. Her eyes held only Xiang Lie's formidable physique, and those two magnificent, lethally tempting 'thrones' of muscle that crowned his shoulders.
"You… it's you…"
In the next heartbeat, she moved.
She was a blur, leaving a shimmering afterimage in her wake, her speed too rapid for the human eye to track. Razor-sharp nails raked against the metal wall, shrieking and spitting a shower of sparks, their trajectory fixed on Xiang Lie's throat.
Too fast.
Xiang Lie's pupils constricted to pinpricks. He didn't even have time to flinch, let alone react!
In that razor-thin fraction of a second, a slender figure, without an instant's hesitation, flung herself forward, arms spread wide, placing herself squarely between him and the onslaught.
It was Mo.
A wet, sickening thwip!
The unmistakable sound of fangs tearing into flesh echoed, sickeningly clear, amidst the rising chaos.
Time, in that instant, seemed to shatter.