Chapter Seventy-Eight: The S Gene

Chapter Seventy-Eight: S Gene

As the glass shattered, everyone felt a piercing shock. The room dimmed immediately.

Shen Qingyi had never experienced such agony; it was as if countless silver needles were piercing her nerves.

The three people outside the laboratory were stunned by the scene. All the instruments had failed. The glass separating the two rooms, as well as the transparent container housing the culture, had shattered.

What on earth had happened?

“What’s going on? Have all electronic devices failed?” the senior technician exclaimed, her voice trembling. The abrupt turn of events left her disoriented.

Suddenly, the lights flickered back on.

“Huh, the circuits are back?” Everyone shook off their panic, too pressed for answers to dwell on what had happened. They hurried to check the values on the screen. The moment the power returned, the display came back to life.

The flustered technicians fixed their gaze on the screen only to find all values reset to zero.

“What is this? What happened?” They looked up in confusion, only to meet Shen Qingyi’s gaze.

“Where am I?” Shen Qingyi spoke, only to find her vocal cords dry and rough.

Having just awakened, and after the bout of stabbing pain, her mind was hazy. She realized, even before receiving an answer, that she already knew it.

“Could you please bring me some clothes?” Shen Qingyi’s voice was still hoarse with embarrassment, for she’d just realized she wasn’t dressed. It was, indeed, an awkward situation.

The stunned technicians quickly noticed the issue, but fortunately, preparations had been made before the experiment began.

A black fitted T-shirt and black trousers appeared promptly, and Shen Qingyi finally took in her surroundings, her brows knitting slightly.

“What is this? What happened?” She seemed unaware that all this was caused by herself.

“Miss Shen, let’s move to another room for further physical examination. You’ve just awakened; there’s still much data to collect,” the senior technician said, already having made sense of the situation.

The other two were still caught up in the shock of the recent incident, a clear testament to the difference age and experience make in crisis.

“Don’t just stand there. Prepare the other laboratory,” the senior technician instructed, then guided the still-dazed Shen Qingyi out of the room.

Everything that transpired was swiftly reported to Wang Weifu’s laboratory once Shen Qingyi was dressed. There was no panic like with the other two technicians. Wang Weifu wore a confident smile, as if prepared for such a mutation.

“It seems the results are better than expected,” Wang Weifu murmured.

“Yes, go ahead. Send me the report afterward. And... bring Yi’er to Jiuzhou when you’re done,” the elderly man on the screen said gravely.

“Understood,” Wang Weifu replied, closing the screen and leaving the room.

Shen Qingyi, still bewildered, felt as though she’d been roused from a nap before she’d had her fill of sleep. The pain should have clarified her mind, but the sensation that stabbed directly into her nerves left her unable to keep her thoughts clear.

“Dr. Ruishi, take Miss Shen to the third-floor laboratory,” Wang Weifu communicated via computer to the senior technician.

“Yes, Dr. Wang.” The senior technician was the one Wang Weifu called Dr. Ruishi. Wang Weifu himself was also a doctor. In truth, his abilities were more than sufficient for a professorship, but he lacked the patience for the lengthy tenure required. To him, the distinction between professor and doctor was meaningless.

“These are the instantaneous values recorded after the mental transfer was completed, before the laboratory crashed,” Dr. Ruishi was now showing Wang Weifu the data.

This laboratory was similar in layout to the previous one, but much larger and equipped with more instruments. Dr. Ruishi was demonstrating the data.

“Good, look here. This value proves our theory,” Wang Weifu pointed to an unremarkable gauge.

“We’ll need deeper testing, but... congratulations, Dr. Wang,” Ruishi extended his hand.

“Let’s wait and see,” Wang Weifu declined the handshake—not out of arrogance, but because he never made conclusions before the final confirmation.

Ruishi was not offended, accustomed as he was to Wang Weifu’s manner. He offered a sheepish smile in response.

“Let’s begin.” Wang Weifu, focused on the screen before him, gave no thought to Ruishi’s expression.

“Activate the detection device.”

“The device is activated. Please enter authorization,” the AI intoned.

Ruishi looked to Wang Weifu, “Ready.”

Wang Weifu nodded, placing his palm into the screen’s square.

“Iris scan... verification complete.”

“S gene enhancement scan initiated. Data is being collected.”

With the AI’s announcement, Wang Weifu spoke via intercom to Shen Qingyi, who was half-reclined in the capsule, “Don’t worry. Relax.”

By now, Shen Qingyi had regained her composure and understood her situation. Her last conscious memory was in the desolate star region, before she fainted. She must have reached her limit. This, then, was the God Plan. She hadn’t expected she’d have to rely on this technology to sustain her life so soon.

Clenching her fists, her mind swirled with images—beautiful scenes, dazzling colors, irregular shapes, and... Liu Shaoyu.

Before her, a round mechanical device emitting a green net of light scanned over her head. Her vision filled with green, and her thoughts drifted.

This dissociative state was, in theory, a normal reaction after consciousness transfer. The alignment of spirit and body required a process. Shen Qingyi was now immersed in that process. The mental dissociation was akin to the euphoria brought on by contraband. One could say she was a bit high.

In stark contrast was Wang Weifu, whose mind was now clearer than ever.

“This value indicates... success,” Ruishi said, the gravity fading from his expression.

“Yes, and it’s actually much better than we imagined. Look, this value has exceeded the detector’s limit,” Wang Weifu pointed to a gauge on the screen.

“This represents... S gene level?” Ruishi had only paid attention to the existence value of the S gene, which was as high as 85 percent, meaning complete S gene presence. Wang Weifu, however, focused on the gene’s grade.

Due to limited experimental results, previous data from a thousand executed prisoners had led to a rough classification: D, C, B, A, S—from lowest to highest. Only one subject had ever surpassed A, but not reached S. Today, Shen Qingyi’s result exceeded S directly.

“This represents...?” Ruishi, despite being involved from the start, had never seen such results and couldn’t help but ask.

Wang Weifu’s lips curled into a smile as he spoke.

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