Chapter 11: The Report

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A nauseating stench of decay hung beneath Xingyu’s nose.

Moving as quietly as possible on tiptoe, she cautiously threaded her way through the gaps between the dust-covered crates.

Suddenly, a deafening rumble erupted overhead!

Xingyu jerked her head up. Her gaze fell upon several enormous containers stacked in the corner.

The uppermost cargo crate let out a harsh creak before toppling straight toward the center of the warehouse, its balance completely lost.

“Damn it!”

Realizing the danger, Xingyu immediately rolled to the right. The crate crashed down where she had been standing, and the tremendous impact reverberated through the cavernous warehouse.

Just as she regained her footing and prepared to inspect the damage, spiderweb-like cracks suddenly appeared in the wall near the top of the warehouse. They rapidly spread downward.

Xingyu’s pupils contracted, and her heart seemed to skip a beat.

The force of the falling crate had actually been enough to destabilize the entire structure!

The warehouse was about to collapse!

The instant she realized it, Xingyu broke into a desperate sprint, racing toward the exit with all her strength.

Dozens of mutilated skeletons tumbled through the widening cracks, smashing apart when they struck the floor.

At the very last moment, Xingyu threw herself into a roll and barely made it through the warehouse doors.

Behind her, more than half the warehouse had already collapsed. Dust surged toward her like a pale tide, blotting out the sky.

Unable to hold it back, Xingyu sneezed as she picked her way through the broken bricks and shattered tiles, her face and clothes coated in grime.

She turned to look at Jingyi. He stood there utterly composed, as though he had anticipated the sudden disaster all along.

“‘I’ll be right behind you,’ huh?”

“This collapse was beyond even my expectations.” Jingyi frowned as he approached, surveying the wreckage around them. “The structure looked intact on the surface, but the inside was already riddled with flaws. It seems this building had reached its limit.”

Xingyu nodded and fixed her attention on the debris and fragments strewn across the ground.

With some effort, she lifted a large slab of concrete. A stark white section of bone emerged from between the bricks and rubble, coming gruesomely into view.

“Let me see whether I can find any information about these remains.”

Xingyu examined the available information carefully. Once she had sorted through it, a look of astonishment crossed her face.

“There are so many people… More than thirty scattered bodies. Some were researchers, some were vagrants, and some seem to have been ordinary people.”

“Hmm. A flesh-manufacturing plant.” Jingyi nodded, repeating Xingyu’s earlier deduction in an indifferent tone.

Xingyu shot him a sideways glance. She had the distinct impression that there was more behind his words, perhaps even a hint of mockery. Pursing her lips, she decided not to engage with it.

“Let’s continue searching. There are probably still plenty of secrets waiting to be uncovered in this factory.”

Jingyi motioned for Xingyu to follow and began walking deeper inside.

“You know what happened in this factory, don’t you?” Xingyu asked abruptly.

Jingyi’s steps faltered, but he did not turn around.

“As a Verifier, understanding the scene and maintaining control of the overall situation are basic requirements. For us, that is only natural. Your powers of observation are good, and that deserves praise.”

Xingyu frowned, dissatisfied with the answer. Jingyi’s words were perfectly courteous, yet he had deftly avoided her question.

This place was under the Verifier’s control. Her safety should be somewhat assured… right?

Without pressing him further, Xingyu continued exploring the depths of the factory. The warehouse had largely collapsed, and she had already conducted a cursory inspection of the workshop. Her gaze therefore drifted, almost involuntarily, toward the office.

The office was equally decrepit, permeated by the odor of decay. Documents, craft knives, and bottles of glue lay in disarray across the desk, leaning precariously as if they might scatter across the floor at any moment.

But Xingyu keenly sensed something unusual.

Unlike the areas before, this office was free of choking dust. There even seemed to be a faint, elusive scent lingering in the air.

“Someone has been here recently.”

“Did Information Reading tell you that as well?” Jingyi asked, a trace of imperceptible scrutiny in his voice.

“…No. I sensed it myself.”

“Good. Keep cultivating that insight. Remember to report anything you discover promptly.”

Jingyi nodded approvingly, a meaningful smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Xingyu cautiously surveyed the office, searching for anything that might reveal a clue.

Her eyes passed over a filing cabinet in the corner. Its door stood slightly ajar, revealing a mass of documents inside. She stepped forward and read the titles:

“Summary of the First Experimental Phase,” “Evaluation of Modification Results,” and similar headings.

It was already very late, and she could barely make out the handwritten black characters on the white pages. The writing was extremely untidy, but with the assistance of Information Reading, it was effortless to decipher.

She leafed through the documents. Though their wording and meaning were carefully guarded, the fragments were enough for her to form a general understanding of the factory’s work.

“The first phase of experimentation has achieved preliminary progress. After the introduction of modification materials, Samples 009 and 016 achieved fusion rates of two and seven percent, respectively. Survival rates were lower than expected. The initial results appear acceptable, but further observation is required to assess the samples’ performance across all ability indicators.”

“Samples 044 and 058 demonstrated higher fusion rates, reaching fifteen and nineteen percent. However, no obvious enhancement was observed. Instead, several unstable physiological reactions appeared. The material ratio must be adjusted to reduce toxic effects.”

“All samples experienced varying degrees of decline in survival rate after the introduction of modification materials. The experimental procedure must be optimized to improve sample acceptance. The current results remain somewhat short of expectations. In the next phase, the number of samples will be increased so that the feasibility of the experiment may continue to be verified.”

There were many documents.

Then, at last, her vision flickered.

The black words on the white pages slowly changed. Row after row of blood-red text emerged.

[Grace has descended upon Samples 009 and 016. After receiving the blessing, their flesh has begun to undergo holy mutation, opening a path for the arrival of the Supreme Flesh. Though their survival rates have declined, this is an unavoidable step on the road to salvation.]

[Samples 044 and 058 have displayed a higher degree of faith. Their bodies are undergoing miracles, nurturing perfect life for the Holy Mother. We must offer more wombs so that the supreme being may return to the mortal world.]

[Every sample has undergone rebirth through fire, completing a second ascension amid ultimate agony. This is the glorious moment in which they become children. Our next step will be to expand the number of followers, allowing more people to become vessels for perfect flesh and bone and welcome the birth of the Lord.]

…If she still could not understand what this report meant after reading that, something would truly be wrong.

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At that moment, she faintly heard an almost imperceptible rustling behind her, as though something were moving slowly.

Xingyu spun around and found Jingyi standing behind her. She had no idea when he had arrived. His deep gaze was fixed on the documents in her hands.

“What are your thoughts?” Jingyi asked casually.

After a moment, she slowly replied, her voice slightly hoarse. “I think this place is… a religion.”

She had deliberately chosen the more neutral term.

“A religion?” Jingyi’s brows rose high, clearly surprised. “Why do you think that?”

“Isn’t it… obvious?” Xingyu handed him the report.

The blood-red letters writhed and trembled across the ghastly white paper like tiny living worms.

He lowered his head and examined the documents in his hands.

Only after a long while did he speak. “An interesting deduction. Still, it is astonishing that you could reach such a conclusion from these scattered fragments alone. To me, the wording of these reports is extremely cautious. There is no sign of religion at all.”

“…”

Just as she thought.

Only she could see it.

…

“A flesh factory!”

The instant Hill heard Xingyu’s deduction, she shot up from the bench.

“Have you all gone mad?! You sent a proxy with no combat experience whatsoever to a place like that?!”

Kuna rose leisurely, a meaningful smile playing at the corners of her lips, as though everything had gone exactly as she expected.

“Hill, I never realized you followed current affairs so closely. Relax. We sent people to investigate the place thoroughly long ago. It’s perfectly safe.”

Hill glared at her, rolled up her sleeves, and started toward the sinister factory.

“Don’t joke around! Everyone knows the Council still has no idea what those lunatics are capable of! Sending a rookie to a place where a massacre just occurred—isn’t that simply throwing her into a furnace?”

“Times have changed, Hill.”

Kuna was still smiling, but her tone had grown noticeably more serious. She strode forward and seized Hill firmly by the arm.

“We now have a new approach to training supernatural beings.”

“What a joke! I don’t care about your training program that gets people killed!”

Hill was far stronger than her and easily shook off Kuna’s grip.

Kuna showed no sign of retreating. She reached out again and clutched Hill’s wrist, her grip astonishingly powerful.

“The assessment cannot be interrupted. If anything goes wrong, I’ll head over to support her immediately.”

“You really intend to stop me?”

Hill halted and turned around, her sharp gaze meeting Kuna’s directly. Her voice dropped into a dangerous low register, as though a confrontation might erupt at any moment.

“Come on, why are you taking this so seriously…” Kuna sighed helplessly, though her tone held not the slightest hint of concession. “You need to learn to let go. You and I are friends. I really don’t want to use my abilities against you… And afterward, I won’t be reimbursing your medical expenses.”

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