Chapter 17: Eternal

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“This pocket watch isn’t a native anomalous object; it was first discovered in a small town within the borders of Grancy.” Mo Yan pushed the watch across the table. Mu Yu hesitated, not picking it up, but instead observed it from a short distance.

The silver pocket watch shimmered with a captivating brilliance under the lamp. Anyone who saw it would immediately realize its immense value; it was as exquisite as a masterpiece at the pinnacle of human craftsmanship.

Such an item ought to be displayed in a museum, cordoned off by meters of barrier, admired only from afar.

“There’s no need to worry. This item only takes effect if you die while carrying it. Otherwise, you can use it as an ordinary pocket watch… It’s a perfectly precise timepiece.”

Mo Yan noticed Mu Yu’s apprehension and offered an explanation before continuing.

“In 2001, police in Grancy discovered human blood continuously flowing out of a house in town, seeping even into the street.

When they opened the door, they found an old man collapsed on the floor, unable to move from a broken spine and massive head wounds. Despite such injuries, he was still alive, showing signs of life, though he had lost consciousness and never woke.

It was Grancy’s first encounter with an anomalous object, and their lack of experience led to widespread panic. Many people believed the old man was a demon and even tried to kill him with holy water and priests, but none succeeded.

It wasn’t until the International Union forcefully intervened, took the old man from the church, and annexed Grancy into the Union, that the incident was finally contained.”

“You just leave something this precious lying here?”

The surface of the pocket watch wasn’t smooth but rather covered in intricate patterns, so dense that it was impossible to discern their design.

Curious, Mu Yu gingerly stroked the watch, asking, “Was it always so valuable?”

“Initially, it was indeed rare, classified above grade A. But after trials revealed its severe side effects, it was downgraded to grade A, and now it’s subject to mandatory rotational assignment.”

Mo Yan took a sip of water. The faint flicker in his eyes betrayed a composure that was only skin-deep.

“You probably have no concept of what it means to have your senses amplified a hundredfold. When the test subject was revived, even someone speaking nearby was like a rocket launching at their ear. Even normal breathing was enough to make them faint from pain.

This item is more akin to an instrument of punishment.”

“Trials?”

Mu Yu caught the word, frowning. Was it really acceptable for an organization to experiment on living people?

“Don’t worry, the Institute never forces anyone to undergo tests,” Mo Yan replied, a hint of mockery in his tone. “There are always wealthy individuals willing to spend their fortunes for the chance.

Because this pocket watch is called ‘Eternity’…

Oh, by the way, the surface patterns have been analyzed by the Institute and are, in fact, illustrations from Dante’s Divine Comedy.”

Countless souls wail in torment within hell.

“Eternity… So that’s what hell truly is.”

A chill crept over Mu Yu as he returned the watch to the table.

“What do you mean by rotational assignment?”

Rather than the madness of rich thrill-seekers, Mu Yu cared more about what might affect his own survival.

“The side effects are so severe that almost no one volunteers to use it, but in certain cases, it can be extremely useful.

For instance, in relaying messages,” Mo Yan pressed his lips together.

“In emergencies, information is critical. If the bearer’s will is strong enough, the volume of messages they can transmit is astonishing.

To avoid wasting resources, this item is randomly assigned. Once used, a new user is selected. This time, it happens to have landed with the Fengzhou Investigative Team.

After another internal draw…”

Silence fell over the room.

“But none of this concerns you,” Mo Yan reassured Mu Yu, seeing his uneasy expression. “Members below level 8 don’t participate in the draw. You’re only level 3.”

“Level 3?”

Mu Yu rubbed his face, feeling as if he were back at school—there was more and more he didn’t understand.

“The team uses a strict merit-based ranking system. The number and difficulty of cases you handle are evaluated by specialists.

The higher your rank, the more items you can access, the better your benefits and treatment—and, of course, the greater your responsibilities.

Below level 3 are usually interns; only after handling a case independently do you reach level 3.”

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“Because the hospital incident was so dangerous, you were promoted straight from level 0 to level 3.

Congratulations—you’re now the fastest-rising newcomer on the team.”

Mo Yan’s sly smile made Mu Yu feel somewhat stifled.

That kind of ominous-sounding title was best avoided.

“This D-grade item is actually a benefit for level 3 personnel. You get one per month, and within two years, it can bring someone in suboptimal health up to the standard of a regular athlete.”

Mo Yan pushed the dark blue fruit toward Mu Yu, his expression serious.

“It’s best to eat it here. If you have an adverse reaction, we can respond immediately.”

“Right now?”

Mu Yu had a vague sense of foreboding, but Mo Yan’s confidence was persuasive.

“Shouldn’t I prepare or something?”

“It’s been tested extensively; you can eat it at any time. This is just a precaution.”

Mu Yu picked up the fruit and examined it.

Its color was unlike anything he’d seen—somewhat like a blueberry, but with a deeper, more alluring blue that shone under the light.

It looked so plump and juicy that his mouth watered. He guessed it would taste sweet and tart.

Mu Yu swallowed and brought the fruit to his lips.

Its texture matched its appearance: incredibly springy, almost like a grape but juicier and even more resilient.

The sensation easily surpassed all the fruit Mu Yu had ever eaten—if not for the unbelievably awful flavor.

“Ugh…”

His throat convulsed, no longer from appetite but from an overwhelming urge to vomit.

Mo Yan, prepared for this, clamped a hand over Mu Yu’s mouth to keep him from spitting it out.

“Don’t throw up—the fruit won’t work if you do.”

It took half a minute before Mu Yu recovered, eyes brimming with tears as he pried Mo Yan’s hand away.

The dreadful sensation still lingered in his mouth.

Best not to dwell on it.

He quickly took the water Mo Yan handed him and drank, suppressing the roiling in his stomach.

“Damn it, Mo Yan, did you do that on purpose?”

Mu Yu slumped in his chair, glaring furiously at the young man across from him.

Unfortunately, the tears in his eyes made his attempt at intimidation less than convincing.

“Of course not. I was just worried you’d waste the fruit,” Mo Yan replied, all sincerity, though the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

“All right, enough joking. There are some regular benefits as well.”

Mo Yan finally relented under Mu Yu’s glare and handed him a file folder.

“A base salary of thirty thousand per month, D-grade clearance, and most importantly—

Residence rights for three people.”

Mu Yu set down his water, visibly surprised.

“Thirty thousand? That high?”

Fengzhou wasn’t a top-tier city, with an average salary around five thousand. As a recent graduate, Mu Yu’s internship paid only three thousand.

“The fruit you just ate would sell internally for over half a million.”

Mo Yan looked at him as if he were naïve.

“So I just ate half an apartment in one bite?”

Mu Yu suddenly felt he’d eaten too quickly. No matter how bad it tasted, he should have savored it.

“More than that. That’s just the internal price. If you acquired something like this on your own, you could sell it on the open market.

With effects similar to the fitness fruit, it would fetch at least ten million.”

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“What are you doing?” Mo Yan watched Mu Yu searching the floor in confusion.

“Looking for a trash can—maybe I can spit it out and sell it.”

“Don’t bother; it can’t be regurgitated.”

The fitness fruit begins to work the moment its skin is broken. Even if Mu Yu cut himself open, he’d only find soymilk and a couple of fried dough sticks inside.

“Besides, the organization forbids selling distributed resources externally. You can only sell items you personally obtain during incidents.”

“Oh.”

Disappointed, Mu Yu put down the trash can and returned to his seat.

“No need to be so glum. Even though you weren’t on the team during the last incident, I applied for a bonus on your behalf—about five million.”

“Oh wow, thank you, boss!”

A good leader in times of need—Mo Yan, not so much in between.

Mo Yan couldn’t help but sigh.

“Actually, the residence right is the most valuable part.”

“Residence right?”

Mu Yu was taken aback—the term sounded like something from the last century.

“Every city has designated safe zones, patrolled by personnel from the investigative, medical, and combat teams, and protected by anomalous items.

You can settle three people there—who they are is entirely up to you, and these slots can be freely transferred.”

Mo Yan tactfully mentioned the possibility of transferring these rights, hinting that they could be bought or sold.

In reality, these slots were already trading for over a hundred million in certain circles, though very few ever changed hands.

For team members, money was easy to come by; nothing mattered more than their loved ones’ safety.

Especially since level 8 personnel only had eight slots, and Mo Yan himself had just ten—scarcely enough for his social network.

“What happens if someone dies?”

Mu Yu remembered the bodies he’d seen at the hospital and frowned.

The room fell into a long silence.

Mo Yan stood and gathered the items scattered across the table.

“If you’re not interested in these items, the orientation ends here. Your bonus will be transferred to the card in the file folder once the incident is archived.

The residence certificate for the safe zone is also inside. You can register your chosen residents as soon as possible.”

Mu Yu seemed to understand now and stood as well.

“After death, residence rights last for eighteen years.”

“So, do your best to stay alive.”

As Mu Yu opened the door, Mo Yan called out suddenly.

Mu Yu didn’t look back. He simply closed the door behind him and walked out.

…………………………

“Sigh…”

Mo Yan could understand the organization’s policies. Mu Yu didn’t know that only level 3 personnel actually received residence rights.

Countless tycoons and nobles had spent fortunes and resources to get their heirs into the academy, all for those few residence slots.

But the investment in each level 3 member was staggering—monthly supplies, vast information, and accumulated experience.

The loss of any member above level 3 was a blow the organization could scarcely bear.

The hospital incident had nearly exhausted all of Fengzhou’s reserves from the past twenty years.

The validity period of residence rights was, in a way, an incentive for personnel to preserve themselves during operations.

Eighteen years was enough for their descendants to grow up. If they proved capable, they could join the organization and inherit those rights.

Of course, there were countless flaws in the system, but it was the best the organization could manage for stability in the short term.

After all, the number of slots could never increase.

In the dim lamplight, Mo Yan looked like a statue: cold, beautiful, and motionless.