Chapter 27: Wiped Clean

“How many is this now?”
Mu Yu wiped his hands on Ying Qian’s body, his hot breath brushing her face.
Ying Qian’s cheeks flushed unnaturally; she melted against Mu Yu's chest, limp as a serpent.
“Thirty-four, there's still one person who hasn't arrived.”
Mu Yu’s gaze shifted slightly as he glanced at the wall, a smile curling at his lips.
His hand roamed across Ying Qian’s curvaceous form, finally coming to rest on her pale, delicate collarbone.
“Very good. And what about the third-generation seeds you mentioned?”
“Most of them have already blended in among the regular staff. Besides, third-generation seeds don’t have the psychic link ability, so they can't be warned~”
Ying Qian traced Mu Yu’s scars with gentle fingers, raising her head with an enticing air.
From her initial terror to now, a worship of that absolute power burned within her, and she felt an urge she could no longer suppress.
“Once this is over, would you like to…”
“So you’re useless now.”
Ying Qian met Mu Yu’s icy gaze, and the flush drained from her face.
“But you said…”
The rest of her words were swallowed by Mu Yu’s force, fading into the drip of water echoing through the corridor.
“If you hadn’t killed anyone, I might have spared you for your obedience.”
“But you have blood on your hands… so it’s time for you to die.”
Mu Yu bent down, whispering into Ying Qian’s trembling ear, and then flung her into the depths of the corridor.
Her disbelieving face vanished into the darkness, those bewitching eyes still swirling with confusion.
But no one would ever answer her questions.
Mu Yu exhaled slowly, feeling an inexplicable fatigue.
Even though his thoughts had been altered in so many ways, the sensation of life slipping away in his hands still filled him with dread.
Even if these weren’t humans.
Even if the Shadow Clan deserved to die a thousand deaths.
Ying Yi watched this demon-like man close his eyes, not daring to even breathe, let alone consider an ambush.
He turned his head and fled wildly along the shadows.
Even knowing that, within the shadows, no one could harm Mu Yu, Ying Yi still shivered uncontrollably.
The stairwell piled with corpses haunted him, familiar faces twisted in terror at the moment of death, buried in darkness.
Soon, exhausted by prolonged use of his abilities, Ying Yi was forced to stop in a storage room.
Just as humans tire after swimming, the Shadow Clan’s powers also demanded rest and adjustment—though their respite was fleeting at best.
“What kind of monster is he?”
At this moment, Ying Yi dared only to half-emerge from the shadow, gasping for breath.
“That kind of power… can a human really possess it?”
“No.”
He recalled the brief eye contact with Mu Yu—even if it was a coincidence, it made his heart race with fear.
He had to escape; as long as he could get out, he’d find a way to deal with Mu Yu.
Family, friends, colleagues—everyone has a weakness!
Just as Ying Yi was about to sink back into the shadows, the man’s voice rang out cheerfully from outside the door.
“The last one.”
. . .
Mu Yu looked at the storage room, now awash with silvery fluid, and scratched his head a bit awkwardly.
He’d used too much force in preventing the escape; he could only hope the janitor wouldn’t curse him out.
A headless figure slid from the shadows and collapsed on the ground, silver blood oozing from the wound.
Mu Yu stared, a strange dryness in his mouth and a churning in his gut.
“Tch.”
He felt the faint waning of his strength and frowned.
He needed to hurry. Mu Yu could already sense that as his hunger grew, his consciousness was becoming increasingly warped.
He even…
Forcing his gaze away from the storage room, Mu Yu swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth.
. . .
“Chief, isn’t something off here?”
Tang Tianhe scanned their surroundings warily, whispering to Mo Yan.
It was indeed strange—the evacuation was proceeding almost too smoothly. After Mo Yan and his colleagues presented their credentials, streams of people had filed out in perfect order, as if it had all been prearranged.
In years on the investigation team, Tang Tianhe had never seen anything like it.
He watched the calm, orderly crowd with a sheen of cold sweat breaking out along his back.
Mo Yan shot him a glance and nodded subtly, but gave no further orders, standing ramrod straight among the crowd like a javelin—
—an immovable rock in a river’s current.
Seeing this, Tang Tianhe silently retreated to maintain order at the scene.
“Fourth floor.”
A glimmer of worry shone in Mo Yan’s eyes.
With the combat team’s usual style, their silence until now was the most unsettling thing of all.
And then there was Mu Yu, who hadn’t shown himself at all.
If not for the file folder Mu Yu had hidden in the stairwell, Mo Yan would have suspected the call had been faked.
Moreover…
Mo Yan observed the crowd’s uniformly blank faces, lightly tapping his earpiece with his left hand.
“The crowd outside the building is under control. Everyone is being held separately. Maintain the status quo.”
The professor’s voice came through, uncharacteristically grave.
“Paper Kite reports—Combat Team engaged the Shadow Clan on the eighth floor and is now trapped. Ensure your own safety.”
Mo Yan tapped his earpiece twice to acknowledge receipt, his expression darkening further.
The investigation team wasn’t stupid—so many people moving in unison, more orderly than a military unit. What kind of company was this?
A mercenary outfit?
Their only problem was that they couldn’t distinguish between the Shadow Clan and ordinary humans; for now, all they could do was keep things steady.
Once everyone was evacuated and held separately, they’d surely find some clues—there was no other way.
In truth, the Shadow Clan was more anxious than the investigators, a cluster of figures gathered on the fifth floor, their anxiety palpable.
“What do we do? They’ll reach the fifth floor soon, and we still can’t reach the higher-ups?”
Sweat beaded on the brow of the one addressed.
“No luck. The second-generation seeds I know are all missing, and the elders—forget it, I was never high enough to know anything!”
“If worst comes to worst, let’s just blend in. As long as we claim ignorance, they can’t do anything to us.”
One Shadow Clan member spoke with forced optimism.
“What about the Sacred Artifact? If we lose it, we’re all dead!”
“Oh, please. That damned thing is nothing but trouble. We should worry about our own skins first.”
Everyone turned to stare at the speaker, their faces filled with shock.
“Old Zhao, are you serious?”
Old Zhao took a deep drag from his cigarette, grinding the butt underfoot.
“I’m not afraid to tell you now. You’ve noticed a few of our brothers missing lately, haven’t you?”
One Shadow Clan member hesitated, thinking for a moment.
“Little Zhang from our department… it’s been ages since he showed up.”
“I’ve lost a few myself.”
“Me too.”
Others quickly chimed in.
“They’re all dead.”
Old Zhao let out a cold laugh, lighting another cigarette.
A haze of smoke curled up from the butts scattered on the floor.
“No way!”
“Why not?”
Old Zhao snapped back, silencing the one who had spoken out of turn.
“You really think joining the Shadow Clan makes you one of them? We third-generation seeds are nothing but dogs to them—killed or cut up at their whim!”
The restless atmosphere instantly turned cold.
If an employee walked in, they’d be shocked to recognize these people: team leaders from every department, old hands, even a deputy minister.
In truth, these so-called third-generation seeds were all human.

“Do you have proof, Old Zhao? You can’t make claims without evidence.”
Minister Bai glanced at the cigarette butts at Old Zhao’s feet, frowning in disapproval.
He’d always been a loyal defender of the Shadow Clan, unlike the others who had joined under threat or coercion.
He had, upon discovering the Shadow Clan’s existence, actively helped cover for them, even volunteering to join.
To him, the Shadow Clan was his path to the heights of power! Old Zhao’s words cut him to the bone.
“Proof?”
Old Zhao took another fierce drag, blowing smoke straight into Minister Bai’s face, making him cough.
“This is your proof!”
Old Zhao unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a body gaunt as a skeleton, with a golden insect buried deep in his chest.
“What… what is that?”
The others involuntarily stepped back, horror etched on their faces.
“The Sacred Artifact.”
Old Zhao caressed the insect’s hardened shell, a savage gleam in his eyes.
With a sharp shriek, he tore the insect from his chest, leaving a gaping, bloody hole.
“Hah…”
Contrary to what everyone expected, Old Zhao’s face showed relief.
The wretched thing had been sucking his blood all this time—his chain-smoking was nothing but an effort to stave off the pain.
“Here’s one last bit of news for you.”
With trembling hands, Old Zhao took gauze and a wet wipe from his pocket, clearly having planned this for some time, lacking only the opportunity.
And with the Shadow Clan’s annihilation, fate had finally offered him a way out!
“With this bug, not only could I control others, I could see a rough map of the whole company.”
“The Shadow Clan you’ve all been kissing up to—chances are, they’re all dead now!”
“As long as we keep our mouths shut, no one will find out. Remember that!”
Old Zhao shot a contemptuous glance at Minister Bai’s ashen face, tossed the still-struggling insect aside, and walked away.
“…Then it’s settled—no one says a word, or we all go down together!”
“Agreed.”
“Fine.”
After a brief silence, many followed Old Zhao’s lead, preparing to wipe away every trace.
“Minister, let’s go. The Shadow Clan really is finished.”
Someone looked at Minister Bai’s bloodshot eyes and, after a moment’s hesitation, reminded him.
“It’s fine, Xiao Wang, go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”
Minister Bai lifted his head, voice weak.
Xiao Wang sighed, then joined the others heading for the offices.
“Damn! Damn! Damn!”
Once everyone had gone, Minister Bai hammered the wall like a mad gambler, pounding until his knuckles bled before finally stopping, spent.
He’d invested so much, only for those supposed Shadow Clan elites to prove utterly worthless!
Scenes of his own servility replayed in his mind, filling him with restless rage.
“No!”
Visions of fortune, luxury cars, and beautiful women flashed through his mind, finally settling on the cool, aloof face of Ding Yi.
“I can’t lose!”
He stared at the squirming golden insect on the floor, his expression twisted and crazed.
Xiao Wang quickly wiped the computer’s files clean, then sat at his desk, rehearsing how he’d handle questioning later.
“Good afternoon, Minister Bai.”
“Mm, keep up the good work.”
A colleague greeted him warmly from the hallway.
Xiao Wang turned to see Minister Bai walking past, wearing a beaming smile—nothing of the dejection from earlier remained.
“Phew.”
Only then did Xiao Wang relax. After all, if anything happened to one of them, it would spell trouble for them all.
He didn’t notice the slight bulge beneath Minister Bai’s tailored suit, just over his chest.