Chapter 6: The Vanished Life

“Professor, can you hear me?”

Mo Yan showed no concern for the corpse lying in the corridor; he stretched out on the hospital bed that had once been his, and put his earpiece back in.

“Loud and clear, but the only camera in the ward was destroyed. What’s your situation?”

The voice in the earpiece audibly breathed a sigh of relief, hoarse and weighed down by deep exhaustion.

Mo Yan raised his head, glanced at the shattered camera—likely struck by a stray bullet—and saw it was utterly ruined, no longer functional.

“The incident in this room has been—” Mo Yan hesitated, his eyes flicking to the figure rifling through cabinets in the ward, and changed his wording. “It’s been resolved on our end. Has the hospital staff been evacuated? Why hasn’t the support I requested arrived?”

An ominous premonition pressed heavy on his heart.

Since entering this room, every line of communication seemed severed; even with the thunder of gunfire, not a single person had come to check on them.

Mo Yan did not believe his proud team would so obediently follow headquarters’ orders—would they really retreat, knowing their captain was trapped here?

“…I’m sorry.”

The professor stared at the projection, dense surveillance feeds covering every inch of the hospital, and fell silent for a moment.

Mo Yan gripped the bedside rail so hard the veins stood out on his hand, and his wounds—long since dried—began to bleed anew.

“Tell me what’s happening outside. Chart me a route—I’m bringing the target out now.”

“The target… is still alive?”

Surprise filled the professor’s tone. He pulled off his glasses, rubbed them vigorously, then put them back on as if he might see more clearly, his face full of shock.

“Headquarters has already ordered the use of Item No. 3 for this sector. I’ll report in and have Commander Liu coordinate with you directly. The situation is complicated—hold your position.”

The old man, previously so weary, seemed suddenly invigorated, leaping to his feet as if injected with adrenaline.

The staff in the distance, already packing up to evacuate, jumped in surprise, staring at him.

“What are you all looking at? If you’re supposed to evacuate, then evacuate! I’m enough for here!”

The professor’s face flushed with excitement as he kicked aside a file box blocking his way and strode out to the balcony, phone in hand.

The hospital was close—just across a commercial street. From the balcony, its towering sign was visible.

With each dial tone, the professor stared hard at the building, as if it were the gaping maw of some monstrous beast.

Mo Yan, using the handrail for support, forced himself to sit up. Even this simple movement seemed to drain all his strength.

His face was so pale he looked like a corpse; it seemed he might collapse at any moment.

“Hey, boss, don’t move, don’t move! You’re already this injured, why tough it out? Just lie down,” Mu Yu hurried over, propping a pillow behind Mo Yan’s head with a sycophantic grin.

“Boss, take off your shirt—I found some bandages in the medicine box, let me dress your wound.”

Mo Yan shifted, looking for a more comfortable position, hoping to recover his strength faster. He shot Mu Yu a surprised glance.

“You know how to bandage wounds?”

“Come on, boss, with lines like that, no wonder you’re still single. Is it true you don’t have a girlfriend?” Mu Yu carefully snipped Mo Yan’s coat and undershirt open at the shoulder, marveling at how tough his boss was—not a sound, despite the severity of the wound.

“…”

Mo Yan wanted to protest, but remembering he did, in fact, not have a girlfriend, he could only turn his head away in silent, chilly dignity.

“Hiss! You call this knowing how to bandage?!”

The cool, aloof persona shattered in an instant—Mo Yan’s handsome face twisted in pain, sweat pouring down as he clenched his fists.

“Ah, boss, hang in there! Who knows what kind of blade he used—what if it’s poisoned?” Mu Yu, seeing Mo Yan’s fists, quickly set the iodine down.

“Use a cotton swab—ah!”

Mo Yan gritted his teeth, struggling to keep any sound from escaping, but his bloodshot eyes swept like knives over Mu Yu’s hand.

“Double disinfect, double disinfect—just to be safe,” Mu Yu said sheepishly, putting the alcohol down.

…

“Captain Mo, report your current situation.”

Not long after, a middle-aged man’s voice came through the earpiece, crisp and commanding with a soldier’s directness.

“I’m with the target, on the 8th floor, room 8034. We need support,” Mo Yan replied, glancing at the crooked bandage on his shoulder and flexing it—it looked terrible, but at least he could still move.

“And I need an update on my team, as well as the combat squad’s position.”

“All your team members have fallen. We saw them on the cameras—they were shredded…”

“The combat squad lost close to a third of their number entering the hospital. They’ve retreated.”

“There is no support, Captain Mo. I’m sorry.”

The voice paused, as if giving Mo Yan space to adjust.

“I’m fine. Continue,” Mo Yan replied calmly, though blood once again seeped through his bandage.

“The same situation is unfolding across all related regions in Asia. There are mass casualties, and the events are spreading rapidly.”

“But, based on headquarters’ analysis, Fengzhou City saw a large-scale outbreak thirty minutes before anywhere else.”

“And the first awakened appeared in Fengzhou. So, headquarters has decided to deploy Item No. 3.”

“To erase Fengzhou Central Hospital, and everything within a ten-kilometer radius.”

Mo Yan pressed his lips together but said nothing.

As the captain, he had clearance on some of headquarters’ secret items; he’d read the file on Item No. 3—the Sphere of Oblivion, an absolute taboo.

There had once been six red balloons, stored a thousand meters below headquarters. Anyone below the rank of captain wasn’t even aware of their existence.

It was discovered in a small town in the Taklamakan Desert. Once popped, it would erase everything within a ten-kilometer radius—soil, air, microbes—all swept away, leaving only the faint sound of a balloon bursting and nothing else.

The town’s disappearance was only discovered when a group of backpackers, lost in the desert, called for help by satellite phone.

It took immense resources to excavate the remaining box of five red balloons from ten kilometers underground.

Through experiments and the handling of certain incidents, only one remained, sealed and preserved for years as a last resort.

Now, it was being brought out—headquarters had judged this incident unsolvable.

“But transport takes time, and Professor Liu believes acting rashly could cause wider spread.”

“He’s currently on the balcony with a gun, refusing to leave.”

“So headquarters is giving you half an hour—if you don’t succeed, they’ll proceed with the deployment.”

The voice remained cold and unyielding, not pausing for Mo Yan’s silence.

“I’ve volunteered to deliver the item, and it’s been approved. The surrounding residents will be evacuated in five minutes.”

“In 25 minutes, the professor will be forcibly removed with a remote tranquilizer dart.”

“Go do what you must, Mo Yan.”

“Sir, if you do this, won’t your wife break your legs?”

The Sphere of Oblivion was a rare item with simple conditions: it only needed a human to pop it. Anything else—even humanoid machines—would just make it burst like a regular balloon.

“That’ll only happen if I make it back for her to break them,” came the reply.

The mood lightened. Less than thirty minutes remained, yet neither man seemed rushed.

Like old friends reunited after a long separation, they sat and talked of ordinary things.

Watching the faint smile appear on Mo Yan’s face, Mu Yu realized these two, for all their cool professional facades, were far closer than he’d imagined.

“I won’t try to talk you out of it. I know your temper. I’ll handle the rest, sir.”

Mo Yan’s expression was one of deep respect, as if the man with the knife stood before him.

“Haha, I believe in you. Go and do what must be done.”

As the call ended, the hearty laughter faded, and a wry smile crept onto the professor’s honest face.

“Did Yan’er really say that to you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She said if you come back, she’ll definitely break your legs. If you die, she’ll remarry and take your daughter with her—let you be a wandering ghost. She even said she’d dig up your grave.”

The young man in the police uniform spoke with the solemnity of delivering a military report, every word clear and formal.

“Tsk, that’s rough,” the older man muttered, scratching his head in distress.

“Xuebin.”

“Sir!” The young man snapped to attention.

“Don’t be so stiff. This is a personal request. If I die, make sure your teacher’s wife finds a good man. She’s still young, and Nunu is still small—they’ll need someone. I really hope she keeps her word…”

“You’d better go now. There’s not much time. The item will be delivered by drone.”

He looked up at the photos on the big screen.

Black coats, soaked in blood, young faces still holding traces of life’s final moments.

Without exception, their mouths were open—trying, in their last instant, to warn their comrades.

Such vibrant lives, cut down in an ordinary place, sunlight falling quietly on their faces.

Liu Hui closed his eyes, recalling the proud, youthful faces of his students when they first entered the academy.

“If students are sent to charge ahead while the teacher hides behind, it would be a teacher’s lifelong disgrace.”

Peng Xuebin saluted and walked towards the cordon, where crowds of terrified citizens were being hurriedly evacuated.

He couldn’t help looking back, seeing the man who had spent half his life at the academy standing tall and calm, as if about to step into the classroom.