Chapter 64: Cicada Sheds Its Shell

"Hello, Zhu Ning."

Zhu Ning and Fang Ying had agreed to meet in the family waiting area of the Medical Department.

Fang Ying looked no different from when they first met; her hair was impeccably neat, and she wore the standard uniform of the Cleaning Center.

While Zhu Ning was able to sleep and rest in the observation room, Fang Ying likely lacked that clearance. By the time Zhu Ning woke up, Fang Ying had already been running on a continuous loop for three days, logging over sixty hours of straight overtime.

Zhu Ning cast an extra glance at her today—she wasn't wearing her stud earrings, meaning Prometheus was absent.

Zhu Ning asked, "May I ask what class of citizen you are?"

Because Fang Ying seemed as though she would never grow tired.

Fang Ying replied, "Fourth-class citizen. Cyborg."

Zhu Ning said, "I couldn't tell."

The other cyborgs Zhu Ning had encountered all looked overtly "mechanical," but from her appearance, Fang Ying simply resembled a fiercely capable career woman.

Moreover, she hadn't expected the executive assistant of the entire center to be merely a fourth-class citizen. The Cleaning Center hired without regard for background; they did not discriminate against lower-class humans.

Fang Ying explained, "I have synthetic skin overlaid. If you peel back my scalp, you can see my mechanical skeleton."

Zhu Ning fell silent. "..."

Did people in the wasteland world harbor some kind of obsession with peeling off human scalp bones?

Seeing Zhu Ning's reaction, Fang Ying smiled faintly. "Minister Xuan approved the payout. The forty million new coins have already been deposited into your account. You can check the salary breakdown."

Zhu Ning opened her sub-brain. Glancing only at the balance, she confirmed that she had indeed received forty million new coins.

Observing Zhu Ning's expression, Fang Ying remarked, "You don't seem as happy as you were the first time."

Zhu Ning closed her sub-brain. "The sum is too large; I can't even imagine it."

Zhu Ning had been ecstatic when she received her first paycheck, but now she felt somewhat numb. Once money accumulated to a certain degree, it simply became a string of digits to her.

Especially after experiencing the apocalyptic zombie world where money was utterly useless, looking at this fortune felt entirely devoid of reality.

She thought of the overworked anglerfish, the pig-headed man at the hotpot restaurant who suspected his boss was infected yet stayed solely for the money, Huang Yarong who bought a home with her life savings only to find herself trapped, and the mother-daughter pair of Su Qingqing and Lin Xiaofeng who lacked the funds to flee.

The pollutants she had encountered thus far ultimately boiled down to a single concept: poverty.

Wealth flowed massively upward.

Zhu Ning was merely a high-level wage earner. This money was exchanged for her life; she was simply luckier than others in having the opportunity to trade her life for cash.

Having been through several missions, she increasingly understood why the vast majority of humanity was treated as disposable.

Zhu Ning asked, "By the way, where is Bao Ruiming?"

She was deeply concerned about this question.

When she emerged, she had seen other civilians in the observation corridor, but Bao Ruiming was not among them. The situation back then had been too chaotic, leaving her no time to look around thoroughly.

Shortly after, she was whisked away for inspections, body searches, and interrogations, only finishing the entire protocol just moments ago.

Where had Bao Ruiming gone?

Was he taken by the Cleaning Center for interrogation, or was he never in the Mechanical Aquarium to begin with?

Fang Ying had come specifically to synchronize the situation with Zhu Ning. She handed over her display panel. "You can see for yourself."

Zhu Ning frowned. If things had gone smoothly, there would only be a few possible outcomes. First, Bao Ruiming was captured and was currently either at the Cleaning Center or the Security Bureau.

Second, Bao Ruiming had escaped and remained uncaptured.

Since both of these outcomes were easily described, the fact that Fang Ying hadn't stated the result directly meant it was the third scenario.

Zhu Ning took the panel. This was the action footage from the Dove Team. Their rescue helmet cameras had also been turned on, and a debriefing would follow the mission's conclusion.

After entering the safe zone, Prometheus had acquired permissions for the safe zone's security cameras, thereby piecing together everyone's perspectives.

While Zhu Ning and the Gray Eagle Team were pulling out all the stops to buy time for the Dove Team, the dense crowd of civilians inside the safe zone was packed tightly together. Panic spread, and everyone's nerves were stretched to their absolute breaking point.

Bang!

A loud crash suddenly echoed from outside.

For a moment, the survivors fell dead silent, staring coldly at the safe zone's heavy doors.

The next instant, the doors were violently breached from the outside.

Demon Hunters, clad in full steel combat uniforms radiating a cold gleam, stood waiting at the entrance while wielding heavy weaponry.

The Demon Hunters first constructed a makeshift quarantine zone at the threshold to ensure no stray spores could enter before finally opening the safe zone's doors.

The Dove Team members carried oversized suitcases filled with protective suits. "We are the rescue team. We will now distribute protective suits. Please put them on properly and follow us out in an orderly fashion."

After a second of stagnant disbelief, the crowd inside the safe zone erupted into cheers.

"We're saved!"

"I was scared to death!"

"Damn it, I want to cry."

Emotions surged among the crowd, swinging violently between sheer terror and overwhelming joy, ultimately coalescing into the complex psychological state of surviving a catastrophe.

"How wonderful," the old man said, offering a very gentle smile. "We're saved."

Among the crowd stood a young boy. Unremarkable in appearance, he looked somewhat dazed upon hearing the news. Amidst his profound shock, he glanced up at the old man and finally remembered where he had seen him before.

The curator of the Mechanical Aquarium, a man named Bao Ruiming. The mechanical jellyfish exhibition hall had been his creation.

When the aquarium was on the verge of bankruptcy, Bao Ruiming had built the unprecedented mechanical jellyfish exhibit, single-handedly turning the tide.

The boy's father had always recounted that story to him as the textbook example of a successful entrepreneurial comeback.

While the Dove Team handed out protective suits, Bao Ruiming did not put one on himself right away. Instead, he helped the young boy gear up first.

Ever since he guessed Bao Ruiming's identity, the boy had stood frozen stiff, not daring to move a muscle.

"My dad talked about you," the boy whispered.

"Is that so?" Bao Ruiming lifted the boy's arm.

"Yes," the boy said. "He said you're very rich, very talented, and a once-in-a-generation genius."

Bao Ruiming replied modestly, "That's because I have partners."

A successful enterprise required more than just one person; Bao Ruiming merely stood at the front of the stage.

The boy thought for a moment and asked, "Like the mechanical jellyfish and its mysterious little shepherd fish?"

"Right." Bao Ruiming zipped up the boy's jacket. "I hope you find your own little shepherd fish."

The little shepherd fish would lure the prey in, and then the jellyfish would kill it.

They would work in tandem to construct a flawless trap—and this place was the trap.

"I can do it myself, you should hurry up and put on your protective suit," the boy said sensibly.

"I don't need to wear one." Bao Ruiming pulled the zipper of the boy's protective suit all the way up, covering the boy's face tightly without leaving a single gap.

"Why?" The boy looked up and asked.

"What I needed to do is already done." Having said that, Bao Ruiming withdrew an item from his suit pocket. His movements were so exquisitely graceful that it looked as though he were simply taking out a pair of glasses he kept on his person, leaving the boy completely unable to react in time.

A gun.

The boy's eyes widened, cold sweat pouring down.

Bao Ruiming had produced a firearm.

Such an amiable old man, who looked every bit the cultured intellectual.

Why did he have a gun?

Yet the boy could no longer move; Bao Ruiming snatched him by the collar, dragging his entire body into his embrace.

"He has a gun!" someone nearby screamed. "This man has a gun!"

The crowd was packed tightly together, but at that moment, they scattered instantly, automatically leaving a one-meter-radius clearing around Bao Ruiming.

The leader of the Dove Team, Gong Fan, immediately recognized the danger and pushed through the crowd. "What are you doing? Drop your weapon."

As a professional rescue team that had undertaken numerous missions, the Dove Team knew that people trapped in a safe zone for too long could suffer psychological breakdowns—persecution manias where they believed everyone in the world had mutated, leading to indiscriminate attacks.

However, this was the first time he had ever seen someone use a child as a hostage.

Bao Ruiming stood with his back to the crowd, leaving the rescue team able to see only the back of his head.

The boy did not dare to move a muscle; he had wet his pants.

Peering through the face shield of his protective suit, the boy looked pleadingly at Gong Fan. *Don't give up on me, I'm begging you, don't leave me here.*

Gong Fan aimed his muzzle squarely at the back of Bao Ruiming's head. "I repeat, drop your weapon!"

The boy's voice was hoarse, unable to utter a single word. He looked ahead at the Demon Hunters, whose gun barrels were also pointed directly his way.

It felt as though he were targeted by two guns at once.

"Captain," someone warned, "we're running out of time."

The safe zone's defenses could not hold much longer, and a large number of civilians outside still hadn't donned their protective suits properly. If an incident occurred now, the consequences were more than the Dove Team could bear.

Every minute of a rescue operation was prime time. Dragging this out any longer would result in everyone dying here; they should simply abandon the boy and retreat.

Bao Ruiming had already raised his hand, and everyone thought he was about to execute the child.

Gong Fan reacted with lightning speed and fired instantly. Two firearms discharged two bullets simultaneously.

With a pair of sharp cracks, the bullets pierced through skulls.

One bullet entered the back of Bao Ruiming's head, while the other penetrated his temple.

The boy's scream rang out, his protective suit's faceplate splattered with Bao Ruiming's fresh blood.

The video ended.

The screen reflected Zhu Ning's icy-cold face.

Bao Ruiming... was dead?

Fang Ying stated, "The rescue mission was critical. No one knew in advance that Bao Ruiming was in the safe zone. By the time Prometheus broadcasted the notification, it was already too late. The Dove Team's action was a friendly fire incident, but it was also Bao Ruiming's suicide."

Impossible.

Zhu Ning didn't believe it.

Bao Ruiming was unquestionably the mastermind behind the aquarium. He had orchestrated everything, likely spending years preparing for this exact event.

What was his objective?

Why did he die?

Leaving all these questions unanswered while dying like this was utterly irresponsible.

Zhu Ning took a deep breath and asked as calmly as possible, "Where is the body?"

Fang Ying replied, "It was brought back. It's a mechanical prosthetic body."

A mechanical prosthetic body?

Fang Ying continued, "We don't know where his consciousness is. He may have already uploaded his consciousness to the cloud."

A true cicada shedding its shell.

The technology of the wasteland world could grant human immortality. As long as one uploaded their consciousness to the cloud and the servers remained active, one would never truly die.

Bao Ruiming only needed to switch to another mechanical prosthetic body to live again, and no one would ever know what kind of vessel he had chosen.

He could even choose a woman's body and completely reinvent his identity from that point onward.

Zhu Ning asked, "Can we trace where his uploaded consciousness went?"

Fang Ying answered, "Genesis Technology Corporation provides consciousness upload services."

Zhu Ning pressed, "Then—"

Fang Ying interrupted her, "The Cleaning Center lacks clearance."

Having one's consciousness uploaded into the cloud was something only the ultra-wealthy could afford; the exorbitant service fees amounting to tens of millions each year directly priced out the poor.

And the truly elite upper class were the most terrified of death. Their servers were segregated entirely from those of ordinary wealthy citizens, making it impossible to leak the locations of their personal cloud servers.