Chapter Thirteen: Ruined

Li Daoran skulked furtively around the infirmary, craning his neck and peering into its depths. The entire building was nearly deserted, with few people in sight. Those who passed hurried by, never so much as glancing in his direction; even if he wanted to stop someone for a question, none would pause to acknowledge him. No one seemed to notice the oddness in his behavior.

He had come seeking Liu Meng. Why he couldn’t simply walk in openly, but had to act so surreptitiously, he could not quite explain—perhaps a timidity within his heart, or perhaps the plan Water Blue Star had devised for him left him feeling awkward.

He found the room where he’d received his injection yesterday, and peered through the glass, only to find nothing visible. Resigned, he mustered the courage to knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

No response. Pressing his ear to the door, he heard a gnawing sound, like a mouse chewing on a biscuit—crunching and nibbling.

He knocked again; still, no answer. Li Daoran thought, “Even in this high-tech world, there are mice. Could the gene serum have been eaten by them?” With the righteous mindset of someone catching a mouse for the good of the nation, he swung the door open.

Their eyes met: Liu Meng, caught red-handed, was stealthily snacking. Unlike others who might gobble their food, she preferred holding it in both hands, nibbling away, inevitably spilling crumbs over herself. It was a quirky habit, unknown to others. Normally, no one dared enter her room directly—she’d ignore knocks, and people would either wait outside or leave. Li Daoran was the exception; she had granted him access, as he was her first experimental subject, the so-called guinea pig. She’d forgotten all about that.

Her hand froze, snack in midair. Li Daoran thought she resembled a little squirrel—quite adorable—and stood there, stunned.

Liu Meng’s face gradually flushed, then paled; her brows knitted as she asked coolly, “How long do you intend to stare?”

Li Daoran snapped out of it, pretending he’d seen nothing. He looked around and said, “Oh? I thought there’d be a mouse in the infirmary, but I don’t see one. Strange.”

“Get out.”

“Alright.”

Bang—the door slammed shut.

Li Daoran stood outside, smoothing his chest, thinking, “That was terrifying. She’s fierce; best not provoke her.”

He waited.

After a while, Liu Meng’s voice came through, colder than usual: “Come in.”

Li Daoran gently opened the door and closed it behind him, leaning against the wall—looking very much like a schoolboy who’d done something wrong.

Liu Meng watched him, head lowered and picking at his fingers, and couldn’t help but laugh.

She then lifted one long leg over the other, propped her chin in her hand, and asked, “Why are you here?”

Li Daoran stole a glance up, then quickly looked down. “Master, there’s a demon here,” he thought. “This woman is unpredictable; the ancients didn’t lie.”

“I feel the effect of the drug has faded. I wanted to replenish it,” he said quietly.

Liu Meng stood abruptly, her voice loud: “Impossible.”

She paced back and forth.

“Lie on the bed.”

Li Daoran didn’t try to be clever; he obediently lay down.

Liu Meng took out a small scanning device resembling a massager and began at his head, moving down to his feet, leaving no part unchecked.

When she finished, she frowned at the data displayed.

Li Daoran sat up quietly, trying to see the screen.

Liu Meng shot him a glance. “Do you understand any of this?”

Li Daoran hurriedly shook his head. “No.”

He truly didn’t understand, but it didn’t stop him from looking, since the experts from Water Blue Star were waiting to analyze it later. They might not decipher the text, but surely could glean something from the visuals.

A glimpse was enough—the display was static. He couldn’t memorize it, but in Water Blue Star, they could manipulate, pause, and enlarge the image for study.

“Hmm, you’ve absorbed it all. The rate was astonishingly fast—beyond what I expected—but the efficiency is extremely low, quite wasteful,” Liu Meng said after a moment, putting the scanner away.

Li Daoran grew anxious. Just as the experts had predicted: since he’d absorbed the drug, his growth would inevitably be hindered. If he didn’t demonstrate sufficient value, would he be abandoned?

That wouldn’t do. Even as an ordinary person, he knew the importance of the gene serum for humanity. At this moment, he still considered himself a Water Blue Star citizen, not feeling much affinity for Daoran World. He hastened to say, “Yesterday, I defeated Xiong Shan.”

Liu Meng merely nodded, as if beating Xiong Shan was nothing extraordinary.

“Yesterday, I ran thirty kilometers, then beat Xiong Shan. I feel stronger now. Today’s task is to do seven hundred push-ups in an hour. Without the gene serum, I can’t possibly finish. I’ll be expelled if I fail,” he said, gripping Liu Meng’s shoulders and shaking her.

“Quiet.”

Liu Meng smoothed her disheveled bangs and moved to stand by the window, speaking slowly: “Perhaps my research direction is flawed. Even someone like you has developed dependency—what about the others?”

“Physical fitness isn’t everything, as you showed yesterday when you defeated Xiong Shan. I thought that combining gene serum with intense training would forge both willpower and physique. I believed it would be the foundation of our White Deer Republic, but I didn’t anticipate such strong drug dependence. The gene serum isn’t in unlimited supply; I’ve said before, it’s precious. Leave.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not dependent—I just need it to grow stronger faster,” Li Daoran said, anxious.

Liu Meng turned, fixing her gaze on him. “Then prove it to me.”

Li Daoran calmed himself, speaking gravely: “How do I prove it?”

“Exchange it for merit,” Liu Meng replied without hesitation.

“Alright.” Li Daoran said resolutely, then strode out, feeling himself quite imposing. Only after he’d gone some distance did he realize he had no idea what merit was, or how to earn it.

He wandered aimlessly, head hanging, and eventually found himself back where he’d started.

Xu Xingxing was still doing push-ups, with others counting and cheering beside him.

“Seven hundred fifty-five, seven hundred fifty-six, seven hundred fifty-seven...”

Li Daoran checked his watch; a few minutes remained in the hour. Xu Xingxing had already surpassed the goal, but insisted on reaching eight hundred.

The excitement belonged to them; no one noticed Li Daoran’s arrival, all focused on encouraging Xu Xingxing.

Sweat had soaked the ground beneath Xu Xingxing; his eyes could barely open, yet he continued, grimacing, mechanically pushing through.

Li Daoran knew that even with the gene serum, exercising to exhaustion was an ordeal.

Without a time limit, ten thousand push-ups might be doable, but within a set period, it became a different challenge; no breaks allowed, willpower required.

Yesterday, after running thirty kilometers, Li Daoran had emptied his mind, trudging on until nightfall.

He watched as Xu Xingxing finished, collapsed, and fainted, while those around him cheered and celebrated. Li Daoran slipped away quietly.

At that moment, his thoughts turned to the soldiers who had volunteered to suffer grievous injuries to guide him in martial arts—they too had once been such spirited youths.

Now, he felt as though he had ruined everything.