Chapter 002: Genetic Mutation

Panic was spreading.

New York, Paris, Tokyo... one after another, the world’s great cities were engulfed by the outbreak. The United Nations Health Organization named this new infectious disease "Bestialization Syndrome," issuing an emergency bulletin that added it to the list of illnesses for which involuntary quarantine was permitted.

Nations everywhere scrambled to enact emergency measures, enforcing administrative controls and limiting population movement across regions...

Yet, none of this proved especially effective.

Bestialization Syndrome continued to spread at an alarming, almost unbelievable rate.

Within a single month, global cases exploded to over a billion—one in five people worldwide had contracted the disease.

What began as patient isolation soon overwhelmed hospitals; then detention centers, jails, and eventually even prisons—every institution was overflowing with the sick...

The situation teetered on the brink of total collapse.

Some smaller countries had already lost all control, descending into mass protests and countless violent incidents.

The entire world was in chaos.

But there was a glimmer of hope.

On July 13, 2018, the Celestial Empire’s Capital Center for Disease Control released a new finding.

Clinical features of Bestialization Syndrome: hard scales appear on the skin; in the early stages, patients suffer from high fever, which naturally subsides after fifteen days. No other symptoms or adverse reactions are observed.

In other words, after the fever passes, aside from the emergence of strange scales, no further physical abnormalities occur. In fact, many people become physically stronger as a result.

Of course, some truths were not shared with the public.

Researchers discovered that every individual afflicted by Bestialization Syndrome, without exception, underwent genetic mutation.

...

Two months later, inside a research institute.

Professor Han Yi looked around the meeting room at his colleagues. They were the same people as before, but now almost every researcher bore visible scales on their bodies—including Han Yi himself.

He adjusted his glasses, inadvertently catching sight of his right hand, now covered in scales, and sighed. “I wonder if I’ll ever be able to hold a scalpel again.”

His hand, armored in scales like a gauntlet, felt stiff and unyielding, the palm tough and dry, the fingers losing their former dexterity. For most, it might be a minor inconvenience, but for a surgeon, it was devastating.

Han Yi glanced at Zhou Yirong. “Assistant Zhou, please present our research findings to everyone.”

Zhou Yirong rose. He was one of only two people in the group who had not been infected.

He looked around the room, his voice hoarse: “Colleagues, our research results indicate that the virus responsible for Bestialization Syndrome originated from our own facility...”

“How is that possible?”

“Utter nonsense!”

“Indeed! We always observe sterile procedures before and after each experiment—how could this have happened?”

...

Voices of anger and disbelief echoed through the room. Since joining the research group, they had been virtually under house arrest; no one had left the institute, which was heavily guarded from the outside.

Han Yi cleared his throat. “Does anyone remember where we found those hearts?”

“Are you suggesting there was a problem at the Zhoukoudian site?”

Zhou Yirong nodded. “The first diagnosed patient lived in a neighborhood not far from Zhoukoudian.”

“I see! When we opened the liquid nitrogen tank, the vapor must have volatilized and become the infectious source!”

“How could this be?”

The room fell silent. If this were true, they might have unwittingly become the greatest villains in human history.

Han Yi stood, a stiff smile on his face.

“To be honest, sometimes I feel Bestialization Syndrome isn’t a disease at all, but a form of genetic enhancement. Aside from Assistant Zhou, I suspect most of you have noticed some changes.”

He clenched his right fist. “I feel stronger than ever—my whole body is tougher...”

As he finished speaking, he slammed his fist onto the table before him.

With a dull thud, the table dented, yet Han Yi’s hand remained unscathed.

Zhou Yirong stared in disbelief, but the others seemed unfazed.

Han Yi regarded him thoughtfully, then continued:

“Perhaps, through this incident, we have inadvertently lifted the veil on a mystery of prehistoric civilization. But it also warns us, gravely, how perilous our current project truly is.”

“This time, humanity has undergone a collective genetic mutation. What might happen next?”

“No one can say.”

A researcher raised her hand. Han Yi nodded.

She stood—a striking woman, though half her face was now covered with scales, giving her a frightful appearance.

“Professor, perhaps we should cease this project. I fear the consequences may be more than society can bear.”

Han Yi nodded slightly.

“Our superiors have ordered us to see this experiment through, no matter the obstacles. We must persevere...”

“We have no idea what disasters this genetic mutation may bring, or what challenges lie ahead. Only by continuing our research can we hope to equip ourselves for the unforeseen events the future may hold.”

The woman fell silent and sat down, her face expressionless.

All of this, Zhou Yirong observed in silence.

Ironically, he now realized that his immunity, once seen as a blessing, had become a curse. He had become an outsider—an anomaly.

With no one else speaking, Han Yi looked over at Zhou Yirong.

Zhou nodded and continued reading from his notes: “Of the four astronauts who underwent the final vector experiment, only one survived. As you all know, only this surviving astronaut and I have not contracted Bestialization Syndrome. Therefore, Professor Han suggests that our next phase of research should focus on this point, to determine whether there is any connection.”

As he finished, a chill ran through Zhou Yirong’s heart—a vague sense of foreboding.

As a member of the research team and Professor Han’s assistant, he had access to a wealth of information. From what he knew, only about a dozen people in the capital remained uninfected.

In other words, true humanity was on the verge of extinction!

Almost everyone had been bestialized.

Those few who remained unchanged might very well become pariahs.

Within the research group, Zhou was relatively safe. But what of those still living in society? Would they be targeted by the bestialized majority?

And time would change everything.

For now, he was safe. But as the number of uninfected dwindled, who could guarantee he wouldn’t become a test subject himself?

He was willing to dedicate himself for the sake of research, but what troubled him more was the fear that true humanity might be wiped out forever.

...

That night.

In the depths of the silent night, Zhou Yirong opened his eyes in the darkness, donned his lab coat, and entered the “vector” laboratory.

He tore open a new blood bag, sat in the donation chair, and inserted a needle into his arm.

In just over ten minutes, the 400cc bag was full.

Zhou picked up a pen and labeled it:

Donor: Zhou Yirong.

Blood type: O.

Date: September 13, 2018.

Having finished, he took another blood bag and headed toward the special isolation ward for “vectors.”

Two armed guards stood at the entrance, their eyes uncertain as they watched Zhou approach.

One spoke. “Assistant Zhou, must you really do this?”

With grim determination, Zhou replied, “I am not afraid of death. But people like me are nearly extinct. All of you have mutated; I must find a way to preserve the pure human bloodline.”

The other guard said nothing, but opened the special ward door.

Zhou paused at the threshold.

“I’m not afraid of dying. The research group can do without me. My only fear is that if something unforeseen happens, the world might be destroyed because of it.”

“Assistant Zhou,” said the first guard, “do what you must. There’s no need to justify yourself to us. In our hearts, we have a clear conscience—toward our country and all humanity...”