After Transmigrating, I Raised Cubs in the Insectoid Clan - Chapter 22

Suter’s figure merged completely into the darkness, leaving only those dark green eyes to glimmer in the night like a bottomless, cold pool. He walked through the shadows with composure. With a gentle swipe of his fingertip, the metal casing of the optical computer parted obediently to reveal the precise circuitry within.

Moonlight seeped through the gaps in the curtains, casting a silver line across the table. He picked up the chip that was not supposed to exist. It was as thin as a cicada’s wing, yet it pressed heavily against his fingertip. The edge of the chip glinted with a cold, metallic luster like a poisoned blade.

He easily disassembled Xiao Su’s body, the mechanical joints making a slight clicking sound. He looked down and embedded the chip into the drive slot, replacing the original core. The robot’s optical lens flickered briefly before going dark, as if strangled by an invisible force.

The room became terrifyingly quiet.

The moment the chip was embedded, a ghostly blue glow suddenly lit up the darkness, spreading across the snow-white wall like a cold flame. Amidst the shifting light and shadow, a holographic image of a man slowly emerged. His face was handsome and refined, bearing a seventy percent resemblance to Samuel, yet he possessed an air of detachment and coldness that Samuel did not have.

He wore a high-necked white sweater, and his slender fingers tapped the edge of a bone china teacup. The rising steam blurred his pale lips. Those light colored eyes looked through the virtual barrier with a calm and focused gaze, as if they could pierce through time and space.

“Long time no see, Admiral.”

The voice was so real that it felt as if he were not a piece of data imprisoned in a chip, but a living person sitting there, looking at Suter from across a void.

“Seren,” Suter whispered.

The ghostly blue fluorescence floated in the darkness like a cluster of cold dragon fire, cutting Suter’s face into fragments of light and shadow. Half of his face was bathed in the cold light, making his skin appear almost transparently pale, while the other half sank completely into shadow, blurring his silhouette into chaos. In the junction between light and dark, something seemed to be stirring, ready to break through the wall.

“Long time no see,” Suter replied softly, even though he knew this was a pre-recorded video.

“By the time you see this video, you should have already escaped the massive trouble I left for you,” Seren said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I believe you must have guessed by now where I hid S-47.”

Seren took a slow sip of his hot tea. The steam rose in front of him like a translucent veil, shrouding his face between reality and illusion. He looked as if he were about to drift away from this world.

“Fang Ye has noticed you. They decided long ago that I was a problem, but they were in no hurry to act. For some reason, they have moved early this time. Their true target is me, not you,” Seren continued, his brow furrowing slightly. “Although I learned of this operation in advance from an informant, the time was too short. I could only create a massive explosion or an attack to divert their attention. However, once they fail to find any clues about S-47 on me, their target will naturally shift to you.”

Seren’s eyes glinted with an inorganic, cold light. Although he had the same black pupils as Samuel, they held the cold ruthlessness of a venomous snake. But in the next second, that stern face suddenly broke into a mischievous, childlike smile. “My death is a part of the plan. You do not need to be troubled by it. What you must do is use my death to hide the S-47 reagent. Chief Jiang of the Police Department is an old acquaintance of yours. If necessary, you can seek help from him. Though,” he chuckled lightly, “he is currently overwhelmed because of that certain person from Fang Ye.”

The screen suddenly froze. Seren buried half of his face deep in the folds of his white sweater, an action that made him look more vulnerable than ever before. His pale fingers unconsciously rubbed the ruby ring on his hand. Having worked with him for years, Suter knew his small habits. When Seren started to rub that ruby ring, it meant he was thinking.

After a moment, Seren took off the ruby ring. The image began to fluctuate violently. The ruby refracted abnormal, blood-colored spots in the virtual light, casting web-like red cracks onto the wall. Suter watched his movements with lowered eyes.

“Admiral, I have never asked you for anything,” Seren’s voice suddenly became distorted. “But when a man is about to die, he always finds something in this world to miss.”

The moment the ring turned in his palm, the projection lost all color. Suter saw Seren’s lips move in the black and white image. The man who was always in control now had fingertips that were trembling slightly.

“Give this ring to Lucian. Tell him not to wait for me anymore.”

The moment those words were spoken, the video ended, and the living room fell back into darkness.

The darkness returned so suddenly it felt as if an invisible hand had snuffed out the light source. Suter stood still for a moment, then walked slowly to the floor to ceiling window and gripped the heavy velvet curtains. The fabric made a rustling sound like a creature moving restlessly in the dark. He yanked them open.

Moonlight poured in like a silver flood, instantly drowning the living room. The full moon hung in the pitch black sky, piercingly cold like an eye without warmth, silently watching the world. His palm pressed against the cold glass, and the moonlight made his skin appear a strange bluish-gray. The cold wind outside let out a sharp wail, and the window vibrated as if countless vengeful spirits were scratching the transparent barrier with their nails.

“Heh,” Suter breathed. The chill beneath his fingertips traveled through his veins straight to his heart. At that moment, he could not tell if he was standing by the window staring into hell, or if hell was staring back at him through the glass.

“Where is it?”

Pain, like a poisoned spike, chiseled into his spiritual sea inch by inch. His vision began to distort, and colors melted on his retina like a child’s messy watercolor painting.

“Where is the reagent? This meeting was meant to transfer it, was it not?” the interrogator’s voice drifted in and out. “Admiral, you know better than I do the punishment for killing a male insect. You had better think carefully before you answer.”

The cold edge of the metal table pressed against Suter’s ribs, and sweat dripped down his tightened jawline. He could smell the foul pheromones in the air mixed with the metallic scent of blood.

“If you do not cooperate, I have a hundred ways to make you talk before reinforcements arrive,” the voice said.

Suter suddenly laughed. The sound was so light it was almost gentle, yet it caused the temperature in the interrogation room to drop to freezing.

“Is that so? Only a hundred ways?” His tone was almost mocking.

A sharp slap landed on Suter’s face. His head snapped to the side, and his silver hair fell messily over his eyes. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, leaving a striking red mark on his pale skin. Suter slowly turned his head back and pressed his tongue against his split lip. He continued to smile.

The air in the interrogation room solidified. In the next instant, veins bulged on his arms as his muscles tightened to their limit. The restraints let out a groan of tearing fabric before the metal buckles snapped off one by one, hitting the wall with deep thuds.

He stood up shakily. His knees trembled from the intense pain, but he did not bend. “Interesting,” he whispered, wiping the blood from his mouth with his thumb. He looked at the crimson on his fingertip, and his gaze grew dangerous.

Then, a sharp crack sounded.

The inhibitor ring around his neck cracked like a spiderweb and crumbled into dust. Massive silver wings suddenly unfurled, their metallic luster reflecting a cold light in the dim room. Every feather was as sharp as a blade, and their gentle movement brought a chilling intent to kill.

The air felt frozen by this sudden pressure. Suter tilted his head, his silver wings spreading slowly behind him to cast a shadow over the entire room.

“You disguised yourselves well, and you used every method available. You tried to forge an environment and use pheromones to make me speak without realizing it. It was indeed a clever technique,” he said. His voice was so gentle it was hair raising. “Now, it is my turn.”

The interrogator staggered back, knocking over the equipment behind him. The alarm wailed sharply, and red light pulsed against his pale face.

“Impossible!” he stammered, reaching for the communicator at his waist. “We injected three units! Quickly! Notify the headquarters!”

A flash of silver light crossed the room. The communicator, along with three of the man’s fingers, fell to the floor.

“Asking for help?” Suter gripped the man’s throat and lifted him off the ground. His dark green pupils had contracted into dangerous slits, glowing with the cold light of a predator. “If asking for help worked, why would we need the police department?”

The sound of shattering bone rang out clearly. Suter let go, watching the limp body slide to the floor. “If I lose my job as an undercover agent, that would not do, would it?”

Blood sprayed across the silver-gray metal wall like spilled ink, creating strange patterns on the smooth surface. Those eyes that had once stared in terror were now bloodshot, frozen in a look of disbelief at the final moment of death.

From the corner, the sound of teeth chattering could be heard. Another “interrogator” curled into the corner like a frightened animal, a dark stain spreading across his trousers.

Suter casually bent over and picked up the syringe that glinted coldly. The mental shock left his vision filled with noise, but he could still make out the faded letters on the label: Ω-9. It was a military-grade neurotoxin; three milliliters were enough to turn an adult female insect into a cripple.

His vision was filled with distorted blocks of color, as the neurotoxin turned the world into an abstract oil painting. However, the trembling outlines of the people remained clear. Suter walked slowly to the corner, his boots making a sticky sound as he stepped through the pool of blood.

As he crouched down, the metallic sound of his silver wings retracting made the male insect shudder. Suter reached out and casually brushed his fingertip over the fake insect markings on the man’s neck. The low-quality pigment smeared immediately, revealing the pale skin beneath.

“Who sent you?” Suter asked, letting out a cheerful whistle as if he were teasing a bird in a cage.

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