TIC Chapter 65

 Chapter 65

“Perhaps I’ve been sleeping too much lately.”

Leaning back against the pillows, Xiao Yan found that simply sensing the other man’s presence like this was infinitely more pleasant than enduring his nightmares.

“Fear stems, for the most part, from the unknown.”

The man on the sofa finally rose to his feet. Xiao Yan could hear his footsteps drawing closer—each step seeming to land directly upon the rhythm of his own beating heart.

“You dwell too much on possibilities that have yet to occur; doing so only serves to destabilize you, leaving you all the more anxious.”

Xiao Yan’s heart seemed to sink as he felt the weight of Hein sitting down gently on the edge of the bed.

“Go to sleep.”

The tone of his voice was as cold as ever, yet Xiao Yan found himself under the strange illusion that he was being gently coaxed.

He wished for Hein to remain right there, at this closest possible proximity to him—never to leave. As if sensing his unspoken desire, Hein lay down beside him. Hein’s soft hair brushed against Xiao Yan’s ear; that fleeting touch, gone in an instant, caused Xiao Yan’s heart to race inexplicably. Hein’s fingers gently toyed with strands of Xiao Yan’s hair, then softly stroked his temple; instinctively, Xiao Yan leaned closer toward him. Hein’s arm reached around his neck, his hand gently cupping the back of Xiao Yan’s head, drawing him close against his own body.

The next morning, when Xiao Yan awoke, he realized it was already nearing noon; his electronic alarm clock had failed to ring. As he turned onto his side, the very first thing he saw was Hein. The fluid, elegant contours of his features compelled Xiao Yan to part his lips and let out a soft, involuntary gasp of admiration.

His hair lay draped naturally across the pillow, and beneath his delicate eyelids, it seemed as though one could glimpse the very depths of his gaze.

Xiao Yan gazed upon him with rapt intensity until, slowly, those eyes began to open—and in that instant, a world of pure, crystalline clarity seemed to burst into existence right before Xiao Yan’s eyes.

His breath caught in his throat as Xiao Yan stared, transfixed, into those icy-blue depths.

“You should get up and wash up, or you’ll miss lunch.”

Hein rose with swift, decisive movements; in an instant, those moments of gentle intimacy vanished, receding as if they had been nothing more than a dream.

All that remained for Xiao Yan to see was the elegant nape of his neck and the taut, powerful lines of his back.

The dining hall was bustling with activity that day—particularly as Xiao Yan walked in, for he could distinctly feel the weight of countless gazes converging upon him. Take, for instance, the researchers’ looks of sheer astonishment; after all, this was a project where even the renowned "genius" Casey had failed to achieve a breakthrough—yet Xiao Yan had somehow made it possible. And to think that Xiao Yan had once been a completely obscure Class B cadet, and was currently nothing more than an ordinary Second Lieutenant.

Then there were the Special Forces soldiers; they scrutinized Xiao Yan intently, for the development of X-2 meant that the progression of the X-virus ravaging their bodies would be slowed—perhaps even offering them the chance to enjoy a normal human lifespan.

As for the Special Forces veterans who had once trained Xiao Yan—such as Mark and Wynn—their gazes remained as familiar as ever, tinged even with a hint of jubilant excitement.

Mark waved his fork with exaggerated flair, acting as if he were about to flip the entire table over if Xiao Yan didn't come sit with them.

No sooner had Xiao Yan taken his seat than someone placed a meal tray right beside him—it was Casey, wearing a stony expression.

"Casey..."

Casey said nothing; instead, he jabbed his fork forcefully into a potato, stuffed the morsel into his mouth, and chewed with such vigor that his bulging cheeks made him look just like a frog.

Amused, Xiao Yan reached out to playfully poke his cheek, but Casey merely let out a huffy "Hmph" and turned his head away.

Watching Casey display such childish behavior, Mark and Wynn couldn't help but exchange a knowing smile. After all, it wasn't every day one got to witness Lieutenant Colonel Casey acting so petulantly.

"Still mad? How about I treat you to some popcorn?"

"No."

It was abundantly clear that Casey was fishing for Xiao Yan to coax him—otherwise, he wouldn't have bothered bringing his tray over to sit right next to him.

Xiao Yan scratched the back of his head and glanced over at Wynn, who was barely suppressing a laugh.

"Look, Casey... I offer you my sincerest apologies."

"Apologies for what?"

"As both a friend and a superior officer, I shouldn't have kept my research findings from you."

Casey maintained his stony expression; the longer Xiao Yan looked at him, the more he felt like he himself had turned into one of those potatoes on the tray.

"And here I was, acting like a complete fool, discussing virus research with you! You... you even went all the way to Antarctica!"

In that instant, Xiao Yan was overcome with a profound sense of guilt. Upon returning to the Shire, Xiao Yan learned that Lieutenant General Averell had originally intended to dispatch Casey to Antarctica; it was Major General Gordon and Hein who had chosen him instead.

The tip of Casey’s nose turned red—a sight that struck Xiao Yan as both pitiful and adorable, making him yearn to pull Casey into his arms and give him a good squeeze.

"From now on, I’ll conduct my research with you openly and aboveboard."

"Are you out of your mind? Right now, you’re required to complete *all* your research independently! How on earth are we supposed to work together? If I turned out to be a bad guy, I’d have full access to every single one of the half-baked ideas rattling around in that thick skull of yours!" Casey was practically itching to reach out and give Xiao Yan’s face a hard pinch.

"We don't have to use the terminals! I can still talk to you, can't I?"

Xiao Yan hurriedly tried to butter him up by sliding the veal from his own tray onto Casey’s.

Mark and Wynn laughed even harder.

"You two really ought to just get married," Mark said, winking suggestively.

Wynn cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and adopted a mock-mystical air: "I vow to share everything with you—be it potatoes, beef, research findings, or any other trivial details of my life."

"Including pooping and farting," Mark added with deadpan seriousness.

Xiao Yan glared at Mark, but beside him, Casey burst into laughter.

"Hahaha... *You guys* are the ones who have to share your pooping and farting with him! I’m certainly not the one assigned to supervise him!"

Xiao Yan’s neck went rigid. Hein sat down across from him, tray in hand, and began to eat with impeccable elegance; though he clearly sensed Xiao Yan’s gaze upon him, he did not once look up.

"Lieutenant General Averell has issued a directive: researchers are strictly forbidden from discussing their respective research projects with one another—including progress, specific details, and data," Hein stated coldly. Instantly, the playful atmosphere in the cafeteria fell silent.

Ten minutes later, Hein’s tray was empty. The movement of his long, slender fingers as he set down his knife and fork was graceful and refined, yet Xiao Yan felt an inexplicable sense of pressure radiating from him.

Xiao Yan involuntarily lowered his head and went back to eating his dinner, stealing a glance at Casey out of the corner of his eye. Sure enough, the guy was wearing a distinctly disgruntled expression.

It couldn't be helped; when it came to military rank, Hein still outranked Casey by one grade. Hein did not rise; instead, he remained seated where he was, waiting for Xiao Yan to finish his meal.

Under the table, Casey stomped hard on Xiao Yan’s foot. Xiao Yan wanted to howl in pain, but he could only stuff more food into his mouth to barely stifle the urge. He understood exactly what Casey was angry about: when Hein had declared that they were forbidden from communicating with one another, Xiao Yan hadn't offered a single word of protest.

Xiao Yan freed one hand and nudged Casey, but the other man simply refused to lift his foot.

The next moment, Xiao Yan felt something kick Casey’s calf away; his foot was finally liberated. Sometimes, Casey could be as childish as a little kid—utterly exasperating.

Xiao Yan assumed it was Wynn—after all, Mark would never notice what was going on under the table—but Wynn was actually playfully punching Mark on the shoulder, appearing to be in the middle of discussing something amusing.

It wasn't Wynn or Mark... Xiao Yan turned his head toward Hein. He was the only one seated directly across from Casey, and at that moment, his indifferent gaze was fixed upon Casey’s forehead—a stare so oppressive that Casey couldn't even bring himself to look up.

"Um... I'm finished eating. I'm heading to the lab now... I slept in a bit too late today—haha—so I need to get back to the lab and catch up on my work!"

Under the table, Xiao Yan gave Casey’s fingers a reassuring squeeze before standing up.

Hein, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, rose and followed Xiao Yan out. Xiao Yan turned back to glance in Casey’s direction; truth be told, he really wished he could be conducting research alongside Casey—the progress and results would surely have been nothing short of revolutionary.

Once Xiao Yan had departed, Casey cleared away his own dishes, leaving only Mark and Wynn behind to exchange a knowing glance.

"Lieutenant Colonel Casey... knowing that Xiao Yan has gone to Antarctica, his position must feel rather awkward right now, wouldn't you agree?" Wynn rested his chin in his hand.

"You mean a genius got his research opportunity snatched away by a rookie?" Mark asked, looking utterly bewildered.

"I just find it curious: given that his intellect is supposedly superior to Xiao Yan’s, why has there been absolutely no progress on the X-2 project since his promotion to Lieutenant Colonel? Perhaps he needs the opportunity for scientific research in Antarctica even more than Xiao Yan does—as a way to prove his own capabilities." Wynn let out a soft chuckle.

"Even a genius is bound to hit a bottleneck every now and then," Mark remarked nonchalantly, scratching his head. Upon returning to the laboratory, Xiao Yan had completely lost all interest in researching the virus.

For he knew that the moment he connected to a terminal, he risked facing an intrusion by the "Blocker."

Whenever he thought about his own thoughts and ideas being constantly siphoned away by the adversary—his very mental architecture being systematically dismantled—and how, in his panic, he had been utterly powerless to resist, he felt nothing but lingering dread and sheer terror.

For several days running, although Xiao Yan sat in the research lab, he did little more than review various data streams displayed on holographic screens or input code for utterly meaningless experiments. Hein sat directly across from him, and Xiao Yan knew that Hein had seen right through him.

Yet, Hein did not utter a single word.

A week later, Hein departed to attend a joint conference between the Special Task Force and the Central Academy of Sciences. This marked the first time Hein had not been by his side since the intrusion into his mind.

Sitting in silence within the lab—despite knowing that half a squad of special forces soldiers remained stationed outside the door to guard him—Xiao Yan felt an inexplicable sense of unease.

Every passing second was sheer torment.

The silence in the lab was terrifying. Xiao Yan activated every holographic display, allowing the system to run through aimless calculations, yet he himself found it impossible to truly focus his thoughts.

The lab door slid open. Xiao Yan tensed up instinctively, but as he turned around, his eyes met those of Hein—immaculate in his crisp military uniform. His agitated, anxious heart instantly found its calm.

Xiao Yan let out a silent breath of relief.

Standing behind Hein was Mark. The hulking figure tugged uncomfortably at his collar, appearing thoroughly ill at ease in the military-issue uniform. Indeed, Xiao Yan had to admit that Mark was far better suited to combat gear; seeing him in the formal uniform was akin to dressing a gorilla in a little girl's frilly frock.

"Hey! Xiao Yan! Haven't seen you all morning—miss me much?"

Mark strode over. He raised a hand to clap Xiao Yan on the shoulder, but then seemed to recall that this "useless" researcher—without a dose of X-2 coursing through his veins—could never withstand the force of his grip. Instead, he merely gave Xiao Yan's shoulder a gentle rub—a gesture that looked comical no matter how one viewed it.

"Colonel Burton."

His taut nerves slowly began to unwind, and a sense of anticipation began to rise within him. "Mm." Hein gave a slight nod. The trousers of his military uniform fit perfectly and possessed a rich texture, accentuating Hein’s long legs—legs that held a latent power—with an almost artistic aesthetic beauty. His stiff, upright collar seemed to suppress every impulse and desire; his glossy epaulets and decorative sash draped naturally from his right shoulder in a graceful arc, connecting to the front of his tunic with an air of elegant propriety. A cinched black leather belt perfectly outlined Hein’s waistline.

Had it not been for his attendance at a critical military conference, Xiao Yan might never—not even in a lifetime—have had the opportunity to see Hein clad in his full dress uniform.

He found himself unable to look away from Hein, gazing at him with an intensity he could not control—as if, were he to shift his gaze even slightly, the figure of Hein standing before him would simply vanish.

Hein’s fingers moved deftly across the holographic interface, inputting a sequence of code; instantly, all the screens around them went dark. "You haven't connected to the terminal a single time this past week."

"..."

The moment had finally arrived—just as expected, Hein was not about to simply let him be.

"This is your instinct for self-preservation; your brain has identified the source of the danger and is executing an avoidance protocol."

Hein took a seat across from Xiao Yan. As he crossed his legs, a certain commanding presence seemed to ripple through the still air, penetrating deep into Xiao Yan’s mind.

"To ensure that your research may continue uninterrupted, I have been ordered to enter your mind and provide you with real-time protection. I will remain stationed at the periphery of your consciousness; no 'Blocker' attempting to invade your mind will be able to bypass me. However, I must warn you: this undertaking demands your absolute trust."

This, then, was the decision reached by Major General Gordon and Lieutenant General Averell.

Xiao Yan raised his head to look at Hein. The expression on the other man’s face remained as aloof and unapproachable as ever; the high, tight collar and crisp lines of his uniform seemed to hold Hein’s every thought in rigid confinement—leaving one to wonder what sort of fissure might ever offer a glimpse into the depths of his inner world. Yet, Xiao Yan had always felt that Hein’s eyes were truly beautiful—the sole conduit through which this self-disciplined, austere vessel could communicate its thoughts. They were the eyes Xiao Yan trusted above all else. “I understand, Colonel.”

“Aside from that, you must master one specific skill: how to resist ‘Blockers’.”

“...Really? I can learn that? Who will teach me?”

Xiao Yan’s eyes widened, instantly lighting up with anticipation. In his view, learning to resist a Blocker’s intrusion was far more practical than engaging in any brain-racking research! Rather than living in constant anxiety, it was better to learn how to cope!

Mark couldn’t help but chuckle. “Aha, that’s quite a straightforward reaction. You realize, of course, that training your brain to resist Blockers isn’t exactly easy; it involves a direct mental interface between a mentor and their student. Your brain is—well, *special*; your neural interface speed is even faster than Colonel Shen Bing’s!”

Xiao Yan fell silent. He certainly wasn’t about to let just anyone go poking around inside his head. In fact, the more skilled a person was at dealing with Blockers, the more dangerous they were to him—precisely because they would know just how effortless it would be to extract any information from his mind.

Therefore, aside from the protective neural perimeter Hein had already established around his mind, Hein was the *only* person capable of teaching him.

“Mark, *you* teach him.”

“...” Xiao Yan was stunned.

Why Mark?

Xiao Yan’s disappointment was written all over his face.

The guy looked like a total brute. Although Xiao Yan had seen him interface with a terminal to pilot a flight craft before, when it came to this specific discipline—the delicate art of mental interfacing—Xiao Yan simply didn’t trust Mark to be reliable.

“To learn how to resist a ‘Blocker,’ you must first learn to *become* one yourself. You will attempt to access Mark’s mind, and Mark will attempt to block you.”

It suddenly clicked for Xiao Yan; that approach was indeed far more useful than spouting a bunch of empty theoretical concepts.

Mark, however, wore an expression of utter horror.

“No way! Absolutely not! I forbid *anyone* from entering my mind! Especially not this rookie—he has zero experience! He’ll just end up scrambling my brains!”

“That is an order.”

“...Boss, just put me out of my misery already...”

The sight of Mark backing away, step by step, looked comical no matter how you looked at it.

“Mark... don’t tell me you’ve got some dirty little secrets you’re afraid I’ll stumble upon?”

No sooner had Xiao Yan finished speaking than a suspicious blush crept across Mark’s face.

“Th-that’s none of your business! The bottom line is: nobody—and I mean *nobody*—is getting inside my head!”

“Then access *mine*.”

As soon as the words left Hein’s lips, not only was Mark left dumbfounded—but Xiao Yan was, too. “Boss... what did you just say?” Mark looked utterly flabbergasted, pointing at Xiao Yan as he asked, “You’re letting this rookie go inside your head?”

“Once you enter my mind, your objective is to locate a specific piece of information. Xiao Yan, you will pose a question to me; I will formulate the answer, and your mission—the very purpose of your intrusion into my mind—is to steal that answer.”

Xiao Yan still hadn't fully recovered from the sheer shock of the idea: *entering Hein Burton’s brain*.

All his life, it had seemed as though nothing in the world had ever truly registered in this man’s eyes—yet now, Xiao Yan actually had the chance to catch a glimpse of *his* world?

What would he see?

No—this was Hein Burton, after all. Anything he did not wish for Xiao Yan to see, Xiao Yan wouldn't even have the opportunity to touch.

But Xiao Yan knew this much: only by following this man could he truly become strong.

“What kind of question?”

Xiao Yan had heard the stories: before the age of seventeen, Hein had once been an A-level cadet at the Central Academy of Sciences. Just when everyone assumed he was destined for a meteoric rise in the field of research, he had resolutely cast everything aside to join the Special Missions Force.

“Any question.”

Xiao Yan thought for a moment, then devised an extremely complex theoretical problem involving physics, chemistry, and highly advanced mathematical functions. Solving such a problem using a terminal would be a swift process; the true challenge lay in how Hein would manage to conceal the answer.

Hein closed his eyes and donned the neural interface device.

Xiao Yan sat opposite him, his heart pounding with tension. To allow another person access to one’s own brain—this man possessed absolute confidence in his ability to conceal the thoughts buried within his subconscious.

“Terminal connected. Neural calibration in progress.”

The system’s dispassionate voice sounded in his ears.

Xiao Yan’s consciousness...

The path surged wildly; he sped headlong through a corridor of constantly shifting angles, with no time to gauge his bearings or decide which way to turn. It was a colossal labyrinth—the passageways narrowing relentlessly, threatening to crush him at any moment.

A sense of dread welled up within him. Even knowing that Hein would never intentionally harm him, if he felt such fear merely facing his *guide*, Xiao Yan realized he would be utterly defenseless against a true member of the "Surge" organization. His sole focus now had to be on how to blast his way *out* of this maze! If he continued to follow the path Hein had constructed for him, his ultimate destination would inevitably be the very trap Hein had deliberately lured him toward.

Rather than following the road Hein had built, he would carve his own path!

With a sudden, violent thrust, Xiao Yan pierced through the barriers of the corridor; shattering layer after layer of confinement, he burst out of the tunnel-maze and into the open. He found himself in a space of absolute darkness; Xiao Yan knew he had not yet reached the core of Hein’s mind—the man had hermetically sealed him off, trapping him within the outermost fringes of his consciousness.

What was needed now was composure; a blind, headlong charge would only grant his adversary an opening to counterattack.

Most critically, Hein had employed this method to disorient Xiao Yan completely. With no reference points and no sensation of gravity, Xiao Yan—lost within this purely mental space—had absolutely no idea in which direction lay the path into the depths of his opponent's mind.

In an instant, Xiao Yan dispersed his consciousness. Thought is formless; it is never a static, monolithic entity, but rather like a flowing current that can spread and diffuse into every corner. Expanding outward ceaselessly—like an ever-inflating universe—Xiao Yan finally pinpointed his objective; swiftly gathering his scattered essence, he surged forward in that direction.

Then, an overwhelming deluge of prismatic mirrors bore down upon him. It was as if he had stepped into a kaleidoscope—a world of bizarre, shifting light and color—where his path forward was once again obstructed, leaving him utterly disoriented.

For every prism Xiao Yan shattered, countless others fractured into existence, swarming around him to encircle and sever every connection he possessed. Even when he attempted to scatter his consciousness in different directions, the shards of those prisms seemed to embed themselves deep within his very essence—clinging to him like a shadow, impossible to shake off.

Just as Xiao Yan’s strength gave out and he could hold on no longer, a figure emerged from the darkness before him, approaching with a graceful, measured tread.

Drained of all energy, Xiao Yan collapsed—falling directly into Hein’s waiting arms. “Xiao Yan, if I were your enemy, you would have been terminated by now.”

“Terminated...”

Xiao Yan felt exhausted. So be it—let him be terminated; this was merely a training exercise, after all... He couldn't possibly become a master like Hein overnight...

“You need a lesson.”

Hein’s voice was icy, yet there was a hint of softness in its tone.

His hand slid slowly up Xiao Yan’s neck, cupped the back of his head, and, in an instant, captured his lips. It was a kiss charged with murderous intent; Xiao Yan struggled in terror. This invasion—frenzied to the absolute extreme—seemed intent on stifling Xiao Yan’s very existence.

This was a scenario he had never, in his wildest dreams, imagined. The other man’s fingers felt as though they were digging deep beneath his very flesh.

Xiao Yan tried to withdraw, to dissolve his physical form, but it felt as though he were imprisoned within this very shell—forced to endure it all.

“Did you really think I wouldn't hurt you?”

Xiao Yan finally understood the true nature of Hein’s prison: it wasn't some metaphorical labyrinth, but rather this very body of his own. Unless he could free his mind, he could never escape this place.

Everything spiraled out of control. He was pinned ruthlessly beneath the other man; his neck was twisted back at an unnatural angle, forcing him to submit to Hein’s all-consuming kiss. His body was breached—invaded with a brazen, unbridled force that brought him to the brink of collapse. The frenzied thrusts penetrated without reservation into the deepest recesses of his being; Xiao Yan gasped for breath, the pain becoming unbearable—the sheer force of the impact felt as though it might shatter him into a thousand pieces at any moment.

“If you don't want this, then leave.”

Hein’s voice was cold—devoid of even the slightest trace of emotion. His eyes, too, betrayed no sign of desire seeking release; it was as if this entire ordeal were nothing more than an act of torture inflicted upon Xiao Yan.

Xiao Yan tried to flee, but the moment he managed to create even the slightest distance, he was slammed back down with even greater ruthlessness—each time more violently than the last.

He had been beguiled by Hein’s earlier gentleness, completely forgetting the cruel, ruthless side of Hein Burton!