The Creature Keeper - Chapter 11

Under the respectful actions of the armed personnel, Professor Xu walked in expressionlessly. Unable to hold back, Tang Rou called out to his back, “Professor Xu, I am the Feeder for Experimental Subject Number 17 in this round. I can help him successfully pass the Division Test.”

However, the professor didn’t even glance at her. A host of testing staff followed behind him as he walked straight in.

Just as the legends said-he regarded no one.

Once again, the hatch to the experiment area closed in front of Tang Rou.

On the wall outside, the massive 8K-QLED screen displayed the ever-increasing experiment level. By now, many people had gathered around the screen, watching it with curiosity. They were all senior engineers from Sector S, seemingly intrigued.

“A Zone A Experimental Subject is advancing in the experiment?”

“That’s rare. Has a Zone A Experimental Subject evolved?”

“I heard that not long ago, another Experimental Subject from Zone A advanced. I think it was a mutated blue-bottle Jellyfish.”

They chatted excitedly, unaware that the young woman standing beside them was the Feeder for both of the Experimental Subjects they spoke of.

After the first phase of the Division Experiment ended, the Half-Octopus Youth showed no signs of damage. At the engineers’ signal, they began to continuously raise the attack level against him.

Sharp laser weapons fired erratic beams of light. He dodged most of them; when one hit him, the wounds regenerated rapidly, healing almost instantly.

After the second phase of the cutting experiment, explosives were activated. The entire observation area was shrouded in smoke amid a frenzy of flashing lights, making it almost impossible to see what was happening inside.

Through the screen, the testers used infrared imaging to observe the youth swiftly evading, sustaining far less damage than expected.

“Amazing,” they remarked, puzzled as to why he had originally been classified in Zone A. It made no sense.

Someone beside them commented, “It seems he underwent self-mutation.”

“Self-mutation? Does that really exist?”

They vaguely recalled that not long ago, another Zone A creature had self-mutated-a Jellyfish, if memory served. How incredible.

The third phase began: the release of potent toxins.

While quickly evading the venom, the Half-Octopus Youth inadvertently brushed several tentacles against it. The tainted limbs blackened and decayed rapidly. At the critical moment, this highly intelligent being severed his own tentacles to escape the poison’s effects.

His movements slowed significantly, and his regeneration rate dropped.

For the first time, a yellow warning appeared on the screen.

“Incredible. He’s survived so many rounds before a life warning appeared.”

“He’s really strong.”

They did not withhold their praise for him.

At this moment, Professor Xu, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke. “Increase it-up by three levels.”

The bioengineers obediently deployed weapons at a higher dose, watching the Half-Octopus Youth. This time, the injuries were obvious: under the yellow warning, the endangered octopus darted about frantically, losing many of his limbs.

His vital signs continued to drop, as if a game character was about to lose the last of their HP and face death.

Fortunately, he didn’t die.

The engineers began to prepare medicine, and the testers got ready to end the test.

Yet Professor Xu spoke again, “Increase it further.”

This time, the engineers hesitated. “If we increase it again, he might die.”

But the middle-aged professor’s face remained expressionless as he issued the command.

“Increase it. Raise it by three more levels.”

The researchers exchanged glances-there was nothing left to do but obey.

The violence escalated once more.

This round of attacks was truly overwhelming, leaving almost no chance of survival for the creature in the test area.

For those in power, pushing these Experimental Subjects to the brink of death to trigger their ultimate potential was a routine practice.
They enjoyed pushing these dangerous creatures to the brink of death, seeking to trigger the latent mutation possibilities hidden within their DNA.

The Half-Octopus Youth endured round after round of bombing and splitting, venom and laser cutting, wracked with pain.

He already looked utterly tormented.

Yet Professor Xu, with only one hand left, braced himself against the control desk and succinctly told the operator at the console, “Step aside.”

This time, he took matters into his own hands, setting the bombing intensity to the highest level and simultaneously introducing potent venom.

No one spoke anymore; the Observation Room was utterly silent.

They all knew the senior professor’s cold indifference-he was willing to risk the high cost of the Experimental Subject’s death just to stimulate greater potential, squeezing out the last vestige of value from life.

Amid the relentless bombardment and the lethal combination of lasers and venom, the Test Chamber was reduced to near ruins.

Severed limbs, unidentified mucus, and shattered tissue were strewn everywhere. If one word could describe it, it would be hell.

Someone reported, “Professor, there’s no movement.”

A researcher at the monitoring screen said, “Vital signs are continuing to drop.”

They waited several more minutes, but still, there was no response.

The thin middle-aged man stared intently at the screen; within that pile of broken remains, it was impossible to discern any complete biological form.

“Infrared detection shows biological activity has vanished.”

“The Experimental Subject has entered False Death State.”

The False Death State is the last struggle these cold-blooded mutant creatures make before death. If treated at this moment, survival is possible; if left unattended, true death follows.

Professor Xu stared fixedly at the screen.

He raised his hand to adjust his glasses, his index finger lightly stroking his chin. His assistant beside him knew this was his habitual gesture of admiration, proof that the creature before him had exceeded expectations and brought him surprise.

Yet behind this surprise lingered a faint, elusive disappointment.

Today’s level of attack intensity was rare, but not unheard of.

Cloning DNA from creatures of the same level would suffice; there was no need to introduce new ones.

A creature so dangerous and aggressive would consume enormous financial and human resources-why waste precious resources on a replaceable species?

Just then, from the opening and closing crack of the door, a woman’s pleading voice could be faintly heard, “Let me in, I can help him…”

The rest of her words were unclear.

Professor Xu frowned briefly and looked over; behind the door stood a young Feeder, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

“I can help him pull through, trust me, save him.”

The young woman’s beautiful eyes were red with anxiety; it was clear she was an emotional Feeder.

It should have been a moving scene, yet in the vast and cold Experimental Base, emotion was the most burdensome thing.

What they needed were weapons-weapons did not require emotion. Excess emotion was a burden, and even a weakness.

Professor Xu looked at her thoughtfully, feeling a vague sense of familiarity about this female Feeder.

As if… he had seen her somewhere before.

Suddenly, his assistant leaned in, pulling up a slew of data on the light panel.

Professor Xu glanced down-it was the previous test record of the Mutant Blue Bottle Jellyfish that had advanced to S-Class.

He carefully read the dense numbers and a segment of the execution video, and a strange light flickered in his eyes.

He raised his hand and said expressionlessly, “Let her in.”