Side Effects

Lu Yuan led the two punks into a deserted alley.

A few stray cats and dogs were rooting through piles of garbage. When they noticed the group approaching, they looked over, arched their backs, and let out low warning growls — probably taking them for rivals come to steal their food.

Lu Yuan gave them a glance and didn't bother.

Black garbage bags were heaped in every corner, and deeper in, overturned bins had spilled their contents across the ground, flies drifting lazily above the refuse, spreading a thick, rotten stench. The smell was too strong to venture further; Lu Yuan kept the two of them near the entrance rather than risk anyone throwing up.

The pair stood clutching their broken arms, faces drained of color, soaked in cold sweat. Lu Yuan had gone harder on the red-haired one — his arm had turned deep purple-black, blood pooled so thoroughly it couldn't even drain.

"Does it hurt?" Lu Yuan asked.

"Boss, please —" the red-haired punk sobbed. "Just let us go. Our arms are done for!"

Lu Yuan smiled. "You were brave enough to pull a knife on me earlier. Why the waterworks now? If your hand's broken, get a mechanical prosthetic. Nothing to cry about."

The two punks said nothing.

"I'm quite interested in that ghost story you mentioned," Lu Yuan said. "Tell me the details, and I'll let you go."

Both of them perked up immediately.

"But think carefully before you answer," he continued, his tone pleasant. "Did you actually see how Lao Dao died? Because if I find out you're lying to me... I think you can imagine the consequences."

The two exchanged a look. The green-haired punk spoke, voice trembling:

"We — we didn't see it with our own eyes. But — we heard it from someone who was there! There's no reason they'd make it up!"

"What did they say?"

The red-haired punk rushed to answer:

"They said Lao Dao was out shaking people down with a few of his guys when they passed through an alley. Something shot out of the dark — a strange shadow. The shadow plunged straight into Lao Dao's chest. Then he grabbed his chest, his face went pale and bluish, and he just... died."

As he listened, Lu Yuan's eyes slowly narrowed.

That was almost exactly what had happened to him.

"After Lao Dao died — anything unusual?"

"The others all panicked and ran. They got word to the boss. When the boss and his crew arrived, the body was still there — nothing strange about it."

"What time was it?"

The green-haired punk answered haltingly: "Around... around midnight."

Lu Yuan's pupils contracted slightly.

He'd checked the time when he was attacked last night. Midnight, exactly.

He thought for a moment, then asked:

"Had Lao Dao made enemies with anyone? Had he ever encountered anything from an Aberration Event?"

The red-haired punk answered through tears: "Boss, that question... in our line of work, you make enemies just by showing up. Our heads are on the line every single day. As for an Aberration Event — probably not? I mean, if someone survived one of those, they'd still be around, right?"

Lu Yuan frowned slightly.

Asking that question had been pointless. In their line of work, enemies were a given. The answer told him nothing.

He glanced at the two of them — both had gone a little greenish now — and waved a hand.

"Get lost. Don't let me see you again."

They erupted into bowing and scraping, voices cracking:

"Thank you, boss! Thank you so much! We're gone right now!"

They jogged out of the alley as fast as their legs would carry them.

After they left, Lu Yuan finally pulled out the bun he'd been carrying since earlier and took a bite.

Not bad.

He watched them go and turned the problem over in his mind.

Same time. Two attacks. Was there more than one of these shadow creatures — or did it have some kind of double?

What was the thing even after?

The shadow was probably not a single entity. And Lao Dao was probably not its only victim. At the very least, the original inhabitant of his body had died the same way.

In a place like the slum district, people died all the time without anyone knowing. Nobody cared about things like that.

He shook his head and let it go.

He had no information and no way to act on it.

Whatever it was, nothing good.

Xili City, North District. The Jiuhu Shopping District.

Walking through the streets, Lu Yuan felt as though he'd stepped into another world entirely. Suited executives strode past in every direction; elaborately dressed women moved with easy confidence. The district sat near the Gene Warrior Association's branch office — skyscrapers filled every line of sight, hover-vehicles rising and descending from elevated platforms along each building's facade. The whole area buzzed with wealth and activity.

Just a handful of streets from the slums. The gap between the two neighborhoods was like heaven and earth.

He found what he was looking for before long: a small shopfront, its neon sign reading **WILD WOLF MATERIALS**, with a stylized wolf's head thrown back in a full howl.

Lu Yuan had come here to sell the gray stone carapaces he'd accumulated. He'd already looked up the going rates on Battle Net before making the trip.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The shop wasn't large. Display counters lined all four walls, stocked with various materials he mostly couldn't identify. In the center, a lean young man in a floral shirt and beach shorts sat slouched in a chair, head bent over his phone. He had a mohawk.

Hearing the door open, he glanced up.

"What are you doing in here, kid? Go play somewhere."

"I'm here to sell materials," Lu Yuan said.

The young man paused. He looked up again — more carefully this time — and put his phone away.

"Oh, sure. What've you got?"

Lu Yuan pulled out a pile of gray stone carapaces and dropped them on the counter.

*Clatter-clatter-clatter.*

"What the — hey! Can you NOT just dump them on there?! This counter's fragile!"

The young man leaped out of his chair and swept the whole pile off the counter in one motion. He crouched to look them over.

"Gray stone carapaces. Gray Rock Beetle materials. Common-rank low-grade — one-fifty apiece, absolute fair price. No haggling."

Materials straight from the Land of Origin, at a glance.

"Are you a Gene Warrior?" the young man asked, eyeing Lu Yuan with a more appraising look.

One-fifty was indeed fair — Battle Net confirmed it.

"Sure," Lu Yuan said. "Count them up. I'm selling all of it."

The young man leaned over the pile. "Alright, let me count — *awooOOO-WOOF-WOOF-WOOF!!*"

Lu Yuan: "..."

The young man froze solid.

A long silence.

He gave a dry cough and acted as though absolutely nothing had happened.

Lu Yuan stared at him.

He'd already noticed something: despite the shop's dim interior, the young man was still wearing sunglasses.

*Could this guy's whole... dog situation... have something to do with a Transcendent Gene?*

He chose his words carefully. "...Hey, buddy. Have you thought about seeing a doctor?"

The young man was quiet for a moment. Then, with a faint resignation:

"It's a side effect from gene inscription. Chronic thing. Nothing serious."

There was a quiet weariness in his voice. Lu Yuan said nothing.

He felt, oddly enough, a little sorry for the guy. Just picturing it — this young man going about a perfectly normal conversation and then suddenly howling like a dog — made him cringe on his behalf. Somewhere between a dog and a wolf, at that.

*So that's how it works.* Something clicked. *An incomplete gene inscription can cause the encoded creature's biological traits to bleed through as side effects.*

He was genuinely curious what quality of Transcendent Gene the young man had inscribed. But he didn't ask. Gene Warriors generally didn't reveal their inscribed genes to strangers — that was basic operational sense. Keeping your abilities private was one of your fundamental trump cards; no one went around advertising their hand.

Neither of them pressed the subject further. The young man quickly finished tallying up the count.

"102 pieces. I'll knock it down to a round hundred — fifteen thousand total."

Lu Yuan replied flatly, "...Two pieces off the count and you're calling it a deal? Round the other way instead — twenty thousand."

The young man pushed up his sunglasses, all warmth and cheer. "Cough... it's just a small difference, forget about it. You can always go out and hunt more, right?"

They dropped it. The young man sighed.

"Fine. Fifteen-three hundred."

He transferred the payment.

The moment 15,300 appeared in his account, Lu Yuan felt an unexpected wave of something.

*Mom, Dad — your son has made something of himself. He finally has money.*

The young man glanced at Lu Yuan once more, then lowered his head and went back to his game.