Chapter 116: The Living Pain

(1)

The seemingly cracked meteorite fragment was far harder than anyone had imagined.

As the researchers cautiously increased the power of the cutting laser, the meteorite—composed of special extraterrestrial elements—remained completely unaffected.

“Xue, let’s stop here for today. It’s about time for lunch!” a colleague wearing a Protective Suit patted him on the shoulder.

“I don’t think the laser is effective against it. We should try other methods.”

“Mm.”

The young researcher operating the laser shut down the device.

“The core inside and the outer layer don’t appear to be made of the same material.”

“To be honest, I’m a bit worried. If the inside really contains Antimatter and it comes into contact with our normal matter when cut open… aren’t we done for?” his colleague said half-jokingly but half-seriously.

“We still can’t be sure it’s Antimatter. So far, we haven’t gotten any—”

“Xue, wait! Look at the cracks on the stone!”

“Huh?”

At the exact moment they turned back, the meteorite fragment that had only one or two cracks suddenly shattered into a spiderweb of fractures, then with a ‘pop,’ completely broke apart.

The two young researchers’ faces showed panic, but their movements remained calm—they swiftly activated the Protective Procedures and dashed out.

At the same time, the Alarm in the Research Institute blared loudly.

The piercing siren was accompanied by flashing red lights everywhere, instantly throwing the entire institute into chaos.

Staff were running up and down the corridors.

“What’s going on?”

Dr. Ye rushed out immediately, having just been about to sit down for lunch.

“Sir! The fragment shattered!”

“Don’t panic! If there really is Antimatter inside, this place would have been destroyed already! Follow the prearranged protocols step by step. First, check if the harmful radiation exceeds the limit!”

“Yes, sir!”

Dr. Ye was like a steady anchor, calming everyone who felt like a tsunami was coming. All tasks began to proceed in an orderly fashion.

As for their lunch… they probably wouldn’t get to eat it, and there was a good chance they wouldn’t have dinner either.

***

(2)

An Jing couldn’t hear anything, but the flashing red light illuminated the entire room—she couldn’t possibly be unaware.

Something seemed to have happened in the Research Institute, and she instinctively felt it must be related to her.

Minghui Yu pushed open the door anxiously and looked at An Jing sitting on the bed with concern.

An Jing nodded slightly, as if to say she was fine.

But then she felt something was wrong with her body.

At first, it was just slight discomfort, like mosquito bites itching on her skin.

She instinctively scratched, but the sensation immediately spread all over her body.

Restless, she stood up. The itching quickly transformed into pain.

It was as if every inch of her skin was burning, or as if someone was peeling her skin off bit by bit…

Although she couldn’t hear any sound, she felt certain she was screaming miserably.

The pain didn’t stop there; it only worsened.

Then, her internal organs felt as if they were being churned, like her living body was being shoved directly into a meat grinder.

Finally, her brain felt like it was pierced straight through by a steel rod through her eyes, leaving her unable to form coherent thoughts.

The feeling of death was so close—closer even than that Rainy Night…

***

(3)

“Xiao Jing, Xiao Jing!? What’s wrong with you?”

“Ugh… ah, ah, uh…!!”

An Jing curled up like a shrimp, rolling violently on the bed.

Within half a minute, the sheets and blankets became a complete mess.

Minghui Yu tried to hold her, but at that moment, An Jing’s strength was terrifyingly great—she couldn’t be restrained.

She seemed to be enduring unbearable pain.

The wailing sirens blared like the funeral march played by the Grim Reaper.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open with a bang.

The Nurse, who had been responsible for An Jing’s health checks these past two days, rushed in quickly.

“What happened!?”

There had to be surveillance cameras in the convalescence room, or else she couldn’t have reacted so fast.

“Xiao Jing was fine just moments ago, but suddenly she’s like this—she seems to be in terrible pain!”

“Like poisoning or an overdose of radiation…”

The Nurse hurriedly opened the room’s wardrobe and took out a thick Protective Suit.

“Miss Yu, put this on first!”

“What about Xiao Jing?”

“I’ll send her to the Electromagnetic Shielded Room! Come on, help me carry her!”

***

(4)

“Dr. Ye! An Jing’s condition is critical; she’s already passed out from the pain!”

“Old Ye, harmful radiation isn’t above the limit!”

“Is the monitoring still working?”

“No, all connections are lost. External signals can’t reboot the devices!”

“Let’s go in and check!”

“Sir, will you enter too?”

“Of course!”

Everyone was fully armed, their expressions serious.

They donned the highest-grade Protective Suits, each one bulky like astronauts yet to reach space.

The pre-set Protective Procedures were manually overridden as the group ventured deeper.

For the researchers, the institute felt like a battlefield—especially in this near-unexplored realm.

At this moment, everyone present was prepared to sacrifice for science.

“Harmful radiation is not above the limit!”

“All instruments have rebooted successfully with no abnormalities!”

Finally, everyone held their breath.

The metal container sealing the meteorite was slowly opened.

Behind the specially crafted glass was the scattered meteorite fragments—and a stone smooth like a waterdrop.

This was the true core of the fragment.

It was as deep as an ocean, with a faint golden glow shimmering within.

Its surface was exceptionally smooth, like a real droplet of water.

On the test bench, it slid around, bouncing off the glass enclosure and sliding to the other side again.

It seemed that if left undisturbed, it could keep moving forever—like a perpetual motion machine…

“Waterdrop-shaped stone.”

“There’s a faint energy reaction inside.”

“Analyze its composition,” Dr. Ye said calmly.

“First, confirm whether it poses any danger.”

“Old Ye, its energy response is continuously decreasing.”

Everyone fixed their gaze on the meteorite, watching as it gradually lost its golden luster and its surface became rougher.

***

(5)

When An Jing opened her eyes again, she saw the pure white ceiling.

Unlike her home ceiling, it was spotless, as if not a speck of dust existed.

The whole room was brighter than the noon sun but without its warmth.

That cold white light only made her feel especially uneasy.

At that moment, a pitch-black screen on the wall suddenly lit up by itself, displaying a few black characters: “An Jing, you have awakened.”

She struggled to sit up slowly and gave a faint nod.

She furrowed her brow, wanting to ask something, but there was no writing tool nearby.

“We conducted numerous experiments and found that this meteorite only shows an energy response when it is within a certain distance from you.

When we placed it beside you, your unconscious convulsions while comatose completely stopped.”

An Jing silently read the message.

After a few seconds, new text appeared on the screen:

“According to our tests, the effective range is a radius of ten meters.

Beyond this range, you will feel pain.

The further away you are, the stronger the pain becomes.”

She paused, tilting her head to look at the blue stone on the white metal stand beside her bed—it looked like a drop of frozen seawater.

Probably because it was the core, it was only about the size of her little fingernail, easy to lose if not careful.

Her heart immediately sank because if she and it were so closely linked, losing it would be absolutely unacceptable…

“We need to observe you for some time.

To prevent the loss of this Core Waterdrop, until we develop a suitable container, you must stay here.

Don’t worry, it won’t take too long.”

An Jing sighed and nodded lightly.

Time seemed frozen in this empty room without windows, as if it wouldn’t flow forward at all.

“We will deliver anything you need shortly.

This time may be difficult, but we hope you can cooperate as much as possible.”

An Jing curled her lips and lay down again.

Her optimism kicked in once more.

—Since she often felt like she never got enough sleep, she might as well use this time to catch up on all the missed rest.

***

(6)

“Xiao Jing absolutely cannot stay here, becoming your lifelong test subject,” Minghui Yu said slowly but firmly.

“Although I’m just an ordinary person, if you insist on doing this, I will do whatever it takes to take her away.”

“Miss Yu, please don’t be so agitated.

In fact, we have no intention of doing that.

Part of this report will be sealed to avoid interference from outsiders,” Dr. Ye said, crossing his fingers and rubbing the back of his hand.

“The current theoretical data alone is enough for us to study for a while.

We only have one small request—that she comes back periodically for further research on her and the Core Waterdrop.

We will also examine her health and the condition of the core, which will be beneficial to her.”

“But can you guarantee that deeper research won’t cause her greater harm?”

“This… no one can guarantee research won’t cause any harm. Anything that might harm Xiao Jing’s health, I absolutely will not allow. I am responsible to her and her parents.”

“Miss Yu, we can promise that research on the Core Waterdrop will be limited to detection only, with no destructive experiments.

Do you think that is acceptable?

This is our greatest concession.

I need to be responsible to those above me and to the research content in the institute.”

“…I need some time to consider.”

“I will print a more detailed document for you.

Her parents and she will also need to come back to sign it.”

“That would be best.”