Volume 1, Chapter 9 – Blood Skull

Luo Yu was the chemistry teacher for Grade 12 (Class 10), just turned twenty‑eight—cheerful by nature, handsome, gold‑rimmed glasses—well liked by teachers and students alike.

Which made sense: whoever came to him with a problem, if it was within his power, he would do his best to help.

This time the school had urgently asked him to run a test. He shoved down a few bites in his dorm and rushed over, only to learn the target was a thermos of water.

A thermos of water—no abnormalities in sight or smell.

Luo Yu didn’t take it lightly. He used the most professional, rigorous methods and finally issued a report confirming the water contained a very unfamiliar neurotoxin.

“A real toxin?”

He still remembered how shocked the female teacher looked when she took the report. “Not a laxative? You didn’t mess up?”

“I could be off on quantity, but I’m not confusing it with a laxative.” Luo Yu was annoyed; he felt she was questioning his competence.

Only then did she quietly tell him someone at school had allegedly poisoned a student—a girl had put a laxative into another girl’s thermos—the very white thermos sitting on his bench.

Luo Yu was stunned when he heard it, then voiced his doubts.

A neurotoxin even he found unfamiliar would be a controlled substance anywhere in Great Yu. How could a student get it easily?

He thought he could see why the teacher assumed it—between students, a laxative made far more sense.

“How would I know?” The teacher was in a hurry; report in hand, she trotted into the hall, muttering, “You’re the one who issued it, aren’t you?”

Right.

Luo Yu fell silent.

He had issued the report. He had personally verified the neurotoxin step by step and watched the conclusion take shape with his own eyes.

He trusted his professional level, but the situation was bizarre. Stifling his hunger, he shut the lab door and ran the workflow again.

And then—a miracle.

It was still a deadly toxin, but the type had shifted from neurotoxic to decomposing.

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In detail: the first test’s toxin would kill in one’s sleep; it only attacked the mind, with minimal damage to the flesh.

But if the second test’s “decomposition‑type” data were right, it meant a single sip would, within a dozen or so minutes, dissolve and rot all the muscles, stripping them rapidly off the bones!

How could that be…

Luo Yu wondered if his eyes were bad. He rubbed them several times, but the numbers held.

How could two runs produce completely different results?

If he’d made a mistake, he’d own it. But even a mistake wouldn’t swing this far between two tests.

Jumping from neurotoxic to decomposing—the latter required reaction with an enzyme in the blood. There was no way that could be overlooked the first time. He couldn’t fathom how it hadn’t shown up.

“What on earth are you…?”

Scanning the report and peering over his lenses at the monitor, Luo Yu shook his head and finally let his gaze fall on the white thermos.

Half an hour later, he hung up the phone with a pleased look.

He’d applied to keep the lab powered for the night.

He wasn’t going back to the dorm—he was going to get to the bottom of this thermos of water.

Shedding his lab coat, Luo Yu decided to hit the cafeteria first.

He had the whole night ahead of him; better fuel up. Sharpening the blade won’t delay the job.

On his way downstairs, a twin‑ponytailed girl walked up.

“Mr. Luo,” she asked gingerly, “any word on the results…?”

“Hm?” He looked at her, his brow easing. “Did Mr. Ma send you to check? Mm… all I can say is we need a little more time. I can’t nail it down yet.”

The girl said “oh,” stepped aside, and watched Luo Yu leave.

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On the way, Luo Yu kept turning over the discrepancies between the two reports.

He was so invested not only out of professionalism but also because it reminded him of a murder that ran on TV not long ago.

It was a mass‑poisoning case using an unregistered neurotoxin. The powder dissolved in plain water, almost colorless and tasteless; one small sip was fatal.

If he remembered right, it happened in Zezhou and left twelve dead.

Zezhou bordered Qizhou to the north and south; the case caused waves in Qizhou too. Many people didn’t dare drink tap water for a while, buying bottled water every day.

A college classmate of Luo Yu’s had joined a pharma company after graduating. Over drinks he told Luo Yu that Zezhou had brought in many experts from their company and others to examine the toxin—no one could parse it.

“How could they not parse it?”

Luo Yu had been baffled.

People couldn’t do it—but there are high‑precision instruments too.

With so much top‑tier expertise in one place, failing to analyze a toxin sounded to him like a high‑schooler not knowing how to use a microscope.

“They just couldn’t!”

His classmate, drunk and thick‑tongued, sighed.

“You just don’t know…”

“That thing—it changes!”

Back then Luo Yu took it as drunk talk.

Thinking back now—wasn’t it exactly like this thermos of water in his hands!

He suspected the mysterious toxin that rocked two provinces was the very one he was facing now.

He recalled his classmate mentioning that many companies had posted bounties for the mystery toxin at the Jobs Directorate hall.

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Anyone who could help solve it—starting at a million.

The thought of a bounty set his heart burning.

Twenty‑eight is young for a teacher, but not that young.

His family kept pressing him to settle down, but he’d graduated late in his field; entering the workforce late meant fewer years on the job and less money saved.

How do you marry with no money?

The job at No. 1 was indeed good, the monthly pay comfortable—but it was a trickle, not a lump sum he could tap in a pinch.

He figured there was no harm in trying.

If he really cracked it, he’d get fame and fortune—and his personal life sorted…

The happy picture in his head kept making him smile.

He carried his food back from the cafeteria; even the downpour couldn’t douse that fire.

He didn’t see the girl again—off to report to Ma Bolan?

Great—saves me a call.

Upstairs in the lab corridor, Luo Yu fished out his keys to open the door.

Rainwater kept dripping from his hood, soaking his hands and keys.

What rotten luck…

He frowned slightly.

It had only been a drizzle at six; how was it pouring after seven?

Damn this sky—why not flood us while you’re at it.

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The key slid into the lock. A twist, a turn, and Luo Yu hauled the door open.

He froze.

Because he saw another himself sitting at the computer desk.

Same gold‑rimmed glasses, same habitual posture—head turned toward the door, face full of startled wonder.

“Who are you?”

blurted the Luo Yu in the hall.

“I’m you.”

The Luo Yu inside suddenly smiled.

“You’re already dead.”

“Didn’t you know…”

Luo Yu stared.

The meal in his hand slipped from the air; the empty, flapping raincoat dropped to the floor.

After a moment.

A black cat padded past the door and sniffed the food.

Then looked inside.

In front of the computer desk there was only a blood‑slick skull, head cocked, meat sloughing down in strips.