Skinwalker Belle – Chapter 430 – Buffet Restaurant

Zero Laboratory.

Chen Dingjun stood before the cultivation tank, arms crossed over his chest.

He stared at the perfect body suspended in the nutrient solution, his gaze burning as if looking upon his own child.

“Load the entire cultivation tank onto the transport ship.”

The chief researcher froze.

“Commander, Zero has only just stabilized. Wouldn’t moving it now—”

“I said load it.”

Chen Dingjun cut him off.

“Move the life support system and backup power along with it. You have twenty minutes.”

The researcher opened his mouth, then lowered his head.

“Yes, sir.”

Chen Dingjun turned and strode out, patting the lieutenant general’s shoulder as he passed.

“I’m taking Zero and the escort squad ahead. The base is in your hands.”

“Rest assured, Commander.”

Chen Dingjun walked out of Zero Laboratory.

Behind him, three alloy doors sealed shut in sequence.

His steps were quick.

In his plan, Wang Shan and Chuan Jinmao were currently holed up in the Black Palace, waiting for the Dragon Clan to come serve as their backing.

Ridiculous.

Groveling to an alien race for survival? That was what spineless cowards did.

The fate of humanity could only rest in humanity’s own hands.

He, Chen Dingjun, had spent his whole life in research, his hands stained with the blood of who knew how many people.

Called a madman, called a butcher—he accepted it all.

But everything he did was for one purpose: to keep Blue Star’s people from being enslaved by the Dragon Clan, to let humanity survive.

Twenty minutes later.

A heavy transport submarine, a hundred meters long, slowly emerged from the dock beneath the base.

Massive thrusters churned the dark currents of the deep sea.

The transport ship vanished into the pitch-black ocean floor.

The base returned to calm.

The lieutenant general stood in the main control room, watching the fading light dot on the sonar screen, and let out a breath of relief.

With the commander gone, the weight on his shoulders had lightened considerably.

“All personnel, resume standard alert status. Accelerate perimeter repair progress.”

“Understood.”

No one noticed that on the surveillance feed of Sector B’s living corridor, a ten-man patrol squad was marching in perfect order toward the experimental zone.

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Standard formation. Uniform steps.

As if nothing had ever happened.

————

Genetic Research Laboratory.

The patrol captain swiped open the first security door.

Voiceprint recognition. Iris scan. Fingerprint verification.

All three layers of authentication passed.

Lin Fan followed at the very back of the formation, barefoot on the metal floor, making not a single sound.

The second door opened.

A blast of cold air rushed in.

The temperature inside the laboratory was at least ten degrees lower than outside.

Lin Fan stepped in.

Then she stopped.

The space before her was far larger than she had imagined.

This wasn’t a laboratory—it was more like a colossal warehouse.

Beneath a dome a hundred meters high, the four walls were densely embedded with cylindrical cultivation tanks.

Row one, row two, row three…

Extending from the floor all the way to the ceiling.

Every tank was filled with pale blue nutrient solution, each suspending a naked human body.

Male and female alike.

Some bore scales. Some had bone spurs jutting from their spines. Some had arms transformed into blade forms.

Gene-stitched abominations.

But completely different from the crude mass-produced units at the capital base.

Here, every experimental subject’s energy fluctuation exceeded level five.

Some even approached the peak of level six.

Lin Fan’s gaze swept across the entire wall.

A rough count put over four hundred cultivation tanks within her line of sight alone.

She turned her head.

The other three walls were packed just as densely.

The total exceeded fifteen hundred.

“Holy shit.”

The words slipped out of Lin Fan’s mouth.

On the laboratory floor, over a hundred researchers in white lab coats were busy at their respective workstations.

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Some were calibrating instruments, some were recording data, and others were replacing nutrient solution lines for the culture tanks.

They paid no attention to the patrol squad that walked in behind them.

In a highly classified facility like this, patrol squads coming and going was routine.

Lin Fan stood in the center of the crowd, sweeping her gaze across the room.

Over fifteen hundred experimental subjects at Level 5 or above.

If all of these were made into Skins…

She did a quick calculation.

She currently had forty-eight Epic-grade Skins.

Fusing Long Xi would require two hundred.

Among these thousand-plus culture tanks, even if only one-tenth of the female experimental subjects yielded Epic quality, that would still be over a hundred Skins.

A faint smile curled at the corner of Lin Fan’s lips.

She released the refraction of light caused by her Mental Strength.

Her form solidified from the air.

A white slip dress, bare feet, and silver-white hair cascading down to her ankles.

The first to notice her was a female researcher standing closest.

The researcher, coffee cup in hand, turned her head and found herself staring directly into Lin Fan’s pitch-black Iridescent Astral Eyes.

The coffee cup slipped from her hand.

Clatter.

The sound of shattering cut through the quiet laboratory with jarring sharpness.

Everyone’s gaze snapped over at once.

A breathtakingly beautiful woman in a white dress and bare feet stood in their midst, surrounded by ten patrol soldiers with vacant stares.

“Who… who are you?!”

A senior researcher shot to his feet, his hand reaching for the alarm button beneath the desk.

Lin Fan glanced at him.

The researcher’s hand froze mid-air.

A faint glimmer from the Charm Magic Eye flashed and vanished.

The researcher’s pupils dilated for a moment, then he sank back into his chair, his face settling into an expression of almost devout calm.

“Nobody move.”

Lin Fan said.

Her voice was soft, but the innate gift of the Siren’s Voice drove every syllable with surgical precision into the minds of everyone present.

Over a hundred researchers stopped what they were doing simultaneously.

No one ran. No one screamed.

They simply watched Lin Fan in silence.

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As if witnessing a miracle.

Lin Fan pulled a communicator from the System Space and pressed the switch.

“Chu Chen.”

Familiar keyboard clatter came through the communicator, followed by a flicker of light as Chu Chen’s face—dark circles under his eyes so deep they looked bruised—appeared on a small holographic projection.

A lollipop stick jutted from his mouth, and his hair was a mess like a bird’s nest.

“Looks like things are going smoothly on your end.”

Chu Chen glanced at the scene behind Lin Fan, shifting the lollipop from the left side of his mouth to the right.

“Found it already?”

Lin Fan flipped the communicator around, aiming it at the wall densely packed with culture tanks.

Chu Chen’s chewing stopped.

“…How many?”

“Over fifteen hundred. Minimum Level 5.”

Lin Fan swept the camera across the room.

“And this is just one laboratory. The old man hid half a lifetime of research results at the bottom of the ocean.”

Chu Chen was silent for two seconds.

“The core database for the Gene-stitching Technology should be in this base too.”

“Not my problem.”

Lin Fan turned the camera back to herself.

“I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead.”

“There are over a hundred researchers here. Do you want them?”

The dark circles under Chu Chen’s eyes twitched.

“Yes.”

The answer came quick and decisive.

“Since the Post-apocalypse began, over ninety percent of research talent across the major bases has died.”

Chu Chen pulled the lollipop out of his mouth, his speech speeding up.

“Chen Dingjun managed to create a peak Level 6 Gene-stitched Abomination. The professional expertise of the people under him is top-tier. Biology, genetic engineering, energy science… these people are worth more than ten thousand soldiers.”

“Then send someone to take over.”

Lin Fan said.

“I don’t have the patience to watch over a bunch of bookworms.”

“Zhou Ming just opened the gate and came through. The fastest route to your coordinates will still take at least an hour.”

Chu Chen calculated.

“I need you to make sure nothing goes wrong there for that hour.”

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Lin Fan glanced back at the hundred-plus researchers standing quietly, their eyes vacant and lost.

“Don’t worry. Once they drink a few sips of Energy Potion, they’ll be our people.”

Chu Chen didn’t hesitate for a moment. He nodded.

He knew exactly what the Energy Potion “did.”

In essence, it was Mind Control.

Unlike Wang Shan’s mental manipulation, people who drank the Energy Potion didn’t become mindless—they could still work, still think, except they would develop absolute loyalty toward a specific person.

In the past, he would have thought this behavior was no different from a brainwashing cult.

But now?

Chu Chen popped the lollipop back into his mouth.

“Procedural justice is something we can talk about once humanity doesn’t have to worry about being wiped out by the Dragon Clan.”

“Rare for you to come around.”

Lin Fan raised an eyebrow.

“There’s one more thing.”

Chu Chen’s tone suddenly shifted.

“Chen Dingjun isn’t at the base.”

Lin Fan narrowed his eyes.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been monitoring the underwater acoustic signals in this sea area ever since you entered the base.”

Chu Chen pulled up a set of data.

“Ten minutes ago, a heavy submarine departed from beneath the base, heading due west.”

“Due west… the Black Palace?”

“Correct. He’s going to see Wang Shan.”

Chu Chen pushed up the bridge of his nose.

“But what bothers me isn’t where he’s going—it’s that there’s an energy source on that submarine.”

Lin Fan waited for him to continue.

Chu Chen’s gaze shifted from languid to razor-sharp.

“Peak Level 7. And the frequency signature of the energy fluctuations… is extremely close to that of the Dragon Clan.”

Lin Fan’s expression changed.

“Chen Dingjun created a peak Level 7 Artificial Dragonkin?”

“Not sure if it’s Dragonkin. But that Energy Level… it’s beyond what an ordinary Gene-stitched Abomination can achieve.”

The laboratory fell silent, leaving only the hum of nutrient solution circulating through the culture tanks.

“That old bastard Chen Dingjun—he’s far more formidable than Wang Shan.”

“Interesting.”