Cyber ​​Ghost Record

Chapter 104, Section 103: The Hunter

The valley was damp, and a cold wind blew through the gaps in the coniferous forest, carrying the smell of decaying plants. Night was falling, and the mountain silhouettes were bathed in a golden-red hue, but it was still early. Their modified biological clocks in their hypothalamus gave them the precise time; it was only just past two in the afternoon. The circadian rhythm here was different from elsewhere; every eight hours, they experienced a complete sunrise and sunset.

Such unusual weather was intended to accelerate the pace of the hunt.

They entered the valley one after the other, their footsteps barely making a sound as they trudged through the moss and mud. Both were no more than teenagers, their movements as nimble as ghosts. Suddenly, the one behind stopped, raised his hand, and saw a shallow gash in the center of his hand, a cut from a thorn. Before the blood could seep out, he lowered his head and sucked on the wound. He glanced around, walked to a spruce tree, cut open the bark with a knife, collected some resin, and quickly sealed the wound.

Such a minor injury is actually nothing to worry about; what makes him so alarmed is his blood. Once his blood comes into contact with the air, its scent will be carried by the wind, revealing his location several kilometers away.

"Hurry up," the person in front urged, "It's getting dark."

Nightfall meant greater danger, but he wasn't afraid of nocturnal snakes, insects, or wild beasts. Once the sun set, the rapidly dropping temperature would strip away the forest's camouflage, making those still-warm bodies even more conspicuous in the darkness. He knew the location of the swamp; he needed to reach it before nightfall and use the cold mud to integrate himself with the surrounding temperature.

He walked towards the valley ahead, the wind blowing from behind, sending a chill down his spine. The wind would lead him ahead, so he slowed his pace, scrutinizing the trees, rocks, and every piece of cover in his path more carefully. A sharp whooshing sound rang out behind him, and he turned around.

The man behind him collapsed, his face filled with terror, his chest heaving violently, his breath gurgling and bubbling. His right lung had been punctured, and his ribs were a pool of blood. He raised his hand for help, but only saw the retreating back of his companion, a back smeared with dappled sunlight and paint. These paints looked like some kind of totem, but they had nothing to do with customs or beliefs, and their camouflage was extremely limited; they were merely a marker—the marker of the prey.

The high-speed steel bullet left a trail of heat in the air, pointing towards the thick fir trees. Five hundred meters away, the hunter held a retro-style bolt-action rifle. His pale hands gripped the dark brown handguard.

The hunter's eyebrows and hair were white, making the pink scars on his face stand out starkly. With a click, the bolt moved back and forth, and a bullet was chambered. His eyes pierced through the rear sights and front sights, the muzzle following the prey, moving steadily without the slightest tremor. The hunting dog gave chase, and his pale finger rested on the trigger, slowly pulling it down.

"They're coming."

Just as the shot was fired, a voice came from behind.

White Ghost tilted his head and looked into the woods again, but the prey had vanished. He whistled, and the hound darted back, its tongue lolling out, its small, menacing eyes fixed on the depths of the fir forest. These bio-modified hounds were highly capable, but ultimately lacked the obedience of robotic dogs.

"Don't rush." ​​The white ghost rubbed its coarse neck fur, stood up and turned around. "Let's go, it's time to meet the main character."

……

The sightseeing elevator begins its descent from the ground.

Through the glass, Socrates saw a dark red sphere of light, like molten lava, setting in the west. He looked down at his feet; valleys and forests stretched across the rolling mountains. This was a man-made world; both the celestial bodies and the natural landscape were artificial. The word "man-made" was a colloquialism from history; strictly speaking, very few projects were truly led and constructed by humans.

The glass doors slid open, and he stepped out of the elevator. The doors closed again, blending into the blue sky. The sudden drop in temperature gave him goosebumps. He touched his collar button, where the thermostat knob for his coat was hidden.

"How does it feel?" Beside Suger was the CEO of the Deer Valley Group, who gestured for Suger to look out at the fir forest in the distance. "This hunting ground simulates the mountains of Eastern Siberia."

"Very good." Su Ge took a breath of the cool air, the scent of grass and trees mixed with the slightly sour smell of humus.

“In your time, that was practically a no-man's-land,” the executive said. “And now?”

“It’s now the economic center of East Asia,” the executive said casually. “With the intensification of global warming, many countries have jointly developed that area.”

Suger wasn't interested in what the executive was saying, or rather, he wasn't interested in the purpose of his trip. He was there for social obligations, to cooperate with the Deer Valley Group in business, and to meet new partners.

He hadn't originally planned to get involved; frankly, he didn't think he could change anything. But when he saw Qian Yun die in the street, he had a strange, inexplicable feeling. He wanted to figure out the Lugu Group's business plan; even if he couldn't change anything, at least he couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

Images of patients dying of immune diseases outside the illegal clinic, and Qian Yun's corpse, resurfaced in his mind. He took a deep breath and pulled out a dopamine suppressant.

"and many more."

Before Suger could light the medicine, the executive officer stopped him. He walked over, took Suger's medicine, smelled it, then threw it on the ground and shook his head.

"If the media finds that our spokesperson is using drugs, whatever they are, it will raise suspicions."

"The media?" Soger bent down to pick up the pill, blew off the dust, and put it back in the aluminum medicine box. "Not one of yours?"

"The less trouble, the better."

“Why would there be a place like this?” Sog looked down the hillside where there was a wooden house with white steam rising from its vents. A group of people were coming up from there, seemingly to greet them. “Creating a similarly realistic virtual world should cost much less.”

“It’s all for the sake of ‘truth’.” The executive looked at Suger. “Why do ‘natural beings’ like you still exist in modern times? Why are people still paying for bio-engineering? It’s all for the pursuit of truth.”

"Mr. Tang!" A greeting came from ahead.

The executive officer walked towards the group of greeters and shook hands with the albino young man leading them. He glanced at the hound at the young man's feet; the bionic fibers at the corner of its mouth were stained with blood.

“We agreed to meet in fifteen minutes,” the executive said with a smile, “but it seems I’m a little late.”

“No, no. I was just scouting the hunting grounds beforehand.” White Ghost looked at Sog, “This…”

"I haven't introduced him yet. This is Su Xing, the most outstanding city hero in Yingchuan City and the spokesperson for Lugu Biotechnology in Yingchuan City."

“Ah, no need for introductions. In Yingchuan City, who doesn’t know Mr. Su’s name?” Bai Gui stepped forward and extended his hand to Su Ge. The scars on his face twisted with his smile, like earthworms.

Suger found it hard to forget this strikingly handsome fellow. When Qian Yun first met him at the Viper Bar to discuss matters, this young man's sudden appearance disrupted the situation. Back then, Bai Gui was the first smuggler to oppose the Deer Valley Group's involvement in the Yingchuan black market; now, he had become the Deer Valley Group's new partner in the underworld.

(End of this chapter)