MMPS Ch. 28

Chapter 28: Bad Seed

The damaged rim of the elimination pit glowed with a faint blue identification light. Ji Nian wiped the grease from his face, his voice calm yet tinged with satisfaction: “Fixed.”

Yu An cast a brief glance at the analyzer strapped to the Core Storage Analyzer, noting the time display. Eight minutes. He’d underestimated the techinician again—it seemed he still didn’t quite grasp the depth of Ji Nian’s skill.

The unconscious investigator lay sprawled on the ground, lifeless as a discarded doll. Yu An had already stripped him clean, taking every last possession. Without a word, the two flipped the investigator’s limp body upside down and dumped him into the elimination pit.

The blue light at the well’s edge flickered red, signaling its readiness. The slide beneath activated with a low metallic groan, swallowing the investigator into the underground abyss.

When their task was done, an ominous hum filled the air, accompanied by a sharp mechanical whine. From the ceiling’s steel beams, four screens descended like executioner’s blades, each angled to face a different direction. The real-time rankings of the interns appeared on display, casting a cold, unfeeling glow over the scene:

1. City Patrol Unit – Ni Lan: 17 points
2. Rapid Response Unit – Huo Yangui: 16 points
3. Emergency Order Unit – Yu An: 13 points
4. Mechanical Logistics Team – Ji Nian: 9 points
5. Safety Technology Unit – Yong Zheng: 8 points
6. City Patrol Unit – Zeng Rang: 7 points
7. Medical Rescue Unit – Ruan Xiaoli: 7 points [Eliminated]
8. City Patrol Unit – En Zai: 6 points
9. Rapid Response Unit – Wei Chiyue: 6 points [Eliminated]
10. City Patrol Unit – Ai Ke: 3 points [Eliminated]

Yu An tilted his head back, his piercing gaze locked onto the glowing leaderboard. “This is how they’re scoring us?” he muttered.

The pattern was clear. Eliminating another participant granted not only a fixed ten-point bonus but also absorbed the victim’s current score into the attacker’s total. Apart from these “elimination points,” the leaderboard also factored in performance scores.

Ji Nian and Yong Zheng exchanged uneasy looks. Both were sharp enough to catch on. The rules weren’t just pushing the contestants toward violence; they were meticulously engineered to fuel a bloodbath. Sure, the mechanics could earn points through technical work, but survival remained their ultimate challenge.

Yu An’s voice broke the tension. “If that’s how it works…” He raised his bat, tapping it lightly against his palm as he stared at the leaderboard. “What are the odds the scoring system is directly controlled by the tech team’s backend?”

Yong Zheng, crouched nearby, squinted at the screen’s numbers: “Practically zero… Are you saying…?”

“Change the scoring formula for technicians.” Yu An replied coolly, his bat resting against his shoulder. “I want every tech to share points.”

Yong Zheng’s eyes widened in disbelief: “Are you suggesting tampering? Openly?”

“Is it tampering?” Yu An shot back, disagreeing. “The equipment we’re allowed to use passed the arena’s security checks. If it’s here, it’s fair game.”

Yong Zheng hesitated, chewing on the logic. After a brief pause, he nodded reluctantly: “It’ll be tricky without a control port. Can you keep me alive long enough to pull it off?”

“Hopefully.” Yu An rechecked his surroundings through the translucent overlay of the Core, pinpointing the other contestants’ movements. “Work fast.”

Yong Zheng frowned: “You’ve clearly never seen how strong the Safety Tech Group is.”

“Time for them to see how strong you are,” Yu An quipped, striding toward the sixth elimination pit, his bat resting confidently on his shoulder.

The undercover mole the interviewers had flagged—a City Patrol Unit intern named Zeng Rang—was still active on the field. Yu An couldn’t afford to wait; the mole needed to be eliminated before crossing paths with a stronger opponent.

Meanwhile, tension simmered in the boardroom above, where the Underground Metro executives monitored the carnage.

The team leader of the Safety Technology Unit crossed his arms and watched the screen, observing the focused expression of his intern, Yong Zheng, as he operated. A sly smile appeared on his face: “Trying to deceive while connecting to the network… waiting for a score change to trigger, then starting to tamper with the traffic… If this goes on, he might really change it. Should we intervene a little?”

Though his words suggested caution, the man made no move, tacitly approving his intern’s audacity.

On the opposite side of the room, the team leader of the Mechanical Logistics Unit burst into raucous laughter, practically doubling over on the couch. “The kid’s got guts! Where was this energy when we were interns? If we’d had this kind of nerve, would we have let people like Duan Ke, Zhao Ran, or Yuan Xiaoying take the top three spots?”

Duan Ke’s cold snort broke through the laughter: “And this is within the rules?”

Yuan Xiaoying shot to her feet, her voice sharp: “The board needs to take a stand on this.”

The boss raised a placating hand, his practiced smile barely concealing his amusement. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. If the techs earn their points without maliciously altering scores, there’s no reason to penalize them.”

Zhao Ran, ever the voice of neutrality, cleared his throat: “As a member of the Emergency Order Unit, I’ll say this: it’s hard for techs to earn points. This doesn’t seem unfair.”

Duan Ke let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re such a two-faced—”

Yuan Xiaoying, fuming, sank back into her seat with a huff.

The room fell quiet once more, everyone’s eyes returning to the monitors. The boss, now holding a glass of wine, stood near Zhao Ran, his gaze fixated on Yu An.

“That one’s sharp. Cunning, even. He’s got potential for management,” the boss remarked, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses with the base of the wine glass.

Zhao Ran tilted his head, his chin resting on his hand as he watched Yu An’s calculated maneuvers on-screen. Though he remained composed, he couldn’t hide his surprise. For someone so nonchalant about grades during academic exams, Yu An’s current focus and ruthlessness felt almost out of character.

But was this strategy of shared points truly advantageous for Yu An? Protecting two technicians would be far more difficult than acting alone, and their chances of earning points would skyrocket under his protection. It didn’t align with his usual style.

Zhao Ran frowned slightly: “That kid’s up to something.”

“How about this? I have a solution that will satisfy everyone.”  The boss raised his glass. “Let’s make it interesting. Release the wolves.”

…

Ten minutes crept by like whispers in the dark. The next wave of tasks rolled in, accompanied by the robotic monotone of the announcement system:

• Investigator Task 1: Rescue Hostage A from the Coastal Warehouse – 20 Points
• Investigator Task 2: Deliver Equipment – 20 Points
• Investigator Task 3: Destroy Machinery – 20 Points
• Technician Task 1: Assemble Radiation Detection Equipment – 20 Points

Every passing minute, new tasks appeared, and the leaderboard updated in real time, the unrelenting pressure weighing down on every remaining contestant.

“Done.” Yong Zheng finally said, his fingers pulling away from the altered code. The scoring system for technicians now enabled shared points—if one technician completed a task, all three would gain the credit.

Ji Nian wasted no time, his hands deftly assembling the radiation detector. Nearby, Yong Zheng fine-tuned the device’s software, the two working in seamless tandem. Progress surged forward like a well-oiled machine.

Yu An stood at a distance, his keen eyes scanning the area. Every sound, every shadow mattered. He led the team past lurking investigators and toward unclaimed tasks, fixing elimination pits and fulfilling objectives wherever they could. The Function Core: Radiograph’s Eye’s usage dwindled with each engagement. With an hour left, the core had been used nearly ten times, while the goat’s horn had just 27 minutes remaining. They couldn’t afford to waste another second.

Then, from the thicket of grass nearby, a faint metallic clack broke the silence. It was the sound of something heavy, something rusted and ancient, shifting into place.

Yu An whipped around, his grip tightening on the bat. His gaze fell on the rustling undergrowth just as a silver light surged from the shadows above, its hulking form slicing through the air. He barely registered its outline before another flash of silver hurtled toward him, slamming him into the ground.

Steel claws pierced into Yu An’s shoulder, anchoring the beast as razor-sharp fangs crept ever closer to his carotid artery. The monstrous weight pressing down on him was suffocating, his bat the only thing propping it up. The creature—a hulking silver mechanical wolf—loomed over him, its sleek frame glinting with an unnatural sheen. Like the Eagle Bureau’s mechanical eagle, it was powered by a Aberration Core lodged within, turning it into a weapon.

Yu An curled his body, legs coiling tightly beneath him. In one swift motion, he kicked the wolf’s abdomen with enough force to send it flying off. Rolling to his feet, he barely had time to steady himself before his gaze was drawn to another wolf, its metallic frame hurtling toward the two technicians.

Ji Nian froze, his hands trembling over the machinery he was repairing: “Just a little more… Should we—should we run?”

The wolf’s claws tore at the ground, sending shards of rock scattering as it charged. Its raw, unrelenting momentum outmatched even the ferocity of a real wolf, a creature built for fear.

Every intern signed a liability waiver before the probationary trials. The risks of injury and death were explicitly outlined, though an emergency medical team always waited on standby. But no matter how prepared they thought they were, nothing could ready these trainees—most of whom had never tasted real combat—for the visceral terror of facing death.

The two wolves bounded forward, their movements perfectly synchronized. Yong Zheng clutched his laptop like a lifeline and threw himself to the ground, pressing Ji Nian’s head beneath his arms.

Yet the deadly claws never struck. Ji Nian raised his head cautiously, just in time to see a bat spinning through the air, its trajectory sharp and precise. It collided with one wolf’s jaw, the sheer force leaving a jagged dent in its steel plating.

Yu An stood between the wolves and the technicians, his hands locked around the steel jaws of one beast, prying them apart with brute force. “Don’t stop!” he snarled through gritted teeth. “Keep working!”

Ji Nian’s knees buckled, his legs trembling so violently that he stumbled as he scrambled back to the machinery. With shaking hands, he plunged his upper body into its exposed interior, resuming the repairs with feverish urgency.

Blood dripped from Yu An’s hand as the wolf’s fangs pierced through his palm. Its head thrashed violently, claws slashing downward in a blur of silver. A flash of light, a spray of crimson—blood splattered across Yu An’s face and chest.

But he didn’t retreat. Facing down two mechanical wolves, Yu An stood his ground. Not once did he let them breach the invisible line that separated them from the technicians and their equipment.

“Be careful…” Yong Zheng’s voice cracked, his own fear spilling over as he clutched at the ground for stability. His hands were slick with cold sweat, and an unspoken bond—born in the crucible of shared mortal peril—began to form within him.

A deep, jagged gash trailed from Yu An’s cheek down to his chest. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, then reached down to reclaim his bat from the ground. His free hand pulled out the Aberration Core: Goat’s Horn, and, without hesitation, he pressed it into his eye socket.

Power surged through him as sharp, menacing horns sprouted from his forehead. His speed and strength amplified, Yu An bided his time, watching the wolf’s movements with a predator’s patience. When it lunged, he swung his bat with devastating precision.

The impact echoed like thunder as it struck the wolf’s waist. The indomitable bat, built to withstand any force, didn’t splinter. Instead, the mechanical wolf broke, its frame snapping cleanly in two. Exposed wires sparked violently, spitting bursts of light into the air.

Yu An didn’t hesitate. He pulled a military-grade dagger from his belt—a trophy scavenged earlier—and drove it into the wolf’s control core. With a grunt, he twisted the blade, severing the final threads of the wolf’s life. Its body collapsed, inert.

Ten grueling minutes passed before the second wolf was brought to its knees. Yu An stood over the fallen beasts, his breath ragged, blood dripping down his face in thick, glistening trails. Only now did he feel the sting of his wounds, sharp and unrelenting.

“Done!” Ji Nian’s triumphant shout broke the silence.

Technician Task: Assemble Radiation Detection Equipment—[Completed].

Ji Nian threw down his tools, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushed toward Yu An. “Are you okay?”

His eyes widened at the sight of the long gash marring Yu An’s chest. He hesitated, his trembling fingers brushing over the wound. “It’s not too deep. I’ll—let me tie it off with my shirt. Yong Zheng, come help me!”

Silence.

Ji Nian froze, confusion flickering across his face. He turned, scanning the area for the other technician, only for his gaze to land on the leaderboard. His breath caught in his throat.

Yong Zheng’s name glowed ominously, marked with a single, damning word: [Eliminated].

“What… What happened?” Ji Nian’s voice faltered as he turned to Yu An. Their eyes met. In Yu An’s expression, there was no trace of humanity.

Before Ji Nian could process the chilling emptiness in that gaze, his chest tightened as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. He stumbled backward, his feet slipping over the edge of the elimination pit.

He clung desperately to the rim, his fingers clawing into the metal as terror widened his eyes. Above him, Yu An crouched, his expression unreadable as he began to methodically pry Ji Nian’s fingers from the edge.

“Why…?” Ji Nian choked, his voice raw with disbelief.

Yu An’s voice was devoid of emotion as he answered: “Because I want to entertain my interviewer. I thought I’d play for first place.”

Ji Nian’s frail arms gave out, and with a scream, he plummeted into the depths of the pit. But as he fell, he unbuckled his aberration-core work belt and flung it upward with all his strength.

“Do what you want!” he roared, his voice breaking. “But don’t let the technicians lose!”

The precision belt landed at Yu An’s feet. He stared at it for a long moment, his expression clouded with confusion, as though Ji Nian’s final act had rattled something deep within him.

The leaderboard updated once more:

1. Emergency Order Unit – Yu An: 107 points
2. City Patrol Unit – Ni Lan: 76 points
3. Rapid Response Unit – Huo Yangui: 58 points
4. Mechanical Logistics Unit – Ji Nian: 32 points [Eliminated]
5. Safety Technology Unit – Yong Zheng: 30 points [Eliminated]
6. City Patrol Unit – En Zai: 16 points [Eliminated]
7. City Patrol Unit – Zeng Rang: 10 points
8. Medical Rescue Unit – Ruan Xiaoli: 7 points [Eliminated]
9. Rapid Response Unit – Wei Chiyue: 6  points[Eliminated]
10. City Patrol Unit – Ai Ke: 3 points [Eliminated]

The observation hall fell silent, the kind of silence that presses down like a heavy shroud. The leaders of the Mechanical Logistics and Safety Technology teams sat frozen in shock, their expressions carved from stone. As if pulled by an invisible thread, both turned their gazes to Zhao Ran. He exhaled softly, pressing his lips together, a hand lifting to his forehead. His fingers brushed back the strands of hair falling across his face, but the gesture did little to smooth the tension gathering in his features. His eyes betrayed a storm of thoughts, unreadable yet intense.

That boy…Zhao Ran had known for a long time that he was trouble—rotten to the core. Today was merely a glimpse, a jagged tip of the iceberg hiding something far darker beneath. This wasn’t the first time he had shown his true colors. Zhao Ran remembered it vividly: the time the boy, irritated by a college advisor’s persistent nagging, had devised a meticulous plan for murder. A full plan. Not a threat, not a tantrum, but a cold, calculated blueprint. If Zhao Ran hadn’t intervened in time, there was no doubt it would have been carried out without hesitation.

He was born broken—defective. No empathy. No conscience. Cold-blooded, wild, and untamed, a wolf that didn’t just bite but savored the act. Even back then, Zhao Ran had tried to teach him a lesson. He thought the punishment had been harsh enough to sear itself into his bones, to force this reckless, unruly body to remember. But clearly, it hadn’t been enough. A few crocodile tears had been all it took to fool him. Zhao Ran, foolishly soft-hearted, had let him go, comforting him as if he were a lost child.

Now, the memory burned with regret. Had that devil been laughing inside, mocking his naivety, his weakness? It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

Even so, Zhao Ran reassured himself, it was still within control. The beast could still be tamed—just barely. With discipline, with precision, some edges could still be filed down. His gaze, sharp as a blade and heavy as chains, locked onto the young man on the screen. Dressed in black, his figure was lean but commanding, an aura of defiance and danger radiating from him. Zhao Ran’s eyes lingered, unyielding, coiling tighter like a leash around the boy.

How many steps does it take to tame a rabid dog?