Star Rank Hunter

Chapter 415: The Planet Hidden in the Asteroid Belt

Perhaps because he had been isolated for so long, compounded by whatever he had experienced over the years, Mengqialuo particularly disliked speaking. He even struggled with basic interpersonal communication. Just like before, he only answered exactly what was asked and refused to volunteer half a word more. He wasn’t even willing to express his own thoughts or desires.

Cillin found it inconvenient to press for more details about the chip right now. He would have a proper talk with Mengqialuo once this was all over. It was their secret and couldn’t be leaked; otherwise, it would trigger another conflict.

Cillin left the warehouse and walked over to Ci Jincheng and the rest of the group.

The passages along the way were still flooded with various toxic gases, but Mengqialuo wasn’t wearing a protective suit. Like Czedow, he walked calmly through the haze.

Wheeze looked at Mengqialuo, then at Cillin. It knew the two of them were very similar. If Mengqialuo could resist these toxic gases, Cillin should be able to as well. Why was he still wearing that thick protective suit?

It couldn’t figure it out. Flicking its ears, Wheeze let the matter drop. It crouched on Cillin’s shoulder facing backward, watching Mengqialuo trail behind them, and started to scheme.

If Mengqialuo was trustworthy, then counting itself, Cillin, and Czedow, there would be four of them. They wouldn’t lose to Sigma and his four brothers no matter what.

In Wheeze’s eyes, the four of them were similar: two with chips, one Cyborg Lifeform, and one robot. All of them could communicate in machine language. Wait, did this gloomy new blockhead even know machine language?

Wheeze looked at Mengqialuo and asked a few questions in machine language, but Mengqialuo just stared back without replying.

“Do you understand machine language?” Left with no other option, Wheeze tried again in the GAL language.

“No,” Mengqialuo replied, his face as expressionless as ever.

“That won’t do.” Wheeze began calculating when to teach Mengqialuo machine language. It had finally found someone with a structure similar to Cillin’s and wasn’t about to give up on him. Otherwise, their side would only have three people against Sigma’s five brothers, putting them at a massive numerical disadvantage.

Wheeze chattered at Mengqialuo the rest of the way, and Cillin let it happen. It was good for Mengqialuo. If he really did join the 11th Team in the future, he would inevitably have to interact with others.

Ci Jincheng’s group had practically finished their preparations; they were just waiting for Cillin to arrive so they could pull out.

Seeing the man trailing behind Cillin, Ci Jincheng and the others were a bit spooked. According to their life-signal detectors, this person simply didn’t exist; there was no dot marking him at all. He looked somewhat like a biochemical orc, but the detector wasn’t picking up any biochemical orc readings either. Furthermore, he wasn’t wearing a protective suit and seemed completely unaffected by the toxic gas.

“Cillin, who’s the guy behind you...” Lung pursed his lips, signaling for an introduction.

“Someone from the warehouse. He used to be a biochemical orc experiment subject, then escaped and lived over in that area.” Cillin gave a brief rundown of Mengqialuo’s situation, leaving out most of the details. The chip and Horay Hanson were absolute secrets that could never be revealed.

Ci Jincheng and the others didn’t pry. They only needed to confirm that Mengqialuo posed no threat and wouldn’t bring them any trouble. As long as that was true, they were perfectly happy to have an extra pair of hands.

Cillin had Czedow project the distribution map of “Miracle” bases across the surrounding star sectors. They were bound to find a base connected to the “Dream Tapir” here. Clean-up operations were progressing rapidly in the trade sectors and the Upper Three Star Sectors, wiping out numerous facilities. In response, it was highly likely that “Miracle” had relocated their nodes to the lagging star sectors. Even if the military deployed troops to these lagging sectors, it would be difficult to execute a clean sweep. The cosmic environment out here was generally harsh, providing a natural protective barrier.

“If we really have to check them one by one, it’ll take too much time,” Ci Jincheng said with a frown. From what they knew, the infected zones within the GAL were still expanding. While there had been progress in vaccine development, there was no root cure yet; they could only do their best to suppress the deterioration in infected patients.

“Have the various project teams made any progress?” Cillin asked. Those teams were composed of leading authorities in their respective fields. If even they hadn’t made a breakthrough by now, the situation was looking grim.

Ci Jincheng shook his head.

Cillin thought for a moment, then looked at Mengqialuo. “Do you know anything about the ‘Dream Tapir’?”

“No.”

“Do you know where the people from the pharmaceutical plant went?” Cillin tried a different angle.

“I know some of it.”

“Tell us. We could use a lead.”

Mengqialuo pointed at the holographic projection and concisely relayed what he knew. Though he didn’t say much, every word hit the mark, giving Cillin and the others a solid frame of reference.

“In that case, the higher-ups likely went to these two places.” Cillin summarized Mengqialuo’s information and circled two planets.

Those were the two planets most frequented by the management of the biochemical orc base. The rest of the personnel had scattered, though most were still within these marked zones. It seemed Mengqialuo had actually taken the time to study the map Horay had left behind. He was simply too reclusive to actually go out.

“Regardless, let’s check these two places first. If we can find a base tied to the ‘Dream Tapir’, we’ll gain more information. Even if we don’t find anything on the ‘Dream Tapir’ itself, learning about the viruses it carries will be enough. At the very least, we can speed up vaccine production and reduce the death toll,” Ci Jincheng said, putting away the map as he looked at the rest of the group.

“Then it’s settled. We take a roundabout approach. If we can’t find the ‘Dream Tapir’, tracking down data on a few more of those viruses is still worth the trip,” Knight said, dusting off his protective suit.

The others shared Knight’s sentiment.

Mengqialuo still wore that expressionless look, but Cillin could sense that he was confused and a bit nervous. After all, it was his first time in close contact with this many people—people who didn’t immediately scream or open fire on him.

After living in isolation for so many years, Mengqialuo had become extraordinarily sensitive to goodwill and malice. But he felt no disgust or alienation from these people; at most, they were just curious.

As they were leaving the Underground Base, Lung leaned in, eyed Mengqialuo up and down, and asked, “Hey, brother, are you a biochemical orc?”

Mengqialuo paused for a moment before nodding.

The term “biochemical orc” carried a heavy, alien stigma.

“But we just killed a whole bunch of biochemical orcs—the ones that broke out of the bases.”

Mengqialuo fell silent. Just as the others pretended to walk earnestly while actually straining their ears to listen, he finally spoke. “I killed a lot of them, too.”

Lung stared at Mengqialuo for a moment, then nodded. “You’re different from those biochemical orcs.”

“Of course he is! He’s my underling!” Wheeze hurriedly interjected.

Once they exited the Underground Base, they found Kang Man hovering the spaceplane above, waiting for them.

At Cillin’s signal, Mengqialuo followed the group and leaped onto the boarding ramp. After entering the cabin, everyone sat down to rest while Ci Jincheng gave Kang Man the coordinates for their next target planet.

“What about all that stuff in the warehouse?” Knight asked, gulping down some water. “Those people are going to rush to fight over it immediately, aren’t they?”

The aircraft in the warehouse only had a few system errors. They could be restored with a bit of effort, but the repairs would be time-consuming. That was exactly why the pharmaceutical plant staff hadn’t bothered fixing them back then; they had been reluctant to shell out either the time or the money.

“Leave it to the three faction leaders to sort out. I’m sure they’ll be more than willing to pay the price,” Cillin said.

Ever since the outbreak on this planet, the three pharmaceutical plants had shut down one after another. All flying vehicles capable of leaving the atmosphere had been tightly controlled by the plant management, and any remaining aircraft had been destroyed—except for the ones in that special warehouse.

“Their people have been loitering around the area lately, though they haven’t spotted us.” Allen briefed Cillin and the others on the scouts monitoring the pharmaceutical plant. The three factions were bound to fight over the spoils, which would inevitably trigger a massive gang war, unless they secretly agreed to divide the assets. Regardless of what the three faction leaders decided, it didn’t matter to Cillin’s group anymore.

Lung and a few of the others hovered restlessly around Mengqialuo, trying to cozy up to him. Once they realized he wasn’t nearly as fierce as he looked, they even started curiously studying his wings.

Wheeze crouched on Cillin’s shoulder and watched them. The occasional twitch of its tail told Cillin that the cat was hatching another wicked scheme.

Finally, Wheeze stood up and trotted over on its tiptoes.

“Shoo, shoo!” Wheeze chased away the guys inspecting Mengqialuo’s wings. It paused in front of him, having seemingly made up its mind, and said, “Can you cross your arms over your chest? Like this.”

Wheeze gave a demonstration of crossing its arms. Mengqialuo said nothing, but he mirrored the gesture.

“Raise your elbows a little more... Don’t move your arms... Yes, exactly like that...”

Satisfied, Wheeze hopped onto Mengqialuo’s shoulder. When Mengqialuo turned his head to look at it, Wheeze raised a front paw and pushed his face straight again. Then it jumped down onto his crossed arms, crouched, and tested the firmness. Dissatisfied with the comfort level, it guided Mengqialuo to adjust his arms until it looked like Wheeze was being cradled in his embrace.

Once the setup finally met its standards, Wheeze settled onto Mengqialuo’s crossed arms. “You can wrap your wings back around now.”

Mengqialuo did as told, forming his wings into a cloak once more.

“Alright, keep it down. Your grandpa is going to sleep.”

Cillin and the others: “...”

Cillin had seemingly, probably, just witnessed a mobile, climate-controlled cat bed—a tireless humanoid cat bed.

Throughout the process, Cillin noticed that Mengqialuo was a bit stiff, but he hadn’t rejected the cat.

Whatever, he would just let it be. He’d let the cat gloat for a while; getting cozy with Mengqialuo was a good way to foster some team bonding.

“Cillin, come here for a second.” Ci Jincheng, who was analyzing the data on his datapad, waved him over.

Cillin told Czedow to knock some sense into the cat if it got too full of itself, or else the furball would walk all over them.

Czedow nodded; he had been planning to interact with their new teammate anyway. When it came to interpersonal communication, Mengqialuo couldn’t even compare to a pure robot like Czedow.

“What is it?” Cillin walked over and sat down across from Ci Jincheng.

Ci Jincheng didn’t say a word. He merely handed Cillin a newly received document. Cillin took it, scanned the contents, and raised an eyebrow. “It’s already begun fission reproduction?!”

The new data confirmed that the “Dream Tapir” had begun to multiply. It reproduced via binary fission, much like a single-celled organism, and the cloned copies carried the exact same viruses as the original.

“Finding the ‘Dream Tapir’ this quickly was already an impressive feat,” Cillin said.

According to the report, the “Dream Tapir” they had captured was likely a first-generation clone. Several top-tier project teams had already begun studying it, dividing their research into two main branches: inhibiting its fission cycle, and synthesizing vaccines for its viruses.

They had made zero progress on the first front. There was currently no known way to completely halt the creature’s fission, and any theoretical methods were wildly impractical. As for the vaccines, they had only managed to synthesize cures for two of the viruses so far. Both were still in the experimental stage, so their actual clinical effectiveness was uncertain.

“Inhibiting their fission cycle feels completely impossible at this stage,” Ci Jincheng said, rubbing his temples. “But we can definitely double down on the viral vaccines. What we lack right now is time. The transmission rate is too fast. More and more planets are falling to the infection, and it’s especially devastating in the trade sectors.”

Handing the document back, Cillin said, “Tracking down ‘Miracle’ bases on this trip should give us some leads on those viruses.”

Ci Jincheng offered a weary smile. “Let’s hope so.”

Cillin said nothing more. He had a strong feeling that they were about to uncover something crucial. The “Dream Tapir” was a carrier for hundreds of highly resistant viruses, including synthetic strains. That level of bioengineering couldn’t have come from a single experimental base, nor could it have been developed overnight.

When the authorities besieged the various “Miracle” facilities in the trade sectors and the Upper Three Star Sectors, they hadn’t found much data on the pathogens. That meant the viruses were likely engineered in labs out in other star sectors, before their research was consolidated and implanted into the “Dream Tapir.”

There were dozens of lagging star sectors covering a massive expanse of space. The base distribution map Cillin had obtained from Mengqialuo only accounted for a fraction of them, but if they could secure even a little bit of viral data from this fraction, it would be a huge morale booster.

In times like these—with a plague running rampant, mass panic setting in, and no clear way out in sight—every new vaccine released was a beacon of hope.

Their next designated target was also located in the R Star Sector. However, the planet’s environment was incredibly harsh, and it was surrounded by an asteroid belt. For an inexperienced pilot, navigating the approach would practically guarantee a fatal crash.

The planet itself was small. According to the telemetry sent back by their probes, it was a Class D Habitability Planet. With no other large celestial bodies nearby, it sat perfectly hidden within the asteroid belt, making it extremely difficult to spot.

“The ion storm just passed. Our luck isn’t bad,” Kang Man said with a smile.

“You really can’t tell that ‘Miracle’ actually hid a research base out here,” Pride said, clicking his tongue.

“If I weren’t looking for it, I wouldn’t have even noticed there was a planet out here,” Lung exclaimed, looking back and forth between the star map in his hands and the image on the main screen.

On the official star map of the R Star Sector, no such planet existed—only the asteroid belt. If passing adventurers or other Hunter regiments charted a course through here, the dense debris field would convince them to take a wide detour.

However, the map Lung held wasn’t the official R Star Sector release. It was a highly detailed chart that the Andrea Family had mapped out themselves through private channels. Yet even their comprehensive survey had overlooked this little rock hidden inside the asteroid belt.

“They really went all out,” Knight noted.

“No surface moisture detected, and it lacks an atmosphere. Judging by its survival metrics, it’s definitely a Class D Habitability Planet,” Kang Man told the group as he summarized the scanner readings.

“If the coordinates on the map are right, then that means the ‘Miracle’ research base on this planet is...”

“Underground!”

Everyone’s spirits lifted. The secrecy didn’t discourage them; in fact, the more hidden the base was, the more important its research had to be. And the more critical the facility, the better their chances of finding a solution to the “Dream Tapir.”

Mengqialuo stared at the group, unable to understand their sudden excitement. Czedow quietly explained the situation to him. As for how much he actually understood... well, there was no rush.

Wheeze was still curled up inside its “cloak,” sleeping soundly. Even after hearing about the discovery, the cat showed no intention of popping its head out.

Kang Man piloted the spaceplane into the asteroid belt and found a tight cluster of rocks to hide the vessel. They didn’t dare fly directly toward the planet for fear of triggering an orbital alarm, but the belt provided perfect cover. The unique magnetic field here, combined with the spaceplane’s own stealth systems, made them incredibly difficult to detect.

“Let’s send two people over first to scout the route and confirm if the ‘Miracle’ base is actually down there,” Ci Jincheng said.

“Czedow and I will go,” Cillin said.

The group glanced over in Mengqialuo’s direction. The cat clearly wasn’t planning to come out.

“Take me with you. Three people is safer.” Knight adjusted his protective suit.

“I’ll go too. We can split up and cover more ground,” Lung said.

“No. Let Cillin’s trio go first and assess the situation,” Ci Jincheng said, pushing Lung back down into his seat and stopping anyone else from volunteering. “If there really is a base here, it will be heavily guarded. Having too many people will just be a liability.”

Mengqialuo walked over. He didn’t speak, but his body language made it clear he wanted to tag along too.

“No need, just the three of us is enough. Help keep an eye on the cat so it doesn’t cause any trouble,” Cillin told him. “Besides, we don’t have a protective suit that fits you. If you want to join a spacewalk, you’ll have to wait a while longer.”

Mengqialuo nodded in acknowledgment.

“Let’s go.” Cillin patted Czedow and Knight. After a final check of his protective suit, he led the way out the airlock.