In the end, Tang Xiao still didn’t kill 428. It wasn’t because he suddenly felt pity for 428 but simply because he was too exhausted. He had to return to work in the morning and couldn't afford to waste more energy, so he just kicked 428 out of the room.
Later, Tang Xiao deeply regretted his moment of mercy.
It seemed that 428 had grasped the essence of taking advantage of the situation. Ever since that day, the creature appeared to develop a strong interest in human food. It frequently mixed the blood Tang Xiao gave it into human meals and devoured them with great satisfaction.
Not only that, but since Tang Xiao’s blood supply was limited and never enough, he often woke up from his sleep to find 428 quietly spreading cream on his palms.
“428!”
Tang Xiao, who already struggled with sleep, found his insomnia worsening because of 428. Eventually, whenever his wristband woke him up, he would immediately grab his gun and chase 428 around the room with murderous intent.
From then on, he got into the habit of keeping a light sleep—waking up at the slightest movement.
But perhaps because of his initial mercy, 428 realized that Tang Xiao’s bottom line wasn’t unbreakable. From that day forward, the safe distance Tang Xiao had maintained was breached time and time again, yet he was powerless to do anything about it.
As long as he hadn’t completely fallen out with 428, Tang Xiao wouldn’t resort to using the force of his Third Eye against it. But in terms of personal combat, he wasn’t 428’s match either. At most, he could use traps to counterattack. 428 probably realized this too, which was why it became increasingly audacious by the day.
This couldn't go on.
One night, woken once again by 428’s sudden proximity, Tang Xiao sat up. Dark circles hung heavily under his eyes, and bloodshot veins filled them—severe sleep deprivation was taking its toll. He could no longer focus on his daytime experiments, and on top of that, he had to stay on guard against 428’s ambushes. If this continued, he would break down both physically and mentally.
“Maybe he's changed his strategy,” Tang Xiao thought as he watched 428 drop jam onto his palm. “He’s trying to wear down my vigilance little by little, like boiling a frog in warm water… or maybe he’s just waiting for me to die of exhaustion.”
“That would actually be quite clever… though my wristband has a warning system. The moment before I die of overwork, I’ll rewind time.”
“Or maybe he’s trying to consume more food to grow stronger? But in terms of human metabolism, things like sweat should have minimal nutritional value—certainly not as much as the mutant beast meat we feed in the lab. Let alone human food, which should be completely useless to him.”
Tang Xiao was deep in thought. Meanwhile, 428 was entirely focused on spreading jam. In truth, the reason was much simpler—laughably simple.
428 just thought it made the food taste better.
Let’s test something.
Tang Xiao closed his eyes, slowed his breathing, and deliberately exposed his defenseless chest.
Asleep?
428’s licking slowed as its gaze fixed intently on Tang Xiao’s chest.
An opportunity.
Like a feline spotting prey that had turned its back, even if it hadn’t intended to strike at first, the sight of such an obvious opening awakened the hunting instincts buried deep in its genes. In an instant, its mycelium morphed into sharp blades.
However, the moment it pierced Tang Xiao’s skin, Tang Xiao’s eyes snapped open. His gaze wasn’t drowsy in the slightest—it held an amused, knowing look, as if saying: “Caught you.”
The world spun violently. By the time 428 realized what had happened, time had rewound once more. It was back in the laboratory, and Tang Xiao stood calmly inside the observation room. “Increase the voltage by two levels,” Tang Xiao ordered.
“Huh? Are you sure?” A researcher hesitated. “Wouldn't that be too much for the experimental subject?”
“Weak? He's doing just fine,” Tang Xiao said coldly. “He still has plenty of energy to mess around every night.”
He glanced at 428 in the lab, a smirk curling at his lips. “He needs to learn his lesson.”
Though the researcher didn’t fully understand, they followed Tang Xiao’s instructions. A surge of electricity charred the mycelium black, and 428 collapsed in a daze, its filaments severed in large chunks.
428 had never before experienced the cruelty of the human world. But in that moment, its tiny mycelium existence was utterly shaken. A profound, devastating realization.
A realization known as ‘bait-and-switch entrapment.’
After that, the distance between them returned to how it was in the beginning. Tang Xiao issued a stern warning to 428, who could only gaze at him wistfully while gnawing on tasteless food scavenged from the fridge.
The sorrow of man and mushroom was never meant to be understood.
After convincing himself that he had figured out 428’s motives, Tang Xiao erased his previous theories from his mind, making room for more research data.
With each time reversal, Tang Xiao retained memory of his ongoing projects, so they wouldn’t have to start from scratch every time.
Originally, he thought maintaining such a vast database in his mind was impossible. At first, it was. Just the research on zombie mushroom alone was enough to make his head throb. But perhaps pressure pushed him to improve—through training, he achieved something akin to the ‘memory palace’ depicted in films. His knowledge expanded beyond biology into other disciplines, and he learned at an accelerating pace.
He could sense that something had changed within him, though he had no idea why—just like how he had never understood why he was so unique.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure again.
Even after reaching an understanding with 428, Tang Xiao failed numerous times, rewinding back to the moment he first entered Base 7.
Because Tang Xiao strictly controlled how much blood 428 could take and recorded every change in detail, 428’s rapid growth remained within the lab’s expectations. After all, until they found a way to control it, they weren’t foolish enough to create another enemy for themselves.
At present, 428’s greatest value was in serving as a research subject to uncover the weaknesses of the King of Mushroom. After all, in a strict sense, they were the same species.
But the number of failed reversals was far from ideal.
“How the hell am I supposed to kill the King of Mushroom?”
Tang Xiao stood numbly in the lab, repeating the same experiment he had conducted hundreds—if not thousands—of times.
The more he studied 428’s data, the more hopeless he felt. He even started to suspect that these creatures weren’t native to Earth but extraterrestrial in origin. Otherwise, their life form was simply too advanced compared to humans.
If humans were clunky arithmetic calculators, 428 and its kind were at least quantum computers—an entirely different level of existence.
Their biology would astound any scientist, as they were simply too… perfect. If a lifeform existed on Earth that could adapt to any environment, then without a doubt, they were the answer. If this were an era of peace, Tang Xiao might have been fascinated by them. But now, it only deepened his despair.
Again and again, over and over…
When Will This Endless Cycle Ever End?
“Mr-Mr. Tang Xiao?” The researcher trembled as he called out, hesitantly approaching Tang Xiao. When Tang Xiao's hollow, numb gaze shifted toward him, the researcher shuddered. “D-Dr. Bader is asking for you.”
“Got it.”
Tang Xiao responded indifferently and brushed past the researcher, leaving the laboratory without another word.
Only after he had left did the oppressive atmosphere in the lab finally ease.
“He's terrifying,” a newcomer who had joined the lab at the same time as Tang Xiao whispered to Lodge. “What's his deal? Is he really a newcomer? Could he be some kind of monster who had plastic surgery to sneak in?”
“I… don't think so?” Lodge frowned deeply, but there was a trace of uncertainty in his expression.
As someone who admired geniuses to the point of intellectual worship, even Lodge felt that something was off.
Tang Xiao's performance was too extraordinary—it had long surpassed the realm of mere ‘genius.’
It would be more accurate to call him a monster.
Dr. Bader’s favoritism toward him was obvious to everyone. The entire laboratory had practically become Tang Xiao's domain. Babitt, who initially tried to pull some tricks, mysteriously vanished from the lab the very next day.
Rumor had it that his past misdeeds—exploiting and oppressing newcomers—had been exposed. The evidence was ironclad, and witnesses had stepped forward, completely ruining Babitt’s reputation. Seeing his downfall, those in the lab who harbored resentment toward Tang Xiao no longer dared to voice their dissatisfaction. Meanwhile, Tang Xiao himself showed none of the humility expected of a newcomer. On the contrary, he carried himself no differently from those at the very pinnacle of scientific research. He seamlessly took control of the lab. Not only did he not struggle, but the lab's operations also became more efficient than ever under his leadership.
In fact, many people, deep down, felt that working under Tang Xiao was actually a better experience.
It was just that sometimes… Tang Xiao himself felt utterly terrifying.
Even when meeting someone for the first time, it felt as though he could see right through them. No one had any secrets in front of him.
One researcher, recalling the brief moment he had locked eyes with Tang Xiao earlier, felt his skin crawl. He resolved to avoid speaking to him for as long as possible.
At that moment, Tang Xiao had already arrived at Bader’s office. As soon as he entered, Bader’s gloomy expression vanished, replaced by an ingratiating smile. “My lord, you've arrived.”
Tang Xiao acknowledged him with a faint hum and sat down unceremoniously, not showing the slightest respect a student should have toward their mentor. “What do you need?”
At that moment, it was as if their roles had reversed. It was Tang Xiao who held Bader’s fate in his hands, while Bader was the subordinate.
And, in reality, that wasn’t far from the truth. With minimal effort, Tang Xiao had used his research achievements to satiate Bader’s hunger for success, successfully preventing him from slipping from the rank of a Level 5 scientist. At the same time, he leveraged the weaknesses he had uncovered in his previous time loops to keep Bader in check, securing his position of power.
To the outside world, Tang Xiao was merely Bader’s newly accepted student. But in reality, he had long since taken control.
His only purpose in doing so was to ensure absolute authority over Project 428.
If Bader were to fall, as a newcomer, Tang Xiao would never be able to take direct control of a Level 5 project. And with Leon obstructing him, securing a leadership position in the ‘Hope’ Project would be even more difficult.
But with Bader as a shield, it was different. Bader had the necessary qualifications. As long as he didn't lose his Level 5 status, he could compete for leadership of both Project 428 and the Hope Project.
Bader controlled 428 and the Hope Project. Tang Xiao controlled Bader.
This setup—he had repeated it multiple times already. So much so that the moment the researcher came to find him, Tang Xiao could already predict how everything would unfold.
“As you predicted,” Bader said, his smile faltering momentarily before regaining composure. “The fall of the city follows a certain pattern. This is a prelude to war. The King of Mushroom is closing in, constructing a massive encirclement against humanity. The Academic Committee has already convened a meeting, and they’ll likely approve the project’s launch soon.”
It was happening again.
Tang Xiao's vision blurred for a moment, and he remained silent. Not hearing a response, Bader turned to look at him in confusion. “What's wrong—”
“...Nothing.” Tang Xiao forced himself to appear composed.
But every time he reached this point, it felt like a countdown timer was ticking down.
Once, he had been filled with confidence. Now, he numbly realized that he had gradually come to accept a terrifying truth— That this time, too, he would likely fail.
Dragging his exhausted body back to his dormitory, Tang Xiao lay down on his bed with his eyes shut. Waves of fatigue surged over him all at once, pulling his consciousness into the depths of oblivion.
The ventilation duct rustled again. A figure moved lightly, lifting the cover and sneaking into the dormitory. Its gaze first landed on Tang Xiao.
Usually, no matter how quietly it entered, Tang Xiao would notice immediately, sit up, and glare at it coldly—sometimes even reaching for a weapon.
But today, there was nothing.
Even when the figure landed soundlessly, the man on the bed did not stir. A hint of doubt flashed in 428’s eyes. Then, it tentatively crept closer, its mycelium trembling as they carefully breached the safe distance.
If it were any other time, Tang Xiao would have already jumped up, gun in hand, ready to chase it down. But today, there was still no reaction.
Tang Xiao lay on his side, his back facing 428. A stretch of smooth, pale skin was exposed, faint blue veins visible beneath the surface. His vulnerable neck was right there, just within reach.
It would only take a slight flick of a mycelium to claim his life.
428 stared at that neck for several seconds. Then, it averted its gaze and snuck into the kitchen instead.
Even after 428 had finished raiding the refrigerator, the man on the bed had not moved—had not even shifted his position. Without looking back, 428 swiftly retreated through the ventilation duct, slipping away back to the lab.
Only after it was gone did Tang Xiao slowly open his eyes.
A fleeting trace of… relief flashed across his gaze. So brief, it was as if it had never appeared at all.
The author has something to say:
428: Fishing for a reaction, huh? Nope, not falling for it!
Tang Xiao: ……
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