"Director Brooks, we've found a record in the main bureau's archives. It looks like our storage once lost a jar of Mirror Flower Water Moon butterfly eggs, and we've never found them."

"Isolate all related personnel in the archives for me. After this is over, interrogate them one by one! Why wasn't the loss of such dangerous items reported?" Zachary Brooks squeezed out the words coldly through clenched teeth, barely suppressing his anger. "Connect me to the on-site aftermath division."

"Leader! Director Brooks is contacting you, asking if you know how to break the Mirror Flower Water Moon butterfly's curse?"

"Mirror Flower Water Moon butterfly, are you talking about the 'Human-faced Butterfly'?" Gavin Carter imitated Grace Walker's tone, repeating the term in Mandarin, then smiled as if gloating over their misfortune. "That's not good. The Human-faced Butterfly is a tough one."

Dylan Foster: "Cryosurgery."

"Cut the crap!" Zachary Brooks said in a deep voice. "Cryosurgery requires the butterfly to be rendered inactive first. Otherwise, if that damn thing senses any external interference, it'll perish together with the host. The process takes at least twenty-four hours. Where am I supposed to steal you twenty-four hours?"

"But it's not like there's no way," at this moment, Gavin Carter spoke up. Perhaps because the sacrificial ritual was about to be completed, a faint trace of blood appeared at the corners of his eyes and lips. "The last sacrifice must die at the stroke of midnight. If the timing is wrong, the spellcaster will be in trouble. Since the sacrifice is already in your hands, just deal with it early. If you can't save people, surely you can kill them?"

Zachary Brooks: "What did he say?"

"Forty-eight hours is possible too," Dylan Foster lifted his eyelids, his beautiful phoenix eyes misted with moisture, yet there seemed to be a fire still burning in his pupils. "The demon said, as long as you catch the spellcaster before 'the stroke of midnight.'"

"Director Brooks! The boy parasitized by the butterfly started drawing the sacrificial script sixteen days ago. Counting back one day should be the infection time. That day, he spent the whole day in a net café, day and night reversed. We got the surveillance footage from the net café and found this person!"

"Let me see!"

On the blurry screenshot from the video, a man with a cigarette in his mouth and a small mustache was captured.

"Director Brooks, this is the 'hiker' we just rescued from the Chiyuan Grand Canyon—the team leader."

Grace Walker covered her mouth with her hand: "Sister Parker! Sister Parker is with them!"

Gavin Carter turned his head to glance at the thick fog outside the window, then suddenly said, "One more quarter of an hour."

Dylan Foster shuddered—

Wait, the "stroke of midnight" means twelve o'clock at night, a concept influenced by the modern Western calendar. In ancient times, the "zi" hour started at eleven o'clock!

Author's note: Note: fMRI, functional magnetic resonance imaging, the amygdala is believed to be related to negative emotions and fear.

Chapter 9

Dylan Foster's first reaction was: "Fat girl, go out and notify the field agents downstairs."

Grace Walker replied honestly, "Director Brooks already notified them, don't worry."

Dylan Foster: "..."

Less than fifteen minutes left. If Zachary Brooks and his useless field agents fail to catch the spellcaster, this place will be the front line facing the big demon—like sitting on a bomb.

The main point of Dylan Foster's words was "go out." To prevent a melodramatic exchange like "You go!" "No, I can't leave you," he deliberately gave her a task as an excuse, so she'd feel less guilty about running away.

If she were a bit sharper, she'd know to take the hint and get out quickly.

But this fat girl didn't get it at all, and even tried to comfort him: "Sister Parker has been working for almost thirty years, and she used to be a field agent in the security department before moving to a desk job. She's experienced—she'll be fine! Hang in there, we can win."

Win your ass! Modern youth have really been ruined by games!

"I'm telling you to get out," Dylan Foster couldn't bother with subtlety anymore, "If you're useless, don't get in my way!"

"Xuan—"

"Shut up, get lost!"

The thick, white fog outside surged in through the broken window, shards of glass trembling and rattling, probably covering the sound of Grace Walker's footsteps as she left.

The chubby girl outside really did fall silent.

Suddenly, everything was extremely quiet. Gavin Carter suddenly asked, "Are you from the Qingping Division?"

"The Qingping Division was gone over seven hundred years ago." Dylan Foster's heart skipped a beat, and he countered, "You know about the Qingping Division?"

Gavin Carter let out an "ah," his expression suddenly a bit dazed. His gaze drifted out into the hazy fog, as if recalling a distant past. "Then it's been a thousand years... I vaguely remember something. You were raised by someone since childhood, right? Otherwise, why would such an innate spiritual being work for mortals?"

"Innate, acquired, it's all fallen into decline," Dylan Foster replied vaguely, as if tacitly admitting to being "raised by someone." Then he asked in return, "You... sometimes say 'mortals,' sometimes 'your demon clan,' so you are..."

He paused here, exhausted, panting a few times before barely continuing, "What are you? A god?"

"There are no gods in this world. Gods are just people's wishful thinking." Gavin Carter paused, and after a long while, he said softly, "Me? I suppose I'm just a human's delusion... Heh, it's been too long, I don't remember anymore."