GRMFBS CH48

The teacher, who looked as if he had finally been freed from the torture of being dragged around by the dog, gladly handed the leash over to them. At this moment, the cheerful husky still had no idea what was about to happen.

Zhan Yan stopped, while Gu Jiancheng took the leash and kept running.

The teacher gasped for a long time before catching his breath: “Thank you so much. This guy can really run—I nearly got dragged face-first onto the ground. Don’t you have classes later? I’ll rest for a bit and take him back myself.”

“We’re free this morning. Lend him to us for a little longer, Teacher,” Zhan Yan said with a pure, innocent smile.

The teacher readily agreed, saying the dog was theirs for the whole morning and to return him at lunchtime by the cafeteria gate.

As they strolled and chatted, the teacher told him the dog’s name was “Pao Pao” (Runner). Apparently, when it was little, it was very skinny and weak, so they named him that to encourage him to exercise more and grow stronger.

Now the teacher deeply regretted that name.

Gu Jiancheng had already taken the dog for two laps by the time Zhan Yan was done resting. After saying goodbye to the teacher, he went over to join him.

“Young people sure have energy,” the teacher sighed, waving them off.

Zhan Yan and Gu Jiancheng took the dog for several more laps. Zhan Yan jogged and stopped intermittently; Gu Jiancheng ran without stopping. In the end, the husky collapsed on the ground, refusing to get up no matter what, while Gu Jiancheng only seemed a little out of breath.

Zhan Yan handed him a bottle of water—he’d bought two bottles and a disposable plastic bowl from the shop during a break. He squatted down and poured some water for the dog.

The husky struggled up, stuck its head into the bowl, and started slurping noisily.

Zhan Yan and Gu Jiancheng sat shoulder to shoulder on the steps, smiling as they gently petted the dog’s head. “Still want to run in circles?”

The dog’s ears twitched twice. It kept its head lowered, drinking, but rolled its eyes up to secretly glance at him, wondering if this person had somehow understood its earlier complaints.

“This dog’s pretty smart,” Zhan Yan said, giving its head another stroke.

Pao Pao didn’t dodge—was it because it was too tired to resist the fear? Or was the husky breed just too dense to notice? He’d heard these dogs could even make friends with burglars who broke into their homes…

The husky couldn’t help squinting its eyes in enjoyment.

Gu Jiancheng gave it a glance. “It just has terrible stamina.”

The husky lifted its head and barked unhappily.

No real meaning behind it—just pure dissatisfaction.

Zhan Yan laughed. He’d seen Gu Jiancheng’s stamina during the school sports meet—back when Gu Jiancheng signed up for the 5000 meters. Zhan Yan had joked during sign-ups that he’d be in charge of handing him water and cheering him on—so when Gu Jiancheng ran, he really did show up.

The guy kept a steady pace the whole way. When others sprinted, he sprinted too—and ended up taking fourth place. The guys in front and behind him had practically collapsed, leaning on classmates, gasping so hard they couldn’t even speak. But Gu Jiancheng? He walked over casually, unscrewed a bottle cap, and even thanked him in a steady voice.

Gu Jiancheng let out a short mocking snort at the dog, his gaze full of disdain.

The husky barked furiously back.

The early autumn wind swept across the playground. The leaves rustled, birds chirped, dogs barked—Zhan Yan had to fight hard not to burst into laughter.

He really needed to figure out how to switch off this new “function” of his.

At least before this cheat activated, birdsong in his ears was just birdsong—pleasant and calming.

But now…

“Look how pretty my feathers are!”
“Stay away from me!”
“I sing better than you!”
“I’ll peck you to death!”

Meanwhile, the dog was cursing:
“Wretched humans! You tricked me away from my master! Give me back right now!”

“We’re free this morning,” Zhan Yan said to the dog.

The husky didn’t understand, staring at him with round, confused eyes.

Zhan Yan continued to explain, “That means we can walk you all morning.”

The dog’s ears instantly stood up, and it nervously stretched its neck away:

“No way you lot can last a whole morning!”

Zhan Yan smiled. “It also means all our classmates are free this morning. Everyone’s eager to walk you. Our class has more than thirty people.”

Dog: ?!!

Thirty people to walk just one dog?!

The husky whimpered low in its throat, wagging its tail furiously, and came over to nuzzle Zhan Yan’s hand on his knee, trying to curry favor.

Gu Jiancheng pushed its head away and slipped his own hand under Zhan Yan’s palm, giving the dog a cold, mocking smile. “Hah.”

Pao Pao: …

You’re still the human’s dog after all.

Zhan Yan cheerfully led the dog to the professional classroom.

Their classmates’ eyes lit up, rushing over to pet the dog eagerly. But after a while, their professional instincts kicked in—they couldn’t resist giving the dog a health check, pulling at its hind legs.

Their voices were gentle; their words were brutal:

“Is Pao Pao a boy or a girl?”

“Has he been neutered?”

…

Pao Pao sat in the middle of the veterinary students, utterly confused and despairing, letting out helpless howls.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Zhan Yan opened his gossip system.

Bao Qingshan had left the campus again today. Ever since that night he’d been stargazing, he’d stopped skipping class so often, and the guys in the dorm had been relieved. But now he was out again.

Stargazing at night could be written off as a quirk—but skipping class in the daytime? Why?

It wasn’t the first time Bao Qingshan had left school during the day—and combined with this new stargazing habit that had suddenly appeared—could it be… had Bao Qingshan been lured into some cult?

He typed “Bao Qingshan” into the search bar. The first entry that popped up was:

[A fly landed on the stinky tofu Bao Qingshan just bought. Bao Qingshan pulled a long face and threw away the tofu without taking a single bite.]

Zhan Yan almost jumped up!

Garbled anomaly No. 2! Real-time! He’d caught it!

He quickly marked the fly currently possessed by Anomaly No. 2 as “special attention” to prevent losing track of it.

He had to notify the Anomaly Affairs Bureau immediately. If he lost this trail again, who knew when he’d catch it next?

To contact the Bureau, he needed to log onto the Supernatural Forum. When logging in, everything around him turned into data streams—he preferred to do this in a secure environment. At home, it was his bedroom; at school, the dorm room could do. The professional classroom was too chaotic—and getting back to the dorm would take at least ten minutes…

“I’m gonna lie down for a bit. Watch over me—don’t let anyone disturb me,” Zhan Yan said to Gu Jiancheng.

Gu Jiancheng sensed something subtly serious in his expression.

He nodded, his brow furrowed. “Alright.”

Relieved, Zhan Yan laid his head on the desk and connected to the Supernatural Forum.

The gossip feed on the fly was still updating—it had already flown elsewhere, but Anomaly No. 2 was still possessing its body for now.

Zhan Yan opened the private message tab for his Lingyu.

Approaching Science: “No. 42 Yongxing Street, third trash bin on the north side. Fly.”

His Lingyu responded almost instantly: “Real-time?”

Approaching Science: “Yes.”
Lingyu: “Good work.”

Information synchronized. Orders issued.

The forces hidden in Beiling City under the Anomaly Affairs Bureau quickly sprang into action. As Approaching Science continuously updated with real-time messages, they moved to pursue the anomaly hiding inside the fly.

In Sweetwater Alley.

Bao Qingshan rubbed his grumbling stomach, scratched his arm, then his neck, and walked into the alley looking troubled.

By the well sat an old rocking chair. Granny Zu sat there with her eyes closed, holding a palm fan wrapped in red string. The chair and fan gently rocked back and forth, making her look just like an elderly villager enjoying the shade, hiding from the lingering summer heat.

“Granny, why are you always sitting here looking for inspiration?” Bao Qingshan asked.

Mosquitoes were getting fiercer these days. Bug sprays and coils didn’t always work. Sweetwater Alley was exactly the kind of damp, shady place mosquitoes loved. He’d already accumulated several big welts over the past few days.

Granny Zu opened her eyes and glanced at him. “Your cultivation is not good enough.”

Mosquitoes wouldn’t dare bite her.

Bao Qingshan pulled a bitter face. “You’re right.”

How many years had he been cultivating? And how old was Granny Zu?

“If they’re biting you so badly, just go back,” Granny Zu said again. “I feel you’ve already served your purpose.”

Bao Qingshan blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

Granny Zu had insisted he was necessary for this mission—now she thought he wasn’t needed anymore. But what had he done? He hadn’t done anything yet—was his purpose already fulfilled?

“Then what about you, Granny? Are you going back?” he asked.

Granny Zu closed her eyes again and leisurely fanned herself. “I still want to sit here for a while.”

…

The intense, rapid monitoring of Anomaly No. 2’s garbled thread had left Zhan Yan feeling mentally drained—but now wasn’t the time to rest.

The fly was moving too fast and evading capture skillfully. The Anomaly Affairs Bureau agents hadn’t caught it yet, but they were close—the two sides were nearing each other.

A thousand miles away, Nie Yu transmitted the real-time updates to the action team.

And besides them, many others were watching this operation closely.

Ning Xi, Ji Yueming… everyone had their eyes on the live-updating data on their screens, and the little green dots on the map that represented the action team members.

Approaching Science: “Seventh floor, left-side men’s restroom, Shanqiang Culture building.”

Zhan Yan reported the latest location.

On the screen, the red dot representing the anomaly instantly jumped to the new position. The green dots adjusted their movement accordingly, rapidly surrounding the red dot.

They were close—this was the nearest they had ever gotten to Anomaly No. 2.

At the entrance, by the windows, in the storage room next to the restroom—even a member skilled in earth magic had burrowed underground. All carried specially-made capturing devices. The agents at the entrance could already see the fly…

Suddenly, a new gossip thread refreshed in the system:

[The fly is buzzing wildly around the seventh-floor left-side men’s restroom at Shanqiang Culture.]

Zhan Yan paused.

Approaching Science: “No need to catch it anymore.”

The garbled code was gone. Anomaly No. 2 had left the fly.

This was its “jump.”

When Anomaly No. 1 attached to or left a host, there were always notifications in the threads—for example, when the starving ghost ate the garbled anomaly out of hunger or when it puked it out because of cake overload.

But not No. 2. Its attachments and departures always happened without warning. The only evidence was the sudden appearance and disappearance of garbled code in the gossip threads.

Nie Yu stared at that line of text. Her nerves, stretched taut until now, suddenly snapped. She sat frozen in front of the computer, muttering softly, “We failed…”

Ji Yueming gently patted her head. “It’s okay. Failure is normal.”

Nie Yu couldn’t help but protest, “But this was the closest we’ve ever been.”

“I know,” Ji Yueming replied.

Those two words were simple—far too simple to carry the storm of emotions in Nie Yu’s heart. She stammered, “Tracking garbled anomalies is so hard! Incredibly hard! Their pollution is much worse than normal anomalies. I tried researching related data—it was awful. Catching one in its true form is sheer luck.”

She could feel how much Approaching Science had suffered.

As another information specialist, she knew the toll of dealing with garbled anomaly pollution. What’s more, this had been a high-intensity trace. Every day she received new updates from Approaching Science—she knew how much data had to be dug through to produce this. Who knew how many attempts it had taken to get this lucky break?

“We finally got so close…”

“A’Yu.” Ji Yueming gently stopped her.

Nie Yu froze and looked up at Ji Yueming.

Ji Yueming said nothing, just gazed at her with warm, gentle eyes—whites tinged faint blue, pupils slightly translucent—calm and comforting, like the sky itself.

Their team leader understood—fully understood the difficulty of tracking garbled anomalies.

She had faced far harder situations herself.

Her words—“Failure is normal”—came from experience with countless failures.

Her quiet “I know” was because she truly knew.

Nie Yu whispered, “Sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean…”

Ji Yueming gently stroked her head. “Ask Approaching Science how he’s holding up.”

“Mm.” Nie Yu nodded.

This real-time tracking had taken its toll. For the field agents, it was tough but manageable—the true strain had fallen on Approaching Science, who maintained the direct trace.

Though Approaching Science was mentally strong, he probably needed support now.

Lingyu: “Are you alright?”

“I can provide free mental recovery potions.”

“I can have the action team members deliver them to any location you specify. No one will track your movements—I promise.”

“I also have advanced meditation techniques.”

“The top-level ones are even better—but they require a teacher’s personal guidance.”

“I’m not trying to lure you out—top-level meditation is dangerous for beginners.”

She even sent over a big package of instant mental relief methods.

Zhan Yan looked at Lingyu’s gentle, even cautious wording and checked in with himself. He felt no different than usual.

Approaching Science: “I’m fine.”

“All that stuff you mentioned—I don’t need. Can I trade them for points?”

Nie Yu: …

Confirmed. This guy really has no side effects!

What the hell kind of monster is he?!

So all her cautious concern and empathy just now… were completely unnecessary?!!