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ArabicHonkai Star Rail: Summoning the Chrysos Heirs — Chapter 7
Chapter 7: The Mysterious White-Haired Youth
Meanwhile, deep inside a sterile dissection room.
The harsh, cold light from the overhead shadowless lamp cast a pale halo across the surgical table, illuminating a gruesome sight. The metallic tang of blood mingled with the sharp, chemical sting of formalin, creating a sickeningly sweet stench that hung heavy in the chilled air.
Lin Bowen pushed his gold-rimmed glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. With practiced precision, he guided a pair of long steel tweezers deep into the abdominal cavity of the humanoid corpse. As the metal instruments scraped against the ruined tissue, the charred flesh let out a faint, brittle crackle, like dry leaves crushed underfoot.
Standing a few paces away, Lei Zheng watched in grim silence. His thick brows were knitted together, his sharp gaze fixed intently on the remains of the low-level Abomination—a grotesque, mutated creature that vaguely resembled a massive praying mantis.
“The fatal wound was indeed that single thrust right through the skull,” Lin Bowen stated, his voice echoing slightly against the tiled walls. He withdrew the tweezers, revealing a thick layer of carbonized black powder coating the tips of his surgical gloves.
He gestured toward the Abomination’s nearly severed midsection. “But this abdominal wound is far more interesting. Even if the creature hadn’t taken that catastrophic blow to the head, the sheer organ trauma from this single horizontal cut means it wouldn’t have survived for more than three minutes.”
Hearing this, Lei Zheng stepped closer. His eyes traced the terrifying, blackened trench carved across the Abomination’s torso.
“The initial field report from Falcon Squad mentioned severe burns, yet the perimeter sweep found absolutely zero traces of an explosive detonation,” Lei Zheng said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. His fingers subconsciously brushed against the leather holster at his waist. “I reviewed the crime scene photographs. Not a single drop of blood flowed from this incision. The surrounding tissue was instantly cauterized by extreme temperatures. This is textbook damage for an Energy-type or Element-type ability.”
“Exactly. And that is precisely the most illogical part of this entire equation,” Lin Bowen agreed, a spark of fanatical, academic curiosity flashing behind his lenses.
He picked up a slender metal probe and gently ran it along the charred, blackened edge of the wound. “If this were a common Flame or Lightning ability, the surrounding flesh would appear jagged, accompanied by massive, irregular areas of secondary scorching. But look closely here.”
Lin Bowen looked up, the harsh overhead light glinting off his glasses. “The cut is perfectly flat. It is flawlessly smooth, with almost zero energy bleed into the adjacent tissues. This means the killer didn’t just throw a diffuse fireball. They used a highly compressed, completely materialized high-temperature energy structure.”
“You mean… a Materialization-type?” A flicker of genuine surprise broke through Lei Zheng’s stoic demeanor.
“Not just materialization. Materialization accompanied by localized, extreme heat,” Lin Bowen corrected, his tone rising with the thrill of a new research breakthrough. “Commander Lei, you know the data. Most of the Materialization-type Ability Users registered in the bureau’s database can only construct brittle objects at room temperature, or hurl unstable energy spheres that dissipate on impact. To forcibly compress thousands of degrees of thermal energy into the razor-thin shape of a blade, and to maintain that structure with enough density to slice through an Abomination’s carapace…”
Lei Zheng fell completely silent. As a veteran commander of The Authorities, he understood the terrifying implications of that statement all too well.
“That level of micro-control requires at least a B-rank classification… no, it might even be brushing the absolute ceiling of an A-rank Ability,” Lei Zheng muttered, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. “It would be one thing if this were just some wild, unregistered Awakened. But if this is an elite operative from a hostile underground organization…”
“Then we are looking at a massive problem,” Lin Bowen finished for him, his expression sobering. “Standard SWAT teams and regular patrol units couldn’t even act as speed bumps against this level of destructive power. And judging by how impossibly clean this cut is, the suspect’s physical combat techniques are equally staggering.”
Lin Bowen paused, his gaze sharpening as he looked back down at the corpse. “This wasn’t a frantic brawl or a simple venting of violent urges. This was a precise, surgical execution. Even among the bureau’s own ace squads, I can count the number of people capable of this on one hand.”
Before Lei Zheng could formulate a response, the heavy, reinforced metal door of the dissection room was shoved open.
A dull thud interrupted the heavy silence. A young soldier marched in quickly, his heavy combat boots clicking rapidly against the sterile floor tiles. He snapped to attention and delivered a crisp salute, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. He had clearly sprinted all the way from the communications wing.
“Dr. Lin! Commander Lei!” The soldier’s voice strained with irrepressible urgency. “The street surveillance footage has been successfully retrieved! We captured a highly suspicious target on the camera positioned at the alley’s entrance. The facial recognition system just finished its sweep… the target does not exist in the Awakened Database!”
Lei Zheng spun around. The heavy gloom that had clouded his eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by the sharp, predatory glint of a hound catching a fresh scent.
“Let’s go.”
Without wasting another second, he marched straight past the panting soldier. Just as he reached the threshold, Lei Zheng paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “Dr. Lin, I’ll have to trouble you to keep digging on your end. See if you can isolate the suspect’s specific elemental affinity from the residual energy fluctuations.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Lin Bowen replied with a dismissive wave, his attention already entirely consumed by the microscope.
Watching Lei Zheng’s broad back disappear down the corridor, Lin Bowen let out a soft, helpless sigh. He picked up his scalpel once more, letting the razor-sharp tip hover just millimeters above the Abomination’s blackened flesh.
“Incomparably sharp, searing heat, and the ability to maintain such a flawless energy state…” Lin Bowen murmured into the quiet room, his eyes narrowing. “Truly… miraculous control.”
Inside the central surveillance room, dozens of massive monitors bathed the dimly lit space in a cold, artificial blue glow. The relentless hum of the server cooling fans felt exceptionally loud in the tense atmosphere.
Lei Zheng strode through the automatic doors, bringing a gust of cold hallway air with him. The sheer, suffocating pressure radiating from his imposing frame made the busy technicians instantly stiffen in their seats.
“Switch the main feed,” he ordered, pulling out a heavy steel chair. He sat down heavily, leaning forward to plant both hands flat on the central console, his eyes locked onto the primary monitor like a hawk.
The lead operator didn’t dare hesitate. His fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard in a blur of motion. The massive central screen flickered, instantly pulling up the grainy, low-light footage of the dim alleyway.
The progress bar snapped back to the very beginning of the timeline.
In the video, a tall, straight-backed youth slowly strolled into the frame. Under the flickering, sickly yellow glow of the broken streetlights, his shock of pure white hair was incredibly striking. He looked entirely out of place against the backdrop of the grime-coated brick walls and overflowing dumpsters.
Lei Zheng held his breath, his eyes tracking every pixel of the suspect’s movement.
The youth walked with absolute composure. His gait was relaxed, almost lazy, as if he weren’t stepping into a pitch-black, dead-end alleyway known for violent crime, but was instead taking a leisurely stroll through his own private garden.
The timestamp in the corner ticked forward. Only a few short minutes passed.
The youth reappeared on the screen, stepping back out into the street with the exact same unhurried, leisurely manner. Not a single speck of dirt, blood, or ash stained his pristine white robe. Looking at his calm demeanor, it was practically impossible to believe he had just instantaneously slaughtered a terrifying Abomination in the shadows.
The operator hit a key, and the image froze perfectly on the exact moment the youth stepped under the streetlight. His face—young, handsome, and completely indifferent—was captured in crystal clarity.
“Commander,” the operator swallowed hard, his finger trembling slightly as he pointed at the digital timeline. “We scrubbed all the surrounding surveillance feeds for a full hour before and after this timestamp. He was the only living person to enter or exit that alley.”
“And based on the coroner’s time of death estimate, the exact minute he entered that alley perfectly aligns with the moment the Abomination was killed.” Lei Zheng nodded slowly, his thick index finger tapping heavily against the desk as he stared at the frozen face. “He didn’t even bother to pull up a hood or wear a mask. Is he just that arrogant, or does he simply view The Authorities as completely beneath his notice?”
He swiveled his chair toward the technical supervisor standing nervously to his right. “The initial report stated this individual isn’t in the Awakened Database. Confirm.”
“Confirmed, Commander. The facial recognition sweep returned zero matches.”
“Then widen the net,” Lei Zheng commanded, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “If he isn’t a registered Ability User, run him through the national Citizen Database. Check the permanent residents of Xinhai City, the registered floating population, and every single tourist visa issued in the last three years. As long as this kid has bought a train ticket, swiped a credit card, or booked a hotel room in this country, he left a digital footprint. Find it.”
“Understood! Initiating full-spectrum database sweep!”
The search interface on the right side of the massive monitor began to scroll at a dizzying speed. Thousands of citizen ID photos flashed across the background in a blur of colors.
Lei Zheng crossed his thick arms over his chest, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, impatient beat against his bicep.
One second. Two seconds. Ten seconds.
As the silence stretched on, the tempo of Lei Zheng’s tapping grew faster and harsher. A suspect possessing such overwhelming combat power who didn’t belong to The Authorities had to be a hidden civilian expert or an enforcer for a major underground syndicate. But regardless of his true allegiance, he needed a legal cover identity to function in modern society.
Suddenly, the frantic scrolling stopped dead.
A blaring red pop-up window violently forced its way to the center of the screen, completely obscuring the youth’s face.
`[No Matching Results]`
Those four words glowed like a silent, mocking taunt, instantly stinging Lei Zheng’s eyes.
“What the hell is this?” Lei Zheng shot up from his seat, the heavy metal chair scraping harshly against the floor tiles.
The lead technician slowly turned his head. His face was entirely drained of color, making him look as though he had just witnessed a ghost. “Commander… we ran it through the local Xinhai City servers, the national household registration network, and even the international interpol flags…”
The technician’s voice shrank to a terrified whisper. “We compared everything. Commander… this person does not exist.”
Lei Zheng’s jaw clenched tight. He shoved past the technician, grabbing the computer mouse himself. He aggressively clicked the refresh button, manually switching between three different secure database interfaces, forcing the system to run the algorithm again.
The screen blinked, returning the exact same cold, red text: `[No Matching Results]`.
Behind the error message, the frozen surveillance frame remained. The white-haired youth seemed to bear a faint, almost imperceptible smile on his lips, as if he were standing on the other side of the glass, quietly mocking this room full of frazzled, heavily-armed hunters.
A cold, unnatural chill crawled slowly up Lei Zheng’s spine.
“Not a registered Awakened, and not even… a legal citizen?” Lei Zheng released the mouse and stood up straight. He began to pace back and forth down the narrow server aisle, his heavy boots thudding against the floor in the dead-silent room.
“Could he be a completely undocumented illegal immigrant? No, that’s impossible. Even if he slipped across the border, as long as he’s breathing the air in this city, he couldn’t possibly avoid leaving a single trace. Supermarket cameras, public transit scanners, burner phone pings… Xinhai City’s surveillance grid is absolute. It cannot miss a living, breathing human being.”
He stopped pacing, taking a deep, ragged breath to force down the surging irritation in his chest. This was no longer just a case of a dangerous rogue Awakened. They were hunting a literal ghost that had materialized out of thin air.
“Put the identity issue on hold for now. Draft an emergency report to the higher-ups and officially raise the city’s danger level by one full rank.” Lei Zheng snapped his gaze back to the monitors, his eyes burning with fierce determination. If they couldn’t dig up the phantom’s past, they would hunt down his present.
“Since we can’t figure out where the hell he came from, find out where he went! Pull up every single traffic camera, ATM lens, and dashcam within a ten-block radius! I want to know exactly which direction he walked after leaving that alley!”
The paralyzed surveillance room instantly exploded back into frantic motion. The clatter of keyboards sounded like a torrential downpour as dozens of split screens began rapidly cycling through different camera angles.
However, as the minutes ticked by, the initial burst of adrenaline slowly bled out of the room, replaced by a creeping, heavy dread.
On every single monitor, displaying every possible exit route, there was nothing but empty pavement. There was absolutely no sign of the white-haired youth. He had vanished into the concrete jungle like a single drop of water falling into the vast ocean.
“How… how is this even physically possible?” one of the junior analysts finally stammered, his voice cracking under the stress. “Not a single camera at any of the four major intersections caught him? What, did he just sprout wings and fly away?”
“Could he have intentionally mapped out and handled through the surveillance blind spots?” another operator suggested, pointing a shaky finger at the red-shaded zones on the city map. “The old city district’s grid is notoriously patchy. There are dozens of blind alleys.”
“That makes zero logical sense,” the first analyst shot back, his tone rising in frustration. “If he had the entire camera grid memorized to avoid detection, why the hell would he casually stroll right past the most obvious camera at the alley entrance without covering his face? It’s a complete contradiction!”
“Maybe he just didn’t notice that specific camera?”
“Are you kidding me? Do you think this is a comic book? A guy with A-rank combat awareness just ‘didn’t notice’ a blinking red lens mounted ten feet off the ground?”
The panicked arguing quickly escalated, turning the highly disciplined command center into a chaotic shouting match.
“Enough!”
The roar exploded through the room like a crack of thunder. Lei Zheng slammed his massive fist down onto the central console. The heavy alloy desk let out a deafening bang that rattled the coffee mugs.
The shouting died instantly. The technicians snapped their mouths shut, staring up at their commander with wide, terrified eyes.
Lei Zheng’s face was a mask of pure, ashen fury. His chest heaved as he glared down at his subordinates, his eyes radiating a terrifying, freezing pressure.
“Do I pay you all to sit here and bicker like children?” Lei Zheng growled, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “If you can’t find his physical tracks, then change your damn approach!”
He jabbed his finger violently at the frozen image of the youth on the main monitor, nearly cracking the LCD screen. “Stop wasting time debating useless theories! Take this footage and run it through the forensic filters frame by frame! I want every pixel of that face analyzed for synthetic skin, light-bending illusions, or any other signs of an Ability-based disguise!”
Without waiting for a response, Lei Zheng snatched his uniform cap off the desk and shoved it onto his head. He had zero patience left for their panicked excuses.
He spun on his heel and stormed out of the room. The heavy security doors slammed shut behind him with a massive thud, shaking a fine layer of dust from the ceiling tiles.
He left behind a room full of highly trained intelligence officers, all sitting as dead-silent as cicadas in the dead of winter, staring blankly at the mysterious, smiling face on the screen.