Small temple, fierce winds.

White Dove personally drove Sima to the Insect Research Institute.

She was driving a Mercedes-Benz S320. Sima sensibly chose the front passenger seat rather than the back, fastened his seatbelt, and stared straight ahead. The car's sound insulation was excellent, effectively muttering the street noise outside. White Dove remarked, seemingly in passing, that Zhou Lingri had lost both parents and suffered a severe blow; while she usually appeared cold and aloof, she was actually deeply dependent on those close to her, acted on impulse, and spoke without thinking, asking him not to take her words to heart. Those few words hit his chest like bullets. White Dove was speaking with a hidden meaning—was she trying to play matchmaker? What could Sima possibly say? Should he claim he wasn't close to Zhou Lingri? Or that he already had a girlfriend, with whom he was passionately in love and frequently intimate? Thick-skinned though he was, he still found it somewhat awkward.

White Dove continued, shifting the subject abruptly to reveal that she was a researcher at the Insect Research Institute, in charge of a major project. The institute had already preliminarily mastered the technology of artificially cultivating venomous insects, but the abilities of insects from the same batch varied widely. When implanted into volunteers, the resulting combat boost differed greatly. To facilitate horizontal comparison, she had designed a series of experiments. The first phase focused on the Mountain-Uprooting Insect to objectively and accurately evaluate the combat capability of the insect masters, which would later be expanded to other combat insects. If all went smoothly and sufficient data were accumulated, insect ratings could be further refined based on immortal insects, demonic insects, and human insects.

Sima listened with trepidation. There was an Insect Research Institute behind the Second Division, and such a confidential matter was being shared by White Dove without the slightest evasion. Did she trust him just like that? He nodded submissively while his mind raced rapidly. Suddenly, he recalled a secret Zhou Lingri had inadvertently revealed to him, and a flash of insight struck his brain: "acts on impulse," "speaks without thinking." The general office had surveillance cameras; everything was under White Dove's watchful eye, and nothing could be kept from her! He drew a sharp breath. White Dove turned her head, glanced at him, and smiled, saying, "Zhou Lingri is my niece. I have already reprimanded her for acting on her own and indulging in wild fantasies. You don't need to mind her."

Indeed! All the clues surfaced. The Flawless Insect was completely useless, yet the Second Division kept Zhou Lingri as a dead weight. She knew many secrets, casually stamped a form, and finance transferred 100,000 without a second thought... All of this was thanks to White Dove! There was no need to say any more; White Dove had made herself clear, and the rest depended on his own comprehension. Sima knew he had boarded White Dove's boat. From then on, their fortunes were intertwined—they would prosper together and fall together. It was impossible for him to switch sides now. In the Second Division, a small temple full of factions and undercurrents, he had already been deeply branded with the mark of White Dove's faction. A small temple stirs up fierce winds, shallow waters teem with turtles, hyenas scamper everywhere, and big bosses are on every corner. Sima's temples throbbed violently. Living a second life, he was still inevitably dragged into the vortex, failing to stay out of it and develop quietly in obscurity.

White Dove stopped talking. Sima was a smart man, and smart men should not be pushed too hard. Among the three newly recruited insect masters, she had taken a fancy to Sima at first glance and was consciously grooming him. In a sense, Zhou Lingri letting slip her tongue was a good thing; laying cards on the table early benefited both sides, sparing them from endless probing until the opportunity grew cold. She believed in her own judgment, and she believed in Sima's comprehension. If he could pass this test, his future prospects would be limitless.

The Insect Research Institute was located inside the Zhaogang Air Raid Shelter in the northern suburbs of the city. The entrance was concealed, guarded heavily by armed soldiers with three posts every ten paces and five sentries every hundred, maintaining strict security. White Dove obtained a temporary pass for Sima, led him to her office, and told him to sit for a moment. Tea leaves, cups, and a thermos were already prepared—he shouldn't be polite and could brew a cup himself whenever he wanted. With that, she left him behind and turned away.

The office space was limited, with a ventilation fan spinning incessantly, its noise barely audible. The desks, chairs, and cabinets were products of the planned economy era—starch and old-fashioned, yet wiped meticulously clean, showing that White Dove did not work here often. Sima picked up the tea leaves and sniffed them; it was the jasmine tea favored by northerners. He retrieved a white porcelain teacup from the cabinet, glossy as a mirror and warm as jade, with no decorations on the body and no signature at the bottom, looking like a custom-made top-tier piece. The boiling water was very hot. He brewed a cup of tea, blew on the rising steam, took a cautious sip, and raised his eyebrows, concluding that even if he had only come here just to drink this cup of tea, the trip would have been well worth it.

After waiting for half an hour, White Dove opened the door and told him to prepare, change clothes, and test the combat capability of Insect Master Number One.

Sima followed her to the locker room, put on protective gear, and strapped on boxing gloves. White Dove leaned against the wall, sizing up his physique, and casually explained the rules. The test rules were roughly similar to amateur boxing matches. Considering that insect masters possessed physical stamina far exceeding ordinary people, there would be eight rounds, with the time extended accordingly—six minutes per round, with a one-minute rest between rounds. There would be no referee, and he would control the rhythm. He was allowed a certain amount of counterattack, but could not directly knock out his opponent. Evaluation opinions would be given after the eight rounds ended, though the test could also be called off early. How the evaluation would be conducted would be explained later. Sima understood instantly, much like his past sparring match with Jiliang, the head of the Pingxi Boxing Gym. Of course, the prerequisite was that he could control the ring, otherwise it would become a joke.

He loosened his joints. The gloves and protective gear were brand new and fit him just right, so he nodded to White Dove to indicate he was ready. White Dove knocked on the iron door at the end of the locker room, and a staff member waiting outside pushed the door open, leading Sima to the boxing ring. The arena was brightly lit and completely empty, with a burly man standing on the boxing ring with his back to him, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. Sima vaulted over the ropes and climbed onto the ring. The insect in his chest and abdomen stirred slightly in response, but the reaction was not intense—far inferior to Jiang Li's Mountain-Uprooting Insect. He had a rough estimate in mind: the opponent's combat power should be around 10. It seemed White Dove had not chosen the test subjects randomly.

Hearing the commotion, Insect Master Number One slowly turned around. He had a square face, a buzz cut, single eyelids, and a resolute expression. He slapped his fists together with a crisp "bang," muscles bulging on his arms, and assumed an offensive stance. The bell rang, and Insect Master Number One rapidly closed in. He knew his mission well; right from the start, he launched a full-out attack with a combination of punches—straight punches, hooks, and uppercuts, completely ignoring defense. Sima responded calmly, dodging and blocking by the book, standard and orthodox, while silently evaluating his strength, speed, and explosive power. The opponent had clearly also undergone twelve weeks of boxing training and, with the boost of the Mountain-Uprooting Insect, was much stronger than an ordinary person. However, the actual combat effect seemed less than ideal; whether due to lack of talent or insufficient effort, Sima found it relaxed, with everything entirely under his control.