The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL] Chapter 168 - Secret lab

Wang Bushen walked ahead in silence, leading them not toward the main house, but around it—to the annex building tucked behind tall hedges and overgrown vines. Bian’s brows drew together in suspicion. He’d lived here for years, but he didn’t rember anyone using that place. Everyone stayed in the main compound. The annex was ignored, practically forgotten.

Wang Bushen stepped up to the tal door, pressing his palm flat against a scanner that blinked once, then emitted a soft chi. The door clicked open. Bian stared, unmoving for a second.

Fingerprint access?

He didn’t like this. Didn’t like not knowing.

"I didn’t even know this place had security," Bian muttered under his breath, shooting Dican a sideways glance as they followed. Dican remained quiet but alert, sword still sheathed but ready at a mont’s notice.

The air inside was strangely cool. Dust floated faintly in the filtered light, giving the place a frozen, preserved feeling. As they stepped further in, the corridor opened into a wide room—a chapel.

Bian blinked in confusion.

A church chapel?

It made no sense. Why would anyone go through the trouble of locking up a place like this? It was useless. Empty pews, a long stone aisle, and a massive stained glass window glowing weakly with sunlight.

His nose wrinkled. "Why the hell would you hide a church, huh?" he asked suspiciously, eyes scanning the room. "What, is it holy now? Or did you bury your sins under the altar?"

He turned in a slow circle, observing every detail. Nothing about this space felt spiritual. It felt cold. Too quiet. Too perfect.

He narrowed his eyes. No one built a hidden chapel unless they had sothing to hide.

Wang Bushen stopped at the center of the room. Without a word, he tapped his foot twice against the floor.

Tap. Tap.

A faint hum followed.

Suddenly, a circular fra embedded in the stone floor lit up under their feet—first a soft blue glow, then a low chanical whirring.

Bian jolted back slightly, instinctively grabbing onto Dican’s sleeve.

The glowing fra began to shift.

It wasn’t just a design—it was a platform.

Bian’s heart thudded as the circular platform began to slowly descend, revealing an elevator hidden under the chapel floor.

He and Dican stared, unmoving.

"What the hell..." Bian muttered, eyes wide. His voice ca out quieter than he intended.

He stared at the sinking platform like it was so portal into another world.

A secret basent? Under this place?

’What is under this place...?’ the question echoed in his head, cold and heavy.

Certainly. Here’s the revised continuation with deeper and more detailed descriptions of the underground research center, staying true to your plot and tone:

"Please," Wang Bushen said, his voice calm as he gestured ahead.

Bian didn’t move right away. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, but curiosity tugged at his chest. Finally, he stepped forward into the glass elevator, Dican right behind him, always within reach—always alert.

The elevator door slid closed with a soft hiss. Wang Bushen pressed his fingertips against the biotric panel. A green light scanned his hand, and a subtle click followed. The elevator humd to life and began its slow descent.

At first, Bian saw only the retreating stone of the chapel ceiling above them, but then, inch by inch, the hidden world beneath revealed itself.

And what he saw—he hadn’t been prepared for.

The space opened up below like a hidden tropolis carved into the earth. It wasn’t so dusty old bunker—it was sleek, sterile, and humming with high-tech life. Pure white walls lined with soft blue lighting stretched out in all directions, and reinforced glass rooms jutted out like cells in a hive. Thin, tallic catwalks ran overhead, while cables snaked down from ceiling ports, linking machines together in tight, controlled tangles.

People moved fast—dozens of scientists in clean lab coats, heads bent over glowing tablets, others rushing between stations with tal carts stacked with trays of glowing vials. So were examining screens filled with fluctuating data. Others were working with chanical arms, which perford surgeries or manipulations with eerie precision.

To one side, an entire sector was dedicated to testing equipnt—chanical limbs, helts, wrist-mounted weapons. One man was even strapped into a tall vertical pod, his body trembling as so kind of simulation ran, neural wires trailing from his temples.

But the centerpiece—what dominated the massive underground space—was the ship.

It was enormous, parked in the middle of the facility like a sleeping beast. Its hull wasn’t Earth tal—it glead a dull silver-blue, etched with alien markings Bian didn’t recognize. Large panels were opened along its side, where teams of technicians sward like ants, scanning, cutting, welding. Thick coolant pipes ran along the floor beneath it. Sparks flew in controlled bursts from a panel where engineers worked tirelessly.

And then, to the far left, behind a thick wall of reinforced, transparent glass—

Bian’s breath caught.

Rows of tall capsules. Cryo-pods.

Each one stood upright like a coffin. Filled with thick, blue-tinted liquid that pulsed faintly with light.

People floated inside.

Dozens of them.

So looked human—others not. Elongated limbs, gills, faintly glowing veins. Farians, he realized.

His stomach lurched.

"What the hell is this place?" he breathed.

Wang Bushen adjusted his cuff, completely unfazed. "My top secret research center," he said with a mild tone. "You can call it Sector W."

Bian’s voice rose slightly, cracking with disbelief. "You’ve been doing this under your house? This—this was here the whole ti?!"

Wang Bushen gave a short shrug. "No one ever thought to look."

Bian felt like the ground had dropped out beneath him. His world was already upside down, but this—this was sothing else. It was sothing monstrous. He turned toward the tanks again, heart pounding.

"Are those—are those people? In there?" he asked, voice hard, trying not to tremble. "are they dead..."

"Yes, and they’re not dead," Wang Bushen replied evenly. "Yet."

Dican stepped slightly in front of Bian, instinctively shielding him from the older man’s calm coldness. His hand hovered close to his sword again. He didn’t like what he was seeing either.

"You’ve been experinting," Bian said, eyes locked on the pods. "On people. On Farians. This is why you had access to their tech, isn’t it?"

Wang Bushen didn’t deny it. "We’ve gone far beyond simple access. Our team has learned to replicate their neural systems. Their regenerative cells. The cloaking tech on that ship in the middle? Our engineers installed that themselves. The Farians rely inspired it."

"You..." Bian’s voice was hollow, stunned. "You used them like lab rats."

Wang Bushen glanced sideways at him, expression unreadable. "Progress always demands sacrifice. You should know that better than anyone, Bian."

The elevator ca to a stop.

With a soft ding, the doors slid open.