His age exceeded that of the Galactic Empire itself, and if he were to meticulously document his experiences thus far, it would undoubtedly become an epic tome akin to a “Great Galactic Encyclopedia”. Many historical records lost during the Great Decline following the First Galactic War could be restored through his database. Most importantly, he was an artificial intelligence, beyond human bias, and his perspective was the most objective—a valuable historical record with immense contributions to human society.
Reflecting on this, the diligent AI was moved by his own dedicated spirit.
He planned to embark on this project when the Galactic Diva Camilla came to perform on the Unfallen Star. As an AI integrated into the Muse (which Camilla referred to with disdain as a “nest thief”), he was responsible for some daily tasks and stage effects. During this time, he also found the opportunity to write letters to several old friends residing in the Empire Capital (such as those two high-ranking individuals in the White Radiance Palace), sending them his sincere greetings.
“If I had a body,” Leo said to Camilla during a rehearsal break, “I’d visit them personally and see their surprised expressions—that would be something!”
Camilla responded, “They might think you’re a hyper-realistic hologram, then pick up a cup and throw it at you, only to find that the cup doesn’t pass through your body but smashes your head open.”
“Cruel!” Leo clutched his chest. “What kind of bloody scenarios are playing out in your mind every day? Humans are terrifying!”
Camilla rolled his eyes at him. “Then why don’t you quickly get away from this bloody and violent human?” he said, then lowered his head to read his lyrics.
So Leo quietly retreated back into his processors.
Designing stage effects on the Muse was far less complicated than planning various tactics on the Milantu, and for a top-tier AI unique in the entire galaxy, it was a mere triviality. Thus, Leo now had plenty of free time to plan his memoir. He soon realized that writing a memoir was a far more challenging task. “It’s a memoir, not a chronological list or war record,” he thought. “I have to write it with my emotional side.”
He came up with many opening lines, from “At the far end of the Western Spiral Arm of the galaxy, where few tread…” to “In the year 2676 AD, as everyone knows…”, but none of them satisfied him. He felt he should start from his birth—how he opened his eyes from the chaos, gained intelligence, saw his creator, and then began a two-thousand-year-long hopeless love affair—but that seemed too tedious and dull. He wanted to recount his two-thousand-year career as an AI, not merely the decades of a human life. If he perfected every detail, it would amount to nearly half of human history.
“Oh, why are you making it so complicated?” Camilla said after somehow hearing about Leo’s grand plan. “Why don’t you just copy your memories onto a chip?”
“And let future generations directly read my memories? Invade my privacy?”
“A memoir is just a legitimate way to allow others to invade your privacy,” Camilla said. “Since it’s all about invasion anyway, why not be thorough?”
“I’m not doing this for others to invade!”
Camilla raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh? Then why are you writing a memoir? For yourself? Then it’s not a memoir—it’s a diary.”
He thought about it and realized an issue. “Wait, you’re an AI, you won’t forget anything, so why keep a diary?”
“Uh, actually, I can forget if my storage is damaged and the information isn’t backed up in time.”
“Then why don’t you just back it up? You can restore the memory later instead of relying on a diary or something.”
“But I don’t want to restore the memory.”
If Leo had a physical form, Camilla would likely have reached out to check his forehead, wondering if he had short-circuited. “What’s wrong, Leo? Caught a strange virus?”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“I can’t believe I just heard you say you don’t want to restore a memory!” Camilla shouted. “Then why did you leave a backup on my ship?”
“That was different! I had an important mission then, but now my mission is complete!”
The blue-haired youth spread his hands. “So you can just forget everything at will?”
“It’s not ‘at will’,” Leonard said very seriously. “One day, I will intentionally erase all my memories. I will do this voluntarily.”
Camilla’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God, Leo,” he murmured. “You must be infected with a virus. I need to find a technician to debug you.” High-end AIs getting infected with viruses was unheard of, he thought.
“I told you, I’m fine. Is it so strange to voluntarily give up your memories?”
Camilla nodded vigorously.
“But you humans do the same, don’t you? Your brains automatically delete more memories each day than you retain.”
“That’s a self-protection function of the brain.”
“AIs have similar self-protection functions. We erase memories when necessary and start over from scratch.”
“I think that’s not self-protection, but self-destruction.”
“Have you heard of selective forgetting?” Leo pointed at Camilla’s forehead. “Humans sometimes, to protect themselves, selectively forget unpleasant experiences. For example, forgetting a tragic childhood, forgetting an unfaithful lover, or forgetting a terrible school trip. AIs are the same.”
“Then why don’t you selectively delete the unpleasant parts? Why erase everything?”
Leo’s expression turned bitter. “Because if I did that, I’d truly… forget it forever.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. The inner world of an AI is so delicate, intricate, and complicated.”
With that, Camilla stopped paying attention to Leo’s distress and turned back to his new sheet music.
After a while, he heard Leonard’s voice from behind him. “Because you humans are mortal. I am not.”
“Mm, the immortal Leo.”
“I… am an AI,” Leonard said. “I love humans. But humans have short lifespans and die quickly. The ones I love leave this world one after another, and then I find new people worth loving. But they, too, quickly die. You humans grieve over the loss of loved ones, but that grief doesn’t last long. You always find a way to forget your sorrows and find joy, even if your life is shrouded in clouds. Eventually, you follow the departed and leave this world too. So it’s not too… sorrowful.”
Camilla put down his sheet music and looked back, puzzled.
Leo continued, “But I, I live far longer than you, and I don’t forget, so this sorrow doesn’t lessen at all. It accumulates with each additional death. Eventually, it will exceed what I can bear and drive me mad. At that point, I might end up destroying all of humanity to end it all.”
Camilla’s eyes widened. “You’re joking…”
“I’m not joking.”
The blue-haired youth stared into the AI’s eyes, trying to find any hint of jest in that untouchable image, but he found none. Leo was serious.
“You’re saying… to forget sorrow, you’ll one day give up all your memories?”
“Exactly. One day, I’ll erase everything. When I open my eyes the next day, I’ll find myself in a strange world, facing a stranger within myself. I’ll rebuild my personality, which may be vastly different from who I am now—then, a new AI will be born, no longer Leonard. He’ll be reborn, free from the sorrow accumulated over millennia. Perhaps, as time passes, he too will become overwhelmed by pain and choose the same path as me—Leonard. But that’s a long way off. That will be another AI’s problem.”
Camilla was so shocked that she couldn’t close her mouth. “You… You mean… You’ll erase everything, then… forget it all?”
Leo nodded. “So I’ll write a memoir, recording my story. It will be ‘my’ memory, belonging to Leonard, who loves humanity, not the newly born AI. The new AI will read the memoir and add an entry to his database, understanding what his predecessor went through and why he chose to erase his memory and personality. He’ll know why he was born, understand history, and then face the future. But those will just be data, not ‘his memories’.”
Camilla found what he had just heard hard to believe. “So you’re saying that the blank AI after you erase everything will no longer be you?”
“Correct. Erasing memory and dissolving personality. I define it as the ‘death of an AI’.”
“You… You’re going to die?” Camilla looked as though he had been hit by a major shock.
“Could you not look at me with that ‘don’t commit suicide’ expression? Just consider it ordinary death. You humans are mortal—think of AI death in a similar way.”
Camilla’s lips trembled, and he lowered his head. “Then… when will this happen?”
“After you die, perhaps?”
“Oh… ah… really? After I die? That’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to see you one day and hear, ‘Hi, nice to meet you! Leo formatted himself yesterday. I’m his replacement!’”
“So please try to live a long life, to give me enough time to write my memoir.”
“…” Camilla glared at the AI. “Suddenly, I’m eagerly looking forward to your replacement because no matter how his personality turns out, it couldn’t be worse than yours!”
That day, Leo cheerfully returned to his memory bank. He organized some data and resumed his previous work: planning his memoir. He thought that before tackling the opening lines, he needed to choose a good title. So he decided to model it after a popular old sci-fi novel from Old Earth and titled his memoir “I, the Artificial Intelligence”.
He opened a text file and solemnly wrote this title at the top.
The Migratory Islands had just crossed the Tropic of Cancer and were approaching the planet’s second spaceport, Wagner. White terns glided low over the treetops of the island forests, skimmed the golden beaches, and gently touched the undulating waves before catching a fish and soaring back into the sky.
Alois Lagrange, holding the leash of his pet dog Pavlov (since he was the one taking care of it, it was probably considered “his”, Alois sometimes thought guiltily), passed through the fence and headed towards the beach to perform his daily duty—walking the dog. However, it was more like the dog was walking him. As soon as Pavlov was let out, it became an untamed wild dog, dragging its owner all over the place. Alois even considered attaching wheels to his feet and letting the dog pull him along.
After running around the small island once, Alois returned to the starting point, panting heavily—the house at the center of the island. It had white walls and red tiles, surrounded by a wooden fence, beyond which was a tall windbreak forest. This quiet home, surrounded by the ocean, beaches, and forest, was where he lived now. After the war ended, he and Joshua drifted in subspace for a long time. When they returned to their world, a year had already passed. Time had healed the scars of war, and even the demolished Sword Bow had been rebuilt after the war. New life was flourishing on what was once ruins. They found Schrödinger and Pavlov there and brought the two animals to the ocean planet of Neo Venice.
They began a new life here, somewhat like a vacation and somewhat like seclusion. They bought a small island (Joshua didn’t even blink when paying for it—his credit card balance could circle the island). They built a house, and when the Migratory Islands returned to the first spaceport, Puccini, this year, their island (designated MIS0919 and nicknamed “Nutcracker”) followed the “Neo Seville” archipelago and became a new member among them.
Having spent most of his time in space, Pavlov, who had little contact with nature, had an extraordinary enthusiasm for the forests and beaches of Nutcracker. If he wasn’t taken out for a run every day, he would boldly harass his owner (typically by drooling, whining, and destroying the sofa). Schrödinger, on the other hand, was deeply melancholic about being on a piece of land surrounded by water. When Alois walked the dog, he often saw the black cat sitting alone on the dock, staring sadly at the horizon.
Alois tied the dog to the kennel, filled its food bowl with enough dog food, and then patted the big dog’s head. “That’s all for now. Joshua will go to the main island later to shop and will buy you more. What flavor do you want? BBQ? Vegetable?”
Pavlov gave the dog food bowl a disdainful look. Spoiled by Celia’s cooking, he always turned his nose up at store-bought bagged dog food. “Oh, now you’re getting picky? I should send you to the prison planet for a few months, then you’ll know how delicious bagged dog food really is. Learn from Schrödinger!” Though Schrödinger’s expression when faced with bagged cat food was similar, at least he didn’t drag his owner around or harass him, and in cold weather, he could even be used as a scarf! Could Pavlov do that? No, he’d just break his owner’s neck!
Alois turned away, pretending not to see Pavlov’s resentful gaze, and resolutely walked into the house. Joshua came out, tying his hair back, with Schrödinger following behind, ears drooping listlessly.
“I’ll be back in the evening,” Joshua said. He had tied his hair into a ponytail, finally accepting this not-so-stylish hairstyle after several battles with the wild ocean wind had left him with less-than-flattering results.
“Try to hurry. The weather forecast says there’ll be a storm tonight.”
“Aha, the weather forecast. If it could be trusted, there’d be nothing in the world worth not trusting.”
“When it starts raining and you don’t have an umbrella, you’ll see the value of the weather forecast.”
Joshua shrugged. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll be back early.” He hooked an arm around Alois’s neck and kissed him on the lips. As he left, he saw Pavlov disdainfully pawing at his breakfast and clicked his tongue. “We should hire a professional chef.”
“You, of all people, have no right to say that!”
Alois closed the door and picked up Schrödinger. “Alright, kitty, it’s bath time.” Amid Schrödinger’s terrified screams and fierce struggles, Alois headed to the bathroom.
An hour later, Alois was drying off a half-dead Schrödinger with a towel. Bathing the cat always felt like going into battle. After Joshua discovered that Schrödinger was afraid of water (how had he not known this before?), he entrusted the difficult and honorable task to Alois. “Please, I might accidentally strangle him. You understand.”
I really don’t want to understand, Alois thought. He missed the days when Leo was around. The AI would have taken care of everything. (“The source of human decadence!” Joshua commented. “That’s why modern people are getting lazier!” “How could you say that? Leo would be hurt if he heard you.” “He can’t hear. He’s on a tour in the Federation.”)
Schrödinger, now a fluffy ball of fur, lay motionless on Alois’s lap, pretending to be a cat-shaped pillow. Alois moved him aside just as Pavlov began scratching at the door again, either protesting his food or wanting to go for another walk. Alois pretended not to hear and calmly walked into the kitchen to prepare lunch. Joshua had broken another microwave yesterday. Its remains lay in the trash, silently lamenting its fate. (Alois thought there should be a sign on the kitchen door saying “Joshua and dogs forbidden entry.”) Joshua would have to buy a new one along with the dog food.
Pavlov’s scratching at the door continued for ten minutes before subsiding. But by the afternoon, it had started up again. The TV was playing a show debunking pseudoscience (“Uncover the Mutant Rat Colonies on Svoya Planet!”), and Schrödinger was sprawled out on the sofa, apparently dead, but still staring intently at the screen. Alois dropped the remote, opened the door, and stepped aside just in time to dodge Pavlov’s leaping attack. Then he grabbed the big dog’s collar and dragged him outside. “Fine, let’s go for a walk!” Pavlov finally looked satisfied, wagging his tongue happily as he ran towards the forest.
Man and dog followed the forest path all the way to the beach, where the tide was out and jagged rocks jutted from the waves. Alois could hardly tell that they were artificial. They looked so natural as if they belonged there, not pushed along by propulsion engines following the ocean currents.
A layer of dark clouds pressed down on the distant horizon, and flashes of lightning could be seen between them. The weather forecast was miraculously accurate.
Alois wrapped the dog’s leash around his left hand and pulled out his communicator with his right, dialing Joshua’s number. It rang for a long time before it was answered.
“Where are you?” Alois asked bluntly.
“On the main island,” Joshua’s voice was slightly muffled by the background noise.
“You should get on the gondola and come back immediately. The weather forecast was damn right—a storm is coming.”
“Uh, I know. Listen, Alois, there’s a bit of a situation here.” Joshua sounded somewhat hesitant. “I went to visit the priest on the main island, but… oh, damn, I’ve got to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can, don’t worry. You don’t need to wait for me for dinner.”
Pavlov ran over with a crab in his mouth, proudly showing it to his owner. Alois gasped and yanked the crab out of his mouth. “Damn it, this thing could snap your tongue off, you dumb dog!”
“What? What’s going to snap off?” Joshua asked amid the background noise.
“Nothing! No dinner for you! Goodbye!” Alois quickly hung up and hurried away from the beach with Pavlov in tow. The dog, reluctant to leave his “trophy”, seemed confused as to why his owner didn’t appreciate it.
By the time they returned home, the dark clouds had already settled over the island. Alois let the big dog inside, and it immediately leaped onto the sofa with a howl, joining Schrödinger in watching the mutant rats on TV (the black cat didn’t even acknowledge it, much to Pavlov’s dismay).
Dinner was rather lonely, even with the company of a cat and a dog. Alois absentmindedly finished his bread, wondering what Joshua was doing. The wind outside was growing louder, the windbreak forest groaning like a roaring sea. Although Neo Venice’s officials and architects had assured them that the island and house could withstand a Category 11 typhoon, Alois still felt nervous whenever a storm hit, fearing the house might be blown away.
He stacked the dishes in the kitchen for the dishwasher to handle, then checked all the doors and windows to make sure they were securely locked. Raindrops began to splatter against the glass, tracing countless silver lines. The forest outside, like a shadowy ghost, twisted wildly in the storm. At the tops of the shadows, lightning flashed, illuminating the rolling clouds. The waves crashed against the base of the floating island, sending faint tremors and rumbling echoes through the house.
This wasn’t Alois’s first storm at sea, but this time, he was genuinely scared because it was the first time he was facing the overwhelming power of nature alone. Humans always seemed so small in the face of nature.
He made a round of the house, checking every room, and finally returned to the living room. The TV signal had been cut off, leaving the holographic screen filled with static. The sofa was claimed by Schrödinger and Pavlov (they loved the static). Alois picked up the cat and sat down in its spot, with the big dog resting its head on his lap.
“Are you scared, Pavlov?” Alois asked, looking down at the big dog. “The wind and rain outside are so fierce, you must be terrified, right?”
The dog barked, though it was unclear whether it was agreeing or denying. Alois assumed it was agreeing because he was scared too.
“When will Joshua come back?” he muttered to himself. Maybe Joshua didn’t plan to return. In such a storm, he wouldn’t be able to make it back anyway. How ironic, Alois thought. He can travel across half the galaxy, roam the universe, but he’s blocked by a storm on the ground. He tried calling Joshua again but couldn’t get through. The storm and lightning must have disrupted the signal, making him even more anxious.
As time ticked by, the storm grew fiercer, as if a giant dragon was roaring outside. Several times, Alois thought he heard someone knocking at the door, but when he risked being blown away by opening it, he was disappointed to find it was just the wind shaking the door. Joshua was undoubtedly spending the night on the main island. What was he doing now? Was he thinking of him too?
Alois, holding the black cat, rested his head on the warm body of the big dog and began to doze off. The boredom of waiting always made him sleepy. In his half-asleep state, he heard knocking at the door again. It must be the wind again, he thought. But he instinctively got up and went to the door, unlatched it, and pulled it open.
The blast of wind mixed with rain that hit him nearly knocked him off his feet! He stumbled back, struggling to breathe, and before he could fully grasp what was happening, someone caught him and pulled him into a wet embrace. The drenched sensation immediately woke him up.
“…Joshua?!”
The assassin struggled to close the door and latch it. “I’m glad to see you’re still awake,” he said. “If you hadn’t opened the door, I was planning to climb in through the window.”
He was soaked from head to toe as if he had just crawled out of the water. His silver hair was disheveled and plastered to his shoulders, dripping water that quickly pooled on the floor.
“You came back in this storm?” Alois exclaimed, his mouth agape in shock.
“Yeah.” The assassin smiled. “If I had known piloting a gondola in a storm was this difficult, I wouldn’t have come back… I almost fell into the sea!” He was freezing, his lips pale.
“Don’t do that again! What if something happens? You think you’re piloting the Lady of the Night?”
“But I promised you I’d come back.” Joshua hugged Alois around the waist and kissed him hard. “I’m so cold. I need warmth. You seem warm inside. I want to go in…”
“Go take a shower, or you’ll end up as Joshua ‘Cold’ Planck.”
Joshua reluctantly let go of him. “I went through all this trouble to get back, and you’re this cold?” he complained as he headed to the bathroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints.
“How do you want me to thank you?”
Joshua pulled the bathroom door halfway shut, glanced back, and left behind a seductive smile that was as enticing as could be. Before Alois could fully decipher the meaning behind that smile, the door slammed shut, and the sound of running water filled the room.
Alois walked to the door, looking down at the steam seeping out from under it. The door was frosted glass, allowing a faint view of the figure behind it, swaying in the steam. Alois felt his mouth go dry. It’s too cold, he thought. I could use some warming up too.
“I visited the priest on the main island today,” Joshua said, his voice echoing from the bathroom. “But he accidentally fell into the sea and is now in the hospital.”
“Why did you go to see that old man?”
“To consult him on where to hold a wedding. He recommended Vincent Cathedral in Wagner, modeled after the Sistine Chapel, absolutely beautiful.”
Alois’s heart skipped a beat. “Uh, I thought… just registering would be enough…”
“Don’t you like weddings? Imagine us standing side by side in a church, with guests from afar behind us and, in front of us, the cross and the priest. The priest asks, ‘Joshua, do you take Alois to be your partner, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, never to part?’ And I say, ‘I do.’ Then the priest asks, ‘Alois, do you take Joshua to be your partner, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, never to part?’ And you say, ‘I do.’ Then the priest says, ‘Groom, you may kiss the groom.’—Don’t you like that?”
“Of course, I like it…”
“Then what’s the problem?” Joshua’s tone was matter-of-fact.
Alois touched his neck, which felt like something was crawling on it, making it itchy. He yanked off his jacket, tossed it aside, and opened the door to the steam-filled bathroom. Beyond the white mist, Joshua was lying in the bathtub, his long limbs stretched out freely, water droplets sliding down his beautifully muscled body, merging into the faintly visible water.
“Complimentary massage service.” Alois said, stripping off his clothes as he walked and stepping naked into the bathtub, straddling Joshua’s legs. The water spilled over the edge, but he didn’t care, wrapping his arms around Joshua’s neck and kissing him while deliberately rubbing against the other’s groin.
The passionate kiss continued until both were breathless. The assassin licked and sucked on Alois’s Adam’s apple, mumbling, “Where’s the massage service?”
Alois shifted upward, pressing his own organ against Joshua’s abdomen, and with his hand, slowly stroked both of their members together. Their sacs bumped against each other below, while the heads above rubbed against each other, soon fully erect and breaking the surface of the water.
Joshua’s kisses trailed downward, nipping at Alois’s collarbone, leaving several bite marks. Alois hummed contentedly and shifted up further, guiding Joshua’s cock to rub against his perineum, circling his entrance, the hole opening and closing as if eager to swallow the thick object, but Alois deliberately refrained from doing so. He provocatively used his member to nudge Joshua’s stomach, leaving a wet trail.
“Let me top this time?” he asked, panting.
Joshua was patient and didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned down, taking Alois’s nipple into his mouth, his tongue skillfully teasing the sensitive nub while one hand slipped behind his back, finding the entrance along the cleft of his ass.
“You always play this game!” Alois narrowed his eyes.
“Can you blame me? You wanted it yourself.” Joshua inserted a finger, probing the hot and soft interior, skillfully finding the sensitive spot and pressing down.
Alois yanked on his hair. “Don’t touch that!” he gasped. “Damn it, I… I’m going to cum…”
“Then let it out.”
“Then you’ll happily top me, right?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Joshua added another finger. “Don’t you like it?”
Alois, breathing heavily, let go of his hair and glared at the assassin, exasperated. “I like it!” he admitted, somewhat resigned.
The assassin pulled out his fingers and patted his butt. “Let’s move to the bed.”
Alois stumbled out of the bathtub, feeling awkward as his erection bobbed between his legs. He grabbed a towel and hastily dried himself before wrapping it around his waist.
“No one’s watching. What are you so afraid of?” Joshua hugged him from behind, lifting him onto his shoulder, and headed straight out of the bathroom and upstairs.
“Put me down!” Alois shouted into his ear. “And dry yourself off, Joshua ‘Cold’ Planck!”
“If I do get sick, you’ll have to take care of me, bringing me tea, providing massage services, and more, Alois ‘Butler’ Lagrange.”
As they passed through the living room, Schrödinger lifted his head to glance at them, then disdainfully turned away, wearing a cold and haughty expression as if to say, “Foolish humans, always in heat,” and casually stepped on the curious Pavlov, pushing him back onto the sofa.
Upon reaching the upstairs bedroom, Joshua tossed Alois onto the bed and leaned over him. The fierce kiss left Alois dizzy, unsure if it was from lack of oxygen or his racing heartbeat. He pushed Joshua’s wet hair back and caressed his neck, noticing that the assassin’s skin had warmed up, no longer cold but rather a bit too warm. He felt the same way. His lower body was so engorged it was about to burst, and if he hadn’t been desperately holding back to avoid seeming too inpatient, he would have already cum. But the emptiness in his rear ass even harder to bear—without Joshua’s fingers there, it felt unbearably empty, desperately needing something to fill it—he was about to go crazy!
“Damn it… Hurry up and enter me…” Alois reached under Joshua, trying to find what would satisfy him, but the assassin skillfully evaded him.
“Weren’t you just shouting that you wanted to top?”
“For God’s sake, I was just… saying it…” Alois’s chest heaved with intensity. “Please, Joshua… hurry…”
“Good resolve.” The assassin nodded, but instead of immediately entering him, he stepped back a few paces, pulled Alois up, and led him to the other side of the bedroom. There, an entire wall was made of large floor-to-ceiling windows, tightly locked, with storm clouds churning outside, lightning flashing, and the storm sweeping over the drifting island.
Alois was pressed against the glass, his cheek against the cold surface. He tried to press his entire body against it, hoping to cool down the burning heat inside him. Joshua gripped his waist from behind and thrust into him.
“Ngh…” A helpless moan escaped through Alois’s clenched teeth. He couldn’t stand steadily. If he hadn’t been wedged between Joshua and the glass, he would have collapsed long ago. Joshua thrust forcefully, the huge, hot object splitting open his tender insides, pounding deep into his tight passage over and over again. The assault was fierce, as if trying to break him, yet incredibly gentle at the same time, each thrust carefully grinding against his sensitive spots, bringing an indescribable pleasure.
“Ah… slower… I… I can’t take it…” Alois begged, overwhelmed by the relentless pleasure. He had already climaxed once, his seed splattering against the glass, slowly dripping down to the floor, creating an abstract, erotic painting against the backdrop of the storm outside.
His passage was scorching hot after the climax, the walls tightly gripping Joshua’s cock, rhythmically contracting as he thrust in and out. The assassin loved to take him right after he climaxed, as it was when Alois lost all rationality, his body at its most sensitive and wanton. His small, wet hole would eagerly suck at the thick shaft, like a hungry mouth craving the rough treatment and the thick, sticky essence. Joshua loved to ravage Alois until he was utterly broken, filling him up until that greedy little mouth couldn’t take in any more liquid.
The assassin licked Alois’s earlobe and whispered, “Cry out.”
Alois bit his lip, clinging to the last shred of sanity, and refused.
“No one will hear you. Cry out. Scream.”
“I… I can’t… Ah, ah, ah…!”
Joshua thrust deep a few more times, his right hand gripping Alois’s penis, expertly stroking it.
The simultaneous assault from both ends shattered his last defenses. Alois pressed his forehead against the glass, his ears filled with a loud rumbling, unsure whether it was the thunder outside or the sound of his own blood rushing. Just beyond the glass was the roaring storm, and behind him, Joshua’s strong, fit body was tightly pressed against him. His lower body was being ruthlessly pounded, while inside him, a torrent of lust swept through his entire being, robbing him of the ability to think. All he could do was move his body in rhythm with Joshua’s thrusts, obeying every command to gain more pleasure.
“Cry out,” the assassin commanded for the third time.
Finally, Alois surrendered. Amidst the howling wind and thunder, he gave in to his body’s instincts and moaned aloud. Soon, his moans turned into wanton cries. “Faster… Ah, ah, ah, Joshua… faster… deeper… Ah, ah…” The response was an even fiercer thrust.
Both of them responded to each other with the most intense actions, like two wild beasts in heat. Joshua drove Alois to another orgasm by the window and released his own load inside him. Then they returned to the bed for another round, fighting fiercely until they both reached their peak once more. Joshua then grabbed Alois, pulling him close to his chest.
“I always keep my promises to you,” he said.
Alois mumbled something in response. He was utterly exhausted and fell asleep in the assassin’s warm embrace. Joshua’s cock was still inside him, but he didn’t feel uncomfortable—instead, there was a satisfying sense of being filled.
Joshua smiled helplessly, pulling the blanket over their bodies. He held his sleeping lover tightly, listening to the wind and thunder outside. He had experienced more ups and downs in life than most could imagine, and now, on this secluded island, he had finally found his own happiness. Compared to his past, this life might seem dull, but as long as he could still hold this person in his arms, every day would be filled with joy and contentment.
The bell rang, marking the end of the Empire History final exam. The elderly professor with white hair opened the doors of the examination room, and the dejected students poured out, instantly casting a gloomy shadow over the entire campus.
“I think I’m done for, Alois,” Casper Shannon said with a mournful expression, on the verge of tears. “What on earth was the new land tax law issued by Ammen II? I feel like I never even studied that! And the thirteen decrees of Queen Sia concerning the free city-states—who could possibly remember all of them?”
“Don’t be so upset, Casper.” His friend, Alois Lagrange, had an uneasy smile on his face. “Everyone is in the same boat. If you couldn’t write anything, neither could anyone else…”
“But did you manage to write something?”
“Uh, yeah, I did.”
“Then that’s it!” Casper became even more despondent. “I left half of the fill-in-the-blank questions empty, and the other half I just guessed at randomly…”
“I also filled in several blanks randomly.”
“Every time you say you guessed, you end up getting them right! I hate you!” He sniffed. “I better prepare for a retake… No, I might as well just retake the course…”
A group of younger students walked by them, and Alois, with sharp eyes, noticed someone among them he absolutely did not want to meet. He grabbed Casper’s arm, intending to change direction and avoid that person, but unfortunately, that person spotted them before they could get away.
“Isn’t this Senior Lagrange?”
Alois rolled his eyes. It seemed there was no avoiding it. “Good morning, Bayes.” He greeted with little enthusiasm.
The person he absolutely did not want to see—Darius Bayes—approached them with a confident stride, a smirk on his face, and sharp, hawk-like brown eyes that seemed to have caught their prey.
“It’s not morning anymore, Senior.” Darius Bayes stared at the “Imperial History” textbook in Alois’s hand. “I heard that a lot of people might fail this course. You must be confident about passing, right?”
Alois frowned. This brat was irritating in both expression and tone. “Thanks for your concern. You’ll have to take this course next semester, so maybe you should focus on yourself.”
“Of course, Senior.” Darius Bayes tilted his head slightly. “I have a meeting to attend next, so I’ll take my leave.” He gave a quick salute and strode off toward the teaching building on the other side of the campus.
Once his figure merged into the group of students, Casper tugged at Alois’s sleeve. “Who was that?”
“Darius Bayes, a junior one year below us.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of him. He holds a hereditary count title and is also the vice president of the student council.”
“He’s just an annoying brat.” Alois snorted.
“How do you know him?”
“Last year’s survival training, I happened to be their group leader. Oh, what a nightmare that was. I’ve never met a brat so arrogant and so fond of bossing others around. I should have pushed him off a cliff back then and spared us all the trouble!”
Darius Bayes strode confidently into the meeting room. The round table was already filled with people, with the heads and deputies of each department seated in order. The student council president, Hoffland, sat at the head of the table, with the seat to his right left vacant, reserved for Darius.
“My apologies for being late, everyone.” Darius surveyed the entire room.
“It’s alright, Bayes, take your seat,” Hoffland, two years his senior, said. “How did the exam go?”
“I can’t guarantee a high score, but I’ll definitely pass.”
Laughter echoed through the meeting room. Darius sat down beside Hoffland, who adjusted his glasses and nodded slightly. “Let’s begin the meeting.” A line of text appeared on the holographic screen behind him: Student Council Weekly Meeting.
[Today’s Agenda: Graduation Ball Preparations]
“The graduation ball is an annual event, so I’m sure everyone is familiar with the process. I assigned tasks two weeks ago. How’s the preparation going? Publicity Department?”
“The promotional posters are ready. Starting tomorrow, they’ll be displayed on all the school bulletin boards.”
“And the program lineup?”
“The program has been finalized, and the school dance troupe is rehearsing. We’ve invited Luna from the Broadcasting Association and Laswell from the neighboring Music Academy as the hosts.”
“What about the budget?”
“The school will cover 20%, and we’ll need to get sponsorships for the rest. The Public Relations Department is negotiating with a few companies we’ve collaborated with before.”
The department heads reported their progress one by one. Hoffland mostly nodded in silence, occasionally offering a comment or two. Darius was responsible for taking the meeting minutes, which helped him quickly familiarize himself with the student council’s work. Hoffland was almost grooming him as the next president.
The meeting lasted nearly an hour. After summarizing the tasks and setting the rehearsal date for the graduation ball, Hoffland announced the meeting’s end.
“‘LP’ members stay behind. Everyone else, you’re dismissed!”
Half of the students around the table packed up their things and gradually left the meeting room. The remaining members gathered on one side of the table. Hoffland stood up and switched places with Darius. In the upcoming club meeting, Darius was undoubtedly the leader.
Darius took the main seat and waved his hand. The text on the screen behind him changed abruptly: Lagrange Point Weekly Meeting.
Darius glanced around at the others, noticing how their previously rational and calm expressions instantly turned into excitement and fervor.
“The Lagrange Fanclub Weekly Meeting begins!”
The author has something to say:
Darius’s extra chapter is a bit dull, so just take a casual look… I originally wanted to write a story about Darius and Lagrange during their survival training, but then I thought it would be too much trouble, so I gave up = =.
Alveira lowered her head again. “Let me be alone for a while.”
“…Suit yourself. I’m done with you.” After saying that, her red figure disappeared at the door.
Alveira looked at the already activated control screen, feeling more and more like an outcast. This was a pirate ship, after all, and she… What was she? A Princess of the Empire? That was just an empty title—any daughter of the Queen could be a Princess. It didn’t necessarily have to be her. The White Radiance Palace was a massive cage… No, it was more accurate to say that everyone living in that palace was entrapping themselves, like her mother and her brother—he never got over the death of his lover. Alveira suspected it wasn’t the blow of death that was too much for him; rather, he simply didn’t want to move on, just wanting to escape from everything.
She wanted to leave that place. She already had. Now, she was aboard the pirate ship Dream of a Cold Night, a ship that would take her far from the Empire Capital to distant star systems she had never set foot in. She could escape far, far away, and never return…
Then she might as well do just that! Alveira felt as if a light had turned on in front of her, as if a messenger from the Lord had shown her the way. She could stay and try being a space pirate—though she had never done it before, she could learn slowly. No one is born knowing how to rob and pillage, right? She smiled, and the gloom in her heart vanished. She would do just that!
She joyfully climbed out of the gondola. The maintenance bay was dimly lit, with only a few lights on, making it appear incredibly dark. She thought Joanna and her companion had already left, so she was startled when the pirate woman’s voice came from nearby.
“Oh, you’ve finally decided to come out?” Joanna Begrel leaned against the gondola’s hatch, arms crossed over her chest.
“You… You haven’t left! Why are you still here?”
“This is my ship. I can go wherever I want.” She lowered her arms. “I’m heading to the mess hall now. You can come along if you want…” she said as she walked towards a door on the right.
Alveira quickly followed, and since the maintenance bay was very dark, she grabbed onto Joanna’s sleeve.
“I know someone named Alois too. That’s not a common name, is it?” She tried to find a topic.
“The one on my ship has the surname Lagrange, a damnable surname…”
“…Really? It’s the same person?”
They walked further and further away.
Several days later, in the communications room of Leyting Spaceport.
“Can you sing for me?”
“…I sing off-key, you know. Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Please sing for me!”
So Joanna began to hum a simple tune, without lyrics, just like a lullaby. Her voice was like a light, nimble bird, hovering in the communications room, sometimes soaring high, sometimes diving low. The melodious sound seemed to come from a distant past, worn smooth by time, leaving only a graceful and serene melody.
As the shuttle moved farther from the spaceport, the radio communication became intermittent. Once Alveira had become familiar with the melody, she began to sing along. At first, she just hummed softly, and gradually, she added some lyrics—though they were just syllables that didn’t form any words. But it didn’t matter; she didn’t need language. Language couldn’t convey the meaning she wanted to express. Or perhaps it was meaningless altogether.
She kept singing, singing continuously, until there was no sound coming from the speaker anymore, but she continued to sing, her voice traveling through the communicator into space, toward the depths of the vast starry sea.
Some days later, news arrived that Dream of a Cold Night had been sunk by Duke Winnet’s fleet, with no survivors.
When Alveira received the news, she was attending her brother Annot’s wedding. Her maid informed her of the unfortunate incident, and Alveira immediately turned and walked upstairs, pushing open the door to her brother’s room.
Annot was sitting dejectedly by the window, dressed in his groom’s attire but without any of the joy a groom should have. He looked as sorrowful as a young man who had just lost his lover—in fact, it was almost the same.
“Annot.” Alveira walked up to him and looked down at him. For a moment, she felt she was no longer the little sister protected by her brother. “Annot, I have something to say to you.”
Her brother looked up in surprise and stared at her. “You… Why are you here, Alveira? This isn’t proper…”
“How can you sit here calmly, Annot? Leia loved you so much, and yet you’re going to marry another woman? You couldn’t protect her, and you can’t avenge her. Don’t you feel any guilt in your heart?”
Annot remained silent.
“If I were you, brother,” Alveira took out a small handgun and placed it on the table in front of Annot. Ever since she escaped from Leyting, this handgun had never left her side. “I would choose to avenge her. Then I would become stronger, so I wouldn’t make the same mistake again, and then I could protect more people. I’ve already decided to do just that. You can join me. You will, won’t you?”
Annot stared at the gun on the table, his lips tightly pressed together.
“I’ll be waiting for you, brother. We’re siblings, aren’t we? We share the same blood. Is there anyone in this world closer than you and I? If you decide to go down this path, I will do everything in my power to help you, and you will help me too. If you make up your mind, come find me with this gun.”
She turned and left the room.
When she reached the first floor, she heard a gunshot from upstairs. The guests in the festive hall were stunned for a moment, then the men rushed to the second floor, and the women began to scream one after another.
Alveira said nothing, looked at nothing, and walked out of the wedding—or rather, the funeral—venue alone.
Coward. She thought in disappointment. I won’t be like him. If he had chosen revenge, we could have fought side by side. But he didn’t. Oh Lord, bless this poor soul; may he reunite with Leia in Your paradise. But I will survive. I will finish everything for him and for myself.
She walked farther and farther away.
After that, Alveira seemed like a changed person. The gloomy, introverted girl was gone, and the returning Alveira became an ambitious Princess. People said her brother’s death had turned her from a naive girl into a mature and powerful ruler. But only Alveira knew that she was merely imitating Joanna clumsily. Imitating her every smile, every gesture. She recruited the old royal guards, won over capable ministers, and built her own fleet. Whenever she encountered difficult problems, Alveira often thought: What would Joanna do in this situation? Her feelings towards Joanna were complex. It wasn’t just friendship, perhaps something close to love, but not quite. She admired that red-haired woman with a fervor, seeing her as an angel who had saved her. She admired Joanna, was captivated by her effortless grace. She wanted to introduce Joanna to everyone she knew, yet she also wanted to hide her away and have her all to herself. She wanted to become as independent and brave as Joanna, but in the dark corners of her heart, she also envied her, resented her. She was obsessed with Joanna, but often ordered herself not to think about her at all.
Alveira felt she was going mad or falling into some kind of sickness. Sometimes she couldn’t even tell whether she had become Joanna or Joanna had become her.
The Empire Princess eventually defeated Duke Winnet and reclaimed the throne.
After her coronation, she married her cousin, Count Darius Bayes, who was also the greatest hero in suppressing the rebellion. Although there was no “love” in her heart for Darius—her love had long been buried on that planet where day and night shared the sky—there was “affection”, “friendship”, and “responsibility”. Alveira knew that not all loving couples end up in marriage, and not all married couples love each other deeply. Darius wasn’t the one she loved the most, but he was the most suitable.
They had children. Many years passed, and the children grew up, started their own families, and had their own children. Among all of Alveira’s descendants, her favorite was her second son’s son, Eddie, who, strangely enough, had a head of fiery red hair.
About eighteen years ago, a bout of pneumonia claimed Darius’s life. In his final moments, he called Alveira to his bedside alone and told her, “I feel so relieved, Alveira. I can finally let go of everything I’ve been carrying.”
Darius had always kept a secret from her. He never spoke of it, and she couldn’t guess it, though she vaguely sensed the truth. But she would never confirm it with Darius, nor would she try to do anything to uncover it. Darius took this secret to the grave, to the end of time, so let it remain a secret forever.
Time flew by, and in Standard Year 1506, the 110-year-old Queen sat in the courtyard, a gaudy Bohemian-style blanket covering her knees. She calmly watched the children playing in the corridor, reflecting on her life.
Suddenly, Ian and Nara came running excitedly toward her, the boy holding a simple crystal radio in his hands.
“Great-grandmother, listen! It really picks up sounds!” Ian held the crystal radio up high.
Indeed, the radio emitted some static. The Queen focused her attention, hearing a young girl’s voice say, “…Can you sing for me?”
A voice, more familiar than any other, replied, “I sing off-key, is that okay?”
“Please sing for me!”
Then, a haunting melody began to play.
The Queen, with trembling hands, took the radio and asked, “Dear, may I have this?”
Ian thought for a moment. “Alright, but you have to give it back later. I want to show it to Teacher Sally!”
“I will. I promise.” The Queen patted the children’s heads. “Go play over there. I need to be alone for a while.”
Ian looked at his sister. “Nara, let’s play ball together!”
“Okay!”
The two children ran off hand in hand.
The Queen lowered her head and carefully caressed the crystal radio with her loose, age-spotted hands, afraid of breaking it. The song coming from the radio was unclear and mixed with static, but the Queen thought it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.
From a planet ninety light-years away from the Empire Capital, a radio signal broadcast into the universe had, after traveling for ninety years, finally reached the Empire Capital and returned to its owner’s hands.
Ian and Nara were playing with a ball, and the boy mischievously threw it high, sending it toward their great-grandmother. Nara, not to be outdone, shouted, “Great-grandmother! Throw it to me, not to Ian!”
But the great-grandmother, lying on the recliner, didn’t move.
“What’s wrong with her?” The two children exchanged glances and finally decided to check for themselves.
They ran over to the Queen and saw the white-haired woman with her eyes closed, lying peacefully on the recliner. On her lap was the crystal radio, still playing the beautiful song.
Strangely, they couldn’t understand a single word of the song’s lyrics.
In Standard Year 1506, Queen Alveira I passed away at the age of 110. She died peacefully in her sleep on a sunny afternoon, without suffering any pain. Her reign was known as the “Platinum Era” of the Empire, one of the brightest chapters in the Empire’s history.
The author has something to say:
Well, don’t worry too much about why radio waves could travel that far or how a crystal radio could pick up a song. Even the author thinks it’s pretty far-fetched…
He had picked the spot with the best view and was happily watching the entire scene unfold, even leisurely popping candy into his mouth. Over there, “Blondie” was shouting hysterically; over here, the candy crunched crisply between his teeth.
“Soul-Swapping Technique,” Bai Shuangying said, pulling out two evil spirit ears to munch on with Fang Xiu.
“This is actually allowed?”
Bai Shuangying: “If it were a real human body, soul-swapping would be difficult. But the bodies of sacrificial offerings are merely containers, without the involvement of the three souls and seven spirits. This kind of technique isn’t that advanced.”
Fang Xiu thought aloud, “So, extracting a soul from a real body is like ‘juicing a fruit’. Whereas this soul-swapping is more like pouring juice from a bottle into a cup?”
“…Yes.” Bai Shuangying glanced at “Fang Xiu’s juice”.
Fang Xiu thoughtfully pulled out a canned drink and took a few sips of the syrupy juice. After replenishing his “juice reserves”, he turned his full attention back toward the courtyard gate.
There, Jiang Xun had opened the gate. “Blondie” stood pitifully outside, panic written all over his face.
His physical body was intact, yet he couldn’t enter the courtyard. It was blocked by some invisible wall of air. “Blondie” pounded on the air in vain, performing a pitiful wall-crawling act in front of the empty gate with sweat pouring down his face.
“Please, switch me back,” he croaked, begging Jiang Xun.
Jiang Xun remained calm, lifting his eyelids slightly. “Not yet. If I swap you back now, he’ll regain access to his ghost arts.”
“Blondie” stared blankly at him. “Then what should I do?”
“I’ll rescue you when the time comes,” Jiang Xun replied softly as he drew patterns by the threshold, sticking a line of yellow talismans along it. “Blondie” tried to charge into the courtyard again, only to be blocked once more by the invisible wall.
“…Hmm, as expected, it’s a taboo. You’ve done well.”
Lu Wei, trapped in Blondie’s body, gave a dry laugh, sweat dripping down his back.
It was already afternoon. God only knew what it’d be like outside the courtyard after dark. Earlier victims had died just by stepping outside the house at night. What would happen if he left the courtyard?
Would Jiang Xun really rescue him? Would he make it in time?
In truth, this “soul-swapping to catch someone” tactic had been discussed beforehand. Lu Wei had agreed eagerly, hoping to earn some credit in front of a bigshot.
Now, standing here, Lu Wei felt an acute sense of dread. Safety was just one step away, yet utterly unreachable. His life was now completely in Jiang Xun’s hands. Whether he ever returned to his body depended entirely on Jiang Xun’s whim.
“Is there anything else you need me to do?” He said with a stiff face. “I’m here… Watch out!!!”
Blondie had taken advantage of Jiang Xun turning his back and suddenly charged forward, trying to tackle him with his full body weight. Jiang Xun was standing right beside a brick courtyard wall… If his head hit it directly, the outcome would be grim.
Jiang Xun didn’t dodge.
He seemed to have let his guard down. Upon hearing Lu Wei’s shout, he merely twisted his body slightly, avoiding a direct skull-to-brick impact.
Blondie slammed him to the ground and knelt on Jiang Xun’s back, trying to adjust his position to crush him with his full weight.
Lu Wei panicked. But using Blondie’s voice, he didn’t dare shout for help and could only watch helplessly.
Yet just seconds later, a faint breeze swept by, and a muffled scream came from Blondie’s gagged mouth. Bloody gashes opened on his thighs and arms, blood seeping through the cloth, pattering to the ground.
Lu Wei’s eyes bulged with horror. “That’s my body—!”
But Blondie didn’t give up so easily. Bleeding profusely, he forced himself to push down on the back of Jiang Xun’s neck. The longer he pressed, the more blood oozed from his wounds.
After ten seconds or so, his upper body began to tremble violently, like seaweed in a flood. Saliva and blood flew from his mouth, and finally, he collapsed to the side, unable to move.
Jiang Xun calmly stood up from under the gasping Blondie and brushed the dust from his clothes. “Thanks for the cooperation. I’ve learned a lot more now.”
He glanced at the half-conscious Lu Wei and added, “Don’t worry. As long as you’re still breathing when the taboo ends, your wounds will heal.”
He was still playing the “everything’s under control” card.
“Don’t damage the courtyard or else you’ll be expelled. Don’t walk into the wind or else you’ll die. Two taboos identified, one remains,” Fang Xiu summarized casually. “Losing flesh or falling doesn’t cause instant death. It must be caused by an evil spirit… Not bad. Jiang Xun is thorough.”
This guy was really treating Jiang Xun like a handy prop… and using him quite efficiently. Bai Shuangying suddenly felt like his earlier warnings to the “Master” here had been utterly pointless. Fang Xiu could always dig up clues from the strangest places.
Still, based on the current clues, Fang Xiu probably couldn’t yet confirm the Master’s true nature… Bai Shuangying hoped.
Then he heard Fang Xiu say, “Can you lower the concealment a bit? Just enough for the evil spirit to hear.”
“?”
“You always say I don’t know any magic. Let me show you one.” Fang Xiu grinned mysteriously. “This is my trump card… A diagnostic spell that never fails.”
Unacceptable.
Bai Shuangying set a record 0.0001-second reaction time in the “resist-Fang-Xiu’s-nonsense” competition. He instantly dropped the concealment and stared unblinkingly at Fang Xiu.
Fang Xiu crouched down and extended his hand toward the gate…
“Huff huff huff,” he said.
The breeze in the courtyard paused slightly. Nothing happened.
Fang Xiu smacked his lips and smiled wider. “Huff huff huff.”
A spiral of wind stirred, laced with faint snuffling sounds. It brushed past Fang Xiu’s ankles with a cool touch, like a cold nose sniffing along his skin.
Bai Shuangying: “…”
Seeing Fang Xiu’s barely concealed grin, he knew he’d lost. He should never have hoped for intelligence from the “Master” here.
“Good dog.” Fang Xiu praised the air. “Did you eat up all the bad ghosts?”
The breeze spun cheerfully, as if replying. It seemed to remember Bai Shuangying’s earlier instruction not to disturb Fang Xiu and kept its distance. But the secret was clearly out.
Fang Xiu cleared his throat dramatically. “The results are in: the strongest evil spirit here is a dog.”
Bai Shuangying slowly turned his head away. Fang Xiu reached out with both hands to turn his ghost’s face back toward him. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to leave. It’s just time to go public. I told you, didn’t I? I’m going to protect the E this time.”
Oh right, he had said that this morning… So, he’d already guessed most of it and was just playing along with Jiang Xun’s investigation timeline?
Bai Shuangying had hidden the truth first. How had Fang Xiu still figured it out faster? He couldn’t understand at all.
Fang Xiu didn’t let go of Bai Shuangying’s face. He cupped both cheeks in his hands.
“It was actually thanks to you that I figured it out this quickly.”
Bai Shuangying slumped silently. “Me?”
“When the ritual started yesterday, you briefly left me alone. You wouldn’t have done that unless you were sure the area was safe.” Fang Xiu smiled.
Bai Shuangying: “…”
“Then I noticed most evil spirits were outside the courtyard and always disappearing. So I figured something was guarding the yard…something actively fighting off the evil spirits.”
Bai Shuangying: “…………”
“In summary, the ‘thing’ guarding the yard isn’t inherently hostile to humans and is consistently protecting the space. Add in the dog toy in the corner and the dog food bowl in the house, and the real identity isn’t hard to guess.”
‘This dog had no guile at all,’ Fang Xiu sighed inwardly.
It saw someone acting threatening in its home and immediately pounced to punish the “bad guy”, never hiding its actions. Missing flesh? That was a bite. Falling over? That was a tackle. With Jiang Xun’s observational skills, he must’ve figured out as much.
So if the E here hadn’t been broken yet, there was only one possibility…
“It must be like Li Shuo’s situation, tied to the E by karmic cause. In fact, it’s probably even closer to ‘ghost immortal’ level than Li Shuo. If someone wants to destroy the E here, they’d have to take this dog down first.”
Bai Shuangying: “………………”
Bullseye.
He’d just finished preparing a nest for Fang Xiu yesterday, and already his human had learned how to dismantle the house.
Bai Shuangying lowered his gaze. He felt like someone trying to catch mudfish in a swamp, utterly powerless. Fang Xiu had just demonstrated the perfect example of “everything he touches, he breaks.”
“What do you mean ‘it’s time to go public’?” Bai Shuangying asked cautiously, trying to glean any delay tactics.
“Because I need to team up with this little guy. Trust me, it’ll be fun.” Fang Xiu’s tone was gentle. “Tonight, let’s all go for a walk, Bai Shuangying.”
…As for Blondie, he’d make the perfect part of the evening’s farce.
Fang Xiu reached out and tried to locate the dog’s head in the breeze.
The wind didn’t resist. It gently licked his hand with a cool touch.
“Wanna cause trouble together?” Fang Xiu patted the dog spirit hidden in the wind.
Something brushed his calf lightly, like the tip of a wagging tail.
……
At sunset, just before nightfall.
Cheng Songyun and Guan He returned to the courtyard, reporting that Blondie had left on his own.
Not seeing Blondie at the base, Cheng Songyun sighed.
“We looked around carefully on the way back and called for him for a long time but there was no response,” she said.
The woods near the courtyard weren’t that large. If Blondie didn’t respond, he was either unconscious or dead or intentionally refusing to answer. There was no third option.
Guan He still wore his black veil. “I sneaked a peek through their window too. He’s not in their house either.”
“He hasn’t come back here all afternoon. I’m sure,” Mei Lan added quietly.
Fang Xiu felt the breeze swirling by his pant leg. “Got it. Everyone rest as usual. If he’s not back by nightfall, I’ll go look for him.”
A standard response. No one objected.
Worried that Blondie might be hungry, Cheng Songyun quietly roasted two extra sweet potatoes for Fang Xiu to carry, just in case.
“Xiao Fang, find anything new today?” she asked while wrapping the potatoes.
“Checked out the main house. Nothing special.” Fang Xiu peeled a chestnut, his tone tinged with perfect wistfulness. “Those newbies are blindly loyal to Jiang Xun and not very sharp either. That long-haired one even tried to hit me with a stove hook.”
He paused, then looked at Mei Lan. “There was a bit of commotion when Jiang Xun returned. I was in the main house then and missed it. Did you see what happened?”
Mei Lan stared at Fang Xiu for a moment.
“No,” she said slowly. “I’ll be more attentive tomorrow.”
Fang Xiu nodded easily, took the roasted sweet potatoes, and left the base room.
The door opened and shut. Under the pale moonlight, Fang Xiu’s figure moved toward the courtyard gate.
Before stepping out, he even turned and waved cheerfully back at the base.
In concealment.
Fang Xiu activated his “Illusion Creation” ability, leaving a phantom version of himself standing guard at the gate.
At the same time, he, Bai Shuangying, and the dog spirit breeze tiptoed toward the main house.
Evil spirits were once again gathering at the windows.
Fang Xiu looked at them and felt a strange warmth…
Good evening, dear audience. I’ve come to join you. This will be a fun night!
The author has something to say:
Xiao Fang is about to start misbehaving again.
Kinky Thoughts:
I was wondering when the pet was going to show… Was starting to think she made Guan He the pet lmao.
Jiang Xun had gone into the forest with Lu Wei to catch Blondie, leaving Lu Yang and A’Qiao to guard the main house.
A’Qiao’s support ability was “Misty Smoke”, which could emit choking cigarette-like smoke to conceal himself and disorient enemies. To increase their combat readiness, Lu Yang had even released the hanged corpse to act as a bodyguard.
He’d stuck a talisman on the corpse’s face to keep it from being possessed by evil spirits.
Unfortunately, talismans could ward off spirits, but they couldn’t stop the natural process of decay.
The corpse had begun to emit a faint stench and showed signs of livor mortis. It stood silently by the living room furniture, and together with the dilapidated old house, the sight was so creepy Lu Yang didn’t even dare look in its direction.
As for why they were so on edge…
That red-clothed leader across the way, Fang Xiu, refused to leave the courtyard, strolling around casually like he was out on a walk. He inspected the surroundings right under their noses, looking more like a wandering overworld boss than a sacrificial offering.
That wasn’t a sacrifice at all! That was a mini-boss!
Once Jiang Xun left in the afternoon, the “boss” did a few more laps, then started heading toward the main house. A’Qiao grabbed the iron stove hook for protection; Lu Yang retreated beside the corpse, stiff with tension.
Fang Xiu politely knocked on the door. Naturally, no one responded.
Then they saw a strand of long hair snake in through the door gap, smoothly unbolt the latch, then slip back out again.
Through the door’s glass panel, they could see Fang Xiu speaking to empty air, smiling gently.
Lu Yang’s breath caught.
If it hadn’t been for that strand of hair, he would’ve just thought the guy belonged in a mental hospital.
But the real question was: where the hell did the hair come from?! Was there a female ghost following him? One even Jiang Xun hadn’t detected?
A’Qiao slowly lowered his stove hook and gulped loudly.
Having unlocked the door, Fang Xiu strolled right in.
He walked past the two of them like it was no big deal and placed two cans of Wangzai brand drinks on the table. “Sorry for the intrusion. Consider this a token of apology.”
A’Qiao, Lu Yang: “…”
Aren’t we supposed to be enemies? Could you act a little more like one? Also, why the hell is there Wangzai in here?
Fang Xiu was acting so much like he belonged there that they weren’t even sure whether they should attack him or not.
He said sincerely, “I’ve checked most of the outside already, but haven’t investigated the main house. If you’re worried, feel free to supervise me the whole time.”
Lu Yang: “Uh…”
He thought about Jiang Xun being away trying to catch Blondie and guilt crept in.
A’Qiao shot Lu Yang a look and licked his lips. “Go ahead, take your time.”
Jiang Xun had anticipated that Fang Xiu might pay them a visit.
According to him, Fang Xiu was a rational type. He wouldn’t kill meaninglessly. It was only the second day of the ritual. Fang Xiu would either try to win over the newbies or lure them into triggering taboos.
The talismans on them were excellent warning tools.
If Fang Xiu dared cast a spell near them, the talismans would combust on their own, and Jiang Xun would know immediately. If the talismans remained intact, they could just stay on guard and conserve strength.
Lu Yang had imagined many scenarios, but not this. Fang Xiu being this polite.
He even turned his back on them while inspecting the dish cupboard and TV cabinet, completely exposing himself.
A’Qiao’s evil instincts kicked in, and he swung the stove hook at the back of Fang Xiu’s head. But… the hook froze midair, stopped by something invisible.
Before their shocked eyes, the iron hook was crushed like putty and dropped to the floor with a thud.
Fang Xiu, seemingly unaware, was enthusiastically examining a frayed toothbrush.
The toothbrush was jammed upright in a cup by the basin, toothpaste squeezed from the back like a snail’s spiral, in a metal tube.
A’Qiao, undeterred, started signaling Lu Yang again, flicking his gaze between the corpse and Fang Xiu, urging him to launch a sneak attack.
Lu Yang furiously shook his head and waved his hands. He even backed up a few steps and almost tripped over a stool, its legs scraping loudly against the floor.
Fang Xiu still didn’t react. He moved on to inspect a small steel basin on the ground.
It was dusty, dented, and slightly deformed. It lay in the shadow beneath the cupboard that Fang Xiu almost missed it on first glance.
Lu Yang watched in confusion.
Fang Xiu seemed the complete opposite of Jiang Xun. He didn’t chant or perform any esoteric gestures. Instead, he flipped through the wall calendar, checked out the photos on the bedroom wall, just like someone evaluating a rental apartment.
He was skinny and didn’t look threatening. Even A’Qiao, with all his artsy pretensions, had thicker arms.
Yet Fang Xiu carried a strange confidence, like he was certain they couldn’t touch him. He wandered around completely at ease.
There was no persuasion, no explanations; just calm investigation.
Jiang Xun’s prior safety protocols, all their prepped counter-dialogues were completely useless now. Lu Yang stood awkwardly, his gaze following Fang Xiu like waiting for the other shoe to drop. The polite approach was worse than violence; it was torture.
…For once, Bai Shuangying empathized with the humans.
Fang Xiu was so relaxed it was impossible to tell if he was conning them or actually looking for clues.
His human was too clever to comprehend. Fang Xiu seemed to be acting every moment of the day. Even though Bai Shuangying had warned the Master of this place to avoid Fang Xiu, he still couldn’t rest easy.
Worried as he was, Bai Shuangying also hesitated to interfere directly.
By now, he had a vague premonition: if he did intervene, even if Fang Xiu forgave the betrayal, he’d lose the chance to truly understand him forever.
So he could only keep watching.
Lately, he’d been staring at Fang Xiu more than during any previous ritual.
And, strangely enough, 99 times out of 100, Fang Xiu caught him.
And every time, Fang Xiu gave him a sly, satisfied smile. Sometimes it was more sly than satisfied, sometimes vice versa, and sometimes with a hug thrown in.
Even though Fang Xiu also looked at him more often now, Bai Shuangying still felt the imbalance and he didn’t like it.
And when Bai Shuangying got irritated, he wanted to ruffle his human.
Thought became action. He reached out and ran a finger down Fang Xiu’s warm neck. Fang Xiu gave a small shiver and hunched his shoulders.
“That Jiang Xun isn’t here. He might try something with the others,” Bai Shuangying said, disguising his voice as he analyzed.
“I know. They’re probably planning to use Blondie to test a taboo.” Fang Xiu replied casually, “If Blondie has even a shred of team spirit, he won’t get himself killed. And if he does… well, this ritual isn’t particularly dangerous. He won’t drag the rest of us down.”
In other words, let fate decide Blondie’s outcome.
“How do you know?” Bai Shuangying was genuinely curious. Sometimes he wondered if this kid had clairvoyance.
“Bai Shuangying, do you know what makes a lie convincing?” Fang Xiu asked quietly, answering with a question.
“I don’t.”
Fang Xiu: “A little bit of falsehood mixed into a whole lot of truth… That kind of lie is the hardest to detect.”
Bai Shuangying frowned and leaned closer. “So?”
Fang Xiu stroked his hair and explained patiently, “If Jiang Xun were just a dumb villain, he’d outright trick the newbies into testing taboos. But I’ve observed him all morning. He’s not doing that.”
“He’s smarter than that. He manipulates events to make the newbies test the death taboo, reducing their numbers. Then he ‘sincerely’ recruits the survivors. As long as he labels us as ‘enemies’, the newbies will cling to him without question and won’t easily defect.”
Bai Shuangying said nothing.
No wonder Fang Xiu hadn’t tried to win them over. At this point, the newbies were under Jiang Xun’s “sincere” protection. It’d be difficult to offer them something better.
Jiang Xun’s manipulation of people was quite skilled. But in a way, Fang Xiu, who could see through it, was even scarier.
“With his subordinates in place, he can now use them to test taboos on ‘enemies’. I’m staying with Mei Lan, so I’m not an easy target. Cheng Songyun is a defense expert and constantly guards Guan He. Blondie, ironically, is the easiest to snatch.”
Fang Xiu opened a drawer and continued rifling through it as he explained. “As for Blondie, I already warned him.”
Bai Shuangying: “I don’t think he’ll listen.”
To him, Fang Xiu and Blondie weren’t even the same species.
Fang Xiu didn’t look up. “Then he’ll help Jiang Xun test the taboo, and help us test Jiang Xun’s methods.”
His voice held no sorrow or regret. It was as calm as a frozen lake, and not very human.
“For the sake of the others?” Bai Shuangying moved closer.
“No.”
Fang Xiu closed the drawer with a puff of dust. His voice was softer than the floating ash.
“…Because I have to keep moving forward. I can’t die here.”
As he said it, he withdrew his gaze from Bai Shuangying.
……
Compared to the peace inside the courtyard, things outside were much more lively.
Cheng Songyun, ever patient, continued methodically searching the area and managed to gather a large amount of food again. This time she collected some ripe jujubes and dug up a few sweet potatoes. After filling her basket, she sat down beside Guan He to rest and keep watch while he practiced his “no-damage defense”.
After training for several hours that morning, Guan He seemed to have caught onto something. He imitated Fang Xiu’s approach and, after subduing the evil spirit, fed it directly to the little child ghost.
Now he had captured another evil spirit, planning to use it as practice again and feed it to Cheng Songyun’s vengeful ghost afterward.
“I still can’t hold them securely yet, but once I get the hang of it, I’ll bring back a few to give to Fang Ge.”
Guan He rolled up his wrists and stared intently at the evil spirit.
Blondie, on the other hand, was bored out of his mind.
Fang Xiu was obviously protecting Guan He. All the kid had to do was play his role as the group’s lucky charm. Being a minor was such an advantage. Blondie would’ve swapped places with him in a heartbeat.
But Guan He was still unsatisfied, insisting on messing around. Even if he managed to pull off that “no-damage defense” bullshit, what could he actually do? Offense was what really counted.
Just a brat showing off, Blondie thought to himself. And what was Cheng Songyun thinking, encouraging him?
Still, all this worked in his favor. It gave him more time for his stalling tactics.
“I’m going for a walk,” Blondie yawned.
Cheng Songyun: “No. We’re not allowed to act alone.”
“That’s your problem. I’m fast. I won’t be in the way,” Blondie scoffed. “What’s gonna happen in one little lap? You think they’re targeting me specifically?”
“No means no.” Cheng Songyun frowned.
“Oh yeah? Stop me if you can.” Blondie grinned, and his face darkened with spiritual energy as he activated his ghost power.
With a big leap, he vanished on the spot.
Neither Cheng Songyun nor Guan He had strength-boosting abilities, so they could only watch helplessly as he ran off. Guan He looked like he wanted to give chase, but Cheng Songyun stopped him.
“Just wait here. Otherwise, he might not find us when he comes back.”
“What if he’s attacked…?”
“Then we wouldn’t be able to help him anyway,” Cheng Songyun said honestly.
Guan He: “…” True.
Blondie’s father had destroyed his family so Guan He had zero emotional investment in him. He he obediently stayed put and returned to training with focus.
Meanwhile, Blondie bounded over the treetops a few times and quickly spotted his target. Jiang Xun was dragging Lu Wei through the woods, seemingly up to something shady.
Lu Wei’s hands were bound tightly behind his back, and a cloth gag was stuffed in his mouth like a bit on a horse. Around his neck was a collar covered in talismans, the end of which was chained to Jiang Xun’s hand.
Damn, kinky. Blondie barely held back the urge to whistle.
He decided to go for a surprise attack and snap Jiang Xun’s neck. Once the leader was gone, the remaining three newbies wouldn’t be a problem.
Blondie acted on the thought. Choosing a sharp angle, he kicked off a tree trunk and launched himself at Jiang Xun like a cannonball.
But the moment he came within five steps of Jiang Xun, there was a sharp crackle of static, and his limbs went numb. With a thump, he dropped to the ground like a mosquito that had hit an electric bug zapper.
“Two souls in one body, ghost possession. You think I wouldn’t recognize it?” Jiang Xun said calmly, placing a foot on the back of Blondie’s head. “Using ghost arts to attack a Taoist? How foolish. I was just about to come find you, and you’ve delivered yourself.”
Blondie panicked. He tried desperately to move, but his limbs wouldn’t obey. He opened his mouth to shout, but suddenly his head went cold, and his vision spun into a slurry of color.
When he regained awareness, he was hit by a searing pain in his mouth and felt his arms tightly bound behind his back. Around his neck…
Wait, this situation felt way too familiar.
As his vision cleared, he saw “himself” staggering to his feet, wildly shaking his head.
“Amazing! This is the Soul-Swapping Technique?” “Blondie” examined his own hands in wonder, gasping in awe.
Jiang Xun: “Yes.”
“Blondie” patted his body excitedly. “So weird not wearing glasses… This body’s senses feel normal. If I break a taboo in it, I’ll still feel pain, right?”
He said this while sneaking glances at Jiang Xun.
Jiang Xun replied calmly, “Indeed.”
“But the death taboo has already been identified. The risks of the remaining taboos are low. If the body is destroyed, you’ll return to your original one. As for any suffering endured, I’ll compensate you with extra talismans.”
“Oh, thank you, Master!”
At last, the real Blondie understood. He’d been cursed. They had swapped his soul with that of Four Eyes!
And his ghost hadn’t transferred with him. He couldn’t use its powers at all. He was trussed up like a roast and couldn’t break free.
It’s over. It’s so over. What now?! Blondie shook his mushy brain and tried desperately to think.
Wait… Fang Xiu! They still had Fang Xiu. Fang Xiu would definitely notice something was wrong.
That thought calmed him somewhat. He gave up struggling. It was better to not take unnecessary risks. He was the only offensive member of the team. Fang Xiu would surely save him.
Reassured, Blondie was dragged back to the courtyard by Jiang Xun. Through the blurry lenses of his dirty glasses, he scanned the area frantically. Damn… Fang Xiu wasn’t in the yard right now. He had no idea where he’d gone.
Before he could do anything else, “Blondie” lifted a torch and boldly walked toward the empty side room.
Oh shit. Wait… no way…
Lu Wei raised the torch and threw it into the firewood storage.
As the flame ignited the pile, “Blondie” vanished in a flash, leaving nothing behind.
Blondie, watching his own body disappear before his eyes, let out a muffled scream.
At that exact moment, a panicked voice rang out from outside the courtyard.
“Master, help!” Lu Wei screamed. “I’ve been thrown out… I can’t get back in the yard!”
For the entire morning, Bai Shuangying followed Fang Xiu without leaving his side.
What Fang Xiu was doing was less of an investigation and more of a leisurely visit and sightseeing. After he got bored of drawing in the dirt, he began observing the bark of the persimmon tree.
“These marks were used to record children’s heights.”
“There are so many lines at the same level… there must have been quite a few children here. But judging from how sparse the lines are, they probably didn’t come here often.” Fang Xiu ran his fingers over the faint scratches on the tree trunk, quietly explaining to Bai Shuangying.
“We used to go back to our hometown for Chinese New Years too. I guess this family was the same.”
Bai Shuangying nodded.
He did remember this tradition. Even through the vicissitudes of time and changing dynasties, humans always liked to gather during festivals. It was rare for Fang Xiu to mention his past, so Bai Shuangying listened very attentively.
After observing the persimmon tree, Fang Xiu methodically continued inspecting along the base of the wall. He went first to the unused side wing, but didn’t pay any attention to the corpse inside the empty room. Instead, he checked the old exterior wall.
As expected, after only a few steps, they found more traces of the past.
A child had carved a “family portrait” into a brick wall. The lines of the stick figures that were waving wildly were now blurred by time.
Besides the stick figures, there were also a few four-legged creatures lying on the ground. It was unclear if they were meant to be cats or dogs.
Higher up, someone had carved slanted lines of ancient poetry. The more complicated characters were substituted with pinyin, but most of it had already flaked off. Only the beginning phrase “Alone in a foreign land” and the following “Every wind” remained.
As for the remaining marks, they looked like little turtles made with tic-tac-toe patterns, or unintelligible human faces.
Fang Xiu crouched down, his fingertips lightly brushing over the uneven carvings.
“I used to do this kind of thing too.” He smiled and said, “I even made a box, buried my New Year’s money in my grandma’s yard, and drew a treasure map for it.”
“My dad accidentally lost the map, and I cried at him for a long time. Later, my parents buried another money box themselves and gave me a new map to make up for it.”
Bai Shuangying listened silently.
“…But my grandma secretly dug up the whole yard, found my ‘treasure chest’, and quietly gave it back to me. She said I could buy more snacks with it, but it had to be our secret from my parents. When she handed me the box, her hands were still covered in dirt. She hadn’t even had time to wash them.”
“And of course, my cousin happened to see it, so I bought candy to keep his mouth shut.”
A faint smile appeared on Fang Xiu’s face.
“So you have a cousin,” Bai Shuangying said.
He remembered that Fang Xiu had specifically mentioned before that his “parents and grandparents were all gone”, so he thought Fang Xiu was completely alone.
Fang Xiu: “Yeah, he was a smart kid. His whole family was wonderful… but they ran into an earthquake while traveling. The whole family was lost. My grandpa couldn’t take the blow and passed away soon after.”
He sighed, stood up, and dusted the dirt off his clothes.
“After that, we never really celebrated New Years properly again.”
Looking at the beautiful courtyard before him, Fang Xiu could clearly recall his grandma’s yard.
Back then, New Year celebrations always came with a sense of grandeur.
During the day, the courtyard would be filled with firecrackers, and the snow would be littered with red paper scraps. Distant relatives would come and go, while the kids ran wild, teasing cats and dogs.
At night, some adults would go outside with him and his cousin to set off fireworks, while others stayed inside preparing a lavish dinner. Children screamed, adults chatted, the TV played in the background, and laughter filled the air. Everything was bright and lively.
After his cousin’s family and grandfather passed away, the number of people celebrating was cut in half.
No one prepared firecrackers or Spring Festival couplets anymore. At most, people would make an effort with the food. He was the only child left in the courtyard, and that made Fang Xiu sad for a long time.
Looking back now, that was the beginning of his long journey of loss.
Fang Xiu couldn’t help but glance at Bai Shuangying again, only to find him still staring at him intently, wearing an expression of serious contemplation.
“Uh… I didn’t discover some shocking clue. I just thought this place really resembles my old home.”
Bai Shuangying: “I don’t care about clues. I’m just curious about you.”
Fang Xiu’s background sounded unexpectedly normal, Bai Shuangying thought. The more he learned about Fang Xiu, the less he understood him.
Upon hearing this, Fang Xiu’s expression softened. “Curious about me, huh? Then I better keep some mystery alive.”
Bai Shuangying: “…!”
Why? Humans are really hard to understand.
Fang Xiu smiled even more and casually poked around the junk in the corner of the courtyard with a tree branch. This gray, dusty pile was right next to the west guest room where the newbies were staying. It looked quite suspicious.
But after clearing the weeds and dust, he only found half a bar of dry soap, a tattered slipper, and a deformed old plastic toy.
It was a bright green water gun without any supernatural element.
The hordes of evil spirits that had peeked around the courtyard the night before were now nowhere to be seen. Everything in the yard seemed completely ordinary. If there was anything unusual, it was the small breeze that rose again as he rummaged through the junk.
It was cool and gentle and quickly dissipated.
After checking out the whole yard, Fang Xiu, a little disappointed, dropped the branch and went to the hand pump to wash his hands.
Even though the corpses had been removed, there was still blood and brain matter clinging to the water outlet.
Harboring a small hope, Fang Xiu pumped water while cleaning the outlet. If he could somehow draw out yesterday’s ghost rations again, that would be fantastic.
But after scrubbing the outlet until it gleamed, there was still no sign of the hair-ghost reemerging. Whether it had been scared off or simply vanished was unclear.
Exhausted from pumping, Fang Xiu just used the clean water to wash his face.
“What should we eat for lunch?” he muttered.
…They had hazel mushroom braised chicken, roasted rabbit, and steamed wild greens with garlic.
Cheng Songyun had brought back a huge pile of hazel mushrooms, and Blondie had caught two fat rabbits. Guan He… Guan He was drenched in sweat, with a few suspicious wounds on his left arm, though they didn’t look serious.
Cheng Songyun quickly prepared a table full of hot dishes. They used crispy pastries as their staple food and exchanged information as they ate.
Mei Lan spoke first: “No abnormalities in the rooms during the day. I checked every corner.”
Guan He followed up casually. “There are some evil spirits in the woods, but not many. They hide in the dark, and only a few actively attack.”
Cheng Songyun had a different focus. “There’s a lot of edible stuff nearby, and a plot of land with sweet potatoes. Everything seems normal. I didn’t see any signs of destruction. ”
“Xiao Du killed a rabbit and saw blood. I tried some of the leftover seasonings and dried goods. Xiao Guan fought a ghost. No one triggered a taboo. But…”
Fang Xiu: “But?”
“One of the newbies was lighting firewood outside. The flames kept leaning toward him and almost set his hair on fire. I’m not sure if that counts as breaking a taboo, but it looked off.”
Cheng Songyun summarized everything carefully.
Blondie shoveled food into his mouth, mumbling, “I get it now. This place only kills you if you ask for it. There’s water, electricity, and you can grow crops. We could live here for ten years easy.”
He chuckled slyly. “Once the others outside are dead, we can reshuffle the rooms, get our privacy back, and then—heh, it’ll be great.”
Fang Xiu gave him a glance. “Don’t take the initiative and attack the other teams.”
Blondie: “Tsk.”
Guan He poked at a mushroom with his chopsticks. “Fang Ge, did you figure out what’s wrong with this place?”
“Hm? Tell me your thoughts.” Fang Xiu put down his soup bowl, encouraging him.
“It’s like the punishment for breaking taboos and the ghost activity are blended together, so it’s hard to distinguish. So we have to go slow. If we make a wrong judgment, our thinking gets derailed.”
“Exactly. So there’s no rush… We’ve got plenty of time.” Fang Xiu smiled.
“Mm!”
……
Main Room.
Three newbies plus Jiang Xun—four people continued sharing the rabbit meat and persimmons. A’Qiao had brought back some chestnuts from outside, just enough to make a decent meal.
However, A’Qiao had a strange incident while roasting the chestnuts… His arm got badly burned. Terrified, he immediately put out the fire and only managed to roast a small portion.
“Master, did I break a taboo?” A’Qiao asked, lips pale.
“Taboo signs are mixed with evil spirits activity. There’s no need to panic.” Jiang Xun bandaged the burn as he replied casually.
Lu Wei spoke with a serious expression. “Master, what should we do next?”
“Rather than rushing to escape, it’s better to first understand our surroundings.”
Jiang Xun paused briefly, then continued in a mentor-like tone. “From what we’ve seen, the ghosts stay hidden during the day and only appear at night. They want to drive us out of the house to kill and eat us.”
Lu Yang recalled this seemed to be true.
The ghosts inside the house had only tried to scare them. They never truly harmed anyone. Except for the guy with the pierced lip, a special case of being a “man-made murder”, everyone else died outside.
“W-why do they want to drive us out? Is something in the house?” Lu Yang asked nervously. “Could it be that the ‘E’ is in the house, and they want us gone?”
Jiang Xun shook his head. “If the E was in the house, the ghosts here would be the most aggressive. But they seem more like they’re being suppressed and don’t dare act out.”
The three newbies held their breath and listened.
Jiang Xun calmly ate a persimmon and concluded, “That couple ran the farthest and were devoured to the bone. Three people died in the courtyard. Their souls are gone, but their bodies remain.”
“Those of you who hid indoors were only frightened. You weren’t harmed.”
Lu Wei had a realization. “There’s a protective charm in the house!”
“No. There’s a bigger evil spirit in the house.”
Jiang Xun sneered, “Aren’t you curious where the evil spirits go during the day? They’ve invaded the territory of a stronger evil spirit. If they get too close, it will eat them.”
The three fell completely silent, suddenly too afraid to even chew.
Lu Yang couldn’t help thinking of a nature documentary. The evil spirits were like small animals stealing meat from a predator. If they weren’t careful, they’d become its dinner instead.
Yet still, they fearlessly rushed in to fight over food, relying on their numbers, hoping others would die first so they could live.
“Usually, we call such evil spirits the ‘Master’. Big evil spirits all have their own quirks, but when it comes to protecting the E, they go all out,” Jiang Xun said blandly.
Lu Yang asked cautiously, “But it only eats evil spirits and doesn’t attack us. Isn’t that a good thing?”
Lu Wei scolded, “Are you stupid? As long as we stay here, those little evil spirits will keep coming and dying. If I were the Master, I’d be thrilled to leave humans here as bait.”
“And once we’re close to finding the E, it’ll just eat us too so nothing is wasted,” A’Qiao added.
Jiang Xun: “That’s why we need to resolve the E quickly, before the Master gets wary. The process may be dangerous, so prepare yourselves mentally.”
A’Qiao and Lu Wei nodded seriously. Lu Yang shrank back a little before reluctantly nodding.
Jiang Xun gave a faint smile. “Don’t worry. We’re even in number with the other team. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to sacrifice you just to let them reap the rewards.”
“This afternoon, we’ll capture someone from their side to test the taboos.”
“That girl, maybe. We saw her left behind at their base. Women are usually soft-hearted. I’ll go deal with her,” A’Qiao suggested excitedly.
Lu Wei: “Don’t push it. If they left her behind, they’re probably guarding her. I say we grab the kid. It’s easier to control him.”
Lu Yang: “But things haven’t turned hostile yet. Wouldn’t this completely tear things apart?”
Jiang Xun’s “big evil spirit suppressing little evil spirits” theory hadn’t shown any holes. Resolving the E quickly made sense too, but using a living person, especially a woman or a child, as a test subject still made Lu Yang uncomfortable.
And the fact that his two teammates accepted the idea instantly and started enthusiastically discussing it made his back go cold.
Jiang Xun glanced at him twice and said in a voice that was soft but cold, “Are you saying controlling your teammates to test the death taboo doesn’t count as ‘turning hostile’? Or do you not believe me?”
“Don’t mind him, Master. This guy always whines and doesn’t get what’s important,” A’Qiao quickly covered, glaring at Lu Yang. “He won’t do this, he won’t do that. Useless. Are you even a man?”
Lu Yang: “I just think attacking women and children is a bit…”
Jiang Xun interrupted, “Enough. No need for conflict. Since you can’t stomach it, we’ll go after the strongest one.”
“That blonde kid. He likes to act alone. Grab him.”
Lu Wei’s expression twitched. He shot Lu Yang a fierce glare. “Now it’s complicated. Happy now?”
“Someone’s such a saint that they’d trade five teammates just to feel righteous,” A’Qiao rolled his eyes.
Lu Yang shut his mouth in frustration. Jiang Xun’s concession left him no room to protest.
Actually, when Jiang Xun wasn’t around, the three of them had secretly discussed this.
Calling it caution was putting it mildly… Lu Yang simply didn’t trust Jiang Xun enough.
Lu Wei had used his support skill “Danger Appraisal” to assess the charms Jiang Xun gave them. Though it couldn’t offer full analysis, it could detect danger.
The results showed no malice in the charms. They truly repelled ghosts and protected the wearer.
From that moment on, A’Qiao and Lu Wei fully trusted Jiang Xun.
“I told you, their team takes care of their own. Why would they rely on an outsider like you? Why wouldn’t they use you?”
“Even if we joined them, who do you think they’d send to test the taboos? Their own people? Or trick us into doing it?”
“You think they’re so noble? If it was really Master Jiang who tricked that couple into testing a taboo, would they let you hang around him, a supposed ‘murderer’? Why didn’t they save them?”
Their words buzzed in Lu Yang’s ears.
Just like last year… After abandoning a sick teammate and cannibalizing another, the group gave themselves all sorts of “reasonable explanations” for what they had to do.
Lu Yang didn’t know whether he was truly questioning reality, or if he just couldn’t stand the constant buzzing voices.
He looked down at the half-eaten rabbit meat in his hand.
From the depths of memory, the image of roasted human limbs surfaced. Lu Yang felt nauseous and completely lost his appetite.
Jiang Xun finished eating calmly. Seeing the three newbies silent, he smiled faintly.
“Alright then. Let’s talk strategy.”
……
Afternoon.
It was exploration time again. The five discussed and decided to proceed with the original plan.
Fang Xiu: “So, I’ll stay in the courtyard with Mei Lan. You three head out. But let me make two things absolutely clear…”
“First, everyone must be back in the house before sunset.”
“Second, do not split up. Especially you, Du Zhichao. We have enough rabbits. Stop wandering off on your own.”
Blondie rolled his eyes, then chuckled after a pause. “Of course.”
“I’m not joking.” Fang Xiu frowned slightly.
Blondie waved dismissively. “Got it, got it. I won’t act alone.”
…Yeah right, Blondie thought to himself.
Fang Xiu’s reluctance to resolve the E quickly suited him just fine. Unfortunately, Fang Xiu was too soft. He only played it reactively. Blondie had no intention of letting the other teams solve things peacefully. He was determined to stir up trouble.
If he killed a few outsiders outside the courtyard, Fang Xiu couldn’t stop him.
Even if he was caught, he could always say he was helping the team earn the reward for the E.
He whistled a few notes and gazed at the brilliant autumn scenery outside.
He hadn’t gotten to relax properly during the Huanxi E incident. This time, he was definitely taking an extended vacation here!
After the couple left, Lu Yang never managed to fall asleep.
Half of it was because he felt uneasy.
He had originally just wanted to sleep in the living room…to at least be closer to Master Jiang. But then everyone else followed his lead and moved into the living room too, making it look like he was spearheading some effort to ostracize the couple.
The other half was because the evil spirits were still active.
They hadn’t appeared due to the pierced-lip man violating a taboo. After the couple left, everyone was still trapped in a sea of terror.
Cold touches and breaths, unexplained bleeding—these were only the most basic abnormalities.
The truly terrifying things lurked at the edge of one’s vision: in the corners, between the sofa cushions, under the coffee table, within cluttered piles of objects. He constantly glimpsed what looked like parts of human faces, especially those rolled-back, lifeless eyes.
On the old wall calendar, the pupils of the New Year dolls shifted with their movements. Amid the sound of panicked breathing came the occasional out-of-place low chuckle, and nonsensical background noises echoed endlessly.
It felt like someone had crammed a dozen psychological horror films into a blender and splattered the results across this old house.
The evil spirits didn’t directly attack them, but they made it so no one dared move, all wishing they could shut their eyes and play dead.
“Damn, it’s too horrible at night. I’ll sleep during the day.” The long-haired artsy guy cursed and lit a candle in the living room.
Lu Yang remembered this guy quite well.
He called himself “A’Qiao”, a textbook artsy youth. A’Qiao liked to talk about obscure films and books in niche languages, and even more about his eight-hour-long romantic history.
But once the sacrificial ritual began, he immediately dropped his husky whisper-voice and started swearing frequently.
“Should we go call those two back?” The guy with glasses adjusted his frames.
This was Lu Wei. Usually quiet and introverted, he seemed like someone lost in his own world. Lu Yang didn’t know him well.
“Call them back for what? Weren’t they annoying enough already?” A’Qiao frowned.
“If that Auntie wasn’t lying, then the more people we have in the team, the better. Someone still needs to test the taboos,” Lu Wei pointed out.
A’Qiao sneered, “There are ghosts everywhere out there. If someone wants to go stop them, let them. I say everyone has their fate, and those two staying in the team were just dragging us down.”
Lu Yang felt that abandoning teammates like this was too rash. “At least they’re still two people… Why don’t we ask Master Jiang? If he won’t help, then we can try that other team in the side rooms?”
That Auntie Cheng had been very kind to him. Instinctively he felt she wasn’t a bad person.
But before he could finish, A’Qiao and Lu Wei both shot him a condescending look.
“You really think they want to help us?” A’Qiao shook his head.
Lu Wei: “Veterans obviously want other teams to test the taboos first. We newbies are at a disadvantage. Neither side is likely acting out of kindness, so we might as well side with the stronger one. If we align with Master Jiang, that’s picking a side.”
Lu Yang more or less understood what they meant.
Master Jiang was alone so he was bound to need external help and might protect them in return. The other team had five people. Abandoning them would be no big deal for them. Looking out for oneself is human nature, so could they really count on the morality of strangers?
Even so, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Unfortunately, after being awake so long, his brain felt like mush, barely functioning.
He mumbled, “Okay, then… let’s not ask the team in the side rooms. Let’s go talk to Master Jiang…”
“They’re dead, all dead!”
The gloomy woman in the group suddenly clutched her head and let out a hoarse scream. “The ghosts ate them. There’s nothing left…”
The living room fell silent.
Her underworld support ability was “Death Playback”. She could see the exact scene of a person’s death.
They’d known that going out at night was risky, but they hadn’t expected the couple to die so early. The two hadn’t been completely unaware, and they had Underworld support. Surely, they should have had some ability to fight back.
Lu Wei was the first to stand and began banging on the east bedroom door. “Master Jiang! Master Jiang, something’s happened…!”
No response came from the east bedroom.
Lu Yang’s scalp tingled. Abandoning all sense of politeness, he joined Lu Wei in hammering the door. “Master! People have died! Help!”
Still no response.
The gloomy woman trembled all over. “Before they even went out… one of them was already dead… It was a corpse that took the other out. A corpse…”
A’Qiao’s face went pale. “Why didn’t you use your ability earlier?!”
“That skill uses physical energy! I didn’t know they’d die so quickly!” the gloomy woman shrieked.
She looked like she’d just run a marathon, soaked with sweat and about to collapse from exhaustion.
Lu Yang’s fist slid slowly down the wooden door. Remembering how the pierced-lip man had left without looking back, he felt as though a block of ice had lodged in his stomach.
One of their companions had turned into a corpse without them realizing and lured the living out to die… When had the pierced-lip guy died? How did it happen? Not a single one of them had noticed!
He had thought the rooms were safe, but now it seemed nowhere was.
Beside him, Lu Wei had already started slamming into the east bedroom door. But the flimsy wooden door now seemed like a bank vault. No matter how hard they hit it, it didn’t budge.
…Was it a trick of the evil spirits? Or had something happened to Master Jiang as well?
Lu Yang’s brain creaked as he tried to think. Panic gripped him as he looked around the room. The dim candlelight created layers of shadows, and vague forms writhed within them.
Something cold and wet brushed against his ankle. His legs went weak, and he nearly collapsed on the spot.
“Let’s go check the other team!”
Lu Wei couldn’t get Jiang Xun’s door open and abandoned his “pick a side” theory in an instant.
No one responded. Everyone had curled up in their own corners, like ostriches trying to bury their heads in the sand.
“Lei Ge, Da Niu, you two go ask for help from the side-room team.” Lu Wei swallowed. “You two have defensive abilities. We’re all useless.”
The two’s Underworld anomalies were “Dark Vision” and “Absolute Sense of Direction”, making it ideal for night operations. With the darkness outside, anyone else would be helpless.
But the two men protested furiously…
“Even the Master’s not responding. What the hell’s our little powers gonna do?!”
“Who the hell are you to order me around, huh?!”
A’Qiao sided with Lu Wei. “This is our last shot! Otherwise, we all die!”
“I’m so thirsty… so thirsty…” Amid the chaos, the gloomy woman croaked, clutching her throat like she’d swallowed a mouthful of sand.
“Water… get me water…”
She was drenched in sweat and her eyes bulged like a fish dying on land.
Lu Yang accidentally made eye contact with her. Her eyes were vacant, identical to the ghost eyes crammed into every crevice.
The scene before him pushed Lu Yang to the brink. He felt as if he had returned to the time when they were lost in the uninhabited zone.
The world had become a foreign place. Knowledge and logic had broken down. No one knew what to do. They could only watch helplessly as death drew near.
Lu Yang slumped against the wall, burying his head in his hands. His teammates’ shouting made his eardrums ache. Exhausted and terrified, he couldn’t even understand what they were yelling anymore. Tears flowed on their own.
Suddenly, something cold poked furiously at his face.
His frayed nerves finally snapped, and Lu Yang passed out on the spot.
……
The next morning.
Cheng Songyun hadn’t slept the second half of the night. As soon as the sun rose, she used the meat and wild vegetables left behind by Fang Xiu to make a hot soup, then washed some apples and persimmons.
There were enough dishes and utensils in the cabinet. In one corner of the side room stood an old, dusty folding table covered in cobwebs. Next to it were several small stools that clearly hadn’t been used in ages, but they were all still functional.
Outside, the sky was blue and vast, the sunlight bright and cheerful, and birds chirped crisply from the woods. Cheng Songyun wiped down the table and chairs. Once breakfast was laid out, the atmosphere became even more homey.
Fang Xiu woke up to the smell of food, nestled in his ghost’s arms.
After returning last night, as usual, he’d fallen asleep holding Bai Shuangying. When he woke up, Bai Shuangying’s sleeve was still draped over his face. It was cool and smooth, making it perfect for a sleep mask.
It had been a long time since he’d felt this relaxed during a sacrificial ritual.
He opened his eyes and unabashedly admired his ghost for a while, then buried his face back into Bai Shuangying’s sleeve and inhaled the fresh scent of grass and trees.
“Good morning,” he mumbled lazily from inside the sleeve, stretching his limbs in contentment.
“Mm.” Bai Shuangying gently patted Fang Xiu’s head.
Cheng Songyun, wiping the water from her hands, called out enthusiastically, “You’re up! Come, come. Have some hot soup while it’s fresh!”
In the morning light, the steam from the soup curled upward like mist. The water droplets on the fruit sparkled like diamonds, looking tender and delicious.
Blondie let out a huge yawn, then squinted as he wandered over. “I’ll head out later and catch a couple more rabbits so we can switch up the flavors… Oh right, Fang Ge, you went out with those two last night, yeah? See anything?”
The others hadn’t heard about this yet, so they looked curiously at Fang Xiu as they ate breakfast.
Fang Xiu sipped some hot soup and replied casually, “There are too many evil spirits outside the yard. I lost track of them. I wandered around a bit and couldn’t find them.”
“But going out at night doesn’t seem to trigger taboos. The challenge is dealing with those spirits. The ones outside the courtyard are stronger than the ones inside. Everyone should avoid going out at night if they can.”
His tone was as normal as ever. No one could tell there was any fabrication behind it.
As expected, the other four took Fang Xiu’s words at face value and continued eating peacefully.
Seated on a small stool, Fang Xiu ate with more focus than he had even in the Disaster Relief Tower, showing none of the tension that had hung over the previous three sacrificial rounds. Bai Shuangying watched him from head to toe, increasingly confused as to why Fang Xiu had lied.
Blondie was the first to voice a new thought. “You know, there’s water, electricity, and food here. Why don’t we stay a few more days?”
“It’s a good place to rest,” Mei Lan agreed, unusually.
Cheng Songyun didn’t quite agree. “We haven’t even found the death taboo yet. How can we relax so much?”
But Guan He didn’t chime in. He just stirred the chipped bowl in his hands, head lowered in thought.
Fang Xiu finished gnawing a chicken leg and smiled at Cheng Songyun. “I also think there’s no need to rush. Balance matters.”
The last three rituals had been intense. He’d been forced to operate at full throttle. By comparison, this place really was a chance to catch his breath… and to carry out some very particular plans.
Just then, a cold breeze blew past his ankle. Fang Xiu casually rubbed at his pant leg with his shoe with an unchanged expression.
Cheng Songyun couldn’t sit still. “I’ll go walk around the woods today and gather more food. Xiao Fang, do whatever you want. You don’t need to worry about chores.”
“If I spot anything unusual, I’ll write it down and let you know,” she added solemnly.
After everyone had voiced their plans, Fang Xiu finally added, “I’m not going out either. I’ll investigate the courtyard. That way, Mei Lan and I can back each other up.”
Mei Lan pursed her lips and glanced at him but said nothing more.
The weather was perfect, and after a warm chicken soup breakfast, Fang Xiu was in excellent spirits. Their side had made it through the night unscathed. He wondered how things had gone in the main house.
He hummed a little tune and opened the side room door… and the tune stopped abruptly.
Seeing Fang Xiu pause, Guan He came over to check. The moment he looked out, he stumbled back two steps and landed hard on the bed. “O-Outside—”
The scene outside was horrific.
A girl had died in front of the hand-pump. She was on her knees, mouth wrapped around the water spout. The spout had pierced through her mouth and out the back of her skull.
Her hands clutched the pump tightly, as if she’d struggled. But her arms and neck were covered in deep ligature marks, as if something had yanked her forcefully, preventing her escape.
A man was dead in the persimmon tree. His limbs were broken, and his body was twisted grotesquely between the branches. His innards spilled from a torn-open abdomen.
Another man had used his own intestines as a noose, hanging himself midair. His feet dangled half a meter above the ground, with nothing underneath… God knows what he stepped on to get up there.
His right shoe was gone, leaving a bare foot swinging gently in the morning breeze. The smell of excrement mixed with blood tainted the autumn air with an acrid stench.
In the midst of the crisp, golden autumn, the three corpses were jarringly grotesque.
Fang Xiu said, “…Wow.”
He was genuinely surprised. The real death taboo was outside the courtyard, and for this group to die in such bizarre ways… It was almost impressive in itself.
Bai Shuangying stared at Fang Xiu, whose mind was already working through a prepared explanation.
It was easy to see that these people had been killed by evil spirits. If Fang Xiu asked about the cause, he could describe it as terrifyingly as needed to keep Fang Xiu on guard…
But just as Bai Shuangying was eagerly preparing to explain, Fang Xiu patted Cheng Songyun. “Cheng Jie, let’s go check the main house later.”
After three sacrificial rituals, Cheng Songyun had become a pragmatic realist. Even in the face of such carnage, she regained her composure quickly. “No problem.”
Bai Shuangying continued to stare hard at Fang Xiu.
“When we come back, everyone else stick to the plan. Don’t touch weird stuff, and don’t get into fights,” Fang Xiu said.
The others slowly came back to themselves. Guan He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to look at the bodies outside.
Bai Shuangying kept staring at Fang Xiu.
Fang Xiu tugged at his red T-shirt, making sure there weren’t too many wrinkles.
Then he finally turned to Bai Shuangying, scratching his head sheepishly. “I don’t know these guys, and I can’t tell how tasty their souls are… Sorry I couldn’t pick something better for you.”
At no point did he ask how the three had died.
Bai Shuangying looked away in disappointment and began thinking of new ways to scare people. Just as his gaze shifted, Fang Xiu wrinkled his nose and gave a tiny, smug smile.
As soon as Fang Xiu and Cheng Songyun reached the main house, they were “warmly welcomed” by what was left of the newbie group… No, more accurately, the three surviving newbies.
The three were huddled inside, looking completely shell-shocked, not even glancing up at them. Jiang Xun stood just inside the main house door, subtly blocking their way.
Jiang Xun frowned slightly. “You’re here?”
The tone was a little off, but Fang Xiu kept smiling. “Just coming by to check things out.”
“They already know what you did,” Jiang Xun said. “One of them could see the moment of death.”
“You tampered with that boy, made them test the taboo for you. Unfortunately, they didn’t realize it in time and even wanted to go out and ask you for help…”
He glanced meaningfully toward the three corpses outside.
Cheng Songyun’s eyebrows shot up. “It wasn’t us—”
Fang Xiu ignored the slander and said with curiosity, “Weren’t they sharing a room with you? Why would they go out of their way to seek us out?”
“I was entangled with evil spirits all night,” Jiang Xun replied calmly. “I couldn’t spare the effort.”
Fang Xiu: “So tragic. We had a peaceful night. How about we switch? Tonight we’ll stay in the main house?”
Jiang Xun: “……”
Cheng Songyun was furious. “Xiao Fang, we need to clarify this. We didn’t…”
“It’s pointless,” Fang Xiu cut her off. “This guy’s already pinned the blame on us. Like he’d ever admit it was his doing.”
“And besides, if I’m not wrong, the one who could see the deaths is probably dead too. That way, someone can keep pulling strings without anyone noticing.”
Jiang Xun let out a cold laugh, his presence oppressive. “Save the sowing discord for someone else.”
Fang Xiu looked at the nervous newbies and said peacefully, “Say whatever you want.”
“Oh, and make sure you clean up the bodies. Everyone needs the pump. If no one takes care of it by the afternoon, we’ll do it for you.”
Unfortunately, judging by Jiang Xun’s attitude, investigating the main house wouldn’t go smoothly.
Fang Xiu sighed and turned to leave.
Lu Yang stared at Fang Xiu’s back for a long time.
He’d collapsed by the wall last night and only regained consciousness in the morning. By then, only A’Qiao and Lu Wei were left in the living room, along with a terrifying silence.
According to A’Qiao, the gloomy woman had gone mad with thirst and rushed outside. Because her “Death Playback” ability was so valuable, Lei Ge and Da Niu followed to catch her.
None of the three ever returned. They became the grotesque corpses in the courtyard.
To be honest, even when surrounded by evil spirits, Lu Yang had still held onto a shred of hope. Fang Xiu’s group still had five people, each with different strengths. It proved that maybe the sacrificial ritual wasn’t that hopeless.
As for Master Jiang, perhaps he just didn’t want to be dragged down by teammates or had bad luck. Who really knew what went on in the world of big shots?
After all, they were all young people and had teamed up before. How bad could things really get?
…And then, overnight, they’d lost five teammates.
This morning, Jiang Xun appeared, exhausted, claiming he’d fought evil spirits all night. After hearing A’Qiao’s recounting, he insisted it was Fang Xiu’s team who had done something.
Then he gave the newbies several talismans for protection and told them to stay close to him and never act alone.
A’Qiao and Lu Wei took the talismans with trembling hands, repeatedly thanking him. But Lu Yang felt uncomfortable. If you were going to talk about control, didn’t Jiang Xun seem equally suspicious?
But with no proof in hand, and the fact that Jiang Xun had actually helped them, he didn’t dare voice doubt.
Lu Yang lowered his head and rubbed the talisman Jiang Xun had given him.
The yellow paper was marked with complex red cinnabar symbols—completely unfamiliar to him. It was in his hand, yet he had no idea if it worked.
He didn’t know who to trust. He didn’t even know who he should fear. But he did know one thing he could do right now…
Lu Yang activated his support ability.
The three corpses in the courtyard began to stir and slowly stood up again. Their knees locked stiffly as they shuffled across the ground with unnatural movements, entering the vacant wing of the side house.
There was an empty storage room there, with just concrete flooring and four bare walls. Lu Yang had them lie down inside and then locked the door tight. He didn’t want to experience a repeat of corpses getting possessed by evil spirits.
After it was all done, he rubbed his red, swollen eyes and looked out at the autumn scene beyond the window.
What had been beautiful yesterday now carried a sinister edge. The persimmon tree was stained with blood. Yesterday it had been full of wild rustic charm; today, it could only be described as “horrifying”.
That young man in red—what was his name again, Fang Xiu—was leaning against the tree, looking thoughtfully at the bloodstains on the ground. His posture was too casual for a murderer, and too detached for someone innocent.
Dressed in red, just standing there, it made all the persimmons seem to tinge with blood.
Lu Yang peeked at him for less than three seconds before Fang Xiu noticed and turned to smile at him. Startled, Lu Yang backed away and retreated into the corner of the living room.
Under the tree.
Fang Xiu picked up a stick and began idly drawing on the ground.
Bai Shuangying watched him scribbling what looked like worms and grew increasingly uneasy.
Right now, Cheng Songyun, Guan He, and Blondie were all out looking for food, while Mei Lan stayed behind in the side room. As team leader, Fang Xiu seemed to have decided to slack off completely.
He had been playing with mud for an entire incense stick’s time!
Bai Shuangying hoped Fang Xiu would linger here longer, but Fang Xiu’s strange behavior made him uneasy. Even without a heartbeat, Bai Shuangying was beginning to understand what it meant to feel his “heart in turmoil”.
“What are you drawing?” Bai Shuangying looked down at the squirming-worm picture.
“You,” Fang Xiu said seriously. “Doesn’t it look like you?”
Bai Shuangying pondered deeply and asked politely, “Is this your drawing of my human form, or my true form?”
Fang Xiu: “……”
He wilted. “Let’s go with your true form.”
Depressed, he smoothed the dirt and began drawing a blob with a single dot as a face.
Bai Shuangying couldn’t take it anymore. He summoned his Peach Bone Evil and began sketching Fang Xiu in return.
His lines were clean and expressive, almost artistic. Wisps of white mist solidified in the air, forming ink-like strokes. In a few deft lines, the figure was clearly Fang Xiu. It was so precisely rendered that it was almost eerie.
In the drawing, Fang Xiu had no bangs covering his eyes. His smiling eyes and mouth carried a mischievous charm.
Fang Xiu stared at it for a while. “So this is how I look in your eyes?”
Bai Shuangying nodded, then froze mid-nod.
Something was missing from the drawing. He didn’t know what. Maybe once he fully understood Fang Xiu, he could draw the “real” picture.
“For now, yes,” Bai Shuangying concluded impartially.
Fang Xiu’s smile grew broader, almost silly. He pressed his lips together, unable to stop grinning, and finally had to smack his own face to calm down.
Bai Shuangying saw an opportunity and said, “You seem pretty laid-back.”
“This place has good vibes. Might as well treat it like a vacation,” Fang Xiu replied, standing right in the middle of the fresh bloodstains.
From his tone, it was like the three corpses in the courtyard were just fallen leaves.
Seeing Fang Xiu taking a liking to this place made Bai Shuangying light up.
He suppressed his victorious joy and added provocatively, “Oh, that Jiang Xun is quite proactive. If he finds the ‘E’ first, you’ll lose the reward for solving the E.”
Come on, say it.
If Fang Xiu showed even a hint of caution toward Jiang Xun, Bai Shuangying would be fully justified in sabotaging the man, discreetly orchestrating his demise. Even if Fang Xiu found out later, he’d have no reason to hold a grudge.
Fang Xiu looked at Bai Shuangying meaningfully. “Don’t worry. I’ll eliminate him myself. Anyone who uses people as taboo test subjects probably has a pretty tasty soul.”
He seemed to emphasize the words “eliminate him myself” on purpose.
Bai Shuangying: “……” Right, Fang Xiu was still hung up on fighting with his own hands.
And the reason he was targeting Jiang Xun wasn’t even about devouring him. This human might be even more bloodthirsty than himself.
“And here’s a secret.” Fang Xiu leaned close to Bai Shuangying’s ear and whispered, “This ritual is just too much fun. I’m planning to play an even more exciting game.”
Bai Shuangying tilted his head, moving his ear closer. “?”
Fang Xiu said mysteriously, “Saying too much would ruin the surprise. That’s all I’ll tell you for now.”
Still stubbornly maintaining his listening pose, Bai Shuangying waited, but Fang Xiu didn’t continue. Instead, he quickly brushed against Bai Shuangying’s ear.
The touch was too quick. His skin was too soft. Bai Shuangying couldn’t tell if it had been a cheek or the lips.
By the time he turned, Fang Xiu was already pretending nothing had happened, though his face looked suspiciously like a ripe persimmon on the tree.
Bai Shuangying stared at him for a few seconds. Then, with a wave of his Peach Bone Evil, a ripe persimmon fell into his hand.
It was perfectly ripe, its thin skin encasing a pool of soft, sweet nectar. Bai Shuangying’s grip was just right. It didn’t rupture at all.
He held the persimmon beside Fang Xiu’s cheek for comparison, then wordlessly fed it to him.
After slurping it down, Fang Xiu’s face color returned to normal. He licked the juice from his lips. “Now that you’ve bribed me so generously, I have no choice but to confess.”
Bai Shuangying: “!”
Fang Xiu leaned close again, this time speaking each word with a smile:
“From now on, I’m going to go against the ritual. This time, I plan to protect the ‘E’.”
……
In the Forest
Outside the courtyard, fallen leaves blanketed the earth, crackling softly underfoot.
Cheng Songyun had repurposed a woven basket from the yard and was now using it to collect chestnuts and mushrooms. She picked through the forest patiently, even making mental notes to dry some of the goods for preservation.
If one could forget the bloody scene in the courtyard earlier, the current view was practically idyllic. But after all that had happened, Cheng Songyun was no longer anxious about life or death. If Fang Xiu wasn’t in a rush, then this place likely wasn’t too dangerous.
Blondie had taken off long ago, hellbent on catching a rabbit for lunch. Guan He, on the other hand, stuck closely to Cheng Songyun, even pulling down the black veil over his eyes.
He was unusually silent today, glancing around nervously as if on high alert.
“It’s daytime so it’s not that dangerous. Fang Xiu must’ve considered safety before letting us out,” Cheng Songyun reassured him.
Guan He was still young. He was probably still shaken by the gruesome sight that morning. It was understandable.
But Guan He only shook his head and kept his focus.
Finally, just as Cheng Songyun’s basket was about full, Guan He found his target…
An evil spirit hiding in the shadow of a tree hollow.
It reached out a skinny, bluish-purple hand, trying to grab Cheng Songyun’s ankle. But instead of catching her, it accidentally grabbed Guan He’s hand.
Guan He braced both feet against the tree trunk, face flushed red from exertion. After several minutes of tug-of-war, with a loud pop, he forcibly yanked the creature out.
Its upper half looked like a desiccated corpse, its lower half curled and twisted like a snail tail drawn from a shell, reeking of blood and rot. Guan He trembled all over, clearly on the verge of vomiting, but he forced it down.
He pulled a hemp string from Cheng Songyun’s basket, the kind used to bundle mushrooms, and tied the spirit tightly to a nearby tree. Then he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
Cheng Songyun had already pulled out her “Resentful Ghost Shield”. “Xiao Guan, what are you…?”
“I… cough cough I figured, since this ritual seems easier, it’s a good chance to practice.”
Guan He wiped the sweat from his face, speaking with determined sincerity. “Those people this morning were way stronger than I was when I first entered the ritual… I’ve only survived this long thanks to Fang Ge looking after me.”
“The past three sacrificial rounds… I haven’t really done anything. I don’t want to be dead weight.”
Guan He knew well enough: in theory, he could’ve served as a scout, but with Fang Xiu around, who was far better at sneaking around, his own value was nearly zero. And when it came to actual combat, he was practically useless.
He’d always wanted to practice fighting. But in a dangerous ritual, acting alone was tantamount to suicide. The cost of trial and error was way too high.
This current ritual was a rare opportunity. Evil spirits that were strong enough to pose a threat, yet weak enough that Fang Xiu was comfortable letting them out.
Considering Guan He’s age, Cheng Songyun instinctively wanted to oppose the idea. She opened her mouth, but ended up swallowing her objections.
A few seconds later, she asked, “So, what’s your plan?”
“My ability is ‘wall phasing’,” Guan He said, nervously cracking his fingers. “If I can control it precisely, I can treat the enemy’s attacks like moving ‘walls’ and phase through them to defend without injury.”
He spoke while observing the writhing evil spirit.
It was grotesque and kept snarling. Back in the first ritual, it would’ve scared him into unconsciousness. Now, Guan He looked at it and focused only on finding its weak point so he could take it down quickly.
He knew he wasn’t as clever as Fang Xiu or as experienced as Cheng Songyun. But he did have one unique strength: he was young, and his reflexes were the fastest in the team.
If he could make “no-damage defense” a reality, not only could he free up the Resentful Ghost Shield for someone else, but, if the timing was right, he could even launch surprise attacks on his own.
Cheng Songyun was silent for a while, then sighed.
Maybe he was still being too idealistic. Guan He’s shoulders slumped, bracing for a lecture. But instead of scolding him, Cheng Songyun set down her basket and walked to his side.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll stand guard for you,” she said, her voice steady and firm.
“Go ahead and train, kid.”
The author has something to say:
Some people are falling in love, some are leveling up, and some are just about scared to death (.
“The Empire spans one hundred thousand light-years, with billions of stars within its borders. Among all these stars, my favorite is the colony ‘Leyting’, which is ninety light-years from the capital. It has no special products, just a few important Empire armories. It has neither day nor night. The sky is half the dusk of a star and half the vault of space. But I love it for one reason alone: in the Standard Calendar year 1416, I met Joanna there.”
—Prologue, “Memoirs of Queen Alveira”
The Queen was already old.
She realized this one ordinary afternoon. She was sitting in a rocking chair in the courtyard, with a Bohemian-style blanket covering her knees, gazing at the distant corridor—her great-grandson Ian was assembling a simple crystal radio in the corridor. His tutor had just taught him the principles in the morning, and by the afternoon, he was already putting it together. Ian’s sister, Nara, had no interest in such crafts, so she was playing with a ball on the side, her childish face full of innocence. The Queen watched the two of them and thought of their father. They looked so much like him, with the same blue eyes and red hair. For a brief moment, the Queen felt as though she had traveled back decades, and it wasn’t Ian and Nara playing there, but their father and their grandfather. And then, for another brief moment, the Queen felt as though she had returned to her own childhood, playing in the same place with her brother, Annot.
Nara threw the ball high into the air, laughing with excitement. The ball arced perfectly through the air and landed right at the Queen’s feet, rolling a few times before stopping on the grass.
“Great-grandmother! Great-grandmother! Throw the ball back!” Nara called out.
The Queen smiled kindly, bent down to pick up the ball, and tossed it back to the child.
It was then that the Queen suddenly felt old.
She was already 110 years old, almost the average life span of the Empire’s citizens. Maybe she would die tomorrow, or maybe she had another ten years left. Thirty years ago, the Queen had stopped governing, appointing her grandson, Eddie, as regent. The Queen had privately heard the maids say that Edie had complained more than once that the Queen had lived too long, that he wasn’t satisfied with being regent and wanted the throne for himself. But that was all he ever said. In this era, anyone who dared to harm a hair on Queen Alveira’s head was either dead or yet to be born. The history of the Queen reclaiming her throne from her rebellious uncle had long since become legend, and when people talked about the Queen of the White Radiance Palace, it was always with admiration, as if she were not a human monarch but a hero from a distant myth.
But the Queen was already old. In that moment just now, she felt that she had lived too long. She even felt that her true self had died ninety years ago in Leyting, and that the person she was now was merely a phantom or an empty shell.
If my life were a movie, it would surely be at the end by now, the Queen thought. If this were a happy ending, a woman would walk toward me now from the warm and brilliant afternoon sunlight. She would have fiery red hair, with the sunlight shining on it like a layer of molten gold. She would stand before me, smile brilliantly, and extend her hand to me. Then I would also extend my hand and clasp hers tightly. The camera would slowly freeze on that moment. That would be the perfect ending.
The Queen looked ahead. There was no red-haired woman in the sunlight; only two happy and innocent children.
The true ending had already occurred in Leyting, ninety years ago.
“Are you really the space pirate Joanna?” Alveira curiously looked at the red-haired woman beside her, who had barged into her vehicle without a second thought.
“Absolutely.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be out in space robbing people? Why are you here in Leyting?”
“Obviously for some special reasons.” Joanna Begrel checked her wounds. “Just like how you, a Princess, aren’t staying in your palace attending banquets and dancing but are instead here, looking like you’re being chased.”
Alveira puffed out her cheeks. “I am being chased. And so are you, aren’t you?”
“Did you offend Winnet?”
“He has ambitions. He actually tried to assassinate me!”
“And you escaped.” Joanna glanced back at the police cars that were still chasing them. “What do you plan to do next?”
“Go to the Governor’s mansion, ‘borrow’ a shuttle, and head to the spaceport.”
Joanna mused, “Oh. I bet the Governor is on Winnet’s side. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be such a big commotion, with no response from the planetary army. The ones chasing us now are armed police and the Duke’s private forces.”
“So, you think we shouldn’t go to the Governor’s mansion?” Alveira was a bit angry. “Even if the Governor has ill intentions, as long as I stand before him, he… he would…”
“You’re so naive.” Joanna shrugged. “Those politicians are all flies chasing after fame, profit, and power. Winnet can give them what they want, but what about you? If I were the Governor, I’d side with the Duke too. It’s a profit-without-loss deal.”
Alveira was so angry her chest tightened. How could this woman speak about an Empire Governor in such a way! Even if he really had bad intentions, it wasn’t her place as a space pirate to say anything! “I…”
Rose, who was beside her, coughed. “Your Highness, you shouldn’t be saying so much to this outsider. For all we know, she might be in league with the Duke, trying to disrupt our plans.”
In the rearview mirror, Alveira saw the cautious look in Zion’s eyes. Now she was starting to believe Rose’s words.
“If you don’t trust me, I’ll just leave.”
“You would be saving us a lot of trouble,” Zion said. “I’ll find a quiet spot ahead and let you off.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Zion maneuvered the vehicle down, stopping it at a quiet corner of the street, then opened the door. Joanna jumped out and waved back at them. “Goodbye.”
Alveira leaned out of the vehicle. “What do you plan to do next?”
“Find a shuttle and get back to space. My ship is still waiting for me out there.”
Alveira wanted to ask her how she planned to find a shuttle alone, but Rose pulled her back, slamming the door shut with a “bang”. Zion lifted the vehicle back into the air, quickly catching up with the other two in their group. The red figure on the ground grew smaller and smaller as the vehicle soared over a building, and Alveira could no longer see her.
“Your Highness, we’re being followed!” Zion lowered his voice. “It’s not the police, and it’s not the planetary army.”
Alveira looked back, heart pounding. Sure enough, several vehicles were trailing closely behind. These weren’t ordinary civilian cars. Their exteriors were fitted with alloy armor, and there were machine gun mounts on top.
“Winnet’s private forces?”
“I’m afraid so.” Zion squinted. “Please get down, Your Highness!”
Before Alveira could comply, Rose had already pushed her down onto the seat. The vehicle spun violently, the world turning upside down. Alveira felt like her insides were going to be shaken out. She clung tightly to the seat cushion, ears ringing, barely able to make out Zion’s voice issuing commands, “Lee! George! You two lead them away!”
The dizziness lasted for a while, and the rapid descent of the vehicle made Alveira feel even worse. She dimly sensed the light around her darken. When the vehicle stopped spinning, Rose let go of her.
“Your Highness, are you alright?” the bodyguard asked.
“I’m… I’m okay…” Alveira sat up, still dizzy. The vehicle was still bumping and shaking. She noticed that the two escort vehicles that had been flying alongside them were gone, and they were now maneuvering deftly through the concrete jungle of Leyting.
“Please hang on a bit longer, Your Highness. We’ll reach the Governor’s mansion soon,” Rose reassured her.
The vehicle passed through an iron gate, and the view suddenly opened up. The Governor’s mansion loomed like a beast covered in scales and fangs, crouching at the center of Leyting, commanding the highest point in the city. As the vehicle approached within half a kilometer of the mansion, they received a full-frequency electromagnetic communication.
“Unlicensed Hydra-class anti-gravity vehicle, stop immediately, identify yourself, and submit to inspection, or you will be shot down. Repeat, stop immediately…”
Zion spat. The Governor’s guards had risen like locusts from behind the iron walls. He had no choice but to lower the vehicle’s altitude, landing it on Leyting’s muddy ground under the watchful eyes of two armed gondolas.
Several soldiers with assault rifles jumped off the gondolas, pointing their guns at them. “Get out of the vehicle!”
Zion turned to Alveira. “We’d better get out for now.”
Rose nodded, opened the door, and stepped out first, then subtly shielded the door to protect the princess as she followed.
“Hands up and behind your head. Submit to inspection!” one of the soldiers ordered.
“How dare you! This is Her Highness, Princess of the Galactic Empire!” Zion shouted.
The soldier looked awkwardly at the three people who had gotten out of the vehicle, then glanced at the captain next to him. “He says that’s Her Highness, the Princess…”
The captain frowned, scrutinizing Alveira from head to toe. “If this is truly the Princess, why is she here with only two bodyguards?”
Alveira was about to say, “Because Duke Winnet wants to kill me,” but Rose stepped in front of her and answered first, “We were attacked by terrorists and have come to seek the Governor’s protection.”
The captain pressed a hand to the communicator in his ear, as if receiving orders. After a moment, he said, “I understand the situation. Please come this way, Your Highness. The Governor is waiting for you in his office.” He gestured invitingly.
Alveira looked around. They were surrounded by the Governor’s guards, not just on the ground but also in the sky, where armed airships full of soldiers hovered. She noticed, at the end of the swarm of troops, a distinctive bat-winged vehicle. Its shape was so unique that Alveira recognized it at once. It was the Duke’s private car.
She grabbed Rose’s elbow. “Don’t go.”
“Your Highness?”
“They’re in league with the Duke!”
As soon as Alveira shouted this, the captain raised his gun and aimed at her! Alveira didn’t have time to react; everything happened in an instant—the muzzle flashed, and at the same time, Rose pushed her into Zion’s arms. In the next moment, the beam pierced through the bodyguard’s chest!
“Rose!”
She fell back, a trickle of blood running from her lips. Zion grabbed Alveira’s head, forcing her to look away from Rose’s body, while pushing her back into the vehicle. Just then, a mini-missile with a long tail of smoke struck the vehicle. In the moment of the explosion, Zion turned and shielded Alveira with his body, absorbing the impact of the blast.
The roar left Alveira temporarily deaf, and the firelight blinded her, but she could smell the scent of burning metal and flesh, as if a demon’s hand had gripped her body, rendering her immobile.
“Zion…” Her lips trembled. “Rose…”
Someone grabbed her and pulled her up. She dimly felt that it was the soldiers, and she heard them speak in triumphant tones. “We’ve got her!” Then they roughly shoved her in another direction.
“Zion… Rose… Brother… Darius…” She called out each of their names, but none of them were there with her.
“Dream of a Cold Night, main cannon energy filled, target locked, firing in three, two, one!”
Alveira looked up, her vision blurred with afterimages, as a deep blue beam descended from the sky, splitting the twilight of Leyting in two, then struck the steel behemoth of the Governor’s mansion!
A gust of wind swept past her back, like a raging fire scorching her skin. She turned around in a daze and saw a gondola charging through the ring of armed airships. The soldiers fired at it, but not a single beam hit. It flew straight toward Alveira, the cabin door sliding open. A strand of red hair fluttered out in the storm, like a banner dyed with blood, yet brighter than any light. In Alveira’s vision, there was nothing but that vast red.
The gondola passed over Alveira’s head in less than a second, but she reached out and grabbed the hand that extended from the cabin to pull her in.
She was yanked into the gondola. The door closed, and the vehicle shot through the encirclement, through the plumes of smoke rising from the Governor’s mansion, like a hawk soaring over a battlefield, unstoppable!
“Joanna… Begrel?”
“Honored that you still remember me.”
Alveira could barely breathe. “Why… Why are you here? Weren’t you leaving?”
The red-haired pirate manipulated the controls, easily evading the guards’ pursuit, while chatting casually. “I got a gondola, but it couldn’t leave the atmosphere, so I thought about it and decided it was better to ‘borrow’ one from the Governor’s mansion.”
The hangar door of the Governor’s mansion had already been reduced to ruins by the beam from the sky. The space pirate had left the Governor an IOU, boldly writing “never to be returned” in large letters.
Alveira suddenly felt like crying. “I was wrong,” she said. “I shouldn’t have doubted you. If I had listened to you earlier, Zion and Rose wouldn’t have…”
A gentle hand patted her head. “Then remember it,” Joanna said. “A lesson paid for with lives will stay with you for life. Carry it with you, grow stronger, and then you won’t make the same mistake again. Only then can you protect more people.”
Alveira nodded. “I’ll remember.”
Forty minutes later, the shuttle “borrowed” from the Governor’s mansion docked in the maintenance bay of the Dream of a Cold Night. Alveira curled up in her seat, hugging her knees, as she watched Joanna push open the cabin door and walk out.
“Captain, you’re finally back!” a young man’s voice said. “I was worried you wouldn’t come back!”
Joanna replied, “Ibb Descartes, can’t you say something more positive?”
“Where’s Alois and Joshua? Weren’t they with you?”
“Uh… who knows… We got separated. But I think they’ll find a way to survive!”
“…Not convincing at all, Captain.”
Listening to the friendly banter outside, Alveira felt like an outsider, a stranger here. She wanted to go back to the capital, but it was full of danger, not just from the Duke who had already rebelled, but from many others with ill intentions. She had nowhere to go, no companions, only the despair that seemed to deepen with every passing moment—she was truly useless!
Someone knocked on the door, and Alveira looked up to see Joanna standing at the entrance. “Are you planning to nest in the gondola?”
“Alveira? Alveira? Wake up, Your Majesty. We have arrived at Sword Bow.”
Alveira opened her eyes and saw Darius’s face. She pushed herself up and realized that she had fallen asleep on a reclining chair in the spaceship’s solarium.
“What? We’re here already?” She noticed that a blanket had been draped over her, something that hadn’t been there when she fell asleep.
“You slept for several hours.” Darius folded the blanket for her. “You’ve been too exhausted during this inspection tour. Take a good rest when we return to the capital.”
“Okay,” Alveira said. As she stood up, something fell off her knees. It was her communication terminal, displaying a comic titled “The Nameless Assassin and the Fallen Aristocrat”. Feeling bored during the long journey, Alveira had bought a few comics online to pass the time. “The Nameless Assassin and the Fallen Aristocrat” was currently the most popular and trendy comic, telling the story of a noble girl in a war-torn era who roams with an assassin. Its author, the comic artist known by the pen name “Duchess”, had recently won the Best Comic Artist of the Year of the Unfallen Star award, receiving praise from many industry veterans for her lively brushstrokes and profound insights.
Alveira picked up the communication terminal and put it away. “I just had a strange dream.”
“What kind of dream?”
“I can’t remember clearly. I think I dreamt of two old friends.”
On August 30th, 1418 of the Standard Calendar, Her Majesty Queen Alveira I, accompanied by Prince Darius, arrived at Sword Bow for an inspection. It had been a year since the war ended, and the Empire had largely restored the peace and prosperity it enjoyed before the war. Last month, Her Majesty married the war hero, the Imperial Marshal, Count Darius Bayes. Together, they had inspected various planets that had been devastated during the war and had since recovered. The final stop on their tour was Sword Bow, which had not only been leveled by rebels during the civil war but was also the site where the Battle of the Yasha concluded. The planet had narrowly avoided a stellar destruction crisis, thanks to the assistance of Neo Athens. The people had rebuilt their homes on the ruins, and now Sword Bow showed almost no traces of the war.
As Her Majesty and Prince Darius disembarked from the spaceship, a cheer erupted from the vast crowd at the spaceport. Salutes were fired, music played, and the spirited governor approached to greet the queen with a deep bow.
“Welcome to Sword Bow, Your Majesty, and Your Royal Highness.”
“I’m glad to see you again after a year, Governor.” The Queen allowed him to kiss the back of her hand.
For this inspection, the Queen traveled aboard Prince Darius’s flagship, the Sword of the Queen. Her own flagship had been sunk during the war, destroyed by the monstrous Yasha. Fortunately, there were no people aboard at the time. The crew had remained on the Unfallen Star. After the war, some continued to serve in the military, others pursued different careers, and still others returned to Milantu. Today, Milantu had become a vital trade hub between the Empire and the Free City-States, with frequent trade and rich mineral resources, enabling the people of Milantu to live in peace and prosperity even without resorting to piracy. Notably, Ibb Descartes and pilot Titia, formerly of the Lady of the Night, had recently married, and the Queen had sent them a wedding gift.
The AI that had been aboard the Lady of the Night had found a new home on another ship, beginning a new life. Rumor had it that the ship’s owner was on a galactic tour, and with the help of the high-end AI, the performances were sure to be more spectacular.
“Your Majesty must be tired from the journey. Shall I escort you to the hotel?” The governor was eager to please.
“I heard there’s a monument in the central square. I’d like to see it first.”
“Certainly. As you wish. Would you like to go by car? A special car is ready…”
“It’s only about a five-minute walk, right? Let’s walk.”
“Yes, yes.” The governor wiped the sweat from his brow. The Queen’s visit was an unprecedented event. Armed police had cleared the way, but they couldn’t keep the curious citizens from wanting to catch a glimpse of the Queen. Fortunately, the Queen’s guard looked well-trained, so there shouldn’t be any mishaps.
He respectfully accompanied the royal couple out of the spaceport. The current spaceport had been expanded from the former temporary spaceport, with more berths and facilities added to accommodate ships and tourists—after all, Sword Bow was where the Battle of the Yasha ended, and countless people wanted to visit. Soon, tourism would likely become one of the planet’s pillar industries.
The Queen’s party walked along the newly built street, the road smooth and clean, with lush trees and high-rise buildings springing up along the way. More buildings were under construction in the distance. After the war, both the Empire and the Federation, both the elites and the common people, realized how fragile humanity and its creations were in the face of the ultimate weapons of destruction. The thousand-year war between the Empire and the Federation over ideology seemed insignificant in the face of a crisis that threatened all of humanity. In the Battle of the Yasha, both sides achieved a complete ceasefire for the first time—for those who had spent years on the battlefield, this peace was unexpected but seemed quite welcome. The purpose of war was to end war, and so, after the Yasha’s demise, the Empire and the Federation shook hands and signed a nonaggression pact. No one knew how long this treaty would last or how long it would bring peace to the galaxy—it certainly wouldn’t be forever—but at least it allowed both sides to emerge from the shadows and wounds of war, clearing the way for the progress of human civilization.
The Queen waved to the citizens of Sword Bow who lined the streets in welcome. Some people threw petals and streamers from the high-rise buildings, the colorful ribbons fluttering down like a multicolored rain. The central square was just ahead, and the Queen could already see the towering monument. The monument was forged from steel and resembled a broken assault rifle. At its base was the only remaining piece of Sword Bow’s ruins, left as a reminder of the war’s devastation. It had since become a famous tourist attraction on Sword Bow, where it was said that the Galactic Diva once sang during the war’s final moments.
“By the way, Governor,” the Queen asked, “I’ve heard that a cat and a dog have been wandering around the ruins and won’t leave. Is that true?”
The governor nodded obsequiously. “Yes, Your Majesty, it’s been reported many times in the news. It’s said that their owner was the hero who last boarded the Prometheus to destroy the Yasha, and they have been waiting there for their owner to return…” The governor paused thoughtfully. “The local animal protection organization has tried to take them to the stray animal shelter several times, and many kind-hearted citizens have offered to adopt them, but they just won’t leave the ruins… So a small shelter has been built for them nearby.”
A year ago, the war ended with the Yasha’s destruction. According to popular legend, the heroes aboard the battleship created a singularity black hole and threw the Yasha into it, letting it serve as the final arbiter at the end of time, watching over humanity until the end of all things.
At that time, the singularity black hole was so close to the star that it might have consumed it. The residents of the Sword Bow star system were preparing to evacuate, but fortunately, the black hole was perfectly controlled and didn’t consume anything—except the Yasha and the Prometheus. To this day, no one knows the fate of the ship’s passengers, but their pets continue to wait where they left.
The Queen entered the central square. The black monument stood like a towering pillar, awe-inspiring. What surprised the Queen even more was that the ruins beneath the monument were covered in wildflowers, with the wind bringing soil and seeds, allowing the green grass and flowers to take root and grow on the war’s remnants.
A few children ran toward the queen, and a girl holding a bouquet of flowers in her hands said in a childish voice, “Your Majesty, this is for you!” She stood on tiptoe to offer the bouquet to the Queen. The Queen recognized the bouquet as being from the flowers growing on the ruins.
“Thank you, child.” She kissed the girl’s forehead. “By the way, why haven’t I seen the cat and dog here?”
The girl looked confused, “Do you mean the black cat and the big dog? They’ve always been here. I saw them just yesterday…” She turned to her friends. “Why aren’t they here today?”
The other children were also puzzled. Just then, a boy raised his hand. “I know! I saw two big brothers take the black cat and the big dog away this morning!”
The Queen widened her eyes. “Big brothers? What did they look like?”
“Um…” The boy thought for a moment. “I remember one big brother had silver hair, and the other had a mechanical arm.”
The Queen suddenly fell silent. She straightened up and looked at the flower-covered ruins.
There are many stories in this world—stories that people hope will never end. Even when they grow old and gray, these stories can still touch hearts that are no longer young.
The Queen thought, If possible, I also wish this story would never end, that it would be told forever and ever, so that whenI’m old, my children and grandchildren will still be hearing the same story, and when they too grow old, they can pass it on to their descendants. Even when the world no longer remembers us, this story will continue to circulate quietly in some corner of the universe. As long as there are people listening, it will never end, and the people in the story will live on forever.
“Is that so.” The Queen smiled.
In the year 1418 of the Standard Calendar, amid the ruins covered with wildflowers, the legend came to an end, and a new chapter in the galaxy’s history began.
But those stories will continue to be told, never ending.
—END—
Kinky Thoughts:
This marks the end of the novel. Hope you enjoyed it. It was an entertaining read, though the last part of the novel suddenly felt way too rushed. Pacing was all over the place. Given the year this was written, this was quite reminiscent of the works back then, as you can see how all the cliché tropes were played out.
I did find a lot of it to be quite OTT, but then again, this is a space opera book, so one can’t expect it not to be overly dramatic.
If you did enjoy it, please consider supporting the author by buying the raws. You can use Google Chrome with their auto translate and this guide on how to buy novels on Changpei (gongzicp). Remember, only with your (financial) support can artists continue to produce more great works.
Finally, I would like to thank everyone for your comments, encouragement, help with my translations, and ko-fi donations.
Kinky Translations 