Inside the fully enclosed training ground, the lights were dim. Douglas stood in the center of the field, panting heavily. He wiped his slightly bruised corner of the mouth with a blood-stained hand, looking at the Imperial Army officers lying on the ground wailing around him. His smile was contemptuous and provocative: “Continue?”
The lights suddenly brightened. Douglas squinted, unaccustomed to the glare, as he watched the closed automatic door slowly rise. Mo Nanshan walked in leaning on a cane, followed by a civilian secretary.
In Mo Nanshan’s cloudy eyes, there was hidden joy, excitement, and admiration that could not be concealed, while the secretary’s eyes held only fear.
Mo Nanshan’s steps were larger and faster than usual. He muttered, “No need, no need to continue,” and walked up to Douglas.
He said, “Respected General Doug, your strength is sufficient to crush all the outstanding officers of the Capital Military District! Now, I can truly retire with peace of mind and hand the Capital Military District over to you!”
There were more than twenty special-grade officers in the Capital Military District in total, every one of them a brave warrior of the Empire. Yet, even when they all attacked together, they had only managed to inflict a few superficial injuries on Douglas.
“I thought my strength had already been proven in countless victorious battles and didn’t need a separate demonstration,” Douglas said with a fake smile, clearly displeased by the feeling of being tested and scrutinized.
Mo Nanshan choked. Despite his advanced age, he actually took the initiative to back down: “It is because I am old and overly cautious. If I have offended General Doug, I apologize to you.”
Eler lay half-dead in a corner of the training ground. His body was covered in wounds and bruises of varying sizes, and his internal organs felt as if they had shifted. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his heart filled with an incomparable shock. He knew Douglas was strong, but he hadn’t expected him to be this strong.
In this battle, he had given his all but still lost. It wasn’t like the match with Moting where he had intentionally held back; this was a loss after exhausting every means and ounce of strength, yet still being unable to shake his opponent.
As the youngest and most promising warrior of the Capital Military District, he had grown up crushing others. Now, being easily crushed by Douglas made this “blessed child of heaven” feel like just another face in the crowd.
It was simply terrifying.
It wasn’t until the officers around him stood up with eyes full of fear and respect that Eler belatedly used the wall for support to stand. Looking at the departing Douglas, he suddenly remembered something.
“General Doug, your partner, Mr. Elan, is still in the training room doing extra training on his own. Moreover, he is injured. I told him to go to the infirmary to get it treated before I came here, but I don’t know if he went.”
Douglas frowned and looked over. Eler felt a chill run through his body. Just as he was wondering if he was being a busybody, Douglas spoke, throwing a string of questions at him: “Where is he injured? Is it serious? Is there a first-aid kit in the training room?”
“The arm. He can still move freely, so it shouldn’t be serious. There is a standing first-aid kit in the training room, right on the wall to the right inside a locker with a red cross…”
Before Eler could finish, Douglas’s figure had already vanished.
The door to the training room was tightly shut. Douglas kicked the door open. He scanned the room but saw no one, then went to the control center. Sure enough, on the screen, the blond figure was relentlessly slashing at Zerg. His left arm was tightly wrapped in a red bandage, but it was useless; the red bloodstains were still seeping through.
It must have been painful, because Elan was frowning, his face as white as paper. The furrow in his brow was deeper than any Douglas had seen before.
Douglas turned on the voice transmission system and scolded crossly, “Are you crazy? Get out of there!”
Elan seemed to hear him because his movements paused for a second. But in the next second, he raised his laser sword again and stabbed at a lunging Zerg.
Douglas sneered. Want to fight? I’ll let you fight your fill. He slammed down into the chair, pressed a few buttons on the control panel at a high frequency, and then leaned back with his arms crossed to watch the show.
On the screen, the number of Zerg suddenly surged. They swarmed in densely, nearly submerging that thin figure.
Elan’s eyes widened in disbelief, but he quickly gritted his teeth and charged forward desperately again.
Douglas’s face darkened at this stubborn streak. He slammed his fist onto the control center, cursed him for being a reckless fool, and then, just before a Zerg’s fangs could sink into Elan’s neck, he angrily jabbed a blue button on the console.
The overwhelming illusions of the Zerg vanished instantly. Elan stood in place with lingering fear, his legs weak. He could only use his sword to prop up his straightened back to keep from falling. His cheeks were covered in the cold sweat of a narrow escape.
“Come out,” Douglas’s voice rang through the transmission system again, chillingly cold.
Elan lowered his head and recovered for a moment before pushing open the door of the simulated training field. He saw Douglas fiddling with something under the red cross on the right wall, his brow furrowed, his expression as deep as water.
With a click, the first-aid kit opened.
Without turning around, Douglas beckoned Elan over with his back turned: “Come here, I’ll bandage you. Why are you training while injured? Are you trying to show off your ‘perseverance’ and ‘noble quality’?”
Elan looked at his back. After the hearty battle, all the strength in his body seemed to have been drained away. He had intentionally avoided Douglas for so many days, yet the man had still found him. Elan’s expression was somewhat unnatural.
There was no movement behind him for a long time. Douglas finally turned around, crossed his arms, and squinted at Elan, seemingly waiting for him to speak.
Elan opened his mouth, and it took a while to find his voice. He heard himself say, “I have a lot of sweat on me. The smell is strong.”
“Where is there a smell? You’re so fussy.” Douglas impatiently grabbed the man and pressed him down into a chair. He glanced dismissively at the bandage on Elan’s arm, rummaging through the kit while grumbling, “Your bandaging technique is truly rotten. Treating yourself like this—are you trying to get back at me? Trying to give me a disabled wife?”
His gaze stayed on the first-aid kit, so he didn’t notice that Elan’s face instantly became whiter than a corpse upon hearing the word “disabled.”
After Douglas turned back around, the paleness hadn’t disappeared, but he only assumed Elan had exhausted himself into this miserable state by training with an injury. He used scissors to cut open Elan’s sleeve, cleaned the dried scabs and bloodstains, and finally applied ointment from the kit before wrapping it in a bandage.
He was usually unkempt and casual about everything, but his movements now were skilled, as if he had done it countless times. The resulting bandage was well-shaped; even the obsessive-compulsive and perfectionist Elan thought it looked decent.
Elan looked at his profile, his gaze heavy with unknown thoughts. Smelling the unique scent belonging to Douglas so close by, he said, “You have a bruise on the corner of your mouth.”
Douglas only gave a grunt. He didn’t say anything about applying medicine, appearing not to care at all.
Neither of them spoke again. In the quiet atmosphere, after Elan finished his thoughts, he suddenly said, “I want to go out to see a doctor.”
In Douglas’s view, Elan’s injury wasn’t heavy—just a flesh wound. It hadn’t even hit the bone. There was no need to specifically see a doctor, let alone leave the school.
Thus, Douglas gave him a surprised look. He suspected that Elan had intentionally injured himself and mistreated his body today just to have a legitimate excuse to leave the campus.
The Imperial Special Academy’s management style was very strict. Missing classes would seriously affect grades unless one had a leave permit.
But then he changed his mind, thinking he was overthinking it. Elan might just be delicate—like that red velvet carpet: precious, fragile, and needing care.
He pretended to hesitate for a while, letting out a long “Hmm,” successfully drawing Elan’s attention. The other man tilted his head up, looking over with azure eyes like a soft lake.
Having baited him enough, he acted as if he were in a difficult position: “It’s not impossible. I’ll give you a leave permit, but…”
Elan lifted his eyelids. “But what?”
“You have to give me something in exchange.” Douglas smiled triumphantly, his gaze lingering on Elan’s pale lips for a moment.
They shouldn’t be that white. They should become redder, like ripe fruit, emitting a staggering, decadent scent.
Elan sensed the other’s ill intentions, but he couldn’t quite understand. He believed Douglas shouldn’t have any interest in him beyond physiological needs. His throat tightened. “What… exchange?”
Seeing him so nervous, Douglas brushed his thumb against the corner of Elan’s mouth and said perfunctorily, “I haven’t thought of it yet. Just owe it to me for now.”
After the bandaging was finished, Elan whispered a very soft “thank you.” The voice was so quiet that Douglas doubted he had hallucinated it. Elan had a prickly personality and never said thank you easily; how could he say it just for a simple bandaging?
Watching Elan walk out of the training room, Douglas’s expression turned cold. He sent a message to Bauhir.
Douglas: Check what Elan has been doing lately. I suspect he’s hiding something from me.
Bauhir: Wait, can’t you just ask him directly? Investigating your partner behind his back is a recipe for disaster. Have you heard of the term ‘trust crisis’?
Douglas didn’t believe for a second that Elan would tell him voluntarily.
Douglas: Just check when I tell you to. Quit the nonsense.
Professor Kazir looked at the diagnostic blueprint on the light screen and shook his head: “It’s still the same as before.”
Elan pursed his lips, feeling anxious: “Is there no other way to treat it? I don’t want to stay like this forever.”
“We are already researching new treatment methods. The Dr. Qin you recommended to me last time is also very interested in this subject. I heard he has a friend, a female Beta with albinism, who also has the same problem of low self-healing ability as you.”
“However, hers is caused by a congenital deficiency, while yours is caused by post-traumatic physical injury. There are some differences, but the core issue is similar,” Professor Kazir paused and added.
A glimmer of something called hope flickered in Elan’s eyes. His hands under the table trembled slightly: “Really? That’s great.”
“Would you be willing to participate in our clinical trials? It’s very safe. After all, there aren’t many people with this condition; you are a very typical case.”
Elan clenched his hands: “I can. But, I hope you can hide my true identity—especially from Dr. Qin. You must hide the fact that I am Elan.”
He didn’t want Douglas to know. Or rather, he didn’t know how to face a Douglas who knew the truth.
He couldn’t help but wonder: if Douglas knew about his physical condition, would he divorce him?
“I will. That is the duty of a researcher.” Professor Kazir stood up and extended his hand to Elan.
Elan stood as well and shook his hand. The cooperation was established.