Widowed
“You’re too late. I’ve already marked him.”
Ying Zhu’s eyes darkened, his gaze turning murderous. He looked at Zhou Nan as if looking at a dead man walking.
Zhou Nan felt a shiver run down his spine, a physical weight gathering over his head. He nearly buckled. Fortunately for him, Ying Zhu shifted his gaze to the shivering Cen Xie.
Cen Xie was covered in dust and looked battered, but his clothes were intact. Ying Zhu felt a wave of relief. It wasn’t a permanent mark.
A permanent mark required mating—forming a “knot” and biting the gland simultaneously. However, a temporary mark was still serious. Depending on the amount of pheromones injected, it could last up to a year or two. During that period, the Omega would be biologically compelled to submit to the Alpha—and they certainly wouldn’t refuse a permanent mark later.
On that basis alone, Ying Zhu had already signed Zhou Nan’s death warrant.
Seeing Cen Xie kneeling there, a victim of a biological trap, Ying Zhu’s inner darkness surged. Just one bite was enough to force a powerful warrior to their knees. He had always loathed this biological unfairness—how an Alpha could mark many, but an Omega was tied to one.
Zhou Nan turned to Cen Xie, pointing at Ying Zhu. He gave the command: “Go. Kill him.”
Under the influence of the pheromones, Cen Xie stood up. He turned slowly, taking one step at a time toward Ying Zhu.
“Cen Xie!” Ying Zhu called his name.
Instantly, a massive psychic field rippled through the air. Even the dust motes dancing in the sunlight seemed to freeze.
A flicker of clarity returned to Cen Xie’s vacant eyes. Pheromone suppression clashed with psychic mental pressure; the two forces warred for control over his mind. He stopped dead in his tracks, caught between Ying Zhu and Zhou Nan.
Zhou Nan gasped, feeling as if a mountain had been dropped onto his shoulders. His back bowed, and his legs turned to jelly.
What is this?
Zhou Nan knew nothing of psychic evolvers, let alone the physical manifestation of a psychic’s aura. He looked at Ying Zhu in terror, then at the other men, only to find them all wearing the same expression of panicked confusion.
Ying Zhu looked down into Zhou Nan’s eyes: “It seems you still don’t understand enough about S-ranks, or you wouldn’t have done something this stupid today.”
His tone carried a calm, murderous intent: “What made you think an S-rank Omega would willingly submit at the feet of a piece of trash like you?”
Zhou Nan didn’t believe it. A marked Omega naturally submits to their Alpha; it was an irreversible biological law. Suppressing the fear in his heart, he released his pheromones again, instantly flooding the air with the scent of camphorwood. He applied pressure to Cen Xie while barking an order: “I said, kill him!”
Cen Xie gasped sharply and moved toward Ying Zhu again.
Ying Zhu’s mental power increased its suppression accordingly. Caught in the pincer attack of two suddenly intensified pressures, Cen Xie’s very bones began to tremble. With a thud, he fell to his knees, his entire body shaking.
The physiological control from Zhou Nan’s pheromones and the mental suppression from Ying Zhu, an S-rank esper, tore at him, as if they were going to rip his soul in half. Combined with his own willpower, these three forces were like three strangling ropes wrapped around his neck, making it impossible to breathe. Unable to endure the agony, Cen Xie clutched his head and let out a broken, piercing scream.
Seeing that Cen Xie had reached his limit, Ying Zhu decided to end it quickly. He swiftly drew the silver handgun tucked into his lower back and aimed it at Zhou Nan’s forehead. With eyes full of cold cruelty, he spoke slowly: “What exactly does a mark count for?”
Every word he spoke carried a chilling frost: “As long as the Alpha is dead, the mark is just a dog-bite scar. You don’t even need a rabies shot.”
Zhou Nan tried to dodge and find cover, but he discovered to his horror that his feet were rooted to the spot. The others were the same; their arms were suppressed by an invisible force, and they couldn’t even lift the guns in their hands.
Ying Zhu pulled the trigger.
Bang—
The bullet cut through the dust-mottled sunlight, flew over Cen Xie’s head, and hit Zhou Nan directly in the forehead. The impact snapped Zhou Nan’s head back. Winding streaks of blood flowed down from his terrified, unwilling eyes.
Thud! Zhou Nan fell flat on his back. Dust billowed, and he moved no more.
With Zhou Nan dead, the knot tightening around Cen Xie seemed to loosen. His knees went soft, and he propped himself up on the ground with his hands, gasping for air like a survivor of a catastrophe.
However, the powerful deterrent force did not vanish from the air. Ying Zhu turned his muzzle toward the others.
Facing the incoming bullets, they could only stand still like targets, accepting Ying Zhu’s calm massacre without resistance. They watched as their companions died one by one under Ying Zhu’s gun.
Ying Zhu soon ran out of bullets. He pulled another magazine from his pocket while the remaining few stood frozen, watching him slowly reload. The scene was inexplicably eerie.
Having skillfully reloaded, Ying Zhu raised the silver handgun again. He was as composed as if he were training at a shooting range—unhurried, even methodical—walking and shooting simultaneously. The iron sheets of the warehouse were old and full of gaps, allowing countless beams of light to squeeze through; the bullets zipped through these beams.
There was only the rhythmic sound of gunshots followed by the thud of bodies hitting the floor.
When the last Alpha finally fell, Ying Zhu walked up to Cen Xie and knelt down.
Cen Xie’s expression was hollow, filled only with lingering terror. Tears streamed down his face as he stammered, “It hurts…”
Ying Zhu’s heart sank. He checked Cen Xie’s body; other than the bitten gland, there were no other wounds. He asked, “Where does it hurt? What did he do to you?”
Under normal circumstances, Cen Xie could never have been marked. An Alpha of this level—even a hundred of them—could never subdue an S-rank.
Cen Xie spoke about the memory card, his expression still paralyzed with fear: “Hands, feet, legs… everything hurts.”
The sensory shock of that memory card had not completely faded. Furthermore, for some reason, he felt that in his subconscious, he had a deep-seated, bone-deep fear of the sensation of being torn apart.
Looking at his expression, Ying Zhu felt a wave of disordered sadness.
Chen Jiu arrived hurriedly with his men. Several armored vehicles screeched to a halt at the warehouse entrance. The doors were wide open, and there was no sound inside. Chen Jiu and his men exchanged glances, their hearts filled with wariness.
The worst-case scenario was that Cen Xie had been marked by Zhou Nan, who would then use his influence to seize control of the entire Canaan Society. A marked Omega loses their decision-making power and submits to the Alpha; if that happened, Cen Xie’s confidants and old guard would each meet a miserable end.
Just then, steady footsteps echoed from the warehouse, growing closer. As the men prepared to raise their weapons, Ying Zhu emerged from the shadows, carrying Cen Xie in his arms.
Chen Jiu’s eyes widened at the sight. Cen Xie was curled into a ball in Ying Zhu’s arms, his face buried in Ying Zhu’s chest. His expression was hidden, but the collar at the back of his neck was clearly stained with blood. Was he… marked?
“But…” Chen Jiu looked into the dark warehouse but could see nothing. He asked Ying Zhu, “What’s the situation now?”
Ying Zhu was spotless, without a single drop of blood on him, and his hair was perfectly neat. He glanced at Chen Jiu: “Clean up the inside.”
Without another word, he ignored the crowd and carried Cen Xie toward his own car.
Once in the backseat, Cen Xie clung to Ying Zhu like glue and wouldn’t let go. Ying Zhu had no choice but to roll down the window and say to Chen Jiu, “Get someone to drive for me.”
Chen Jiu snapped out of his shock and called a trusted subordinate to act as the driver. As the car drove away, Chen Jiu led his men into the warehouse and was struck dumb by the scene. There were no signs of a struggle; over a dozen men had become a dozen corpses, each shot squarely in the forehead with uniform precision.
……
The Hospital.
“Waaa… waaaaah…”
Cen Xie had been sobbing for two hours straight.
Ying Zhu sat in a chair by the bed with his arms crossed, his face terrifyingly cold. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and snapped, “Have you cried enough yet?”
Cen Xie sat on the bed, sniffing loudly. He shouted back, “You think I want to cry? I fucking can’t help it!”
As Ying Zhu had said, with the Alpha dead, the mark was just a scar. A dead Alpha couldn’t exert pressure, and a marked Omega had no one to submit to. But the mark wasn’t without impact; for a while, Cen Xie would be trapped in a physiological state of “widowhood” grief. It was the power of the mark—savage and illogical.
Despite knowing this, Ying Zhu was still extremely displeased. He said caustically, “I killed the ‘spouse’ who marked you. What, are you going to seek revenge for him once you’re done crying?”
Cen Xie’s face was a mess of tears and snot: “Can you stop talking shit? I wish I could have killed him myself.”
Listening to that heartbroken wailing, Ying Zhu closed his eyes, suppressing a surge of inexplicable anger: “If you weren’t crying like this, your words might actually be convincing.”
Cen Xie lost his temper while sobbing: “Damn it! How many times do I have to tell you? I can’t control it!”
Ying Zhu was so angry he stood up to leave, but before he could take a step, Cen Xie grabbed his hand. Ying Zhu turned around and looked at the teary-eyed man. His heart softened slightly. He reached out to wipe the tears from Cen Xie’s face and opened his mouth to speak.
Cen Xie: “I’m so sad. Ying Zhu, don’t leave.”
Ying Zhu’s temple throbbed. It was just a dead dog; what was there to be sad about!
Cen Xie became very, very well-behaved: “If you don’t want to hear me cry, I’ll hide under the blanket and cry quietly, okay? Just don’t leave.”
“…” Ying Zhu stared at him. Cen Xie’s nose was red, his eyes were like shimmering diamonds, and his skin was like silk. A Cen Xie like this possessed a charm that was truly hard to refuse.
Ying Zhu stayed. He simply couldn’t get away; every time he moved toward the door, Cen Xie would pout and look at him with watery eyes.
The wound on the gland was treated. The doctor wanted Cen Xie to stay for observation. Ying Zhu calculated the time—it would be after ten at night before they could leave. Every two hours, the doctor checked in, and Ying Zhu took the opportunity to ask about the mark-cleaning surgery.
The doctor explained that since the gland had been bitten through, the surgery couldn’t be done immediately. They had to wait at least two weeks for the wound to heal so the injected pheromones would stabilize for extraction. Of course, that was the standard for normal people. Given Cen Xie’s recovery ability, Ying Zhu estimated he’d be ready in about three days.
Stopping the doctor before he left, Ying Zhu asked, “Doctor, is there anything that can alleviate his current condition?” Referring to the non-stop crying.
The doctor looked sympathetic but helpless: “It’s always like this when a marked Omega is ‘widowed.’ There’s no way around it. He’ll be fine after crying for a few days.”
Ying Zhu nodded and let him go.
As night fell, Ying Zhu called Secretary Chen to have dinner delivered, specifically requesting Yaozhenkuai, a place famous for light, nourishing medicinal meals. Secretary Chen was efficient; despite the restaurant’s reputation for slow service, he managed to have a two-person dinner delivered in half an hour.
Cen Xie was still crying.
Ying Zhu expressionlessly laid out the containers, broke the disposable chopsticks, and opened the rice: “Eat.”
Cen Xie sobbed. He wept at the rice, shed tears over the steamed grouper, and wailed at the chicken soup.
Ying Zhu sat opposite him, looking disgusted: “Exactly how long are you going to cry?”
Deep in the physiological sorrow of “widowhood,” Cen Xie’s heart was incredibly fragile and sensitive. He easily sensed Ying Zhu’s impatience, and his face scrunched up as he began to cry even harder.
Ying Zhu was exceptionally irritable: “I’m truly a meddling fool. I shouldn’t have saved you, and I definitely shouldn’t have killed Zhou Nan. Otherwise, you’d probably be pregnant by now.”
Cen Xie sobbed while roaring back: “I NEVER THOUGHT THAT!!!”
He genuinely didn’t want to cry, but physiological reactions have no logic. He couldn’t control the continuous wave of grief in his heart; he had to rely on the discharge of tears to diminish the sensation.
Ying Zhu spat out the last of his verbal thorns, then lowered his head to debone the grouper for Cen Xie, feeding a piece of tender fish to his lips.
Cen Xie stopped crying long enough to open his mouth and bite the fish, chewing and swallowing. As the second piece reached his lips, his attention was easily diverted. He stopped wailing and began to seriously accept the feeding.
Seeing that he had stabilized, Ying Zhu stuck the chopsticks into the bowl: “Eat it yourself.”
Cen Xie’s mouth puckered, ready to wail again.
Ying Zhu was truly terrified now; he quickly picked up the chopsticks and continued to feed him.
After dinner, Cen Xie started crying again. Ying Zhu desperately wanted to knock him out with a hand-chop; he really didn’t want to see him crying like a pathetic mess over some Alpha.