Killing Intent
The secretary in the front passenger seat turned back. “Mr. Ying, what now?”
The bodies of 3348 and 3349 could be brought back—the prison count wouldn’t decrease. Whether they were alive or dead didn’t matter.
But the real question remained: how had they escaped?
Ying Zhu was silent for a moment, then instructed, “Keep an eye on the East District. Focus on Cen Xie.”
When he returned home, it was already past midnight. He wasn’t sleepy.
He took the VR headset from the study to the bedroom, then selected a memory card from the storage box.
Memory cards were priced based on cost and rarity, but overall offered high value.
The poor could spend a few hundred to taste wines worth tens of thousands. The paralyzed could spend a small amount to experience walking freely. The blind could pay almost nothing to see a clear, bright world.
Lavish meals, fine wine, operas, concerts, plays—even sex. As long as you had the right memory card, you could immerse yourself in someone else’s experience as if it were your own.
It had long become a widespread phenomenon across the entire Star District—a highly cost-effective form of escapism. People indulged in these borrowed memories, losing themselves in the illusion.
Ying Zhu was no exception. He had always struggled with sleep. Constantly dealing with politics and prison life, he saw only the worst of human nature. So he often used pleasant memory cards to relax—no different from listening to music or meditating.
That night, he chose a memory of walking alone, where dense cypress trees intertwined overhead to form a dome, deep shadows of the trees crisscrossing closely. In the distance was a pale purple sky filled with thick clouds, and the wind at dusk was slightly cold.
Those were the good times before the war. After several years of war, it was now difficult to see such quiet and leisurely scenery in this world.
Under the washing of such a beautiful memory, Ying Zhu’s mood gradually calmed down, and he had a good night’s sleep.
The next afternoon, he drove himself to an appointment to meet Zheng Yun.
In addition to being the warden of Usher Prison, Ying Zhu was also a congressman and was about to run for the next mayor of Star County. His chances of winning were high, and many social clubs and gangs had already begun to contact him privately.
Zheng Yun was one of them. He had always wanted to win over Ying Zhu and had repeatedly mentioned political contributions, both explicitly and implicitly. He was willing to provide financial assistance for Ying Zhu’s campaign in order to pave the way for his own future exoneration after Ying Zhu took office.
The afternoon sun was bright. After Ying Zhu got onto the cross-river bridge, he turned off the recording function of his artificial hippocampus.
In fact, whether the artificial hippocampus could be independently turned off or on by the person involved had always been a matter of great controversy.
The Realists believed that if it could be turned off voluntarily, the technology would be meaningless.
The Humanitarians believed that humans are humans, after all, and not cameras; if they didn’t even have this right of choice, it would be a destruction of the humanitarian spirit.
Later, the Humanitarians won—certainly not because of high-sounding excuses like the humanitarian spirit, but simply because everyone has things that cannot be exposed to light. After all, who would want their dark corners laid bare under the sun?
Especially those in power; they have so many things that cannot be told to outsiders. If every word and action were recorded, it would be simply unimaginable.
Therefore, the Realists ultimately lost not to humanity, but to the selfishness and filth within human nature.
The afternoon sun flooded the entire bridge, making it shine like a glass skywalk. When Ying Zhu drove to the middle of the cross-river bridge, a deafening explosion suddenly sounded.
Bang—!!!
Instantly, the car windows shattered completely, turning into shining fragments flying into the cabin. Ying Zhu’s car flew off the ground, flipped twice in the air, and then landed.
Several bulletproof vehicles roared over, surrounding Ying Zhu’s black sedan.
Clang—
The severely damaged car door was kicked open from the inside, and Ying Zhu struggled to crawl out.
Looking at his relatively vigorous movements, one could tell his limbs were fine, but his head seemed to have been cut. A trail of blood snaked down from his forehead, sliding over his eyelid, looking somewhat terrifying.
After getting out of the car, Ying Zhu hid behind the vehicle and quickly drew the silver pistol tucked into his lower back, then began to observe the surrounding terrain.
The attacker chose a great location to strike. This was a cross-river bridge with no paths to the left or right; it was either move forward or retreat. If you couldn’t fly, you could only jump into the river. They blocked his path completely, giving him no hope of escape.
Just as he was thinking, there was movement behind the car. Through the tilted rearview mirror, Ying Zhu saw many people getting out of the bulletproof vehicles, all drawing their guns and aiming at his severely damaged sedan.
At that moment, the sedan used to conceal his body was hit by a shot, making a sharp and piercing shattering sound. Ying Zhu hurriedly avoided it. Taking a deep breath, he flashed out and attacked, firing three consecutive shots; every bullet hit its mark, earning three screams of pain.
After firing, he quickly ran back behind the car, listening intently to the movements behind it.
In the time that followed, Ying Zhu used the sedan as cover, firing a shot and then hiding, trying his best to stall for time.
However, the attacker’s encirclement drew closer and closer, and the car was nearly riddled with bullets. Finally, Ying Zhu was surrounded by countless muzzles.
“Stop!”
Suddenly a familiar voice sounded, and everyone stopped firing, with only the muzzles still aimed at Ying Zhu. Several people spontaneously stepped aside to make a path.
Cen Xie walked out from behind the crowd with his gun tucked away. He wore a helmet on his head and a bulletproof vest. His short boots and cargo pants made his legs look straight and long.
He froze when he saw Ying Zhu: “Holy crap! Why is it you?”
Seeing this person, Ying Zhu was so angry he almost spat blood.
What do you mean, “Why is it you”? You threw grenades at me, and you didn’t know who you were blowing up?
At that moment, the sound of urgent sirens came from the distance. Both Ying Zhu and Cen Xie looked over and frowned simultaneously; it was the Special Police Department.
One attacked a government official, and the other was privately contacting a gang; both were doing shady business. Their eyes met, and they quickly reached a consensus.
Ying Zhu held his waist and said impatiently: “Get your people to leave immediately!”
Cen Xie did not delay, letting his people quickly drive away in several bulletproof vehicles, while he stayed behind.
He had no choice; he didn’t trust Ying Zhu and had to stay to keep him in check.
The Special Police Department received a report that an explosion had occurred on the cross-river bridge and arrived with special police and demolition experts.
The police chief got out of the car and was a bit surprised to see Ying Zhu. He stepped forward respectfully and asked, “Congressman Ying, are you alright? What happened here?”
Ying Zhu was different from the tidy image he usually presented to the public; at this moment, he looked extremely disheveled, though his posture remained arrogant and calm: “I was attacked.”
The police chief’s expression turned serious and he asked, “Who did it?”
Ying Zhu said with a cold face: “They looked like the Free Army; I’ve seen a few of them before.”
Cen Xie glanced at him from the side. This man’s lies really came naturally and sounded very convincing; he was indeed a politician.
The police chief asked a few more questions, then turned to look at Cen Xie nearby and asked, “And this is?”
Ying Zhu remained expressionless: “He is a passerby acting bravely for a just cause.”
The corner of Cen Xie’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t speak.
The demolition experts had already inspected the scene once and confirmed there was no danger of explosion, then came up to report to the chief. The chief looked at Ying Zhu and asked very respectfully: “Congressman Ying, is your injury serious? Do you need to be sent to the hospital?”
Ying Zhu shook his head: “No need, the Usher office has already sent people; they are on their way.”
Seeing that nothing major had happened, the Special Police Department finished their questions and left. Before leaving, they helped tow away Ying Zhu’s scrapped car.
Seeing the people from the Special Police Department leave, Cen Xie looked at Ying Zhu’s back and opened his mouth to say something. Suddenly, a fierce and fast straight punch flew towards his face. He hurriedly dodged and while evading, shouted: “Misunderstanding! It’s all a misunderstanding!”
Ying Zhu didn’t listen at all. Every move carried the rage of wanting to kill the other party. Merciless elbow strikes and knee bumps attacked Cen Xie like a rainstorm.
Cen Xie finally struck back. His ghostly fast movements surprised Ying Zhu. Before his knee could rise again, the other’s palm had already gripped his throat. His shoulder socket felt like it had been hit by a hammer, both painful and numb.
Cen Xie pinned him down: “I said it’s a misunderstanding! Why won’t you listen to an explanation?”
Ying Zhu looked at him coldly: “Misunderstanding?”
Cen Xie: “I wanted to kill the person who was going to meet Zheng Yun.”
Ying Zhu: “I am the one going to meet Zheng Yun!”
Cen Xie froze again, narrowed his eyes, and stood up, aiming his gun at him: “You want to cooperate with him?”
Ying Zhu calculated that he wouldn’t dare fire, since his face had already been seen by the Special Police Department. So he slammed his knee into Cen Xie’s ribs. Hearing him groan, he twisted his arm, preparing to take him down.
Unexpectedly, Cen Xie turned in a tricky way, and the situation reversed again. Ying Zhu was actually pinned to the ground by him instead.
Ying Zhu struggled a couple of times, but since he was already injured, he simply couldn’t break free.
Cen Xie pressed him down firmly with his knee, the gun muzzle also pressed against his lower back. He asked coldly once more: “Why do you want to cooperate with Zheng Yun?”
Ying Zhu was extremely annoyed and sneered: “What do you think? He gives me hard cash, and you give me grenades.”
Cen Xie fell silent, lowering his eyes as if thinking about something. After a while, he said: “You are not allowed to cooperate with him; he is not a good person.”
Ying Zhu was truly about to laugh from anger: “He indeed isn’t a good person, but what kind of good person are you, pointing a gun at me?”
Cen Xie put away his gun and stood up.
Ying Zhu’s phone suddenly went “ding”—it was a message notification from the Dark Web. Someone had responded to his inquiry for purchasing “Double O restricted memories” and requested an offline transaction.
Since things had turned out this way today, he didn’t plan to meet Zheng Yun according to the original plan anymore. So he replied to the message to finalize the time and place with the other party, preparing to go directly there to handle this matter first.
Cen Xie had been standing by watching the whole time. Seeing him turn to leave, he swung his gun barrel and hit his head, saying angrily: “You’re still going to see him? Do I really have to give you a shot before you know how serious this is?”
Ying Zhu staggered from the blow, his anger surging to the top of his head. This barbarian! He pointed to his head and said: “Artificial hippocampus. Even if a government official dies, the data won’t be cleared. If you want to kill me, shoot right here!”
This matter was not commonly known; only those within the system knew. Once you reached a certain professional rank, you had to sign an agreement. After an official passed away, their memories during their term of office would be taken over by the government. The original intention was to act as a constraint on officials.
However, since it became possible to voluntarily choose to turn the artificial hippocampus on or off, this agreement basically had no binding force on the officials themselves anymore.
Just like today, when Ying Zhu prepared to meet Zheng Yun, he could turn off the artificial hippocampus on the road; all their contact would leave no record.
But if Cen Xie shot him now, turning on the artificial hippocampus could record the evidence of the other party murdering an official. So sometimes this agreement not only failed to constrain officials but also became a “bulletproof vest.”
Having said this, Cen Xie definitely couldn’t take action. Even the most powerful gang wouldn’t openly provoke government personnel; that would be too stupid.
Ying Zhu ignored him anymore; he found it annoying just looking at this person now. While turning around, he called his driver and left directly.
Cen Xie watched his retreating back, his eyes narrowing slightly, filled with killing intent.
The meeting place agreed upon with the seller was a cafe. Ying Zhu arrived early, wearing a mask and a hat. Since it involved privacy, he couldn’t leave this matter to his secretary and had to show up in person. And since the seller must have read that memory, it would be troublesome if he were recognized.
Thinking of this, Ying Zhu couldn’t help but feel a surge of gloomy irritability. Who on earth was this Omega? Were they that desperate for money? Desperate enough to sell memories like these? If they were truly that broke, why didn’t they come to him? It wasn’t as if he were a stingy person.
Before long, the seller arrived—a male Beta. Ying Zhu felt a hint of disappointment. Though he knew the chances were slim, he had wondered if the seller might be the Omega himself; that would have saved him a lot of trouble. To prevent the other party from seeing his face clearly, Ying Zhu deliberately chose a seat with the light behind him and spoke: “Please, sit.” The male Beta had brought five or six memory cards for Ying Zhu to choose from. Since this was an experiential purchase, they were set to trial mode, allowing only the first few seconds of the memory to be read.
The transaction would only be confirmed if the buyer was satisfied. Otherwise, if the buyer finished the entire experience and then backed out, the seller would suffer a great loss.
Ying Zhu tested them one by one. By the third card, he found the one concerning himself, but he calmly proceeded to test the remaining ones as well. He then took off the VR headset and said, “I’ll take them all.” The male Beta was delighted and gave Ying Zhu a very favorable bundle price. Ying Zhu then asked, “Where did you get these memories?” The male Beta replied, “I bought them all on the dark web.”
The value of a memory lies in the sensation of the moment it is read. No matter how good a memory is, after reading it a few times, the sense of novelty fades and it’s no longer as stimulating as the first time. Therefore, people often resell the memories they’ve bought. The money gained from reselling memories can then be used to buy new ones; quite a few people do this.
Ying Zhu asked, “Only these? Are there any more?” Seeing that Ying Zhu was not short on cash, the male Beta said, “This is all I have on hand for now. If you want more, I can help you look.” After a moment’s thought, Ying Zhu picked up a notepad from the table, wrote down his private mobile number, and handed it to him, saying, “Call me directly once you find more. I’ll take as many as you have.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Don’t you worry.” The male Beta carefully put away the note, then looked up and asked, “Do you want other types? AB? AO? BO? Female Alpha and male Omega?”
Ying Zhu frowned and interrupted him: “Only Double O—the kind where both parties are male Omegas.”
Leaving the café, Ying Zhu took the memory cards back to his car. After dismissing the driver and ensuring he was alone, he put on the VR headset, prepared to read the second segment of memory. Just then, his phone rang. It was his private phone. He glanced at it and answered. It was Zheng Yun on the other end. It seemed he had already heard about him being attacked by Cen Xie. He opened with: “Councilor Ying, are you alright?” Ying Zhu replied, “You still have the nerve to call.”
Zheng Yun apologized repeatedly: “As long as you’re okay. I really didn’t know you’d get dragged into this. Who knew that Cen Xie would be so reckless? He got wind of it somewhere that I was going to cooperate with a councilor, and then…” Ying Zhu interrupted him: “Mr. Zheng, before you cooperate with me, clean up your own mess. I have no interest in your gang wars, but I don’t want something like today to happen again.”
Zheng Yun remained silent. Ying Zhu added, “Handle the matter with Cen Xie, then come back to talk to me.”
Cen Xie was a nuisance to begin with, and even more so now that he held knowledge of the loophole in Usher Prison. Zheng Yun went silent for a moment before asking, “What exactly do you mean?”
Ying Zhu’s voice was calm but laced with murderous intent: “Kill him.” After hanging up, Ying Zhu could finally begin reading the second memory. This memory clearly belonged to the same period as the first one; the scene and angle hadn’t changed, but the light had grown dimmer, suggesting it was nearing nightfall. Ying Zhu frowned. How long had they been doing it? Overall, this memory was similar to the first, but the memory owner’s voice had grown noticeably hoarser, sounding exhausted. Even so, this person still greedily pulled him in for kisses. And he, surprisingly, was very indulgent, patiently kissing him over and over, only parting reluctantly when they were out of breath.
With the previous experience as a foundation, Ying Zhu was able to remain composed while experiencing himself tongue-kissing himself again. One really never knows how low their bottom line can go. Only the sensation of his reproductive chamber being repeatedly hit still made his scalp tingle.
This realistic, 100% sensory reception brought about by technology made his hair stand on end. At the same time, the feeling was exquisite, almost intoxicating. It was like lying on an orange beach at dusk—gentle, composed, a tide-like pleasure. Like a cicada shedding its skin, a butterfly breaking its cocoon, or a soul ascending to immortality—light, airy, and drifting into a state of pure ecstasy, a mix of divine pleasure and a brush with death.
Ying Zhu had never felt such pleasure in any of his previous heat cycles. It transcended physiology; it wasn’t something he was forced to do or a means to relieve something—this was a true craving for the union of soul and flesh. The owner of the memory was equally obsessed with the feeling, their voice incredibly hoarse: “I can’t… no more…” Ying Zhu saw himself hesitate for a moment, appearing ready to pull out and finish. However, the memory owner then said while sobbing: “But I still want it…” Ying Zhu heard his own breathing grow heavier. Then, he pinned the memory owner’s waist down almost fiercely, forcing him to let out low cries following the repeated and powerful thrusts.
Ying Zhu’s fingers curled, and his heart throbbed along with it. The possessiveness coming from “himself” was vicious, impatient, even bordering on violent. His heart hammered rapidly; brilliant lights and colors flashed before his eyes. Upon reaching climax, his entire body trembled uncontrollably. Just like that, inside another person, Ying Zhu was brought to a climax by himself. The memory continued. The two of them rested while holding each other for a moment. Ying Zhu was the first to prop himself up, gently touching the memory owner’s face and saying, “Let’s bathe.” The memory owner was limp and unable to move, reaching out to hook his neck like a spoiled child, acting shamelessly.
Ying Zhu said nothing and simply picked up the person covered in stickiness. Ying Zhu could tell that he was truly indulgent toward this Omega. The image flickered, and the memory ended there.
This Omega is very clingy, was Ying Zhu’s thought after finishing the second memory. A clingy Omega… who could it be?