From the golf course back to the main building, Gu Chengyan’s arm remained firmly clamped around Geng Nuo’s waist. Geng Nuo was still craning his neck trying to observe the number of guards and the flight paths of the aircraft, completely unaware that walking had actually become much easier.
The billiard room was on the third floor. Looking out the window, this place seemed to be in the opposite direction of the wine cellar. Geng Nuo spotted a low building in the distance, probably only a single story high, half-concealed by trees and greenery so that only a small portion of the wall was visible. He had only noticed it because wisps of white smoke were leisurely curling up from the roof.
Geng Nuo was a bit curious about what was over there.
Pity the angle was too tricky; even if he stood on tiptoe and pressed against the window from this viewpoint, he couldn’t see the full picture.
Suddenly, a server walked over and pulled down the blinds. Taken by surprise, Geng Nuo jumped in fright. The man smiled at him, pointed inward, and whispered, “The light is a bit harsh on the guests.”
“Oh,” Geng Nuo replied. A moment later, it suddenly occurred to him that it was currently morning, and this window faced the shaded side without a speck of sunlight, how could it possibly affect the guests?
“Are you getting used to the work here?”
Geng Nuo snapped back to reality. A black-haired, blue-eyed man had appeared by his side at some point. He remembered this man was called Wei Lu, one of Gu Chengyan’s subordinates, who liked to gaze deeply at people when he spoke, as though he could see right through them.
It made one extremely uncomfortable.
A hearty laugh suddenly rang out from inside the room. The two turned their heads to look: Pix had broken, sending the number 7 ball straight into the pocket on his very first shot. Before he even had time to cheer, he watched the cue ball follow it right into the pocket as well.
While beating his chest in despair, Pix didn’t forget to flatter him. “That was a chance General Gu deliberately gave up for me, what a pity! Look, I told you you should have been the one to break. Let me rack the balls for you again!”
A moment later came General Gu’s indifferent voice: “Do I need you to give me a turn?” He beckoned to the side. “Ball in hand.” Someone nearby handed over the cue ball, and he selected the number 12 ball as his target.
Geng Nuo noticed the pattern on this number 12 ball was a bit different from the 7 he had just seen.
“This is eight-ball pool. Both sides are assigned target balls from 1 through 7 and 9 through 15 respectively. Boss Pi is 1 through 7, and General Gu is 9 through 15. Whichever side pockets all their balls first gets to shoot the 8-ball, and whoever sinks the 8-ball first wins. Boss Pi sank a ball first just now, so logically he should have continued his turn, but he sent the cue ball into the pocket as well, which is a foul. It’s General Gu’s turn with ball-in-hand, allowing him to place the cue ball anywhere.” Leaning against the window with his elbows propped back on the sill, Wei Lu turned his head and lowered his voice to explain to Geng Nuo.
So that was how it worked.
Geng Nuo said, “I know.”
“…” The other raised a brow, making a fine then expression.
Pix and Gu Chengyan traded turns for a few rounds. Geng Nuo and Wei Lu stood shoulder to shoulder against the wall, the guests chatting idly while the servers exhausted themselves cheering and playing along.
“I heard you just arrived not long ago. How does it feel working here?” Wei Lu leaned close to Geng Nuo and asked in a low voice.
Geng Nuo looked at him, completely uncomprehending.
How is it supposed to feel? Do you not know what kind of person your General is?
Perhaps his expression was too obvious, because Wei Lu actually managed to read the meaning behind it and couldn’t help laughing. “Indeed, the General is not an easy person to get along with.”
“As a subject of the Empire, you must have heard plenty of rumors, no Omega or Beta has ever been able to get close to him,” Wei Lu winked at him. “I’ve never seen him treat anyone so specially. You’re the first.”
Geng Nuo grew even more baffled.
Are you trying to say Gu Chengyan is mounting a Beta for the very first time?
What, is he acting aggrieved about it?
I’m the one being mounted by an Alpha for the first time! I’m the one who should feel aggrieved, okay?
Leaning against the window, Wei Lu reminisced about the past. “When the General was fifteen, he led us out of the black market, fighting and clawing our way to where we are today. After earning the Emperor’s favor, he spent year after year conquering the south and subduing the north. In all these years, he’s rarely even stopped to catch his breath.”
“I remember very clearly, right after putting down the Heili rebellion, we immediately hopped over via jump-drive to the edge of the galaxy without a moment’s rest to fend off the remnants of the Field invasion, only to turn around and slug it out with Angola for half a year straight, without a shred of downtime. The front lines are forever the most dangerous place; in a technological war, everything is unpredictable, and the next second you could turn into a pile of skeletal remains or float in a vacuum forever as space debris.”
“Yet the General is always the one charging at the very front, disregarding life and death.”
Geng Nuo thought for a moment and offered a polite compliment, “How amazing.”
Wei Lu choked on his words.
Perhaps his expression froze too noticeably, so Geng Nuo immediately added, “Then you serving under his command must be very amazing too.”
His tone was thoroughly flat and perfunctory.
Wei Lu quickly reined in his emotions to keep Geng Nuo from dragging him off topic, and continued his tale.
“You could say that compared to beauty, bloodshed is what truly excites the General.”
Geng Nuo gave a perfunctory nod. I can see that.
…No, wait, I can’t.
He subtly steadied his waist, feeling that the two were evenly matched.
“It hasn’t been easy for the General to come this far. Many nobles in the upper classes can’t stand him and want to trip him up in the dark,” Wei Lu smiled. “I don’t mean anything else by it, I’m just feeling a bit emotional.”
“You are a special existence, Geng Nuo.” He emphasized the word special once more, then spoke with heavy implication, “How wonderful it would be if I could keep seeing you.”
What on earth is this guy talking about?
Geng Nuo gave him a bewildered look.
The subtext of Wei Lu’s final remark was that he hoped Geng Nuo would stay by the General’s side permanently. The slightly exaggerated preamble introducing the General’s past was meant to touch the soft spot in his heart, while also signaling, We are willing to accept you as one of our own.
If Geng Nuo were a clever person, he would realize this was a game of chess. The next step would involve probing back and forth to unearth each other’s true motives, or seeing if there was any possibility of turning on his original master to forge an alliance.
If Geng Nuo were an idiot, he would taste a sense of uniqueness from those words, the feeling of being someone who made the General’s heart skip a beat. Whether for romance or future wealth and glory, after weighing the options, he would in all likelihood throw himself into their camp.
If he were the former, intimidation paired with inducement would suffice; dealing with a smart person would make their subsequent moves twice as effective with half the effort.
If he were the latter, it would be even simpler. No extra words or deeds were needed; this person would proactively be of use to them, and if necessary, could even serve as a critical cannon fodder.
Unfortunately, Geng Nuo fell somewhere in between: he was a clever fool, and his comprehension was fundamentally different from normal people’s.
If things were stated bluntly, he might grasp them easily, or perhaps plug them into a formula using the maxims he had scavenged from those battered old books over the years.
Those kinds of chicken-soup inspirational success formulas like, How the upper classes respond when facing XX situation…
If the roundabout phrasing was too obscure to understand, Geng Nuo’s thoughts would scatter and produce an entirely unique interpretation of his own.
Just like right now, when a distinctly ominous guess began to form in his mind.
“We’ll be spending a lot of time together from now on,” Wei Lu said amicably.
Geng Nuo stiffly turned his head, his brain caught in a storm.
Pix was still enthusiastically trying to liven up the atmosphere, though most of the time he was just talking to himself. Gu Chengyan’s subordinates would chip in a word or two, while the man himself only bothered to reply depending entirely on his mood.
It wasn’t until Pix tentatively brought up Lord Wright that Gu Chengyan finally flicked his eyelids as though he had grown interested.
“I haven’t congratulated you in advance yet, General Gu,” Pix said with an ingratiating smile. “I heard there are countless treasures in the Prometheia Estate, including the once-sensation-causing Statue of God Pales.” He spoke with solemn certainty, “That is a peerless treasure. If I ever get the chance for you to grace me with a glimpse, I could die content.”
Gu Chengyan remained unmoved. “The Prometheia Estate belongs to Lord Wright. What does that have to do with me?”
“Now, now, as you say, Lord Wright is already dead. All the industries and treasures in his hands, as long as you want them, aren’t they yours?” Pix laid his cards right on the table, hypocritically adding right after, “Ah, look at my big mouth. I’m just someone who speaks and acts straight from the heart, don’t think too much into it, I’m only speaking from sincerity.”
Gu Chengyan let out a hum, bending down to sink a ball.
“That divine statue is a fantastic thing,” Pix ranted with grandiose, spellbinding exaggeration, full of yearning. “Rumor has it that it’s a divine artifact that materialized out of thin air in the universe ten thousand years ago, choosing its own master and bestowing endless wealth and power upon them.”
“Just wealth and power?” Gu Chengyan sounded thoroughly unenthused. “If it had some other divine power, I might actually be a bit more interested.”
Pix probed, “Then what kind of divine power interests you?”
Wei Lu was still attempting to chat up Geng Nuo. Neither dared to speak too loudly, yet standing too far apart meant they couldn’t hear each other; seeing that their heads were practically about to bump together,
Gu Chengyan glanced briefly in that direction, quickly withdrew his gaze, and said indifferently, “For instance, the divine power to make people obey every command.”
Pix’s heart skipped a beat as a string loosened inside him.
“Isn’t that a coincidence?” He smiled brightly at Gu Chengyan, slowly delivering the line, “The Statue of God Pales truly possesses that divine power.”
Geng Nuo caught half of their conversation with one ear, thinking to himself that even the upper classes believed in this kind of stuff?
“How does Boss Pi know it’s real? Things like gods and Buddhas are matters of personal faith to begin with, to claim you can become the master of God Pales, you sure talk big.” The speaker was another of Gu Chengyan’s subordinates, Wei Hai. “Even if it’s real, the price to pay is probably not small, either.”
“I didn’t say you become the master of God Pales, I said you become the master of the divine statue,” Pix pivoted. “Besides, as the General who has pacified scores of rebellions, the peace and stability of the Empire can essentially be said to be gifts from you. With your status and prestige, even if you do have to pay a small price, it’s not worth mentioning.”
Wei Hai asked, “What’s the difference between being the master of a god and the master of a divine statue?”
“The difference is massive. The statue is merely a medium for God Pales to descend to the mortal realm, not the body of the deity itself. But because of this, the inanimate statue acquires divine power; if someone in the living world becomes the master of the statue, they can act as an agent of that divine power and make it serve their own ends.”
With a clack, Gu Chengyan sank another ball. He straightened up from his cue and walked over to the next shot point. “I thought Boss Pi was a man of faith, but it turns out your ambitions aren’t small.”
Aiming and striking again, this shot missed the pocket, passing the turn to Pix.
Pix laughed heartily, walked over to the table, and hoisted his cue. “The dawn of the galaxy marked humanity’s bold foray into the cosmos. Today, we have become the masters of the galaxy, and in the near future, we will become the masters of the entire universe.”
Clack, the ball dropped into the pocket.
“Boss Pi’s aspirations are certainly grand.”
Pix failed to sink his second ball, returning the turn to Gu Chengyan.
Resting his cue against his side, Pix shook his head. “I’m just running my mouth. But you’re different, General Gu, you are the Empire’s strongest commander. Some things sitting in other people’s hands are wasted and squandered, but in yours, they wouldn’t be.”
Gu Chengyan asked, “Can do what?”
“Become the master of the universe,” Pix said with an ingratiating, respectful smile, “starting from becoming the master of the Statue of God Pales.”
Gu Chengyan cast a cool glance at him without taking up the thread.
It was the first time Geng Nuo had ever heard of God Pales. His understanding of history and cultural knowledge was limited to the bedtime stories his father used to tell him years ago starting with, Before the dawn of the galactic era… As for anything from the galactic era onward, he was completely blank.
That didn’t stop him from thinking Pix was talking absolute nonsense.
If this wasn’t an attempt to entice Gu Chengyan into spending money to recharge his club membership, then they definitely had hidden meanings behind their words.
It was simply that he couldn’t understand them.
Hearing the dialogue between the two, Wei Lu was secretly astounded. This Pix, or rather, the person behind Pix, possessed a daring and ambition that was truly immense.
Everyone knew General Gu Chengyan was the Emperor’s man; Pix’s topic of the Statue of God Pales was essentially flattering the General by implying he should rightfully be the master of the Empire.
Laying out such intentions practically in broad daylight.
Having followed the General for so many years, this was the first time he had ever seen anyone attempt to drive a wedge between the General and the Emperor, and the first time he had ever witnessed anyone daring to instigate Gu Chengyan to rebel.
You had to remember, all of Gu Chengyan’s military achievements over the years had been won precisely by putting down interstellar pirates and rebellious traitors plotting mutiny across various planets.
This really was something fresh.
However, this was entirely separate from their intended investigation into servers luring in high-ranking officials and wealthy tycoons. Who would have thought this tiny club had so many hidden depths? Wei Lu rolled his eyes and re-focused his sights on Geng Nuo.
“How much can you make here in a month?” Wei Lu leaned close to Geng Nuo’s ear and asked in a low voice.
His breath tickled Geng Nuo’s ear, causing him to frown and pull away. Yet Wei Lu persisted relentlessly, “Are you interested in changing to a better job where you can make more money and actually rub shoulders with the true upper class?”
“I can help you, as long as you make a tiny trade with me.” Every word Wei Lu uttered dripped with dark insinuation and temptation. He was somewhat eager to co-opt Geng Nuo and make him serve their purposes; even if his knowledge was limited, a reckless newcomer would make an exceptionally good scapegoat.
“Do you guys here have…” any special services?
Wei Lu wanted to test the waters regarding the missing servers, but in Geng Nuo’s eyes, this guy looked like a genuine psychiatric patient.
Confused, rambling, and talking absolute nonsense.
High salary, upper class.
Screw your high salary! My current job was scammed out of me using this exact pitch!
High salary meant low probability values stacked behind countless harsh conditions. The upper class meant a bunch of beasts engaging in low-class filth.
Fuming with indignation, Geng Nuo’s furiously spinning CPU suddenly short-circuited.
Yet in a daze, he felt as though a flash of insight had struck him, and the gears in his brain suddenly clicked into place.
He suddenly seemed to understand what Wei Lu was trying to do.
Talk of the General treating him specially, offering a high salary, coaxing him into a trade (which required paying a tiny price), these elements together meant only one thing…
Fraud, human trafficking, and kidney-stealing in broad daylight!
Damn it, the upper class is truly so damn filthy!
He might occasionally be a tiny bit lacking in smarts, but that didn’t mean he was stupid!
Geng Nuo’s gaze toward Wei Lu changed instantly. The guy was cut from the exact same cloth as Pix.
Wei Lu was none the wiser, tilting his head to offer Geng Nuo an amiable smile.
And you’re looking at me with lust in your eyes, too!
Growing even more disgusted, Geng Nuo feigned a moment of contemplation before abruptly looking up and flashing a smile back at Wei Lu.
That smile was like a spring breeze brushing across a face, momentarily catching Wei Lu off-guard. He suddenly realized with a jolt of reality that this Beta possessed delicate, refined features, and when he curved his lips in a faint smile, he looked exceptionally sweet, especially when those bright, sparkling eyes fixed straight on you, truly capable of making a man’s heart skip a beat.
Geng Nuo leaned in closer as if turning the tables, causing Wei Lu to instinctively hold his breath.
Only to hear him ask with a smiling lilt:
“Your boss hasn’t finished playing with me yet, isn’t it a bit too early for you to be laying your hands on your boss’s property?”
The face and smiling gaze inches away left Wei Lu momentarily failing to process his words. In reality, what awaited him was a heavy strike from Geng Nuo, aimed straight at his crotch.
Right at that very moment, however, a ball hurtled past them at high speed, grazing right past both their noses and slamming into the wall behind. With a resounding thud, it bounced and rolled onto the floor.
Startled, Geng Nuo hastily stepped back, twisting his head around in lingering panic. The culprit, General Gu, was casually polishing his cue with blue chalk, glancing over in an understated manner only upon hearing the commotion, and offering a single, simple remark:
“Slipped.”