“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Mu Er sighed with emotion. “They say a single day as husband and wife brings a hundred days of grace; I actually thought he was special to you.”
“Where did you even get that illusion?”
“Did you guys find anything out?” Mu Er waved the data in his hand. “Judging from this, he seems to be a newcomer and probably hasn’t been involved in Pix’s vicious deeds yet.”
Mu Er teased leisurely, “For all you know, you might be his very first man.”
Gu Chengyan frowned, looking somewhat impatient. “Just a wolf in sheep’s clothing with ulterior motives. Since we’re clearing out the trash, we might as well clean it all out in one go. Do you expect me to leave one or two loose fish behind to create future trouble for myself at who knows what time?”
Silence filled the room for a moment. Mu Er was genuinely startled by Gu Chengyan’s unusual attitude, while Wei Hai felt the atmosphere was a bit tense and quickly explained to Mu Er, “Your Majesty, it’s like this. We uncovered a piece of news…”
Prompted by his explanation, Mu Er realized, “Shark Club really does harbor an operation for cultivating spies. Pix isn’t trying to cooperate with you; he still wants to control you and drive a wedge between us.”
Mu Er muttered, “To think he’d use just a Beta…”
General Gu closed his eyes, and a barely audible sentence fell into Mu Er’s ears.
“…He really has some nerve.”
Mu Er’s eyelids twitched, determined to get a definitive answer from him. “Are you really planning to kill him along with the rest?”
A moment later, as if releasing a breath, Mu Er leaned heavily back against his chair. “Since that’s the case, then I’m relieved.”
Gu Chengyan turned to look at him, uncomprehending. “What?”
“This is what I was about to tell you next.” Mu Er snapped his fingers. The office curtains fell shut all at once, plunging the room into darkness. His holographic AI, Let, slowly rose in midair, emitting a blue light and using the wall as a screen to begin projecting.
An autopsy report appeared on it.
Gu Chengyan’s pupils constricted slightly. “This is…”
“Yes, Feng Qilong is dead.” That President Feng of the Pesman Empire Bank.
“The day before yesterday, he suddenly dropped dead while under close surveillance. Through the autopsy, we detected a virus inside his body,” Mu Er crossed his legs and propped his hands together over his knees. “Let’s tentatively call it a virus.”
A molecular formula was magnified on the screen. “Look, his genes have been nearly rewritten. I don’t know if this can still be called ‘human’; my researcher told me this is definitely not a DNA structure belonging to humans.”
Gu Chengyan scoffed, “What, did he mutate into an alien?”
“I’m not joking, General Gu,” Mu Er signaled him to keep watching. “Although you don’t understand it and neither do I, this is our Luoluo’s specialty. To explain it with an easy-to-understand analogy… do you know about horsehair worms?”
“You’re saying Feng Qilong was like a praying mantis manipulated by a horsehair worm?”
“You could understand it that way. What’s even more terrifying is that this unknown virus can rewrite human genes, making people act like parasitized mantises completely at its mercy.”
Gu Chengyan asked a question, “Then where is the ‘horsehair worm’?”
“It’s the Omega who had President Feng utterly infatuated; we’ve already caught him. A similar substance was detected inside his body, but it’s not entirely identical. What’s terrifying is that when he got close to Feng Qilong, even Feng Qilong on the autopsy table showed a physical reaction.”
“Two hours later, that Omega also dropped dead suddenly. We suspect all his actions were also being manipulated,” Mu Er said solemnly. “However, given the Empire’s current level of scientific development, we cannot research this virus or the mechanics of how they control and are controlled.”
Gu Chengyan pondered, “You said the viruses detected in their bodies were similar but not entirely identical. Is it possible the difference stems from gender?”
“That is indeed a possibility—the distinction between T1 and T2. Planting T1 in the Omega allows them to infect the target with T2.” Mu Er delivered a meaningful look. “Someone has developed different drugs targeting ABO, controlling Alphas by controlling Omegas.”
“Meaning we need to trace the source to find out who holds the original T0 virus.” Meeting the Emperor’s meaningful gaze, Gu Chengyan felt a bit strange. After processing it for a moment, a bizarre guess formed in his heart.
“It seems we thought along the same lines.”
Mu Er smiled inscrutably, while Gu Chengyan’s expression abruptly darkened.
Wei Hai didn’t understand. “What does that mean? Is there some important information we missed?”
Mu Er shook an uplifted finger, signaling him to stay calm, and explained in the simplest terms: “If, according to your investigation, Pix has been supplying obedient mistresses and young boys to the nobles, while the Beta server who approached General Gu showed no such signs… then it’s highly likely this Beta serves precisely that purpose.”
Wei Hai woke up with a start, looking anxiously toward Gu Chengyan with worry written all over his face.
They had always assumed that the Beta purposefully approached General Gu yet made no move, but what if he had already made a move long ago and they simply hadn’t noticed?
Otherwise… how could General Gu, who had never allowed outsiders to get close, treat him so specially?
“Let’s run a check, General Gu,” Mu Er said.
The Emperor’s AI Let retracted the projection laser and summoned a medical scanner. The curtains in the room parted to let the light back in. Gu Chengyan rolled up his sleeve and thrust his arm into the scanner.
Fine beads of sweat had already popped up on Wei Hai’s forehead, and His Majesty Mu Er wasn’t taking it easy either. The virus had been exposed too late, and they were both terrified that the mastermind had already reached out toward Gu Chengyan without anyone noticing. As of now, they had no certainty of how to reverse a human body invaded by the virus.
Yet no particular emotion could be read on Gu Chengyan’s face.
The testing process was rapid. Five minutes later, the results came out, and Wei Hai rushed forward first to check the medical report.
The result was no abnormalities.
Wei Hai let out a heavy sigh of relief, then handed the report to the Emperor. After reviewing it, Mu Er felt much more at ease. “General Gu, care to take a look?”
Gu Chengyan only glanced at it and didn’t take it. “No need.” This outcome seemed to be within his expectations.
“At least it shows he hasn’t had the chance to make a move yet,” Mu Er said, feigning relief. “We’ve investigated in the same direction, and everything is still in time. We must cut the weeds and root them out early.”
“It’s just, I’m baffled why a Beta?” Mu Er was deeply perplexed. “Omegas have pheromone enhancement, which should make implementation much easier.”
Wei Hai said, “Perhaps it’s because of the external rumors that the General never lets Omegas get close, or perhaps it’s because the General smashed open the head of an Omega who tried to offer himself that day.”
Gu Chengyan let out a cold snort. “They reacted fast enough.”
That completely explained the initial unreasonableness.
“Pix said he wants to present me with a grand gift at the banquet,” Gu Chengyan smoothed down his cuffs with slow, elegant movements and a detached tone. He turned his head back, a smirk curling on his lips while his eyes carried an imperceptible, icy chill. “Do you suppose it’ll be an obedient plaything to please the nobles, or a malicious T1?”
“I’m quite looking forward to it.”
Clearly, General Gu was in a foul mood right now, so Mu Er wisely chose to shut his mouth.
Silence descended upon the scene for a moment.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside. Let reported in a timely manner: “Your Majesty, Marquess Wenlan and Count Su Mang are leading a group of nobles toward the Hall of State Affairs.”
Mu Er uttered a “tsk,” calculated the time, stood up, walked around the desk, and kicked the chair beside Gu Chengyan with his leg, sending it flying with a massive crash. Wei Hai felt that the sound could probably be heard loud and clear all the way down on the ground floor.
Immediately following that, His Majesty the Emperor began to roar: “Gu Chengyan! Don’t push your luck! I’m telling you, I granted you authority, not for you to do as you please. Now your wings have hardened, and you no longer treat my words as commands, is that it…”
Gu Chengyan folded his arms and watched his performance the entire way.
Before long, a surging crowd of people ascended to the second floor. As if just discovering their arrival, Mu Er cut off mid-sentence, instantly shifting his expression and tone to be exceptionally amiable toward the doorway: “Oh, Count Wenlan, what a rare guest! Oh my, so many people have come, everyone please come right in. Why didn’t anyone have them announce your arrival? Let, hurry up and move that chair out of the way so it doesn’t block the guests’ path.”
Let flew to the doorway, extended its robotic arm, and shoved the chair blocking the entrance into a corner.
Wei Hai cleverly stepped behind Gu Chengyan, marveling at His Majesty Mu Er’s exquisite performance.
Aside from Wenlan and Su Mang at the head, the rest were elderly nobles who rarely had the opportunity to enter the palace and invariably seized every chance to pull rank and throw their weight around. However, the Emperor’s preemptive stunt left the aggressive crowd with nothing to say, instantly defusing their momentum.
Marquess Wenlan’s gaze shifted unostentatiously between the Emperor and the General. He let out an ambiguous “hmph” and treated Gu Chengyan like air. First, he criticized the Emperor’s grandiose campaign to renovate the palace, condemning His Majesty for extravagant waste unaware that compared to these nobles’ usual profligacy, this little commotion was merely a drop in the bucket.
Mu Er eagerly chimed in and admitted his wrongs with maximum cowardice, then pretentiously explained that all of this was due to the Empress’s caprice, claiming that if he didn’t agree to the renovation, the Empress would threaten to use his own dowry or something…
To his surprise, the moment those words left his mouth, Marquess Wenlan’s tone softened noticeably. But immediately afterward, he pivoted to the main topic, which was the primary purpose of his visit.
With dark, brooding eyes fixed squarely on Gu Chengyan, he spoke in a chilling voice: “Marquess Wright’s body is not yet cold, yet the murderer is living as pleased as punch.”
Countless gazes locked onto Gu Chengyan simultaneously, filled with a burning hatred as though they wanted to tear him apart and swallow him alive.
Riding on the coattails of Marquess Wenlan’s momentum, Count Su Mang stepped up and said to the Emperor with deep anxiety, “Your Majesty, how could you grant a private audience to this person? How dangerous. After all, this wretch is just a base-born commoner from the slums who happened to luck into winning a few battles, rising to become a master above others and now acting completely lawless! Please strip him of his General rank. The Pesman Empire is peaceful and serene now, and there is no place for this wretch to make use of his skills. At the very least, you must send him to a military tribunal; otherwise, if he dares to kill a noble today, tomorrow he will dare to…”
Mu Er grew thoroughly irritated hearing him throw around “commoner” at every turn and was just about to speak when Gu Chengyan suddenly let out a cold laugh.
“Marquess Wright really has a loyal pack of dogs; I wouldn’t have thought that even after his seventh-day death rites have passed, there are still people wailing for him.” Gu Chengyan swept his gaze across the room, a pitch-dark gloom flashing in the depths of his eyes as he curled his lips into a chilling sneer. “If anyone wants to see him, I don’t mind lending a helping hand.”
The crowd shuddered for no reason.
Lending a helping hand how? The implication was obvious: whoever kept pressing the issue would be killed right along with him and sent to keep Marquess Wright company!
Faced with this naked threat, the men felt anger rising in their chests, yet none dared to genuinely confront Gu Chengyan. This man was a solitary, feral wolf with no regard for principles or rules. If he were truly provoked, there was no telling if he really would make them bleed before the Emperor’s very eyes.
“Ah,” Gu Chengyan feigned deep thought, leisurely counting on his fingers. “In a few days, Marquess Wright will probably be reincarnated. Do any of you have plans to conceive a child in your households recently?”
He picked targets from the crowd like a commander calling out troops: “I heard Viscount Peisong’s younger son just got married; are they planning on having kids? Oh, right, Marquess Wenlan, I heard the Omega you keep outside is pregnant? Congratulations, do you want me to have someone come perform a ritual for you? You know, I’m most familiar with these low-class channels. If I can arrange for you to reunite with Marquess Wright in a few months, it’ll count as a fortunate event.”
Abandoning his usual aloof silence, General Gu offered his constructive suggestions with utmost reverence, thoroughly creeping everyone out—especially Marquess Wenlan, who broke out in goosebumps at the mere thought of a reincarnated Marquess Wright calling him “Daddy.”
“You…” Marquess Wenlan trembled with rage, his finger shaking.
They had simply wanted to use Marquess Wright as a pretext to get Gu Chengyan punished, not actually welcome the old bastard into their own families.
Too lazy to waste words with them, Gu Chengyan strode straight toward the exit without looking sideways. The terrifying oppressive aura compelled the nobles to involuntarily part and clear a path for him, and General Gu swaggered right out of the room.
Once his figure vanished from sight, those people snapped back to reality. Their earlier retreat made them feel a touch of shame-fueled anger, and they loudly began clamoring for Gu Chengyan to be severely punished.
“Alright, alright, everyone calm down for a moment.” His Majesty the Emperor began playing the peacemaker. What could he do? He was merely an incompetent Emperor trampled over by the very same haughty nobles who had elevated him, yet unable to shake off their grip as they treated him like a puppet. His greatest backbone had just slipped away from his leash, and as they had all heard before arriving, the raging, powerless Emperor could now only cowardly try to smooth things over.
“Everyone, I know you’re all angry, but the situation at the time was witnessed by countless people. General Gu and Marquess Wright engaged in a duel on Central Avenue, and unfortunately, Marquess Wright dropped his guard. As you know, the Empire has never prohibited duels, and I deeply regret the fall of Marquess Wright.”
Mu Er pretentiously wiped a tear, invited everyone to come inside and be seated, and continued: “This is a great tragedy, and I feel incomparable sorrow as well. Please rest assured, I am already drafting a new bill; in the near future, the Empire will ban private duels.”
“I have also ordered a golden statue of Marquess Wright to be built in front of Deep Whale Plaza, and the citizens of the Empire will forever remember him.”
Count Su Mang felt a sudden wave of foreboding, but before he could speak, Mu Er said with immense relief: “Fortunately, Marquess Wright once left behind a Deep Sea Fund, which I hear is specifically designated for erecting statues for people who have made outstanding contributions to the Empire. Otherwise, with the national treasury empty, I wouldn’t even know where to fund this expense.”
“…”
Marquess Wenlan’s complexion turned dreadful, while Count Su Mang’s well-maintained face twitched violently.
Of course, one was upset about building a statue for Wright, while the other was agonizing over that hidden slush fund being hijacked for this bullshit project.
The crucial part was that Su Mang couldn’t even voice his objection. The fund had been set up in private using black money he laundered under Marquess Wright’s name, and he had intended to quietly withdraw it after some time had passed—never expecting this stupid Emperor to wipe out the whole pot in one stroke.
Su Mang quickly composed himself and shifted his angle: “Your Majesty, you’ve seen it yourself. Even if we treat this as an accident, what about Gu Chengyan? He doesn’t show the slightest remorse or intent to reflect! He even threatened us!”
“Regarding that, I might need to explain,” Mu Er lowered the corners of his brows with a helpless expression. “It’s a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?!” Count Su Mang shrieked.
“Yes, he was just in a bad mood earlier. Try to understand—we are magnanimous people, why bother haggling with him?”
In a bad mood? Could being in a bad mood excuse his unreasonable behavior?
Did killing Marquess Wright count as just being in a bad mood too?
This kind of explanation was no different from claiming a weasel eating chickens was completely forced into it by circumstance. Of course, they wouldn’t consider themselves chickens, nor would they ever admit Gu Chengyan was a weasel.
Finding it utterly absurd, Su Mang felt Mu Er was playing them for fools.
So Mu Er had to explain further: “We’re all Alphas, and I think this is easy to understand. When an Alpha’s authority is challenged, he simply can’t afford to maintain any pretense of propriety. It’s already a blessing if he doesn’t vent his fury on innocent bystanders. There’s no helping it, Alphas after all…”
Su Mang fumed, “Your Majesty, are you insinuating something about us?”
Oh, so you finally realized.
“Of course not, dear Count, aren’t we talking about General Gu?” His Majesty Mu Er wore an innocent face. “Here is how it happened: just moments ago, General Gu learned that his sweetheart wanted to kill him.”
“You know how it is—as an Alpha, it’s impossible to remain calm in a situation like that.”
The assembled nobles exchanged blank glances. Where on earth did General Gu pick up a sweetheart?
His Majesty Mu Er shrugged, gave them a few seconds to digest the information, and then repeated with an apologetic air: “He was just in a bad mood earlier. Try to understand.”
With forty-eight hours remaining until the banquet, Geng Nuo’s restless heart simply refused to settle down. Humming a little tune, he sprawled across the bed, counting the galactic bank notes while his two little feet swung back and forth in the air.
Although he had already counted them no less than ten times, the recovered two hundred and thirteen galactic bank notes held extraordinary significance. If it weren’t for the fact that… ahem, these bills had traveled through places they shouldn’t have, Geng Nuo would have seriously wanted to plant a heavy kiss on them.
Everything was prepared; he was just waiting for the day of the banquet to arrive.
Before the banquet, General Gu probably wouldn’t return, which gave him the exact chance to conserve his physical strength while exclusively enjoying the luxurious presidential suite. Pix was running himself ragged on his feet, so he probably wouldn’t even remember that someone like him existed.
Splendid, everything was progressing smoothly and steadily.
All at once, Geng Nuo heard a commotion outside the door. Moving with lightning speed, he swept the money into his cloth bag and tossed it under the bed, executing the entire sequence fluidly in under three seconds.
Once that was done, he maintained his pose of sprawled idly across the bed and swinging his feet.
Pretending to turn around casually upon hearing the noise, he was visibly startled upon seeing the visitor.
“G-General Gu?” Before he could even process why Gu Chengyan would suddenly return, a trace of surprise—one he hadn’t even registered himself—flashed in Geng Nuo’s eyes.
Regardless of everything else, Gu Chengyan had helped him reclaim two hundred and thirteen galactic bank notes. Deep down in his mind, General Gu had already been elevated to the rank of an absolute good guy. As for those jittery, uneasy feelings, he had long since thrown them to the winds.
Unfortunately, Geng Nuo’s look of surprise took on an entirely different meaning in Gu Chengyan’s eyes.
Geng Nuo sat up, intending to get out of bed, only to have his shoulder pinned down by Gu Chengyan’s large palm, leaving him utterly immobilized. He couldn’t help asking in confusion, “What is it?”
No response was given.
Gu Chengyan’s gaze lingered on him for a long time, devoid of any discernible emotion. After a moment, he asked, “Just what kind of benefits did Pix give you to make you throw yourself at him so desperately?” The magnetic voice carried a hazy, hypnotic bewilderment, leaving Geng Nuo unable to process the question right away.
Yet when he did process it, he still failed to grasp Gu Chengyan’s meaning.
“Forget it.” Gu Chengyan seemed to have no desire to hear his answer. Applying some force to his hand, with a sudden whirl and flip, Geng Nuo found himself shoved backward onto the bed in utter bewilderment.
Propping himself up slightly, Geng Nuo met Gu Chengyan’s gaze—it was a condescending, cold stare, yet mingled with some indescribable, murky emotion. Complex and detached.
Gu Chengyan stared down at him, his brows slightly furrowed as if after deep consideration. “Let’s leave it at that.”
A final farewell.
Geng Nuo: “?”
“W-Wait…” Geng Nuo hitched his elbows against the mattress and inched backward, sensing a terrifying crisis descending upon him. Unfortunately, he was no match for the sturdy, muscular General Gu, who grabbed his ankle and gave a light yank, instantly rendering his previous evasion efforts null and void.
Gu Chengyan half-bent over, putting them nearly eye-to-eye, but the General’s gaze carried far too much oppression. After barely a second, Geng Nuo couldn’t help averting his face to look away, only to have his chin pinched and forced back around by Gu Chengyan.
Geng Nuo nervously peeked up at his expression. For this final moment, he didn’t want any unexpected mishaps; in reality, the only person capable of bringing him unexpected mishaps was this arrogant Alpha right before him.
“What are you going to do… Ngh!” Before he could finish, Gu Chengyan’s scorching breath sealed his lips, their mouths pressing tightly together as if trying to devour every last wisp of air in his lungs.