An hour ago.
“General Gu, are you already on your way? Today you are the guest of honor, and everyone is waiting for you!” Pixiu’s obsequious voice came through the terminal, his tone alone enough to picture his grinning face.
The agreed-upon time had already passed, yet Gu Chengayan had still not arrived. The guest of honor was always fashionably late, and as for why Pixiu had the nerve to rush him, it was naturally because the person standing behind him was growing impatient.
Indifferent to the pressure, Gu Chengayan offered a perfunctory hum. “Already on the way.”
“Alright, alright! Old Pei will be waiting right here.”
The exact moment the terminal hung up, both sides initiated their final plans targeting one another.
On Pixiu’s end, he tucked away his fawning smile, a trace of cold mockery lurking in his gaze. Turning around, he plastered a smile back onto his face to address another person. “Young Master Wright, rest assured, today will certainly succeed. Soon, Gu Chengayan will become the sharpest blade in our hands.”
Young Master Wright’s facial features strongly resembled those of Marquis Wright, though he was not the Marquis’s son, but his nephew. Young as he was, he was a man of considerable means, and the Wright family title would inevitably fall into this young man’s hands before long.
Drawing Gu Chengayan into the fold had been his proposal from the start.
The other distinguished guests waiting in attendance were deeply dissatisfied with Gu Chengayan’s tardiness, their words dripping with disdain for the military brute from the lower class.
“Everyone, please remain calm.” Young Master Wright accepted a glass of champagne, lifting it high. “All good things take time. Since we have already waited this long, what harm is there in waiting just a bit longer?” He turned to point toward an unopened bottle of wine behind him, which looked exceedingly expensive. “Today, we drink together precisely so that General Gu can taste true fine wine from high society. In the future, he will be our best ally and most loyal partner. Since that is the case, why not show a little more tolerance?”
The underlying implication of these words caused the gathered nobles to stir slightly, their private schemes already clicking away in their minds.
Had His Majesty Mo Er been present, he might have noticed that the people here bore a striking resemblance to the nobles who had gone to poison his ears the other day, though virtually none of them were faces he recognized. This indicated that while they belonged to the nobility, they were all distant collateral branches, lacking even the qualifications to enter the palace and have an audience with the Emperor.
The brilliant lights rendered the resplendent banquet hall even more decadent and lofty, dazzling the eyes to the point of blindness. Beneath the glittering facade surged hidden undercurrents; the nobles standing within the hall conversed with elegance, their minds miles away amidst the clinking of glasses.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows lay endless darkness.
Several miles away, General Gu’s spacecraft flew slowly over the sky of the city, flanked closely by several pitch-black stealth mechs under the shroud of darkness.
Gu Chengayan leaned his head against his hand, casually toying with a lighter.
His cigar box had been missing ever since he lent his coat out that day. He hadn’t told a soul, so no one yet knew his cigar box was gone—nor, naturally, had anyone prepared a new one.
He always tasted everything superficially; smoke was no exception.
Wei Kong submitted a report. “General, as of now, confirmed civilian deaths in noble backyards stand at five hundred and forty-two, with three hundred and twenty-one unidentified, and five… rescued.” He paused briefly, as this data was not yet the final result after a thorough investigation.
Which meant the death toll might still continue to rise.
Gu Chengayan lowered his brow, his expression dark and obscure. “There are still too many civilians in the empire.”
Not far away, the screen before Wei Lu displayed the topographical map of the Mad Shark Club, with several locations marked in red and others in green.
He turned back. “General, it has been confirmed.”
Gu Chengayan asked, “How much farther?”
“One final kilometer.”
“Good.” Gu Chengayan nodded. “Tell them we are here.”
Half an hour ago.
The spacecraft Polaris suddenly emitted a blinding light, capable of penetrating several thousand meters. Almost instantly, the people inside the banquet hall realized Gu Chengayan had arrived.
They had truly waited long enough.
Glancing out the windows one after another, the dazzling light was too harsh to look at directly, yet it failed to conceal the excitement in their eyes—a fierce, ambitious elation, accompanied by grins so wide they bordered on grotesque.
Young Master Wright stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, the glare forcing him to squint, yet he still raised his wine glass in the direction of the spacecraft cutting through the darkness, murmuring with a smile, “Welcome, General Gu.”
This banquet was merely an elaborately prepared trap. They pretended to be warm and welcoming to greet Gu Chengayan, treating him to doll-like Omegas designed to make an Alpha indulge.
Word had it that one of them was a Beta.
Naturally, that would not be enough to satisfy him; it would only leave him with a gnawing sense of emptiness. At that point, they would present the true gift: he would believe he had found true love, his will would no longer be his own, and the formidable General Gu Chengayan would obey their every command.
“—Our most loyal…”
“Dog.”
The moment the words fell, several curved rays of light struck the building. These beams were far dimmer than the light projected from the spacecraft, leaving everyone unaware of what they signified.
One of the curved beams shot straight toward the banquet hall, coming dangerously close to the floor-to-ceiling window in front of Young Master Wright before he finally made out what it was.
The shape of a micro-missile reflected in his pupils, and terror instantly swarmed across his face. Young Master Wright had only enough time to turn his head and roar, “Hit the deck!” In the fraction of a second, the missile shattered the floor-to-ceiling window and plunged straight into the banquet hall.
“Boom!”
Successive explosions rang out, smoke and fire weaving between the floors like soaring dragons.
Failing to dodge in time, Young Master Wright was covered in blood across half his body. Numbed by the pain, he could not tell for a moment where he was injured.
Crawling on the ground, he roared, “Traitors! Kill him! Gu Chengayan, that dog, has betrayed us!”
Unfortunately, no one answered him. The nobles in the banquet hall had been caught in the blast waves, lying prone across the floor, while those still able to stand stumbled and shrieked as they fled outward.
“An alliance was never formed, so how can there be betrayal?”
“My, oh my, isn’t this Young Master Wright?” A fully armored figure stepped in through the main entrance, instantly locking onto the lingering Young Master Wright. Walking over and bending down, he lifted the outer layer of his faceplate, revealing an inner transparent visor for dual protection—though it was more than enough for Young Master Wright to make out his face.
“Remember me? We met at Marquis Wright’s funeral.”
Young Master Wright spat out a mouthful of bloody froth. “Lowly vermin… Gu Chengayan leading you dogs who do not know your masters, daring to move against us—do you know the consequences…”
“Now, now, you cannot put it that way,” Wei Lu straightened up leisurely. “How can you call us dogs? If you insist on the analogy, we should be hyenas.”
“Quite ferocious, aren’t we?” Wei Lu said with a smile, sounding as though he were merely making casual small talk. Then, shifting his tone, he added, “As for consequences… Marquis Wright’s seventh-day mourning has already passed, did you see any consequences?”
With a grin obnoxious enough to punch, he added, “Didn’t I swagger right in to offer condolences on behalf of our General?”
Young Master Wright spat another mouthful of blood.
“The empire, His Majesty, the entire noble class, will not let you go… You scum!”
“Is that so? Numerically speaking, the lower-class populace vastly outnumbers the nobles at the top of the pyramid. As the saying goes, water can float a boat, but it can also capsize it; the rise and fall of dynasties is never without the oppressed common folk rising up in revolt. Oh, you speak of suppression?” Wei Lu shrugged. “I am actually quite looking forward to it, pity you will not live to see it.”
Snapping his fingers, he watched several humming machines roll in to begin cleaning up the battlefield.
“Rest assured, everyone!” Wei Lu stood in the center of the banquet hall, stepping onto a fractured stone slab as he spread his arms and shouted loudly, “After today, we will be visiting your respective estates one by one to deliver obituaries!” His tone was bright and lifted, sounding remarkably unhinged—the picture of a classic villain.
Those already on the verge of death lost all will to live upon hearing those words.
Though there were exceptions.
Grievously wounded, Young Master Wright somehow found the strength to drag himself all the way across the floor, propping up his upper body to grab Wei Lu’s ankle, gasping out his final breaths.
“Save me… Save me!” Even now, Young Master Wright’s words sounded like a command.
Wei Lu lowered his eyelids to gaze down without even dipping his head, remaining silent.
Losing his strength momentarily, Young Master Wright’s grip on Wei Lu’s ankle slipped for a second before he caught at his trouser leg.
“Save me, tell me what you want to investigate and I will give it to you. I have everything you want!”
Though Young Master Wright’s vision was dimming, he remained certain Wei Lu would save him. Injured and half-dead as he was, entering a medical pod would restore him to peak condition in under five minutes.
Yes, current technological standards had reached that level—though, of course, technology of that caliber served only the nobility.
Wei Lu couldn’t help bursting into laughter.
“You know what, Young Master Wright?” He wiped the smile from his face, his expression turning terrifyingly cold. “What scum from the lower classes like us detest most is when you nobles use a single sentence to ruin all our painstaking efforts just one step away from success.”
“Dream on. From another perspective, your deaths do not impede our investigation; if anything, it might let us operate with freer hands.” Wei Lu raised his foot and kicked Young Master Wright back down, casting a disgusted glance at the bloody footprint on his trouser leg.
“Do you know? The nobles destined to perish here today number a mere thirty-seven, with sixty-two civilian accomplices. But no matter how the numbers are tallied, they cannot make up for the thousands of innocent lives that perished in your noble backyards!”
“Be careful.” Wei Lu instructed the cleaning machines with a solemn expression. “Do not vacuum up the severed limbs and debris; use the clamps to place them into the recycling bins, otherwise it will be terribly difficult to clean. Understood?”
The machines: “”
Scanning the room, Pixiu was nowhere to be found.
At the same time, several compact mechs pierced through the thick smoke, landing upon the pre-designated green markers. Upon impact, they activated their protective shields, rendering the interior immune to any explosive interference, and disassembled into countless mechanical hands to begin searching for evidence.
Wei Hai followed one of them to a flat-roofed bungalow behind the club building. The door was secured with an old-fashioned lock; drawing his micro-explosive, Wei Hai smashed it open with a single blow.
Upon opening the door, the scene that greeted his eyes left him stunned for a moment.
First came a sweet, cloying Omega pheromone scent. Several bruised and battered Omega servers cowered in a corner, flushed with heat, while not far away, a nearly naked Omega writhed and rubbed against the floor, eyes glazed with a seductive haze, though not in a normal state of heat.
This symptom was painfully familiar, matching the five survivors they had rescued earlier to a tee.
And it was driving the other Omegas nearby into a near-heat state as well.
Waving the air before his face, Wei Hai was glad they had each brought a tube of suppressants to counter special circumstances. Ignoring the group, he walked further inside to carefully inspect the rows of machinery within.
The compact mech emitted a clicking beep beside a machine. Stepping over, Wei Hai picked up a capsule from the dormant device, a look of astonishment crossing his face.
“Oh my, General, look what I found.”
Fifteen minutes ago.
The Polaris hovered mid-air, with Gu Chengayan commanding from within, overlooking every corner of the Mad Shark via the massive screen. The explosions were directionally targeted at a few select locations, but it was enough to plunge the entire club building into smoke and fire. Meanwhile, the crucial locations identified in prior investigations were all sheltered beneath the dome shields activated by the mechs.
Aside from Wei Kong, who remained behind to hold the fort, the other two had each led men toward the three most critical targets—the banquet hall, the mysterious bungalow, and Pixiu’s office. All remaining locations were being searched by compact mechs.
Shortly after, Wei Kong reported the frontline situation to Gu Chengayan: Wei Lu reported missing Pixiu in the banquet hall and was preparing to sweep the office; Wei Hai had discovered the drug used to control Omegas inside the mysterious bungalow, along with a fresh “victim,” and requested permission to pack it up for study.
Gu Chengayan approved Wei Hai’s request, switched the surveillance screen, and instructed Wei Lu to bypass the office and have the mechs move in to crate everything out instead. As for Pixiu…
Mid-sentence while switching screens, Gu Chengayan seemed to spot something, pausing for two seconds.
“General?”
Offering a calm hum devoid of any strange inflection, Gu Chengayan continued, “Go block him at the backyard landing pad. All spacecraft have already been disabled by the advance mechs, he cannot escape.”
“Yes.”
The instant the communication cut off, all signals abruptly severed. Wei Kong stiffened in alarm, scrambling to the command console to restore the system.
Gu Chengayan watched the patrol mechs belonging to the Mad Shark outside plummet out of the sky in a synchronized loss of control as he stood up. “What is happening?”
Without halting his fingers, Wei Kong inspected the system while replying, “Someone is jamming the entire system. Fortunately, it is a relatively simple code and easy to remove. Our system sustained brief collateral interference.”
Ten minutes ago.
Signals had been restored, though the Mad Shark’s internal system remained down, giving Wei Kong an opening to infiltrate the entire network.
The relatively simple code had taken him five minutes to completely dismantle, leaving fine beads of sweat dotting Wei Kong’s brow. Letting his guard down during decryption meant stumbling straight into a trap. He wondered aloud, “Who on earth has the time and capability to pull this off right now?”
Especially since it targeted the Mad Shark system; their signal had merely seemed like collateral damage.
Narrowing his eyes, Gu Chengayan commanded in a deep voice, “Keep Wei Hai and Wei Lu on high alert.”
“Yes.”
After restoring the system, Wei Kong pulled up the surveillance footage. A sixteen-grid split evenly covered the screen—merely a fraction of the total view. Everything appeared normal on the feed, and just as Wei Kong was about to switch to the next set of feeds, Gu Chengayan reached out from behind and pulled up the footage of a corridor—it was completely empty.
Looking entirely blank, Wei Kong had no idea what the General was searching for. Expressionless, Gu Chengayan tapped twice, then pulled up several surrounding camera feeds near that location.
Catching glimpses of room numbers flashing by, Wei Kong realized he was tracking someone specific—he spotted the Beta server.
Casting a cautious sideways glance at the General’s face, Wei Kong knew most targets during this sweep were slated for immediate execution, and this Beta server’s name was notably absent from the short list of VIPs slated to be kept alive.
He had heard Wei Hai mention that the General had no intention of sparing his life.
Without a word, Gu Chengayan silently enlarged the feed. The tiny square instantly expanded to fill the entire screen: the frail Beta was clutching something tightly to his chest, fleeing in panic while dodging this way and that. The minuscule surveillance lens followed his every move without being detected. Even a close inspection would write it off as airborne dust raised by the fire; in the frantic dash for survival, he would remain unnoticed—yet the lens faithfully recorded Geng Nuo’s panicked, helpless face.
He looked as though he were on the verge of tears, Wei Kong thought; perhaps the next second he would be swallowed by the sea of flames.
There were no green-marked locations on the second floor, meaning the fire on this level was the most severe. Trapped in the thick smoke with no exit in sight, the Beta wandered like he was caught in a ghost maze. Oxygen was growing increasingly scarce, and given the suddenness of the disaster, he likely lacked the time to grab a wet towel to cover his nose and mouth. Nor did he seem to know that the best way to escape a fire was to duck low or crawl on hands and knees, since smoke and particulates always hovered upward where the air was thinnest.
The spreading flames had already penned him into a corner.
So, had the General changed his mind?
Attempting to read the General’s thoughts and preparing to ask whether he should retrieve the server named Geng Nuo, Wei Kong watched as the General straightened up.
“I will be stepping out.” With no discernible emotion on his face, he turned and gave a calm instruction: “Fran, follow me.”
A minute ago.
Walking alone into a sea of fire was a perilous undertaking. Though Fran had provided Gu Chengayan with protective gear, Wei Kong remained deeply worried. He wanted to offer remote guidance, but the latter ruthlessly cut the communication.
Amidst the chaotic blaze, Gu Chengayan retrieved his lost cigar box.
It had suffered heavy damage, rendering it completely unrecognizable.
Rubbing his thumb across its surface, he lifted his head to spot the figure he was tracking not far away.
Why looking so aggrieved?
Crying, too.
Was he regretting siding with Pixiu in wrongdoing?
He was just about to step forward when that frail, helpless figure—teetering on the edge in the inferno—turned around with a pale face, looking utterly terrified as he used his last ounce of strength to ask—
“Are you here to kill me?”
Crackle, the sound of popping sparks.
The trembling, tearful voice pierced straight through the noise to reach Gu Chengayan’s ears, as clear as if the boy were whispering directly against his lobe.
Sounding even sweeter than when he cried in bed.
Gu Chengayan thought: If this little fellow died here, he would probably never get to hear such a lovely voice again.
What a coincidence; he wanted to listen a bit longer.
“Fran,” Gu Chengayan murmured.
The intelligent optical computer easily grasped its master’s intent, shifting with a metallic click into an anesthetic rifle.
Lifting the weapon, Gu Chengayan curved his lips with mischievous amusement and replied, “Yes.”
Wei Hai and Wei Lu returned to the spacecraft loaded with spoils, only to find Wei Kong holding a finger to his lips, frantically signaling them to keep quiet.
An eerie stillness permeated the Polaris. The moment Wei Hai and Wei Lu stepped into the cabin, they felt the air grow noticeably thin.
Then they spotted General Gu seated in his usual chair, holding someone in his arms.
The person was wrapped entirely in a blanket, half their face buried away in the wool, yet the two recognized who it was at a single glance.
What is going on here? Wei Lu’s eyes asked in confusion.
Wei Hai raised an eyebrow and shook his head.
Wei Kong looked straight ahead, minding his own business.
This puzzle persisted all the way home.
Leaving the cleanup to subordinates, they had received a communication request from the Emperor on the route back. While the other two hesitated and waited for instructions, Wei Hai rolled his eyes and took it upon himself to patch the audio call through for the General, leaving the video feed off.
“Huh? What is going on over there, why can’t I see the feed?” Mo Er’s confused voice came through.
“Nothing,” Gu Chengayan replied calmly. “Report to me like this.”
Wei Hai’s unauthorized action had indeed hit the mark. He proudly swished his imaginary fox tail, while Wei Lu and Wei Kong shot him looks of disdain.
Gu Chengayan briefly reported the night’s operational results to Mo Er. The bodies had been left in the plaza outside the perimeter of the Mad Shark Club, already taken over by the imperial palace. What remained was compiling and analyzing the confiscated data, continuing the investigation to locate survivors in noble backyards, and…
He glanced down at the unconscious Beta in his arms. The anesthesia was highly effective, preventing him from waking up even if a war broke out outside. Yet he looked more like he was sleeping soundly, unaware of the world around him, and Gu Chengayan did not even realize he was intentionally lowering his voice.
“And what?” On the other end of the line, Mo Er did not hear the rest and asked out of curiosity.
Gu Chengayan replied blandly, “Nothing.”
“You are far too calm, buddy. We just pulled off a job this big, and you aren’t even a little excited?” His Majesty Mo Er’s enthusiastic voice came through. “My people are currently tallying the number of nobles killed tonight—no, unfortunately deceased. I told the Minister of Propaganda, I’ll write the obituary myself. You know why I’m writing it myself?”
“…”
“Don’t you think this reads just like a death list I penned?!”
“…”
“Hello? Anyone there?”
Gu Chengayan said, “Watch out you don’t overplay your hand and leave the Empress to wipe your backside again.”
“!” Mo Er had a flash of inspiration, hitting upon a new way to act petty. “Thanks!”
Gu Chengayan: “…………”
“Well, you busy yourself, I won’t disturb you…” Just as Mo Er was about to hastily hang up, Gu Chengayan abruptly spoke up: “Send a doctor you trust to my estate. Now, bring diagnostic equipment capable of a full-body scan.”
“Are you injured?”
“No. Something else.”
“Fine, I’ll have someone head over right now.” Asking no further questions, Mo Er ended the call to arrange for a doctor.
Arriving back at the General’s estate, the steward spotted the spacecraft landing and hurried forward with attendants to welcome him. The General disliked such tedious formalities, but the steward always insisted it was a ritual belonging to the noble class. As the hatch opened, the steward was about to offer pleasantries over the General’s early return—presuming everything had gone smoothly—only to see the General step off the craft carrying someone in his arms and head straight inside.
The steward hurriedly gave chase, inquiring whether a guest room should be prepared.
“No.” Gu Chengayan didn’t slow his pace. “When the doctor sent by the palace arrives shortly, lead him straight to my bedroom. You all do not need to follow.”
A jolt of shock rippled through the steward, though he quickly answered in the affirmative.
Carrying the person upstairs, the steward gazed in shock at Wei Hai and the other two. Wei Hai and Wei Lu turned to look at Wei Kong; knowing the whole story but unwilling to serve as the source of gossip, Wei Kong opted instead to instigate an information leak from the artificial intelligence.
Excitedly hopping about, Fran piped up: “I know, I know!”
Its voice boomed at top volume. Everyone thought it spelled trouble. Sure enough, the next second it was forcibly shut down.
“…”
They turned their heads once more to look at Wei Kong.
Wei Kong: “…………”