At the same time, inside the Black Market Palace—
Li You’s mechanical voice echoed faintly:
“Young Master, according to intelligence from our informants embedded in the imperial palace, Gu Qing revealed at the celebration banquet that Lan Dai is currently exploring ancient ruins alone in the eastern wasteland star sector. Several noble factions have already begun mobilizing in secret, preparing to gather forces to capture him. Additionally… the organization responsible for your resurrection appears to have ties to the cultivation world. Their experimental bases are widely distributed, suggesting long-term planning.”
Hearing this, Caesar’s thin lips curled into an amused, cold smile, a deep and unreadable glint flashing in his eyes.
“Heh… if Lan Dai truly comes from the cultivation world, these fools may not be able to take him down so easily. After all, the methods of cultivators are unpredictable, almost supernatural.” His fingers brushed lightly over the Qingluan Flower Ring, his voice carrying a trace of cruel satisfaction. “And now even the forces trying to control me have connections to that world… Interesting. Things are getting more and more interesting.”
His gaze lingered on the star map flickering across the screen, calculation flashing through his eyes as his tone turned low and steady:
“Li You, monitor the movements of those factions. Map out their main bases and troop deployments—especially their hidden strongholds.”
“Yes, Young Master.” Li You’s response rang out, cold and precise as steel.
Silence fell over the grand hall. Only the faint tapping of Caesar’s fingers against the armrest of his throne could be heard. Slowly, he closed his eyes, as if savoring the stillness before a hunt.
“Pass down the order—hold position. The Black Market will not move. Let these greedy insects charge ahead first. When they tear each other apart… I’ll be the one to draw in the net. That is the best kind of show.”
The gleam of the Qingluan Flower Ring reflected in his eyes as his thoughts drifted back a thousand years—
That night, long ago, Caesar rested inside a cave.
The walls were rough, exuding the cold scent of earth and stone. He lay on a wooden bed modeled after the Immortal Palace—something he had painstakingly crafted himself. Compared to the other female zergs in the tribe who slept on damp, freezing ground, it was a luxury.
He carefully placed the triangular communication talisman beside his pillow, his heart wavering:
“It’s so late… will the Immortal Lord even respond? But I… really want to hear his voice.”
The memory of being held by the Immortal Lord surfaced in his mind—the solid warmth of that embrace. Caesar’s face flushed as he hugged his fur pillow and rolled around on the bed in embarrassment.
By accident, he touched the talisman, his thoughts still filled with that figure. Suddenly, deep within his mind, that familiar, gentle voice sounded:
“Caesar, is something wrong?”
His mind exploded with a loud bang. Startled, he nearly rolled off the bed, blurting out incoherently:
“I… when I was hunting today, I thought it’d be nice if it could be faster!”
The moment the words left his mouth, he froze.
Damn it! Why did I say that? He only wanted to shorten hunting time so he could sneak off more often to see him!
But the Immortal Lord merely pondered briefly before introducing a concept that would later shake the entire tribe—traps.
Caesar listened, eyes shining, and immediately put it into practice the next day. From then on, besides meeting at the Immortal Palace during the day, they communicated at night through the talisman. Their discussions ranged from traps to craftsmanship, from hunting to agriculture. With these improvements, his tribe grew rapidly stronger.
One day, as he prepared to head to the Immortal Palace, several aggressive female zergs blocked his path at the cave entrance.
“Caesar!” the leader sneered, eyes full of jealousy. “We heard you’ve been offering all sorts of ideas to the chief. What—trying to use that to seduce the male zergs of the tribe?”
Laughter and mockery erupted around him.
“Who does he think he is?”
“Just a few tricks and he thinks he’s above us?”
“Probably stole those ideas! Hand over where you got them!”
One even bared her claws. “If you don’t, you’re not leaving today!”
Leaning against the cold rock wall, Caesar let out a cold laugh, his gaze sharp as a blade.
“You idiots think you can target me? How laughable.”
He raised a brow, adding with blatant provocation:
“You call that intelligence? Your jealousy’s probably burned away what little brain you had. Just a pack of barking dogs.”
The words ignited their fury instantly.
“Kill him!”
“Shut him up!”
“Take him down!”
They lunged at him in a frenzy.
But Caesar moved like a leopard—swift and precise. In moments, he had knocked them all down.
Standing over them, he sneered, “Trash like you should crawl back into a hole before you embarrass the entire tribe.”
The leader trembled with rage. “One day… I’ll surpass you!”
Caesar didn’t even spare her a glance. “Dream on. Second-rate forever.”
On the way, he ran into Julian Crom, a golden-haired military female.
“Going to see that male again?” Julian teased. “So many in the tribe want you, yet you ignore them all.”
Caesar’s voice was cold but certain: “They’re not even worth a strand of his hair.”
Julian chuckled. “Then bring him back someday. I’d like to see him.”
“I will.” Caesar’s tone was unwavering. “He’ll become my male.”
Julian only laughed. “Don’t be too sure.”
At the Immortal Palace, Caesar landed and checked the bloodied scratches he had deliberately left on himself, secretly pleased.
He adjusted his expression into one of fragile vulnerability before pushing open the door.
The Immortal Lord’s calm gaze fell on him immediately, brows knitting slightly.
“What happened to you?”
That was exactly what Caesar had been waiting for.
He staggered slightly, lowering his lashes, his voice trembling:
“Some in the tribe… were jealous… they ganged up on me…”
He peeked at the Immortal Lord’s expression—and sure enough, there was concern.
Inside, Caesar was overjoyed, but outwardly he maintained his pitiful act.
The Immortal Lord helped him sit, taking out a small porcelain bottle. “Apply this.”
Caesar panicked. “It’s just a scratch, no need—”
“Even minor injuries shouldn’t be ignored.”
Then those slender, jade-like fingers applied the medicine gently across his skin.
Each touch felt like fire.
Caesar stiffened, his heartbeat racing uncontrollably. His breathing lost all rhythm.
This wasn’t treatment—it was torture.
His golden-red eyes misted over, his face flushed. His thoughts spiraled wildly.
If he were mine… would I be the only one allowed to uncover what’s beneath those robes?
“Why are you blushing?” the Immortal Lord teased lightly.
Startled, Caesar blurted out—
“I was thinking what you’d look like without clothes—!”
Silence fell.
Horrified, he scrambled to explain, flustered and rambling.
The Immortal Lord only laughed softly, warmth returning to his gaze.
Later, when Caesar asked if he could move in—
The Immortal Lord smiled. “You’re always welcome.”
In that moment, it felt like fireworks exploded in Caesar’s chest.
That night, he used his usual excuse of being afraid of the dark to stay over.
“…Won’t you get tired sitting there?” he asked.
“No.”
“…Then… do you want to sleep together?”
The Immortal Lord only smiled gently. “You should rest.”
Though disappointed, Caesar fell asleep with a faint smile.
The next morning, he returned to the tribe in high spirits.
After packing, he took only what mattered most—the small wooden box containing the talisman.
Before leaving, he looked back at the two-story house he had built himself, wrapped in vines and flowers.
A quiet vow formed in his heart:
One day… when he becomes mine, I’ll bring him here.
With that thought, his wings spread wide.
Like a streak of lightning, he shot into the sky—flying toward the place where that person was.