The phone on the table vibrated. Bai Chunian had been dozing with his head propped on one hand. He jolted awake, rubbed his eyes, and answered the call.
It was Lan Bo.
“Boss? Oh, how are things over there? Are you and Jin-shu okay?” Bai Chunian forced himself to sound alert.
Over the past week, whenever he was conscious, he forced himself to plan operations. But he couldn’t bear to inject the Pro-Union factor yet—wasting even that precious milliliter felt unacceptable. So he kept using dissociation agents instead. As a result, he had few truly clear moments, and could only squeeze out planning time during brief periods of wakefulness.
Yet Yan Yi still noticed: “How much did you smoke? Your voice is completely hoarse.”
“I…” Bai Chunian glanced at the ashtray beside him. It was full, so he had simply switched to using a trash bin at his feet. Last week, when he had a moment of clarity, he left Han Xingqian’s villa and moved back to his usual small apartment. The villa was too quiet. In this small apartment, he could hear the elevator going up and down, neighbors walking dogs—those sounds made him feel more at ease.
“Jin-shu already quit smoking. Don’t go too far,” Yan Yi gently lectured him.
“Hehe, got it, got it.” Bai Chunian picked up a waterproof pen and spun it between his fingers, sitting cross-legged on the chair while talking, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Is Lan Bo there?”
“He went out to handle something for me. My body… isn’t convenient to go out right now.”
“You didn’t take that Pro-Union injection?”
“I did, I did.” Bai Chunian lied without hesitation.
Only then did Yan Yi relax slightly. “Alright. Help me pass a message to Lan Bo. He ordered mermen from the strait to land and assist in clearing the rampaging necromantic summoning entities. It helped a lot. The Prime Minister also wants to thank him in person.”
“He doesn’t care about that kind of thing.”
Yan Yi had just finished dealing with the aftermath over there and was exhausted. He comforted Bai Chunian a few more sentences, and they chatted briefly. When it was time to end the call, Bai Chunian hesitated and called out, “Chairman.”
“Mm?”
“Thank you.” Bai Chunian smiled.
Yan Yi paused, then gave a soft chuckle: “Silly kid. I’m going to wash up and change clothes. I’ll hang up first.”
“Mm.”
After the call ended, Bai Chunian sat holding his phone in a daze for a while, then dialed another number.
It was the training time for the PBB unit. He caught He Suowei briefly during a break in training. Bai Chunian only used the call to chat about random things, taking up their training time until he got scolded. He then hung up with a grin, and went on to call the instructors and kids on Ant Colony Island—nothing important, just boredom, and a desire to tease them a little.
Until the call disconnected and the phone returned to the normal home screen, Bai Chunian finally set his phone on the table in a very good mood and lay sprawled over the desktop to message Lan Bo.
He sat at the drafting table inside the secret armory in the apartment bedroom. Shackles made of Dead Sea Heartstone locked his wrists, ankles, and neck, while an entire Dead Sea Heartstone beast cage enclosed the outside of the desk, confining him tightly within this tiny space.
Lan Bo had also just arrived at the IOA Alliance headquarters and stepped out of the elevator, wearing Bai Chunian’s clothes—a loose basketball tank top and shorts, a baseball cap worn backward, messy golden curls brushing against his neck, and a backpack slung across one shoulder. Walking through the stern, bustling Alliance building, he looked completely out of place—though that beautiful face of his was equally out of place among all the ordinary ones.
His phone vibrated.
Lan Bo slowed his pace and glanced at the message.
randi: “Wife, I like you soooo much.”
Still able to send messages—looks like he wasn’t suffering too badly.
Lan Bo chuckled softly and sent back a voice message.
“milayer. (Baby.)”
Then he slipped the phone back into his pocket.
He had just returned from Aphid Island. At Bai Chunian’s request, he had brought the Promotive Compound to meet the Formless Infiltrator.
The Formless Infiltrator had replicated a red vial identical in color to the Promotive Compound out of thin air, but after testing, only the color matched. Composition-wise, it had almost nothing in common.
Xia Xiaochong shook his head helplessly.
“I can only replicate things with known molecular structures. Do you have a breakdown of the drug’s ingredients?”
If they had that, the medical association could have reverse-engineered it already. There would’ve been no need to make a special trip to Aphid Island to ask for help.
Returning empty-handed, Lan Bo came back to IOA headquarters. By the time he arrived at the agreed meeting room, two people were already waiting inside.
Lin Deng and Domino had been living here all this time. Though under IOA protection and free to move around headquarters—and able to leave the building if they filed a request—they rarely went out.
The moment Lan Bo entered, Domino enthusiastically hurried over with sweet coffee and freshly baked crescent cookies, the butterfly antennae on his head trembling happily.
“Your Majesty, please sit, please sit.”
Domino swept the outline notebook, fountain pen, and half-finished manuscript off the table in one motion to clear a spacious spot for him.
Ever since the attack at Shaojin Manor, Domino had suffered severe injuries. Though the IOA Medical Association had managed to save his life, the butterfly wings—an extension of his gland cells—had been torn apart, and his gland suffered devastating damage.
The innate ability of butterfly glands was fantasy. Most butterfly gland users worked in artistic or freelance fields, excelling at—and loving—beautiful creation above all else. To Domino, losing his gland was worse than disability or lifelong paralysis. When he had lain despairing in the hospital bed, it was Lan Bo who had repaired his wings.
Domino affectionately hooked onto Lan Bo’s arm, piling the specially prepared snacks all over the table before unlocking a drawer and taking out a thick stack of densely written papers, setting them in front of him.
“Actually, Bai Chunian told us about the situation at the 109 Research Institute headquarters a long time ago, so I started investigating ages back.” Domino flipped through several stapled bundles of documents. “This past week, following Bai Chunian’s action plan, I organized ten infiltration routes into the institute headquarters. I guarantee—even Ellen herself couldn’t come up with an eleventh workable route.”
Domino’s J1 ability, Chain Reaction, could completely alter the direction of events through even the smallest action. At the same time, it could arrange actions into the sequence most likely to lead to the best outcome.
Lan Bo still couldn’t understand much of it.
But over the past few days, he had learned more written language than in the previous two hundred seventy years combined. Never before had he been so desperate to learn something, nor so frustrated with his shortcomings in logic and big-picture thinking.
While he flipped through Domino’s files, the door was nudged open with a kick.
Crawler entered carrying a box stuffed with rolled blueprints. The engineering drafts were huge, making him look even smaller by comparison. The first thing anyone noticed, aside from his size, was the glaring fluorescent yellow hoodie emblazoned with a black worm logo.
“The maps are printed.” Crawler dropped the box onto the floor, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and sat on the sofa with his feet propped on the edge of the box. “I pulled several all-nighters.”
Crawler’s M2 ability, Earth Parallel Plane, could convert physical targets into copy data and then into text, producing detailed analysis of the target. Any objectively existing nonliving object could be pulled from an inventory and examined in full detail.
He had extracted the internal structural blueprints of the 109 Research Institute headquarters, along with overhead maps of the interior layout and furnishings. But that was the limit—he couldn’t explain what each room or area was actually used for.
Fortunately, Lin Deng had worked at the institute headquarters for quite a while. Even though the décor and arrangement had changed over the years, the overall structure remained mostly the same. Based on memory alone, Lin Deng added nearly thirty thousand words of annotations to the maps.
This infiltration mission to steal the Promotive Compound from the 109 Research Institute headquarters would never receive written approval from IOA.
Meaning: no backup, no equipment.
Everything—from preparation to execution—would rely solely on themselves.
Lan Bo stacked Domino’s files together with Crawler’s blueprints and stuffed them into his backpack.
He would bring them back for Xiaobai to review.
Domino clung to him, reluctant to let him leave, packing homemade cookies and pastries into paper bags for him to take along.
As Lan Bo stepped out, Crawler called after him.
“Over the years, countless test subjects escaped—or were sold out—from the institute. Plenty wanted revenge and tried going back.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Every one of them failed. Breaking into the institute is unimaginably difficult.”
Lan Bo glanced sideways at him.
“That’s because I haven’t gone yet.”
Crawler tilted his head slightly upward to look at him—mostly because of the height difference.
“You’re not that confident either, are you?”
Lan Bo tightened his grip on the backpack strap.
True.
He didn’t have much confidence either.
“You could try asking Satan for a divination,” Crawler suggested. “At least it’s psychological comfort.”
“Divination?”
Lan Bo scoffed.
He had always been someone who could stir storms with a wave of his hand. Since when had he ever pinned his hopes on something so mysterious and intangible?
As Lan Bo exited the Alliance building, he happened to run into Bi Lanxing, who had just returned from delivering documents. Bi Lanxing sized up his outfit from head to toe before finally recognizing him.
“Lan Bo? What are you doing here? Did Brother Chu come back too?”
“I’m just here to pick something up. Brat, mind your own business.” Lan Bo lowered the brim of his cap and hurried out with his head down.
Bai Chunian didn’t want these younger kids to know about the plan, so he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. Up to now, only Doctor Han knew what they were planning.
Watching Lan Bo’s hurried retreating figure, Bi Lanxing frowned in confusion and lowered his head to send a message to Lu Yan and Xiao Xun.
As usual, Lan Bo took the subway home.
When the train passed the church stop, he originally had no intention of getting off. Yet just as the doors were about to close, something compelled him to step out anyway.
Very few people got off at this station. The subway platform felt empty. After thinking for a moment, Lan Bo headed toward the church.
This road happened to overlook the seaside park.
He saw a fenced-off construction site inside the park. In the middle of the enclosure stood a mermaid statue, surrounded by an unfinished circular pool that hadn’t yet been tiled. It looked like they were turning it into a wishing fountain.
Lan Bo glanced at the mermaid statue.
The fish tail was a long, narrow pointed tail.
It looked unmistakably like him.
Even though the fountain wasn’t finished yet, a crowd had already gathered around it. They dug coins out of their pockets and tossed them into the still-empty basin, clasping their hands and shutting their eyes as they murmured prayers with solemn devotion.
Too far away to hear what they were saying, Lan Bo still knew exactly the sort of things humans liked to beg for.
Watching their pretentious expressions filled him with irritation.
And yet—
A sudden warmth bloomed in his chest.
He tugged at his collar and looked inside. The wound where the Dead Sea Heartstone blade had pierced his chest seemed to be healing faster.
If a god harmed their believers, they suffered backlash tenfold.
Likewise, the prayers of believers healed a god’s wounds.
Pressing a hand to the injury, Lan Bo looked at those somewhat foolish-looking humans with surprise.
The church in Aphid City wasn’t built in a bustling district. The surroundings were quiet, and it wasn’t far from the coast. Solemn organ music drifted out from inside.
After Eris’s previous attack had destroyed part of the church wall, the place had simply been renovated. As Lan Bo walked in, sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows and spilled onto the floor in flowing, crystalline colors, lending the space a translucent beauty.
At this hour, there was almost no one inside.
Satan sat alone in the middle of the empty church, a Bible resting across his knees as his fingers brushed gently over the organ keys.
Lan Bo’s footsteps echoed through the sanctuary.
They shouldn’t have gone unnoticed.
Yet Satan made no move to rise and greet him.
Lan Bo casually took a seat, sweeping his gaze over the towering statues and divine figures painted across the domed ceiling. As someone of equal standing, he showed no trace of awe.
On the table in front of him sat one hundred black cards embossed in gold.
The music stopped.
At last, Satan spoke.
“If Bai Chunian isn’t here, I can’t calculate how different routes will unfold. I can only divine whether each path leads to life or death.” He paused. “Looks like Bai Chunian can’t make it. Then make your choice.”
Lan Bo raised a brow.
“You know why I came?”
Satan valued words too much to waste them explaining irrelevant matters.
After a moment’s thought, Lan Bo pulled Domino’s documents from his bag and placed them on the table.
“Then predict the life or death of these ten routes.”
Satan replied, “There are one hundred cards before you. As you recite each route in your mind, draw a card. If you draw an angel card, there is hope of survival. If you draw a devil card, it means certain death. Each choice allows three draws.”
Lan Bo understood the rules.
He picked up the first file, silently reciting:
“Infiltrate through the institute’s main entrance.”
Then he drew one card.
The card flipped itself over.
A grinning goat-headed devil appeared on the surface, horrifying to behold.
Lan Bo drew three times in a row.
All devil cards.
Looks like entering through the front entrance wouldn’t work.
He marked an X over the first file and passed on the route.
Picking up the second document, he silently repeated:
“Infiltrate through the underground level.”
His hand hovered hesitantly in the air before finally selecting a card.
Devil.
Three draws.
Three devils.
Second route—eliminated.
Lan Bo grabbed the third file.
Unwilling to believe it, he flipped over three cards at once.
All devils.
Now he felt like he was being toyed with.
Narrowing his eyes, he looked up at Satan.
“How many angel cards are even in this deck? How many devils?”
Satan answered calmly.
“I don’t know. These divination cards change according to the event you’re asking about.”
Lan Bo drew in a deep breath.
Suppressing his frustration, he continued one route at a time.
Nine routes later—
Not once had he drawn an angel.
No matter how he used Koi Blessing while drawing, nothing changed. Those eerie devil smiles kept staring back at him, driving him mad from the bottom of his heart.
Only the final route remained.
Infiltrate through the institute’s testing chamber.
Lan Bo steadied himself for a long time before finally mustering the courage.
Silently reciting the last route, his trembling fingertips hovered uncertainly in the air, reaching forward only to recoil several times.
The first card.
Devil.
His heart trembled with it.
He withdrew his hand, shut his eyes, took several deep breaths, then quickly flipped the second card.
Devil.
The hateful goat-faced grin nearly suffocated him.
Silently, Satan took a step back.
Lan Bo exploded.
Rage surged violently from his chest. He shot to his feet and overturned the table in one motion, roaring:
“You dare mess with me?! There aren’t any angels in here!”
Never before had he lost control like this.
The overturned table flew through the air, smashing exactly where Satan had been standing moments earlier and blasting a crater into the floor.
The divination cards rose into the air.
Perfectly aligned, they floated in formation around Lan Bo.
Ninety-nine devil cards with grotesque smiles let out shrill, chilling laughter.
Only one angel card remained—
Its white wings wrapped tightly around itself.
Satan held the Bible in his hands and said calmly, “I wasn’t toying with you. This is your tribulation and punishment.”
Lan Bo let out a cold laugh, the documents in his hand crinkling loudly under his grip.
“And who exactly is qualified to punish me?”
Satan replied, “No one can punish you, great King. Born a god, you were meant to be impartial. You are only atoning for the selfishness that flashed through your mind when you once scorned all living beings and indulged too deeply in love.”