Yan Yi stood on the shoreline, a broken long blade dragging in his hand. Occasionally, waves rolled in, carrying fine crushed shells, washing over his bare ankles and carrying away blood and dirt.
Countless gun barrels were aimed at him, yet no one dared to pull the trigger.
No one dared challenge an unprecedented S4-level evolved being. If he wished, even a single movement of his finger could easily destroy what was already a half-ruined city.
Yan Yi gave a calm order.
“Lower your weapons.”
His voice was soft, but it carried an overwhelming pressure, seeping into everyone’s ears like a cold force that shattered the last line of resistance in their minds.
At first, one person lowered his gun. No one blamed him. Then more followed, dropping their weapons one after another, until the entire security team had surrendered their arms, which were quickly collected by high-level Omegas.
A lion-emblem helicopter roared down from the sky. Dr. Zhong, pale-faced, led several emergency physicians down the rope ladder in a hurry, immediately beginning to stop bleeding and treat the wounded. The eldest son of the Xia family had a bulletproof vest draped over his arm, anxiously scanning the surroundings for his troublesome younger brother.
Several Omegas with massive spotted fish tails climbed onto the rocks beside Yan Yi. The leader among them held up a Walther sniper rifle with both hands, respectfully offering it to him, looking at him with regret.
Yan Yi gently inhaled the salty sea breeze. He could feel the lingering fragrance of narcissus in the wind fading away completely—not drifting farther, but disappearing from this world entirely.
He slung the gun that once belonged to Lu Shangjin onto his back, pushed through the crowd, and walked into the base under the watch of PBB soldiers lining both sides. As he advanced, the armed soldiers on either side retreated like receding tides. Alpha beasts of immense strength were forced, at this moment, to submit.
Inside the control room, chairs were overturned and shattered. Corpses lay strewn across the floor. Gu Wei was gone without a trace. Lu Lin stood blankly before the malfunctioning control console, his composed demeanor already twisted into a frantic, deranged expression.
Hours earlier, he had repeatedly issued orders to cease fire. Every command, however, had been intercepted by the Pacific Headquarters. Until finally, security personnel burst into the control room reporting that Lu Shangjin had been critically injured and fallen into the sea. The fatal wound was on his gland. No life activity could be detected in the waters.
Footsteps approached slowly from behind. Lu Lin, now like a startled bird, grabbed a gun from the console and fired backward at Yan Yi.
Yan Yi instantly raised his long blade. The incoming bullet was split cleanly in half and fell to the ground.
Lu Lin stared at him in shock for a long moment. His bloodshot eyes examined Yan Yi, shifting from panic to greed.
“You’ve evolved?” he muttered hoarsely. “Stronger than any A3 I’ve seen… even stronger than Wanwan…”
Yan Yi lifted his left hand, revealing a containment capsule. Inside, the chameleon A3’s gland had lost its color and stopped moving, lying peacefully in the preservation fluid.
Lu Lin’s gaze flickered between the gun on Yan Yi’s back and what he held in his hand. Something in his mind snapped into uneasy realization.
He clutched tightly a vial of Lu Shangjin’s stem cells, swallowed painkillers for his chest, and steadied himself against the console.
“My sniper skills were taught to him personally by me,” he said with a strained, sorrowful laugh. “I placed high hopes on him. But after all these years, he only reached M2. I knew it. I was once A3—my grandson would never be inferior.”
Yan Yi’s expression remained cold.
“He is not like you.”
Lu Lin ignored him, cradling something like madness and grief at once.
Yan Yi no longer wished to argue. He ordered the Omegas to take Lu Lin away.
Lu Lin was transferred to a high-security facility, awaiting trial by an international court. Yan Yi no longer cared for these matters. He returned home alone with the child.
The courtyard trees had turned deep red, fallen leaves forming a soft carpet beneath them. A newly hired caretaker was sweeping them. Yan Yi was not used to strangers in his home, but caring for the baby alone was too difficult.
Earlier, Bi Ruiqing had called, speaking vaguely about the results of a retrieval mission. Yan Yi already knew the answer and simply thanked him.
Everything in the house that carried Lu Shangjin’s scent was gradually disappearing. The study room was locked. The key had been lost somewhere in the bottom of a drawer.
Tan Meng and others occasionally came to visit. They tacitly avoided mentioning the name Yan Yi did not want to hear, calling the baby only by his nickname—“Qiuqiu.”
The little rabbit’s ears had fully grown soft fur. When sleeping, they still trembled faintly. Perhaps because he had never received his Alpha father’s comfort, and had been exposed to chaotic suppressive Alpha pheromones at birth, his startle reflex was severe. He often woke suddenly from sleep, convulsing and crying in panic.
Yan Yi would get out of bed, lean over the crib, and extend his hands inside. The frightened baby would grab them tightly, greedily absorbing the calming Omega pheromones in the air. His Omega father’s scent was deep and powerful, wrapping him in a heavy sense of safety.
The baby was extremely clingy. He would only calm down in Yan Yi’s arms; anyone else holding him would make him cry uncontrollably, shaking his little ears while searching desperately for his father.
“Daddy’s here,” Yan Yi would murmur, carrying him around the room until the baby slowly fell asleep again.
He sat on the sofa for a long while in silence. The house felt emptier now.
The television repeated news broadcasts. Yan Yi was supposed to attend an international Omega Anti-Hunting Alliance conference, but he declined, citing the baby’s young age, and sent Tan Meng in his place.
On WeChat, Xia had sent several short videos. In them, a young lion cub in military uniform smiled at the camera, revealing small sharp teeth, surrounded by other newly enlisted cadets calling out “Brother Yan” and “Senior.”
Yan Yi contacted Xia’s team leader, asking them to look after the energetic young lion.
On the Summer Solstice, Dr. Zhong came for a home checkup. He complained jokingly that Yan Yi never visited the hospital himself.
A faint emerald ring rested on his finger—glass-like, lavender jade. Yan Yi had seen it in a magazine, recently auctioned in Hong Kong for over eight million HKD and purchased by the eldest son of the Shanghe Xia family.
When he bent down with the stethoscope, a lion crest mark could be seen on the gland at the back of his neck.
Dr. Zhong noticed Yan Yi’s gaze and cleared his throat awkwardly.
After the establishment of the international Omega Anti-Hunting Alliance, many Alpha and Beta scientists joined Dr. Zhong’s research. The Shanghe Xia family heavily funded the project, and by summer, the first batch of L-type barrier vaccines had been successfully developed.
“Go outside more. It’s good for you,” Dr. Zhong said, packing up his equipment.
Yan Yi stood by the window, holding the child, and looked out.
Perhaps it really was time.
The park near his home had been renovated. The artificial lake once filled with narcissus flowers had been replaced. Workers explained that the flowers had been removed because their scent was too strong and caused discomfort. Residents had filed complaints.
So Yan Yi stopped going there.
After Dr. Zhong left, the caretaker returned carrying fresh vegetables and a bouquet of pale flowers—now cultivated, modified, and supposedly non-toxic.
She cheerfully said they were safe even for pregnant rooms.
Yan Yi’s expression darkened slightly. He instructed her to bring narcissus tomorrow.
The caretaker hesitated. “Those flowers are poisonous, and the smell isn’t good for children.”
Yan Yi said nothing more, only sent her upstairs.
Later, he locked himself in the bedroom, sat by the window, lit a cigarette, and slowly exhaled smoke that blurred the flower fields in the distance.
Then tears fell quietly—landing on his hand, sliding down to the scar where his ring finger once bore a tattoo.