After leaving the cafeteria, Legion Commander Weili of the First Legion was escorted by specially trained heavy guards to the military isolation ward.
This was the confinement zone reserved for female insects suffering mental riots. It was equipped with strict mental monitoring and layered containment systems, typically used while awaiting stabilization or purification.
The isolation room was steeped in coldness and pressure. Even the air seemed laced with restrained killing intent.
Weili was bound tightly against a reinforced wall with multiple layers of chains and suppression restraints. The turbulence of his mental force made it difficult for him to revert to full insect form. His fluorescent blue hair whipped wildly. His eyes bulged, the whites streaked with red. Parts of his face and limbs had already begun to insectify—black scales surfaced across his skin, and his right arm had transformed into a hooked, clawed appendage, grotesque and jagged.
Even unconscious, his body twitched intermittently. His muscles were drawn taut like a bowstring on the verge of release. The chains binding him screeched sharply against metal rings from time to time, revealing the terrifying explosive strength still lurking inside him.
The four male insects were brought into the observation chamber, watching Weili from behind a mental barrier wall. Faced with the sight before them, every one of them went pale.
“You expect me to approach that monster?” a silver-haired male shrieked, shoving away the guard beside him in panic. “I am a direct descendant of the House of Laiyin! How dare you put me at such risk? If something happens, who will take responsibility?”
Another male had already dissolved into tears, shrinking against the wall, trembling uncontrollably. “I cannot—I really cannot—please let me leave. I do not want to die!”
A third, dressed in luxurious garments with meticulous makeup, let out a cold snort. “Is this not the responsibility of the female soldiers? We are not tools. How can males be asked to do something like this?”
Gu Qing’s gaze swept over the three of them as if looking at three piles of self-inflated refuse. Fine clothing and noble titles—yet not an ounce of responsibility or courage.
He had never believed in hierarchy, nor that males were born superior or inferior.
The purple-haired, red-eyed male who had hidden behind female soldiers in the cafeteria was still trembling in fear, but now he clenched his teeth and stepped forward.
“I… I am willing to assist with purification first.”
The moment he spoke, the other three seized the opportunity to distance themselves.
“Wonderful. Finally someone willing to throw himself away,” the silver-haired male sneered. “Low-ranking nobles like you should be serving high-ranking houses like ours.”
“Exactly. Is this not the sort of thing your class is meant to handle?” another added maliciously, even stepping back to avoid being singled out.
The elaborately dressed male retreated several steps, folding his arms and looking down at the purple-haired male with disdain. “Do not expect us to collect your corpse.” He deliberately widened the distance, as if proximity itself were contamination.
Gu Qing slowly turned his eyes toward them. His black pupils were cold and heavy.
If he did not need to conceal his identity, he would have uprooted these males—void of responsibility and honor—and cast them out of the military without hesitation.
Inside his consciousness, the Heavenly Dao little dumpling popped up, indignant.
“These ones are so loud! Is this what high-ranking males look like? High-ranking where? Is it their screaming pitch that is higher?”
Gu Qing’s fingers tightened subtly. His expression hardened as he looked steadily through the glass.
—If the future of the insect race were left only to the voices of such “high-ranking males,” perhaps he would intervene, carving open a path for those who truly wished to break free.
Amid the ridicule, the purple-haired male’s face was pale. His hands were clenched into fists, but he did not retreat.
Milton’s gaze sliced across the three chattering males, silencing them instantly. Yier stood alert at the side, scanning the surroundings. Feili remained behind Milton, calm and sharp-eyed.
The protective door opened.
The purple-haired male walked toward Weili, trembling.
Gu Qing stood at the rear, quietly extending his divine sense.
He saw the male’s mental force—thin as fragile threads. Fear and hesitation wove through it, yet he still forced himself to release energy, attempting to touch Weili’s storm-tossed mental sea. At the edge of the swirling black mist, his power groped slowly for an opening.
Moments later, deep within the mental sea, there was a faint change.
In one corner of the black fog, a small patch began to glimmer—like dust wiped clean by water. Slow, but growing clearer.
“…As expected, it works. Just too slow,” Gu Qing assessed silently, his eyes sharpening.
This proved that male mental force did indeed have a purifying effect on female mental seas—but the efficiency and stability were clearly insufficient.
Milton watched everything without blinking.
“Next.”
At his command, the silver-haired male and the elaborately dressed one were pushed forward in turn. Yet no matter how they exerted themselves, they failed to meaningfully alter the black mist. By the end, they were gasping, collapsed on the ground, mental force nearly depleted, faces drained of color.
And still, only that small corner of the mist bore a faint trace of clarity.
Milton’s eyes darkened as he examined the mental sea readings on the instruments. Weili’s condition was worse than expected.
At this level of riot, it was nearly a death sentence. Few females could be pulled back from the brink of aberration. Even apparent stabilization would only delay the inevitable.
His fingers tightened.
He had long known when he should let go. Yet as long as Weili was still fighting—still not completely lost—he found he could not simply stand by.
At that moment, Gu Qing’s gaze fell once more upon Weili.
He stepped forward carefully, standing still before glancing around as if uncertain whether he had the right to intervene.
“May… may I try?” His voice was soft and humble, eyes filled with cautious hope.
Milton did not reply. He only looked at him deeply—and did not stop him.
Taking that as silent consent, Gu Qing crouched halfway, gently pressing a finger to Weili’s forehead.
“I am sorry… it may sting a little. Please endure it.”
A strand of divine sense separated from him and entered Weili’s mental sea.
It was like ten thousand blades unleashed at once.
The roiling black mist was torn apart instantly. Wherever his divine sense passed, the darkness dissolved and retreated. As it spread, Weili’s collapsing mental sea gradually stilled.
Had anyone been able to see it, they would have been utterly stunned. Such power far exceeded anything the insect race believed males capable of.
“That is enough,” Gu Qing thought quietly.
Almost the instant he withdrew his hand, the monstrous features on Weili’s body began to recede. The hooked claw slowly shrank back into a normal arm. Black scales fell away. The fluorescent blue hair settled softly against his forehead. The aura of violent instability faded at a visible speed.
A female guard stepped forward immediately to measure the mental fluctuations. After confirming the results, she reported to Milton, voice trembling with excitement.
“Sir! Mental sea readings have dropped into the safe range. No further riot risk detected!”
Milton’s pupils contracted.
…How is that possible?
He had assumed that crafty little male would at most delay the inevitable—or seize the moment to polish his image. Instead—he had truly succeeded.
This was nothing like the capability of an ordinary male.
The observation room erupted.
“He actually… returned to normal!”
“A full mental riot—completely suppressed?!”
The males stared at Weili in disbelief.
Several female soldiers even saluted Gu Qing.
“Thank you for your assistance!”
Gu Qing flustered at once, waving his hands.
“N-no, please do not be so polite. I only added a little strength at the end. The real credit belongs to the ones before me. They worked so hard—I merely happened to connect the final piece.”
His expression was sincere, even a little nervous. That modest, gentle demeanor left the female soldiers momentarily stunned.
The three nearly exhausted males immediately brightened.
“I told you—my effort was the key,” the silver-haired male declared, chin lifted.
“When I released my mental force, I held it for a full ten seconds,” the elaborately dressed male boasted.
“We coordinated very well,” another added smugly.
Only the purple-haired, red-eyed male remained silent. He looked at Gu Qing thoughtfully, brows slightly furrowed.
Milton’s gaze narrowed, fixed tightly on that slender figure.
That purification should have been exceedingly difficult. Even the strongest males had barely managed to endure it. Yet that scheming little male—
He had claimed he knew nothing about purification, had no training, no knowledge. And on his first attempt, he had “lightly” resolved the most difficult crisis.
Milton studied him once again.
Tilting his head, he let a faint, sarcastic curve touch his lips. His voice was low.
“You… are quite the surprise.”
Gu Qing blinked, lifting his eyes innocently. He seemed flustered, even shrinking back slightly, as if overwhelmed by praise.
“I… I just felt like it might work that way, so I tried. It was really just luck. I did not expect it to succeed…”
That harmless expression—I was only lucky—made Milton’s chest tighten with suppressed anger.
…Acting. He was absolutely acting.
He had not disobeyed orders. His humility was infuriatingly impeccable. His gentleness left no opening for reprimand.
Grinding his teeth, Milton muttered under his breath,
“…A wicked little white flower.”
He watched Gu Qing’s retreating back, eyes dark and restless.
—He would test him again.
Sooner or later, he would make that scheming male reveal his true colors.