The Resigned Savior and the Agitated Bodyguard

No matter what the blue-skinned man said, Yuan Anqing merely nodded meekly. He had only raised one objection regarding the bodyguard, but after the man repeatedly emphasized the creature’s importance, Yuan Anqing ceased his resistance.

He behaved like the most obedient student in a classroom—never contradicting, never raising his hand to ask questions. Such an attitude made one wonder if any of the information was actually registering in his mind.

“Aren’t you… shocked by your identity as the Savior?” the blue-skinned man finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

“I am shocked,” Yuan Anqing replied, his tone like someone reluctantly playing the straight man in a comedy duo. “It feels like my entire worldview has been shattered, and I haven’t recovered yet.”

The blue-skinned man pursed his lips. “Your tone is remarkably calm for someone whose worldview is shattered.”

Yuan Anqing pushed up his glasses. “Should I appear more agitated? I can try if it helps your process.”

“No, no, you don’t need to perform,” the blue-skinned man said, waving his hands dismissively. “I’m merely expressing admiration for your… unique acceptance of reality.”

Yuan Anqing remained silent for a moment, his gaze lowered in thought. Then, he looked at the man again. “If I resist, can I resign from being the Savior?”

The blue-skinned man shook his head.

Yuan Anqing sighed, a deep weariness etching itself into the lines of his face.

It wasn’t that he possessed a high degree of acceptance; rather, he understood that he knew nothing of this world or his own combat capabilities. Resistance felt like a waste of calories. Resignation was his only recourse, and Yuan Anqing disliked making a fuss. It was simply too exhausting.

The blue-skinned man observed Yuan Anqing’s expression, realizing he had asked a truly redundant question.

Beside them, Zhuo slumped on the sofa, fingers interlaced. Hearing the exchange, he raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “I quite like your half-dead demeanor, Savior. It’s refreshing.”

Yuan Anqing sighed again. He pointed at Zhuo, asking the blue-skinned man, “Is this bodyguard always so… lively?”

The blue-skinned man nodded. “He’s quite displeased with the assignment. He’s been agitated since the day before yesterday.”

“How vibrant,” Yuan Anqing murmured, a sudden pang of envy striking him. He didn’t know the bodyguard’s specific abilities, but he understood the man must be immensely powerful—powerful enough to act as he pleased, without needing to be a ‘worker ant.’

Yuan Anqing’s expressions were usually subtle, but this slight shift in emotion was apparent to Zhuo, who was hyper-sensitive to the feelings of those around him.

Zhuo frowned, shifting back slightly. He thought this Savior was abnormal. To show envy while sitting in the presence of a lethal threat—the man was clearly insane.

“Oh, right. This is the tool to control Zhuo,” the blue-skinned man said, pulling a metal ring from his pocket. “With this, Zhuo won’t dare to attack you.”

Yuan Anqing took the ring, sliding it onto his index finger. The metal band was slightly large at first, but as soon as it touched his skin, it automatically shrank, fitting him perfectly.

“You only need to consciously think of Zhuo’s name with the intent to discipline him,” the man explained. “Zhuo will be immobilized by intense pain, ceasing all actions.”

“What if I accidentally think of the word ‘Zhuo’?” Yuan Anqing inquired.

“It’s intent-based. ‘Consciously’ means when you explicitly intend to punish him,” the blue-skinned man clarified.

Yuan Anqing nodded. This world’s technological development seemed average, but it had clearly made strides in neural-interfacing tools.

Yuan Anqing turned to Zhuo. “Do you mind if I test it?”

Zhuo’s smile vanished instantly. It was evident that the pain was significant. “What do you think, glasses?”

“You don’t mind?” Yuan Anqing probed, his finger hovering over the ring.

“I do mind!” Zhuo barked. “Get away from me, you bastard!”

“Your specific abilities as a Savior need to be discovered by you; we only know you are the one,” the blue-skinned man interjected, worried they might start a fight. “We hope you can live peacefully for this year. After a year, the next Savior will come of age and can take over.”

Yuan Anqing paused. “…Why didn’t you just wait another year and skip me?”

“We approached you with a ‘let’s give it a shot’ mindset.”

Yuan Anqing was already contemplating the possibility of switching sides and joining the monsters.

The blue-skinned man, utterly oblivious to the Savior’s growing resentment, continued, “We’ll rearrange your work. Being a mechanical design engineer won’t do—too much travel. We’ll find you a normal nine-to-five job to ensure you don’t have to work overtime.”

As he finished speaking, the blue-skinned man watched as Yuan Anqing’s eyes instantly brightened—a surge of genuine vitality that lasted less than three seconds before his entire being slumped back into despondency.

A nine-to-five job was a dream, but after work, he had “world-saving” duties. His life hadn’t improved; he’d just traded one kind of overtime for another.

“As the Savior, you don’t need to do too much,” the man consoled him. “Just cleanse the defilement.”

“Defilement?”

“You’ve noticed that our world has many subspecies,” the man explained. “We all undergo ‘differentiation.’ This process is uncontrollable and can happen at any time. When differentiation goes wrong or becomes extreme, it’s called ‘defilement infection.’ People turn into monsters.”

The man pointed at Zhuo. “This one is a chimera, infected with defilement from birth. As the Savior, you should be able to see the ‘filth’ on him.”

“I can’t see anything,” Yuan Anqing said, looking at the handsome, horned man.

“His rank is too high; he conceals his aura. Also, take off your glasses—you’ll see more clearly that way.”

Yuan Anqing removed his glasses as instructed. Zhuo cooperated, his casual smile turning into something sharp as he released his aura.

The moment Yuan Anqing’s gaze fell upon him, he froze.

A monster. A monster through and through.

The reception room dissolved into a void of darkness. Zhuo was gone. In his place was a colossal entity, entirely blood-red, blotting out the sky. Hard, obsidian scales covered every inch of its body, with arcs of red lightning coursing between them.

The monster’s head resembled a flayed wolf with crystalline sheep horns. Below the head was a human-like torso, but it was adorned with dozens of scaled arms, making it look like a thousand-armed Guanyin possessed by a demon.

The monster’s eyes were pits of absolute black, yet Yuan Anqing felt them staring directly into his soul.

Then he saw it—another eye, situated right in the center of the entity’s chest. It was roughly the size of a football field, unblinking and ancient.

Yuan Anqing didn’t have time to process the horror before a sapphire-blue hand obscured his vision.

“Don’t look too long the first time,” the blue-skinned man warned.

When his vision returned, the office was back. The monster was just a 2-meter-tall man in a muzzle again.

Yuan Anqing put his glasses back on, his hand trembling only slightly. “Was that… your true appearance?”

“It was. Do you like it?” Zhuo tilted his head, his red eyes gleaming.

“There’s one thing that bothers me,” Yuan Anqing said, coughing lightly to compose himself. “If you have an eye on your chest, wouldn’t your clothes compress it? Or do you keep it closed?”

Zhuo: “…It doesn’t get compressed because it’s not physically there right now.”

“Oh, how marvelous,” Yuan Anqing deadpanned.

“Can’t you give me a bit more of a reaction? Am I not handsome enough?” Zhuo asked, propping his chin on his hand.

“Considering I haven’t seen your ‘type’ before, your handsomeness is a secondary concern,” Yuan Anqing said, looking away. “I just don’t know what there is to look forward to in my life anymore.”

The blue-skinned man immediately jumped in. “We’ve prepared a house for you! 120 square meters, right near the subway!”

Yuan Anqing lowered his eyelids. “I had a 120-square-meter house in the city center of my original world.”

The man was astonished. “You’re that successful?”

“Just average,” Yuan Anqing replied. He had worked so much overtime that he had literally no time to spend his salary. His savings had accumulated out of sheer lack of opportunity to use them.

The blue-skinned man ran out of incentives. “Well… later you’ll need to get a permit, and we’ll prepare some daily necessities. If you have questions, contact me. I’m Bai Tian.”

“Your name suits you very well, Mr. Bai,” Yuan Anqing said, shaking his hand. (Note: Bai Tian means ‘Daytime’ or ‘Bright Day’).

Zhuo clicked his tongue. “Lying isn’t a good habit, Savior.”

Stepping out of the government building, Yuan Anqing glanced at a transit card. “Bus 31, transfer to Bus 12 at Longcheng Avenue.”

“Why are we taking the bus? I don’t want to squeeze in with the masses,” Zhuo grumbled. He had removed his muzzle, but he kept rubbing his jaw. “What if someone touches me inappropriately?”

Yuan Anqing was 183 cm tall, but next to the 2-meter-tall Zhuo, he looked small. “They won’t touch you. They’ll just worry you’re taking up three people’s worth of space.”

“I’m very attractive, you know. People might not be able to help themselves,” Zhuo said, preening.

Yuan Anqing ignored him and walked toward the bus stop.

Suddenly, with a heavy thud, someone collapsed at the station.

The person was an elderly human, likely over 550 years old. A sickly, blue-black aura began to seep out from his skin, curling around him like smoke.

“Is he about to differentiate? What a coincidence.” Zhuo slowly began to smile, his predatory instincts flaring.

Yuan Anqing noticed the elder, stared at the aura for a second, and then silently moved to stand seventy meters away from the body.

Zhuo: “…”

Yuan Anqing stared straight ahead at the horizon, his face a mask of indifference.

Zhuo peered over his shoulder. “Hey… Savior~”

“My name is Yuan Anqing,” Yuan corrected him.

“I know. I’ve seen your file,” Zhuo said, pointing at the convulsing elder. “Can you see the aura? The defilement?”

Yuan Anqing nodded.

“Then, Mr. Savior, shouldn’t you… do something?” Zhuo asked, his voice dripping with mock anticipation.

Yuan Anqing exited the bus schedule app on his phone and sent a text to Bai Tian: [Elderly man showing signs of mutation at the bus stop in front of the government building. Please send a cleanup crew.]

“Aren’t you going to help him yourself?” Zhuo pressed, baffled.

“I could call the police,” Yuan mused. “But explaining how I knew he was mutating without revealing my identity would be a bureaucratic nightmare.”

Zhuo: “You really are…”

“The bus is here,” Yuan Anqing interrupted. “Don’t keep staring at that person. The witnesses will think you’re the one who beat him up.”

Zhuo: “…”

“Don’t make trouble for yourself,” Yuan added as he boarded the bus.

Zhuo watched him, his red eyes wide. Is this person truly supposed to be the Savior?