A Sudden Skirmish and Culinary Change

“Your words are utterly unreasonable,” Zhuo frowned at the talkative bystander who was shouting about mind control. “You’re the one controlling others! You’re insane, and you scared my boyfriend.”

With that, he pulled Yuan Anqing into his arms, protectively pressing Yuan Anqing’s head against his chest. Then he looked at the young, frozen celebrity holding the phone: “You’re being unreasonable too, pointing your camera at us for no reason.”

Yuan Anqing silently wrapped his arms around Zhuo’s waist, cooperating perfectly with the act.

Zhuo continued, his voice echoing over the panicked crowd: “I don’t want to argue with you, but I don’t think you should film our faces without permission. We’re not public figures, and this kind of behavior causes us great distress.”

Yuan Anqing rubbed his face against Zhuo’s shirt. The crowd couldn’t see his expression, but his body language made it seem as though he wholeheartedly agreed with his muscular protector.

The young celebrity was still under Yuan Anqing’s psychic control. He lowered the camera and said woodenly, “Sorry. I misunderstood the situation.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zhuo said magnanimously. “Those inferior Differentiated Beings stopped running for no reason, which we also found strange. But it’s even weirder for you to suddenly call some random guy a ‘Savior’ or something like that.”

Zhuo knew he couldn’t be too physically harsh, since the celebrity was live-streaming and thousands of fans were watching. Too tough an attitude would be clipped and scrutinized online. Zhuo wasn’t easygoing by nature, but he was incredibly adept at putting on an act. The only person who had ever made him lose his composure was Yuan Anqing.

He knew exactly what tone to use to avoid offense.

The young celebrity nodded blankly, and then his live stream was abruptly shut down.

Police sirens finally sounded in the distance, and patrol cars quickly surrounded the area, evacuating the panicked crowd. The inferior Differentiated Beings were still standing dazed in the center of the park, while Yuan Anqing and the others had already slipped beyond the yellow tape with the fleeing crowd.

“Hello.” A female police officer quietly approached Yuan Anqing, having recognized him from her classified briefing. “Can you handle the situation here now?”

Yuan Anqing was still forcibly held in Zhuo’s arms, his face hidden, so his voice was slightly muffled. “The anomalies can’t move now. Have your team take them all away first; don’t try to deal with them here in public.”

“Understood.” The policewoman nodded, then turned her gaze to the docile young celebrity. “Take him back too.”

This sudden commotion had caught the authorities entirely off guard. The inferior Differentiated Beings were easy enough to handle, but the potential exposure of the Savior’s identity would be a catastrophic problem. Personal live streams weren’t as easy to control or censor as traditional media. The radical faction, knowing they were cornered, had tried to drag Yuan Anqing into the spotlight to strip away his anonymity.

This wouldn’t end with the arrest of that C-list celebrity. It was only the beginning of a massive PR headache.

Zhuo didn’t release Yuan Anqing until they were safely loaded into the back of an unmarked official car.

“You handled that well,” Yuan Anqing praised Zhuo first, adjusting his glasses. “But people will definitely come looking for us after that broadcast.”

“Your personal information is safe from prying,” the driver interjected, glancing at Yuan Anqing through the rearview mirror. “We’ve crafted a very complete, boring life trajectory for you.”

The general public knew the Savior wasn’t native to this world, but the official cover story was ironclad. It would be hard for the internet sleuths to find Yuan Anqing’s “real information.” The past they designed for him perfectly matched his personality—Yuan Anqing wasn’t one to express emotions online, meaning his digital footprint was believably sparse.

They could only piece together a rough, speculative picture from scattered rumors. That would take them a lot of time, and the countless dead ends would become sunk costs, adding weight to their eventual belief that the livestream was just a hoax.

“That won’t last forever,” Yuan Anqing frowned. “Can we muddy the waters?”

“What do you mean?” The driver didn’t understand.

“If there are more suspected Saviors circulating online, I won’t stand out as much,” Yuan Anqing explained calmly.

“Got it,” the driver smiled, catching on. “We’ll stoke the fire with some fake rumors first. Then one or two government actors will emerge to ‘fish in troubled waters’ and claim to be the Savior for their own clout.”

The internet would become chaotic with fake claimants, and the real Savior wouldn’t need to intervene.

“Also, we need to recover the corrupted Saviors’ bodies as soon as possible,” Yuan Anqing said. He wanted to rub his throbbing brow, but Zhuo’s hand was faster, gently massaging his temples for him.

“Blame those bastards,” Zhuo gritted his teeth, glaring out the window. “They wanted to mess with your head!”

“Mess with my head?” Yuan Anqing looked at Zhuo. “They can’t.”

Zhuo blinked. “But you don’t like being disturbed.”

“I don’t like it, but I don’t hate it either.” Yuan Anqing’s main concern was that if his identity was exposed, future missions would become a logistical nightmare. Being the Savior was too conspicuous, and everyone knew his tasks were tied to those highly dangerous Differentiated Beings. If he had to go on field missions later with a crowd of livestreamers following him, wouldn’t that cause mass panic?

As for disturbing Yuan Anqing personally…

“If they get too annoying, I might just let you go beat them up,” Yuan Anqing said honestly.

Zhuo’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

“If I told you to beat them, would you?” Yuan Anqing asked again.

Zhuo nodded vigorously.

“Then it’s settled.” Yuan Anqing watched Zhuo’s tail wag. “They pose no threat to me personally.”

A junior agent who had gotten into the passenger seat raised a hand tentatively. “Um… is that appropriate?”

“What’s inappropriate about it?” Yuan Anqing countered, his corporate tone returning. “I’m not an elected public figure; I don’t need to cater to their feelings.”

His life and theirs shouldn’t intersect. He didn’t need the public’s approval; he only needed to ensure they didn’t degenerate into inferior Differentiated Beings. “Whether they’re happy or sad, born or dead, sick or aged—they can’t meddle in my affairs. If they insist on disturbing my life and tracking me down, I’ll just have to beat them away.”

Yuan Anqing was suddenly kissed on the top of the head.

He blinked.

“I like you like this,” Zhuo said, his hands roaming affectionately over Yuan Anqing’s shoulders. “I thought you’d be upset.” He nuzzled Yuan Anqing’s hair. “You can protect yourself pretty well.”

Yuan Anqing: “…” How else had I gotten through the past thirty-five years of corporate life?

Some called Yuan Anqing cold, but no one had ever accused him of being overly kind.

“If anyone pesters you, I’ll break their bones,” Zhuo promised, hugging Yuan Anqing tightly.

“We always thought the Savior would be a saintly, forgiving figure,” the driver muttered. “But now it seems you don’t have that much sympathy.”

Zhuo frowned fiercely at the rearview mirror. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’m not criticizing Mr. Yuan! It’s just that this pragmatic state caught us off guard,” the driver explained quickly.

Zhuo was unconvinced. “Yuan Anqing has plenty of sympathy.” When Zhuo had treated the teenager, Zheng Xiao’an, as a mere tool, Yuan Anqing had firmly corrected him. If Yuan Anqing truly didn’t care about others, why would he bother teaching Zhuo empathy?

“Sympathy isn’t proven by words. Anyone can talk,” Zhuo snorted, defending his partner. “People even fake-cry at funerals. You mortals can’t see the truth, mistaking cheap tears for genuine empathy.”

The driver didn’t argue further. His job wasn’t to analyze the Savior’s emotions, and he knew that if he started debating with Zhuo about Yuan Anqing’s morality, Zhuo would obsess over it and endlessly question whether the government had a problem with his Savior. So, he wisely chose to end the topic.

But Zhuo was still unhappy without a response. He wanted to say more, but Yuan Anqing reached out and pinched the tip of his tail.

Zhuo immediately shut up.

Yuan Anqing gently kneaded Zhuo’s tail tip, and Zhuo’s face flushed a deep, embarrassed red.

“Don’t be angry,” Yuan Anqing comforted him softly.

Zhuo’s tail tip was highly sensitive, especially now that his biological defenses were useless against Yuan Anqing’s touch. When Yuan Anqing squeezed, Zhuo’s scales even contracted slightly. After stopping Zhuo’s rant, Yuan Anqing let go, but Zhuo seemed reluctant.

Zhuo’s tail tip lightly tapped against Yuan Anqing’s palm. Yuan Anqing looked over and saw Zhuo staring at him with eager anticipation.

Yuan Anqing grabbed the tail again. Zhuo blushed, biting his lip like a bullied victim who dared not fight back.

Finally, the monster calmed down, and they obediently reached their destination without any more arguments.

The twelve inferior Differentiated Beings had been transported ahead of them and were locked in heavily reinforced isolation rooms. All of them had been “force-ripened,” likely having eaten the corrupted flesh of the previous Saviors.

They weren’t first-generation Differentiated Beings, so Yuan Anqing’s blood alone couldn’t solve the problem. Yuan Anqing had only handled a second-generation anomaly with a collapsed personality once before, and that specific encounter had directly triggered his dangerous ‘god-like’ Awakening.

Now, facing twelve at once made his head ache.

“If it’s too much effort, just let them die,” Zhuo said, looking at the oblivious, trapped anomalies through the glass with immense displeasure. “They’re going to die eventually anyway.”

“Everyone dies,” Yuan Anqing corrected him.

Zhuo frowned. “You can’t die.”

“But I can’t live as long as you,” Yuan Anqing said, helpless against the monster’s logic.

Zhuo was stunned for a moment.

“I can only promise to try to live until old age,” Yuan Anqing patted Zhuo’s shoulder and entered the isolation room.

Zhuo stood frozen in the hallway.

He had been so caught up in their blossoming romance that he truly believed they could be together forever, without a deadline. Can’t you just not die? Zhuo looked at the closed door, his heart sinking. “I don’t follow your human rules.”

“You don’t follow rules either,” a female researcher muttered passing by.

“Careful, I’ll hit you!” Zhuo slapped his heavy tail on the floor, cracking a tile.

The researcher shut her mouth and hurried away. This giant brat was still as annoying as ever.

Inside the isolation room, Yuan Anqing closed his eyes. Time in the spiritual world flowed differently. He spent what felt like grueling years reshaping the fragmented personalities of these twelve people, purging the corrupted Savior energy. But to the outside world, only about three seconds passed from closing to opening his eyes.

When the Differentiated Beings woke up, they were merely dazed. Yuan Anqing’s face, however, was as pale as paper.

Zhuo tapped frantically on the isolation glass. Yuan Anqing looked toward him.

“Can you make it out?!” Zhuo yelled through the glass.

A guard quickly opened the door, and Yuan Anqing walked out without looking back at the bewildered anomalies.

“Something feels off,” Yuan Anqing murmured to Zhuo.

Zhuo quickly supported his waist. “Are you about to faint?”

“No, just a low-blood-sugar feeling,” Yuan Anqing said. His biological adaptability only increased with every use of his power. “Actually… I feel like I’ve gained something.”

“What?” Zhuo didn’t understand.

Yuan Anqing didn’t know how to describe it. After handling these twelve corrupted souls, his own soul felt fuller, but he couldn’t explain how. He just felt he had acquired something extra.

Zhuo worriedly circled him, inspecting him from head to toe. “You haven’t grown an extra hand or tail.”

“It’s like something more in my heart,” Yuan Anqing explained.

Zhuo frowned, thinking of the worst-case scenario. “It’s not a tumor or something, is it?”

“No, it’s spiritual,” Yuan Anqing sighed helplessly.

“Ah, so your love for me has deepened?” Zhuo finally relaxed, smiling broadly.

“I’m not sure.” Yuan Anqing felt suddenly “empty,” but differently from his first Awakening. Back then, he had lost almost all his human emotions. Now, his emotions remained intact, but there was something more layered underneath them.

“So what did you gain?” Zhuo was still confused.

“If I knew, I’d tell you.” Yuan Anqing had tried to locate the physical bodies of the previous Saviors by tracing the psychic link through these anomalies. Otherwise, those rogue organizations would keep causing mass panic without giving him a break.

But while searching the void, he suddenly felt something extra—something that inexplicably opened his heart. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt it would be much harder to anger him now.

“It’s nothing bad, anyway,” Yuan Anqing comforted Zhuo.

Zhuo scratched his head, not quite understanding. But they soon got a clue.

After handing over the suspects, the authorities took over the task of muddying the waters online, while Yuan Anqing and Zhuo just needed to return to living and working normally.

Back at the apartment, Yuan Anqing and Zhuo cooked dinner together. They usually prepped ingredients side-by-side, but Zhuo’s movements suddenly slowed down. He picked up a slice of raw pork—it was cut extremely thin, perfectly translucent enough to see his finger outlines through it.

Yuan Anqing didn’t notice anything wrong. He was chatting idly. “I only recognized that live-streaming celebrity after staring at him for a while. He looks so different from his orange juice ads. I haven’t seen him in your favorite soap operas or heard him sing. What kind of star is he?”

“Don’t know,” Zhuo said absently. He picked up other slices, finding them all equally paper-thin and flawlessly shaped. “Maybe he’s just good-looking to humans.”

“Not really,” Yuan Anqing recalled. “Just a neat, ordinary-looking guy.”

“Maybe others think he’s good-looking.” Zhuo started inspecting the other ingredients Yuan Anqing had prepared. The julienned carrots were mathematically perfect.

“I don’t get that.” Yuan Anqing thought Zhuo was the truly good-looking one.

“Yuan Anqing,” Zhuo called his name sharply.

“What?” Yuan Anqing turned from the stove to look.

“You cook today,” Zhuo said, stepping back from the counter.

“Alright.” Yuan Anqing was surprised. “My cooking isn’t nearly as good as yours. Are you sure?”

“Go ahead,” Zhuo said, putting down the knife.

Yuan Anqing nodded, then reached out and touched Zhuo’s horn. “Are you feeling unwell today?”

“I’m fine.” But Zhuo felt Yuan Anqing was definitely not fine.

Yuan Anqing didn’t understand the sudden shift, but he turned back to the wok.

Zhuo watched closely as Yuan Anqing cooked. When the first dish of stir-fried meat was done, Zhuo reached directly into the sizzling wok, grabbed a piece of meat with his bare fingers, and stuffed it into his mouth.

His red eyes widened in shock. “Delicious.”

“You’re at it again,” Yuan Anqing sighed helplessly, thinking Zhuo was just exaggerating out of blind affection.

“Zheng Xiao’an!” Zhuo quickly turned to call the teenager, who was doing homework voluntarily at the table. “Come here!”

“No need; let him eat after all the dishes are ready,” Yuan Anqing thought Zhuo was overdoing it.

But Zhuo ignored him, practically dragging Zheng Xiao’an over. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks and shoved a piece of meat into the kid’s mouth. “Taste it. What do you think?”

Zheng Xiao’an initially thought he was just being used as a prop in their domestic games. He remembered Yuan Anqing saying more than once that his cooking wasn’t as good as Zhuo’s, which was why the monster always cooked.

But after chewing, Zheng Xiao’an was shocked. “It’s really good!” Had Mr. Yuan been modest all along?!

This time Yuan Anqing realized something was off. “Good?” His cooking was just average, bachelor home-style; when had it become restaurant-quality?

“You’ve completely changed your cooking habits today, haven’t you noticed?” Zhuo asked, crossing his arms. “And your knife cuts are neat and pretty, like a seasoned prep chef.”

“I only used the basic seasonings,” Yuan Anqing thought hard and realized his muscle memory had indeed changed significantly while prepping, but he hadn’t been paying conscious attention.

“Huh. Strange.” Yuan Anqing never expected his new “power-up” to manifest in cooking. “I never dreamed of being a chef. Why do I suddenly have this skill?”

Zhuo looked at the delicious food, but his massive appetite vanished. He feared Yuan Anqing might slowly become someone else—assimilating the skills and personalities of the ghosts he purified.

One glance at Zhuo’s panicked face told Yuan Anqing exactly what he was thinking. Zhuo never put on airs with him; his thoughts were practically written on his forehead.

“What are you afraid of? I’ve gained a skill, not lost a piece of myself.” Yuan Anqing was absolutely certain he still loved Zhuo, and that love hadn’t diminished. “And I don’t feel bad physically, nor have I had a personality shift.”

Zhuo looked at him pitifully.

“If you don’t eat, I’ll really be upset,” Yuan Anqing threatened lightly.

“I’ll eat,” Zhuo said, helpless. Every time Yuan Anqing persuaded him like this, he couldn’t refuse. “It’d be a waste not to eat your cooking.”

But his deep-seated worry didn’t lessen. Zhuo was a child of the Saviors, but his understanding of Saviors was incredibly limited. What kind of beings were they? Were they even normal living beings? This skill appeared without reason. Would other things appear later? Would Yuan Anqing eventually become an amalgamation of dead people?

Zhuo hated this uncertainty.

He frowned several times throughout dinner, and each time, Yuan Anqing reached across the table to smooth the wrinkles between his brows.

After Zheng Xiao’an fell asleep that night, Yuan Anqing caught Zhuo frowning again in bed.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you have wrinkles to worry about?” Yuan Anqing pressed his index and middle fingers against Zhuo’s brow.

“Something’s not right,” Zhuo said honestly. “Your cooking is really good, but the skill came out of nowhere. It freaks me out.”

He wasn’t Yuan Anqing and couldn’t feel the ‘ease’ Yuan Anqing described. No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t figure out the biological cause of this ability.

“I can’t stop worrying. This… hey! Don’t pinch me! I’m being serious!” Zhuo tried to dodge the fingers, but he didn’t dare push Yuan Anqing away. Even if he avoided him momentarily, Yuan Anqing’s hand would just catch up.

“I can’t make you fully understand when I don’t even fully grasp my own state,” Yuan Anqing said, continuing to poke him. “I’m just distracting you.”

Zhuo dodged a few more times, then gave up and lay flat on his back. “Fine. Pinch all you want. I’ll just worry while you pinch.”

“Why are you angry again?” Yuan Anqing sighed. “I really can’t explain this. If I could figure it out, I’d list it out for you clearly. I’d even make a PowerPoint presentation if you wanted.”

“I know.” Zhuo pouted. “I’m not mad at you, really.”

“Then at yourself?” Yuan Anqing asked.

Zhuo nodded. “I’m the direct descendant of the previous Saviors, but I know absolutely nothing about how you work.”

“Alright. I’m a Savior myself, and I don’t know either.” Yuan Anqing stroked Zhuo’s head.

“You’re the one with the unpredictable problems; why are you comforting me?” Zhuo looked at him miserably. “I’m not a good partner. You have to worry about me even at a time like this.”

“Don’t doubt yourself so easily… hey!” Yuan Anqing found Zhuo was crying again.

He suspected Zhuo’s massive body was actually 90% water, all stored as tears.

“I’m not dying,” Yuan Anqing said.

“Who says you aren’t?! You’ll die after a maximum of eighty years, leaving me alone for centuries!” Zhuo’s tears fell harder. “I can’t even die if I want to!”

“You’re too stressed.” Yuan Anqing hugged him tightly. “I haven’t died yet. We can think of something together.”

“What can we do?! Human lifespan is biologically fixed!”

“Not necessarily. I’m a Savior; anything strange can happen to me.” Seeing Zhuo’s expression unchanged, he added seriously: “If it comes to it, I’ll find a psychic way to take you with me when I die.”

This finally got a reaction. Zhuo blinked away tears, looking down at Yuan Anqing. “Can you?” He was truly terrified of Yuan Anqing’s death. If left alone, only endless, maddening loneliness awaited.

“Mm. If I’m going to die, I’ll definitely find a way to take you.” Yuan Anqing sighed in relief. “Leaving you alone in this world, crying where I can’t see you, wouldn’t be good for anyone.”

Zhuo’s expression froze as he realized he was actively sobbing. “I wasn’t like this before I met you.”

Yuan Anqing kissed the corner of his eye. “I know you weren’t. I wasn’t good at comforting people before either.”

“Let’s not quarrel tonight. Let’s just sleep together, okay?” Yuan Anqing asked.

Zhuo: “…”

He felt a bit shortchanged; they still hadn’t done the ‘exercises’. But before he could speak, Yuan Anqing had already closed his eyes, holding him.

Zhuo could only sleep. He extended extra, scaled arms from his back, tightly trapping Yuan Anqing in a cocoon-like embrace. His arms were the second safest place in his opinion. (The safest was his stomach).

“Goodnight,” Zhuo whispered to Yuan Anqing.

Just thinking about waking up to see Yuan Anqing the next day made him happy. But thinking about waking up one day to find his arms empty… no, he couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t keep crying now. Zhuo forced his eyes shut.

Meanwhile, Yuan Anqing had already fallen asleep.

‘Asleep’ wasn’t quite the right word. He had separated the resentment that interfered with the inferior Differentiated Beings earlier, but he didn’t eliminate them. He tried to reconstruct them, like reshaping the anomalies’ personalities.

The dead previous Saviors and the living anomalies were different, after all. Yuan Anqing couldn’t peek into the dead Saviors’ memories or understand what they had been through. They were like ethereal wind—perceptible but untouchable.

In his dream, Yuan Anqing saw the two ghosts again. But this time their flesh covered up to the chest, and even their hands had traces of muscle and blood.

Yuan Anqing faced the two Saviors under a brilliant starry sky. The dark ocean beneath them held no life.

“A dream,” the male ghost spoke first. “Joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, birth, aging, sickness, death… in the end, it’s all just a fleeting dream. Only death is real.”

“Death is the truth of this universe, the true eternity. ‘Living’ is more like an accident,” the female ghost added. “Like waves hitting rocks—a few drops leap up. That’s an accident. Because eventually, they fall back into the sea, vanishing without a trace.”

They looked at Yuan Anqing. In the face of death, everything was meaningless. They had comprehended this truth, so they didn’t understand how Yuan Anqing had broken through his first Awakening without dissipating. Yuan Anqing should know that everything in this world is meaningless. Living beings engage in meaningless reproduction, and the emotions they cherish will dissolve in death.

Since it’s meaningless, why stay anchored?

This time, Yuan Anqing had gathered enough resentment to form avatars closer to the previous Saviors’ original personalities.

Yuan Anqing looked left and right, then honestly said, “I can’t abandon everything right now. I’ve just started dating.”

The two ghosts didn’t scorn his “vulgar” answer. They said the world was a dream not to elevate themselves, but because they truly believed it. So they simply tilted their heads in profound confusion.

A Savior in love?
Unbelievable.

“I don’t want to discuss this,” Yuan Anqing wasn’t inclined to share his feelings with ghosts. “I just hope you can quickly sense the location of your original physical bodies.”

The ghosts didn’t press further; they lacked the persistence of the living.

“Our original bodies?” The male ghost looked at Yuan Anqing. “Many pieces.”

“All over the world,” the female ghost added. “Very fragmented.”

“Where are they concentrated?” Yuan Anqing figured there must be a larger organization managing the supply chain—the ones who cut up the previous Saviors and distributed the pieces to trigger mass mutations.

“Six places of concentrated storage.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know where. I’ve lost geographical contact with this world.” To them, the physical world was nothing but chaos—a noisy blur.

Well, at least I know there are six places, Yuan Anqing reasoned. He wanted to dismiss the ghosts.

But the female ghost spoke again: “We can’t be considered true Saviors. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Yuan Anqing answered honestly.

“We failed, but I don’t understand why,” the male ghost also said. “You succeeded. What is anchoring your mind?”

“Small things,” Yuan Anqing waved his hand, dismissing the ghosts back into the void.

Occasionally, Yuan Anqing pondered what a Savior really was, but more often, his thoughts were about Zhuo. Before meeting Zhuo, philosophical questions about life and death sometimes popped into his head. But after establishing a relationship with Zhuo, his thoughts became much smaller: What’s for dinner today and tomorrow? Do we need daily necessities from the store?

When he was tired, he didn’t think about the sweet release of death; he only wanted to hug Zhuo and sleep. Zhuo was soft, warm, and comfortable. He would wake up naturally to Zhuo’s loud morning greeting.

Those grand, philosophical themes had unknowingly peeled away from his life. He had previously only watched the world coldly from afar, but now he was completely immersed in its mundane details.

Yuan Anqing looked at the silent sky and the dead sea around him. He waved his hand again. Seabirds appeared. Fish filled the ocean. A massive blue whale leaped and dove, churning the dark waves into white foam.

Mm. That looks better now.

Yuan Anqing found himself starting to like these things. He wouldn’t exclaim in awe at the “miracles of life,” but he did enjoy the sight of living beings in motion.

He closed his eyes and lay flat on the sea. The warm water pushed him in an unknown direction. He wasn’t afraid; he knew it was just a dream. When he opened his eyes again…

“Morning!” Zhuo smiled down at Yuan Anqing in his arms.

Just waking up, Yuan Anqing’s lips curled into a smile. He knew that when he opened his eyes, he would see Zhuo.

“You’re in a good mood?” Yuan Anqing asked.

Zhuo’s tail wagged back and forth against the sheets. “Bai Tian sent a message earlier. They’ve finished the plan to muddy the waters online and can start releasing the fake Savior rumors today.” That meant one less trouble for them to deal with.

Yuan Anqing got up from Zhuo’s chest. “That’s great.”

“And I’ve thought about it too,” Zhuo continued seriously. “If you die of old age and I haven’t found a way to take me with you, I’ll protect your body! I’ll make sure those rebel bastards don’t steal it to harvest your meat, and I’ll bite to death anyone who tries to get close!”

Yuan Anqing: “…You’ve been thinking about this morbid scenario all night?”

Zhuo nodded proudly.

“Did you sleep at all?” Yuan Anqing asked.

“I tried, but couldn’t.” Every time he closed his eyes, the uncontrollable factors appeared. He was truly scared of the future. “But don’t worry, I’m fine now.”

Zhuo felt that every time he got scared, he ended up scaring Yuan Anqing too, ending with Yuan Anqing having to comfort him. That was too shameful for an apex predator. He had to learn to control his emotions and become a mature, reliable partner who gave Yuan Anqing a sense of security. “I’m in a great mood today.”

“Really?” Yuan Anqing was worried about the forced cheerfulness. “Maybe take another day off and rest at home?”

“I can’t take more time off! I’m not a normal human; not sleeping is fine for my biology.” Zhuo got up to call Zheng Xiao’an. “Let’s go early and buy pork buns at the breakfast shop. If we’re late, we’ll have to queue.”

Yuan Anqing didn’t argue, but he still felt something was off with Zhuo. How to put it? Zhuo seemed cheerful, but it felt incredibly forced.

On the way to work, Zhuo was happy and a bit hyper.

Until Zhuo noticed a white van. It stopped abruptly in front of them for no reason, illegally blocking their way across the crosswalk.

Zhuo felt a strong, repulsive malice coming from the van.

They were after Yuan Anqing.

These were ordinary humans deliberately sent to harass Yuan Anqing. Not fans of yesterday’s exposed celebrity, but likely paid stooges pretending to be, trying to mess with Yuan Anqing’s state of mind.

The anger he had been suppressing all night flared up instantly.

Yuan Anqing heard a sharp intake of breath, and by the time he looked over, Zhuo was already charging forward.

A massive black figure shot forward, and then—BANG.

Zhuo flipped the entire van over with his horn.

Yuan Anqing: “…”

Zhuo’s crystalline horn slammed into the chassis, leaving two massive, buckling dents, then he lifted upward with terrifying strength, tipping the heavy van entirely over.

The people inside had been about to get out to harass them; they had just unbuckled their seatbelts. But suddenly the van flipped, roof crashing down onto the asphalt, turning everyone inside upside down.

Loud, panicked cries came from inside. Airbags deployed with a pop, windows shattered; it was unclear how injured the occupants were.

After doing this, Zhuo immediately sat on the ground, clutching his head and looking up at Yuan Anqing with wide, teary eyes. “It hurts. I fell.”

“Why were they blocking the crosswalk? The walk sign was green.” Zhuo whined pitifully, rubbing his indestructible head. “The van hit me so hard.”

Then he clutched his arm, stood up shakily, his muscular legs trembling. “Yuan Anqing…”

Yuan Anqing quickly walked over to the “victim.”

Then, a dented car door opened; someone inside was trying to crawl out.

Zhuo, who had just barely “stood up,” slipped again. With a startled cry, he fell back onto the person who had opened the door, crushing him under two hundred pounds of muscle and violently denting the door frame further.

“It hurts!” Zhuo wailed, holding his arm. “It’s my fault. I was careless.”

The man crushed underneath him cursed in agony.

“Push this freak away!” shouted a larger man from inside the overturned van, twisting to aggressively shove Zhuo’s back.

But with a sickening ripping sound, the back of Zhuo’s shirt tore open, and a massive, red-scaled hand sprouted directly from his spine, grabbing the thug’s throat.

“Hah—” The man’s eyes bulged, unable to breathe, his face turning purple as he was lifted off the roof.

What kind of monster was this?!

More hands emerged from Zhuo’s back, silently and brutally attacking the people still trapped in the van. Screams erupted, but the van had dark, spiderwebbed windows—the gathering outsiders couldn’t see the carnage inside.

Zhuo, lying dramatically on the crushed door, tried to stand up again.

“Don’t help me,” Zhuo’s voice was weak and pitiful for the crowd. “Let me do it myself. I can.”

He clutched his arm, trying repeatedly to stand but failing each time, acting like a severe concussion victim.

Yuan Anqing could clearly see the deep resentment hidden in Zhuo’s stubborn ‘weakness.’ Finally, after a horrified passerby called the police, Zhuo miraculously managed to stand up.

But the back of his shirt was in tatters from the extra arms.

Zhuo pitifully hugged Yuan Anqing. “They hit me and pulled me from behind! They blocked the road and hit a pedestrian! They’re so unreasonable!”

No one in the van refuted him, because everyone inside was currently unconscious from the strangulation.

Yuan Anqing hugged him back, patting his broad back in comfort. Then he lowered his voice so only Zhuo could hear: “Anyone dead?”

“No.” How could I let those bastards die so easily?

More people gathered around the accident. Zhuo pretended to faint against Yuan’s shoulder. There were marks on his back, but they were more like an illusion—like the reality-bending scenes Zhuo created in his “stomach”—just for visual effect to fool the paramedics.

Yuan Anqing could see through it, but ordinary people couldn’t. They only thought the reckless van had run a red light and hit a very tall pedestrian. The van was so badly damaged; they didn’t know if the driver could be saved.

Finally, an ambulance arrived and took them away. Once safely inside the back of the ambulance, the supposedly weak, fainting Zhuo sat bolt upright. “Leave those bastards to me.”

“Calm down.” The people in this specific ambulance weren’t local hospital staff, but medical personnel from Bai Tian’s administrative building. They had treated Yuan Anqing’s fever before. “We need to extract information from them first.”

“I can read their memories! It’s the same thing!” Zhuo was very dissatisfied; he had prepared to be a positive, happy partner today. He didn’t want his negative emotions to bother Yuan Anqing again. His plan was to have a happy, ordinary, sweet day with Yuan Anqing, making him feel relaxed.

Now the morning commute was all ruined.

“I’ll kill them!” Zhuo clenched his fist, his red eyes glowing. “They have to die!”

“They’re different from the previous batch in the warehouse. Those you killed were radical scum, but these people don’t have blood on their hands yet,” the doctor explained nervously. “You can’t take the law into your own hands for a traffic block.”

“But they bullied me!” Zhuo felt it was deeply unfair. “They went too far, and you won’t let me retaliate?! Where’s the logic?!”

The doctor: “Huh? Didn’t you already retaliate?” Those people had almost been choked to death by spectral hands, and Zhuo had voluntarily rammed the van hard enough to flip it!

Yuan Anqing interrupted: “Zhuo was seriously injured. They ran the red light… Oh, can their driver’s licenses be permanently revoked?”

“Definitely,” the doctor nodded quickly.

“That’s enough.” Yuan Anqing adjusted his glasses. “Also, I want our legal team to negotiate compensation.”

“Huh?”

“Running a red light and causing serious bodily injury to a pedestrian is a crime, right?” Yuan Anqing said, his corporate tone returning. “If they want to avoid a lengthy prison sentence, they’ll have to show financial sincerity.”

“Please check their total assets.” Yuan Anqing guessed it wouldn’t be much; real rich people wouldn’t bother acting as street-level stooges. “Also see if they have a seriously ill grandmother, or a kid in school.”

“Or a wife or husband who doesn’t know what they actually do for a living.” Yuan Anqing planned to utterly destroy them psychologically and financially, since the attack was meant for him.

The doctor: “…”

Who named these terrifying, ruthless creatures “Saviors”?

He found it absurd, but Zhuo’s eyes lit up with predatory joy. “I’m good at this! I’m the best at sowing discord and ruining families!”

Yuan Anqing’s gaze softened into pure affection. “Zhuo is really amazing.”

“Hehe.”

The doctor: …Huh?