The Savior’s Visit

Yuan Anqing felt somewhat dejected. He had a fairly clear understanding of his own personality.

Although Yuan Anqing wasn’t one for fawning flattery, in his corporate life, he could at least manage basic tact—enough to avoid making colleagues or clients too uncomfortable. But that social skill was strictly limited to work. He had never discussed romantic matters with anyone.

His romantic history was a blank slate. He couldn’t offer any constructive advice to the crying spy. Most importantly, he had no friends to practice on.

Until today, Yuan Anqing had never actually considered this issue. After all, it held no meaning for him—just as someone who lived in the tropics wouldn’t think about how to shovel snow.

Yet his relationship with Zhuo had developed so naturally, as if they had just drifted together without any grand gestures. There was no fiery passion or dramatic confessions. Despite their identities being so surreal, despite their personalities seeming like oil and water, they had come together without any major obstacles.

Yuan Anqing never needed to think about how to maintain this relationship. His time with Zhuo only improved; both sides were incredibly comfortable. He had never actively done anything with the specific premise of “developing a romance.”

This meant that even though Yuan Anqing was now technically in a relationship, his understanding of ‘love’ was far from profound.

Zhuo could have moods and throw dramatic tantrums, but his emotions and fits were always controlled within a range that wouldn’t actually hurt Yuan Anqing or cause him genuine trouble. Calling it a tantrum was exaggerating—it was more like a massive monster acting cute.

The worst time was when Zhuo’s biological restraints were released and his emotions went haywire with the fever, but a good, albeit awkward, talk had sorted it out.

So Yuan Anqing simply didn’t know how to respond to Yan Jin’s cliché heartbreak. He didn’t understand the appeal of the drama.

Zhuo’s large hand gently patted Yuan Anqing’s back, offering silent comfort. He knew Yuan Anqing was tired—not from probing Yan Jin’s memories, but from having to listen to Yan Jin talk. Yuan Anqing wasn’t used to being a wise, agony aunt.

“You’ve done great,” Zhuo comforted him, resting his chin on Yuan’s shoulder. “You’ve never had this kind of exhausting customer service experience before!”

Customer service? Yuan Anqing thought. Just how pampered is the Savior role supposed to be?

Yuan Anqing lay against Zhuo’s chest for a while before lifting his head. Then he reached out and touched the top of Zhuo’s horn.

Zhuo saw a flash of gold in Yuan Anqing’s eyes, then felt images appear directly in his mind. These were Yan Jin’s memories.

Could memories be shared after extraction? Zhuo found Yuan Anqing’s powers more and more amazing.

Yan Jin hadn’t lied. He had indeed had a boyfriend, but the relationship was nothing special. He hadn’t dropped out of college because of some grand sacrifice. It was just that he and his roommate had hooked up, the breakup was awkward, and his grades had slipped naturally.

A boring, mundane story, with none of the tragic flutter of youth.

It felt driven purely by convenience—two guys who happened to like men and found each other passably attractive in close quarters.

Boring, Zhuo thought. It wasn’t nearly as interesting as the simulation of him and Yuan Anqing being high school sweethearts.

Furthermore, Yan Jin had never had deep contact with the upper echelons of the rogue organization. His loyalty stemmed from youthful dissatisfaction with the authorities. The organization had approached him before he entered society, grooming him as a low-level asset. After graduation, the organization arranged his rent and his cover job. His treatment was quite good, which deepened his shallow loyalty.

There was no entangled, tragic love story driving his villainy. Zhuo was deeply disappointed and inexplicably felt a surge of superiority. Yan Jin’s ex-boyfriend wasn’t nearly as outstanding as Yuan Anqing, and Yan Jin wasn’t half as formidable as Zhuo.

Zhuo was very satisfied with himself.

Yuan Anqing noticed the tip of Zhuo’s tail starting to wag happily again. He sighed softly.

Footsteps came from outside the hospital room. Zhuo turned his head and saw Yuan Zhanhui jogging over.

Yuan Zhanhui had a plaster cast on his arm, but he was very optimistic. With a broken arm, he didn’t have to work. The organization’s assigned seduction task could be glossed over with the excuse of injury. Yuan Zhanhui felt like he was on a paid vacation.

“Can Mr. Zhuo sit up? Want to rent a wheelchair and stroll around the gardens?” Yuan Zhanhui offered, pointing outside the door.

“No,” Yuan Anqing shook his head. “Zhuo has an IV injection scheduled this afternoon.”

“Ah…” Yuan Zhanhui frowned and sighed. He wanted to go out, but since he still had the active task of seducing Yuan Anqing, leaving the Savior alone in the room might look like slacking off to his handlers. “So I’ll just stay here with you guys?”

Just then, Yan Jin entered with a tray of breakfast. In this ward, Zhuo, Yuan Zhanhui, and Yan Jin all shared similar, hyper-masculine aesthetics.

“Is this a hospital ward or a gym?” Zhuo couldn’t help muttering.

One after another, the organization had recruited men imitating his appearance to seduce Yuan Anqing. Now everyone around Yuan Anqing was burly and tall. At 183 cm, Yuan Anqing was considered tall among ordinary humans, but Yan Jin and Yuan Zhanhui were both over 190 cm, and Zhuo was over two meters, making Yuan Anqing look small in comparison.

Yan Jin noticed Yuan Zhanhui and smiled falsely. “You discovered this Yuan Zhanhui guy was a fake yesterday, right?”

The organization, possessing better internal information, wasn’t friendly to Yuan Zhanhui’s faction either.

Yuan Anqing nodded.

Yan Jin smiled again, subtly assessing Yuan Zhanhui, and finally concluded a possibility—mind control. There were many demi-humans in this world, and people with animal features like Yuan Zhanhui and Zhuo were common. So, are fluffy animal tails considered one of Yuan Anqing’s personal kinks?

“Don’t put your tail on my bed,” Zhuo reminded Yuan Zhanhui sharply. “It sheds.”

“I can’t retract my tail, so bear with it,” Yuan Zhanhui grumbled. He didn’t mention that his tail didn’t shed—after all, his body fur was thick, and he couldn’t control the hair loss. He had to use a sticky lint roller on his hospital bed every single day.

Yuan Zhanhui plopped down on the edge of Zhuo’s mattress. Yuan Anqing said nothing, and Zhuo didn’t physically kick him off, though his expression wasn’t happy.

This guy really knows how to ingratiate himself, Yan Jin thought. Why didn’t Zhuo mock him for sitting on his bed?

“Don’t you two think life is better without work?” Yuan Zhanhui asked casually. “I’ve been really comfortable these past two days. If conditions allowed, I’d love to break my arm every so often.”

“Then you’d have no salary,” Zhuo interrupted him practically.

“Sigh.” Yuan Zhanhui sighed. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

“If it’s really unbearable, you could just resign,” Yuan Anqing suggested. Yuan Anqing used to be the type to fill his life entirely with corporate work, but lately, looking back, he felt it wasn’t worth it. Making himself sick and worrying Zhuo every day wasn’t a sustainable lifestyle. “Do you have savings?”

“About a hundred thousand. I was saving up to buy a car,” Yuan Zhanhui scratched his head.

“Buying a car isn’t urgent. Public transportation is convenient,” Yuan Anqing said reasonably. He had plans to eventually get his driver’s license here, but he had no free time.

Suddenly, the conversation around the Savior’s bed shifted from tragic love stories to mundane discussions about adult work-life balance and financial planning. It was quite harmonious.

The spy woman from the adjacent bed shot a harsh glance at Yan Jin, silently signaling him to find an opening to join the conversation.

“You’re really carefree,” Yan Jin said with a bright smile, seamlessly entering the chat. “I wish I could be as carefree as you, Mr. Yuan.”

Yuan Anqing looked at Yan Jin blankly. “I’m not carefree.”

“Aren’t you advising your friend to casually resign from his job?” Yan Jin asked.

“Because his stress is too much. If he doesn’t resign, his only other option is jumping off a building,” Yuan Anqing said matter-of-factly. “Or dropping dead at his desk from overwork.”

Yan Jin forced a laugh. “That’s an exaggeration…”

“I speak from personal experience,” Yuan Anqing added deadpan.

Yan Jin had absolutely nothing more to say to that.

But Zhuo reached out and pulled Yuan Anqing into his massive arms, patting his back gently like soothing a traumatized child. Yuan Anqing’s expression showed nothing—neither happiness nor sadness.

“I don’t get the vibe in here either. You guys go chat out in the hall,” Zhuo suddenly said, glaring at the spies. “I want to rest.”

Yuan Anqing frowned slightly at the sudden dismissal.

Yuan Zhanhui was also surprised. Zhuo would voluntarily ask to be separated from Yuan Anqing?

But Yuan Zhanhui reacted quickly to the opportunity. He immediately stood up and waved at Yuan Anqing. “Then let’s go out into the hall and talk?”

“Mm.” Yuan Anqing nodded, standing up. He guessed Zhuo was up to something again. After all, in the spies’ eyes, Zhuo was the submissive, easy target. Having Yuan Anqing around might hinder the actions of the people in the neighboring beds trying to manipulate the monster.

Yuan Anqing left temporarily, and Zhuo looked directly at Yan Jin.

After realizing he couldn’t interject into the corporate banter, Yan Jin had formulated other ideas.

Zhuo could feel the sharp malice from Yan Jin directed solely at him. It was a novel experience for Zhuo. After all, ordinary humans feared him, and some hated him, but no one had ever stupidly wanted to lay hands on him.

Upon realizing he couldn’t charm his way in, Yan Jin started thinking about using Zhuo to influence the Savior. He thought about taking Zhuo hostage—Zhuo might be massive, but he was supposedly severely injured and couldn’t resist.

But Yan Jin wouldn’t act rashly. First, his main task was to seduce Yuan Anqing. Second, he had no experience in such violent matters; he was just an ordinary guy recruited for his looks. He wasn’t sure he could really bring himself to put a knife to someone’s throat.

So cowardly, Zhuo thought, reading his mind.

Zhuo stared at Yan Jin and smiled a chilling smile, making Yan Jin instinctively step back.

“Do you like my boyfriend?” Zhuo asked sweetly.

Here it comes again! Yan Jin took a deep breath, ready to retort, but Zhuo cut him off.

“Hey, it’s okay. I can see the affection in your eyes. And I really don’t mind my boyfriend having another lover.” Zhuo smiled wider. “Isn’t that Yuan Zhanhui guy doing the same thing? I know their situation. I just turn a blind eye.”

In the hospital corridor, Yuan Zhanhui sneezed violently, then rubbed his nose. “You really don’t drink?”

“No drinking. It’s bad for my health,” Yuan Anqing shook his head. “I have a strictly regulated alcohol intake now.”

“Regulated? That’s too painful,” Yuan Zhanhui pressed his forehead.

“Not really.” Yuan Anqing didn’t find it unbearable. He craved a drink sometimes, but Zhuo got incredibly nervous and clingy whenever he touched alcohol. Yuan Anqing felt helpless about it, yet he secretly enjoyed being managed by the monster. Being watched over wasn’t so bad.

“You’re like those bored men who’ve lost all passion after years of marriage,” Yuan Zhanhui joked.

“Right now is the absolute peak of my passion,” Yuan Anqing shook his head, looking out the hallway window. “It’s just that my passion is still boring to outsiders.” Yuan Anqing felt he had become much more cheerful, but that cheerfulness was only perceptible to Zhuo.

Yuan Zhanhui didn’t know how to respond to that deadpan declaration. He could only look at the scenery with Yuan Anqing, occasionally flicking his leopard tail when bored.

Yuan Zhanhui couldn’t take Yuan Anqing too far from Zhuo’s room. Being too far from the “injured” Zhuo wasn’t safe for his cover. “When should we go back in?”

Yuan Zhanhui was naturally lively. He couldn’t get along well with a brick wall like Yuan Anqing.

“Wait until Zhuo starts making a fuss,” Yuan Anqing said, holding his forehead.

“Making a fuss?” Yuan Zhanhui didn’t understand.

But he soon found out.

Because inside the ward, Zhuo suddenly started screaming Yuan Anqing’s name at the top of his lungs.

“What’s wrong?!” Yuan Zhanhui was startled.

“He’s made Yan Jin angry,” Yuan Anqing said quietly, already walking back.

Zhuo was a weird creature who loved malicious pranks. He was very good at stirring negative emotions. In the past, when messing with government officials, he wouldn’t use his mind-control powers, just to prolong his fun. He could naturally amplify a certain desire or emotion in a room, similar to the effect of inferior differentiation.

Yan Jin should be mentally stable, or the organization wouldn’t have sent him. But those who dealt with Zhuo in the past were all mentally stable, highly trained veterans—yet Zhuo always found their weaknesses and broke them for amusement.

Especially now that Zhuo had actively read Yan Jin’s memories.

Sure enough, when Yuan Anqing and the spy rushed in, Zhuo was already being held hostage.

A small fruit knife had been thrust superficially into his lower back. Zhuo looked pained, his lips pressed together, looking utterly pitiful. He wasn’t screaming in agony, which made him seem bravely strong. This stabbing was entirely fake, just like the earlier decapitation in the bus.

Yan Jin, however, looked grievously insulted and completely unhinged, constantly cursing Zhuo. The spy couple in the adjacent bed were dumbfounded, unable to understand why their colleague had broken down so completely.

“Wuwu… Yuan Anqing!” Zhuo wailed, though he couldn’t squeeze out any actual tears.

Yuan Anqing looked coldly at Yan Jin. “What do you want?”

“You like him?!” Yan Jin sneered, his face red with manic anger. One hand held the knife handle, the other gripped Zhuo’s thick neck. “Your idiot boyfriend thinks you’re hopelessly in love with him!”

Weakly, Zhuo nodded slowly. “That’s… that’s right.”

“Who asked you to talk?!” Yan Jin roared, shaking him.

“Eep,” Zhuo sobbed weakly.

“You’re a grown man! Can’t you be normal?!” Yan Jin demanded, losing his mind.

Zhuo trembled. “You can’t be sexist.”

“I don’t care about sexism!” Yan Jin was almost amused by this bastard’s audacity. “Where’s your arrogant attitude from before?!”

Zhuo looked at Yuan Anqing pitifully. “I was never arrogant… You’ve been bullying me all along…”

Just as Yan Jin was about to angrily twist the knife handle, Yuan Anqing quickly interrupted the bad acting. “What exactly do you want?”

What did he want?

The question caught Yan Jin off guard. This was a crime of passion after being psychically influenced by Zhuo’s aura. Crimes of passion don’t need logical reasons; just enough amplified emotion.

It was as if Yan Jin just realized the terrifying Savior stood before him. One wrong move, and he’d end up like those thugs with twisted bones, dead in an unknown corner.

Yan Jin shivered, his hand trembling, his pupils dilated from extreme tension.

Zhuo, “stabbed,” started shouting again. “I’d be dead anyway! My life isn’t worth anything! Don’t make any compromises with them for me, Savior!”

His voice was booming and fast, making the already nervous Yan Jin even more tense. “Shut up!”

“No, you can’t contact the authorities!” Yan Jin reacted. “If you contact them, I’ll kill your boyfriend right now!”

“Okay. No contact,” Yuan Anqing nodded smoothly, raising his empty hands to show he wouldn’t reach for his phone.

“I need to leave here… No, he has to come with me!” Yan Jin didn’t dare stab the knife deeper, afraid Zhuo would actually die and the Savior would obliterate him.

Yuan Anqing glanced at Zhuo. His expression was far too cold, showing absolutely no affection or concern for his hostage boyfriend. “How will you leave?”

“A nurse will come for the IV injection in about ten minutes. Zhuo supposedly can’t move. With his massive size, can you carry him out without arousing suspicion?” Yuan Anqing asked logically.

Yan Jin froze.

“This is a public hospital,” Yuan Anqing reminded him.

Yan Jin’s breathing quickened in panic.

Yuan Anqing pushed his glasses up his nose. “Where do you plan to take him? I must come along.”

“Impossible!” This time, three voices spoke at once. (Yan Jin and the spy couple).

People from other wards had noticed the commotion. Yuan Anqing silently closed the hospital room door, locking them in.

“Why be afraid of me?” Yuan Anqing countered. “Do you honestly think that by taking him hostage, I’ll be deterred?”

“If I were so easily swayed by emotions, he wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place.” Yuan Anqing’s expression and demeanor were perfectly, chillingly natural. “If I wanted you dead, it wouldn’t matter if you took the whole hospital hostage.”

“I’m just curious,” Yuan Anqing said, taking a step forward. “Curious about the second-generation inferior differentiation beings your organization is researching.”

Yan Jin and the others were silent, terrified by the shift in his aura.

Yuan Anqing, displaying no physical strength, sat casually on the visitor’s chair. He crossed his long legs, resting his folded hands on his knee. “So, I want to go see your base.”

“I… I…”

“You have ten minutes to think. Contact your superiors to arrange a car to pick us up,” Yuan Anqing said softly. “I can control the staff’s memories, ensuring everyone leaves the hospital safely and unnoticed.”

“After ten minutes, the nurse will come.” Yuan Anqing sighed. “I’ll have to contact the authorities to deal with you. But whatever, there will be a next group to find me, won’t there? This isn’t my only chance to find a base… but it is your only chance.”

Yuan Anqing emphasized his words with a chilling smile. “Your only chance to survive.”

His callous disregard for Zhuo’s safety convinced Yan Jin even more: Yuan Anqing didn’t love Zhuo.

Zhuo was just a disposable plaything for a twisted love game.

After loading Zhuo into the back of the unmarked sedan, Yuan Zhanhui tried to follow them into the car.

“Why are you getting in?” Yuan Anqing asked him coldly.

“Go do whatever you want,” Yuan Anqing waved his hand, shooing Yuan Zhanhui off the curb, then pulled the car door shut.

Yuan Zhanhui, still sporting his fluffy leopard ears and tail, stood on the sidewalk looking as bewildered as a cat unceremoniously kicked out of its owner’s bedroom—confused and pitiful. Yuan Anqing didn’t even spare him a second glance, sitting back against the leather seat.

Yan Jin remembered Zhuo saying Yuan Zhanhui was Yuan Anqing’s side-lover. So this was how he treated his lovers?

Truly heartless.

Yan Jin tried to straighten Zhuo’s heavy body in the back, but Zhuo slapped his hand away aggressively. His voice was still weak and pathetic. “Don’t touch me. If I get dirty from you, the Savior won’t like me anymore!”

Yan Jin: “…”

How deep in this toxic love was this bastard?

The car was a standard sedan, not meant for giants. Zhuo and Yan Jin were in the back seat. Zhuo lay stretched out, taking up almost all the space with his long legs, leaving Yan Jin nearly squashed against the door.

“Let’s switch places. I’ll hold him,” Yuan Anqing said from the front.

“No!” Yan Jin remained wary.

“Why not?” Yuan Anqing asked.

Why? Yan Jin was momentarily stunned. Yes, why not? The Savior could easily kill him anytime, from any seat. He was silent for a moment, then silently got up and shuffled into the front passenger seat.

Yuan Anqing waited for him to move before climbing into the back. He easily lifted Zhuo’s supposedly feeble head and placed it gently on his lap.

Zhuo whimpered softly. Yuan Anqing reached out and pinched the tip of Zhuo’s tail.

He felt safer being close to Zhuo. Thinking this, Yuan Anqing stroked the bloody wound on Zhuo’s back.

The wound looked incredibly real, with sticky red blood flowing out and staining the shirt. But it was all fake.

What is this blood? Yuan Anqing looked at his stained palm.

He felt a poke on his thigh, then realized Zhuo was writing letters on his pants with his finger.

[This stuff is a bit like sweat.]

Sweat?

[It’s not dirty. Like my saliva, it’s just colored water from my glands.]

Yuan Anqing recalled that night when Zhuo sucked on his finger like a lollipop. And Zhuo was even using punctuation in his finger-writing.

Yuan Anqing silently wiped the fake “blood” deliberately onto Zhuo’s clean shirt collar. It wasn’t disgust—he was just teasing Zhuo.

Sure enough, after wiping the “blood” on his clothes, Zhuo’s red eyes went wide. He looked up at Yuan Anqing pitifully.

[Not dirty,] he gestured again on the thigh.

Yuan Anqing knew it wasn’t dirty, but he needed to express his dissatisfaction. Sometimes Zhuo went too far with his roleplay. So Yuan Anqing ignored Zhuo, looking out the window.

Yan Jin, watching the cold interaction through the rearview mirror: “…”

Earlier, the Savior had pretended to be so caring, staying at the hospital to help. Now that he got what he wanted and was in the car, he couldn’t be bothered with his injured lover? He even found touching his blood disgusting?

Meanwhile, Zhuo’s hidden hand kept signing on Yuan’s leg: [You’re angry, aren’t you?]

[But this time I didn’t scare you. You knew what I was going to do in the ward.]

Yuan Anqing ignored him.

[You can’t be mad about this. I’m very healthy!]

[And my plan was very successful!]

[Very!! Very successful!!] Zhuo even emphasized the invisible exclamation marks by poking hard.

Yuan Anqing pinched Zhuo’s tail hard.

[If you’re mad, I won’t let you pinch my tail,] Zhuo even started threatening.

Yuan Anqing raised an eyebrow. He tossed the tip of Zhuo’s tail away dismissively.

Zhuo immediately pushed his tail tip back into Yuan Anqing’s open hand.

Yuan Anqing clenched his fist. Zhuo forcibly squeezed the tail back between his fingers.

Then Zhuo signed: [You pinched. So you’re not mad.]

Yuan Anqing wanted to laugh but held it in to maintain his icy persona.

[Are you really not mad?] Zhuo was uncertain, afraid this behavior would anger Yuan Anqing more. [If you’re not mad, pinch a couple more times.]

Yuan Anqing complied, pinching the scales firmly twice.

Zhuo settled down contentedly and diligently went back to pretending to be dying.

“When we get off, remember to arrange a medical stretcher for Zhuo,” Yuan Anqing said coldly to Yan Jin. “Tell your superiors.”

“We’ll arrange treatment for him immediately upon arrival!” Yan Jin quickly said.

“Treatment? No. No need. Just arrange a stretcher so he doesn’t have to walk.” Yuan Anqing looked down at Zhuo. “I want him by my side. He’s my partner.”

“Ah? But… his wound needs bandaging.” Yan Jin had made the wound. Though it was a crime of passion under the aura’s influence, he knew how deep he had stabbed the knife.

“No need. With me here, he won’t die,” Yuan Anqing said dismissively. “He’s my partner. His only duty is to accompany me.”

“Isn’t that… a bit too harsh?” Yan Jin chose his words carefully.

Zhuo had provoked him, and Yan Jin had stabbed him, but Yan Jin still felt this self-proclaimed “lover” of Zhuo’s was infinitely colder and more abusive.

“I didn’t hurt him,” Yuan Anqing said, adjusting his glasses. “At least not this time. I don’t need to take responsibility for his healing.”

Zhuo hummed softly in pain but said nothing.

Yan Jin’s lips tightened, the corners of his mouth twitching in disgust. “No wonder you’re the Savior.”

Yuan Anqing felt he had left out an adjective. He should have said, “No wonder you’re the lofty, untouchable Savior.”

But Yuan Anqing didn’t mind the judgment. He simply placed his hand on Zhuo’s horn and closed his eyes to rest. He seemed too lazy to observe the surroundings, entirely unconcerned about where the car was taking them.

This was absolute confidence born from strength. He wouldn’t get hurt, nor would he have any worries, because he had the ultimate weapon sleeping on his lap.

As long as he wanted, the monster would play a tragic love game with him. He didn’t need to empathize with the ordinary spies—or rather, the Savior didn’t consider them human at all.

Yuan Anqing’s fingertips tapped lightly on Zhuo’s horn. Having Zhuo by his side made him feel incredibly safe. So he closed his eyes and almost fell asleep.

The driver’s tense voice saying, “We’ve arrived,” woke Yuan Anqing.

Yuan Anqing opened his eyes and looked out the tinted window. The car was parked in a sterile underground parking lot. Nearby, people in pink nurse uniforms were waiting with a gurney.

Nurses?

Yuan Anqing squinted and saw the embroidered text on their chests: “Wangmei Cosmetic Surgery Clinic.”

A beauty salon?

Yuan Anqing didn’t move. Yan Jin and the driver got out first. The nurses lifted the “unconscious” Zhuo onto a stretcher and started pushing him toward the freight elevators.

Then Yuan Anqing immediately got out and walked beside Zhuo. He held the edge of the stretcher, ignoring that Zhuo was supposedly bleeding out. “Alright. Take me to see your boss’s sincerity.”

He really didn’t intend to let Zhuo get treated. How despicable, the spies thought.

The nurses exchanged wary glances. Then a taller nurse stepped forward. “Hello. Our supervisor is waiting for you upstairs.”

“Got it.” Yuan Anqing gestured for the nurses to push. He didn’t even want to exert the effort to push the cart; he just rested his hand on it to stay close to his monster.

Finally, Yuan Anqing met the rebel supervisor in a large, luxurious office.

Besides the supervisor, there was a group of children sitting in the office. The children exuded the faint aura of inferior differentiation, but they weren’t out of control.

“Are these second-generation?” Yuan Anqing looked at the children, the oldest no more than five years old.

“No. They are third-generation,” the supervisor said. He was a man with graying temples, looking at least 550 years old.

“Third-generation?” Yuan Anqing paused, then quickly understood the horror. “Did the first batch of second-generation anomalies grow up and reproduce?”

“They’re not stable enough for that,” the supervisor nodded grimly. The organization dared not rashly bring the Savior to their main military base. But they had to prove their sincerity and power, so they chose this method. Exposing these third-generation kids didn’t matter to them. If they died, it was fine. The organization still had plenty of second-generation subjects locked away.

“These third-generation kids aren’t stable either,” Yuan Anqing observed the children carefully. “Or rather, they’re becoming more and more deformed.”

“What do you mean?”

“These third-generation kids won’t survive to adulthood.” Yuan Anqing could sense the violent turmoil of desire mutating inside them. “Their intelligence is severely underdeveloped, right? They can’t even form a complete human personality.”

Yuan Anqing frowned. “What a sin.”

The supervisor glanced at Zhuo bleeding on the stretcher but didn’t argue the morality. “Every step of human evolution comes with sacrifice.”

“You have a point, but this isn’t evolution,” Yuan Anqing said, looking at the vacant-eyed, drooling children. “Inferior differentiation doesn’t grant you anything extra. It only destroys what humanity you already have.”

“But if we can find a way to coexist with the inferior differentiation while maintaining our personality, we can possess god-like strength while staying clear-headed.”

Yuan Anqing thought for a moment, then asked, “The power of inferior differentiation comes at the cost of excising the brain for a strong body. If you insist that’s evolution… I respect that, but I firmly disagree.”

The supervisor was silent. “So it’s impossible to stay rational? Even with the consumption of Savior’s flesh?”

“You can try. I can’t say for sure.” Yuan Anqing didn’t directly deny it, knowing the man didn’t want to hear that the experiment was a total failure.

Seeing the supervisor’s heavy, desperate expression, Yuan Anqing grew curious. “You want to live forever? Why?”

“Does wanting to live need a specific reason?” the man retorted.

“But your natural lifespan is finite,” Yuan Anqing continued. “And being this desperate to live does require reasons.” Not having enjoyed enough wealth, missing someone, longing for something, having unfinished business or deep resentment—those were reasons.

“Inferior differentiation won’t necessarily make you immortal…” Yuan Anqing paused mid-sentence.

He thought of Senior Qing.

Unlike inferior differentiation individuals who were controlled by chaotic desire, Senior Qing seemed in a state of absolute desirelessness. He resembled a follower or avatar of the previous Savior, his only obsession being to fulfill the former Savior’s last words as a plant-creature.

“Like him?” The supervisor pointed disdainfully at the unconscious Zhuo. “Becoming your mindless minion, subject to your abuse?”

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Yuan Anqing asked.

“Why should I?!” The supervisor gritted his teeth. “What right do you have?!”

“What qualities or experience make you worthy of being the Savior?!” the man yelled.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what the Savior really is,” Yuan Anqing answered honestly. “As for qualifications… I indeed have none. But you have a biological need, and I offered a possibility.”

“It’s you who has the need to live, not me forcing you to become my minion. I’m not the one seeking immortality,” Yuan Anqing clarified coldly. “I’m not forcing you to do anything.”

Yuan Anqing felt some people liked to pin blame on him for no reason. The rebel organization’s establishment had nothing to do with him; he didn’t know anyone there. Yuan Anqing hadn’t even been in this world long.

But these people seemed to see his very existence as original sin. They rejected a god that controlled everything from above, weaving strange logic to prove everything wrong with their lives was the Savior’s fault.

The truth was Yuan Anqing hadn’t been here long; he hadn’t even gotten his driver’s license yet. There was no relationship between them.

In other words:

“How does your misfortune relate to me?” Yuan Anqing asked. “I wasn’t part of your family or your personality formation.”

“You are the Savior. Your purpose is to make us better,” the supervisor said. “That’s your cosmic duty.”

“Have you… raised me?” Yuan Anqing asked, tilting his head.

“You are not human, understand?! You’re a part of our world’s system! We should be symbiotic. But you alone have immense power, while we suffer and mutate. That’s unfair.”

“So what if it’s unfair?” Yuan Anqing didn’t see himself as wrong. “No antelope would point at a tiger’s fangs and say, ‘You have fangs; that’s unfair to us.'”

“You see yourself as a hunter and us as prey?!”

“No. It was just a biological analogy.” Yuan Anqing frowned. “Why are you so extreme?” He had no interest in seeing anyone as prey; he completely lacked the passion for hunting.

“Because you Saviors didn’t do your job! You didn’t fulfill your duty to elevate us! So we must claim our share of your flesh!” the supervisor continued, his eyes wild.

“Why are you so eager for a complete stranger to meddle in your life?” Yuan Anqing was perplexed by the entitlement. “You don’t even know me. What makes you think my ‘fair’ choice for humanity would be right?”

“Because I need basic fairness. I need to live.” The supervisor’s voice calmed slightly, cracking with emotion. “I have someone waiting at home. All my children are dead from the experiments. I still have a minor great-grandson to raise. I must live.”

“If I die, he’ll be sent to an orphanage. The child has congenital defects requiring expensive treatment. I can’t die.” The supervisor took a deep, shaky breath. “I risked everything coming to see you because of that. The others wouldn’t come. Only I agreed to meet you.”

“I’m gambling everything.”

Yuan Anqing met his pleading eyes, seemingly unmoved. He only said, “Then keep looking for scientific ways to live.” He had already suggested a psychic possibility, but the supervisor refused to accept becoming a ‘minion.’

“Won’t you help?” the supervisor asked, stepping forward. “Even if it’s just to let him live a few more years?”

“My major wasn’t in medicine,” Yuan Anqing reminded him flatly.

The supervisor froze.

Yuan Anqing added, “And his illness isn’t caused by me. I have no obligation to cure him.”

“You…!”

“I only handle inferior differentiation issues,” Yuan Anqing said, adjusting his cuffs. “If your grandson is destined to die of a natural defect, the best I can offer is my condolences.”

Yuan Anqing didn’t think he said anything particularly harsh, but the supervisor seemed instantly furious.

“I didn’t create your lives. They run on their own.” Yuan Anqing explained further. “What you’re experiencing now is simply the collision of these self-running lives.”

Yuan Anqing wasn’t being arrogant. He simply felt he had no right to interfere with mortality.

And Senior Qing’s transformation into a plant wasn’t due to the previous Savior’s intervention, but Senior Qing’s persistent, personal choice to wait. These people hadn’t made such a choice, and Yuan Anqing didn’t need anyone to fulfill his wishes. So they should be on parallel lines. He only fixed magical bugs. Their human joys and sorrows were none of his concern.

Every short life deserves sympathy. Yuan Anqing wasn’t completely untouched, but he still wouldn’t get involved. Because it wasn’t his duty. It wasn’t something a so-called Savior with personal emotions should meddle in.

The supervisor was suppressing a violent anger. He had hoped the Savior would abandon the authorities and cooperate with them out of pity.

But now it seemed impossible. The Savior was truly a heartless monster.

“Are you playing with us?” the supervisor asked Yuan Anqing, reaching for a weapon under his desk. “Since you have no intention to cooperate, why did you even come here?”

“I don’t know.” Yuan Anqing’s response was surprisingly honest. “You’d have to ask Zhuo.”

Zhuo? Everyone in the room turned their attention back to the stretcher.

But Zhuo was no longer lying on it.

With a heavy THUD, a huge red hand covered in scales landed on the supervisor’s mahogany desk. A monstrous creature with a demonic goat’s head and a massive serpent’s tail practically filled the space behind Yuan Anqing. The creature was kneeling, countless hands bracing against the ground and walls, its jet-black eyes fixed hungrily on the supervisor and Yan Jin.

And Yuan Anqing, standing calmly before the beast, didn’t even flinch.

The breeze stirred by the red giant’s movements ruffled Yuan Anqing’s hair and corporate clothes.

Yuan Anqing sighed helplessly. “I didn’t want to come, but Zhuo really wanted to see this place.”

“Because it’s fun,” Zhuo’s booming, distorted voice came from the red creature’s maw.

Yan Jin stood frozen by the door, completely dumbstruck. The monster had been faking the injury the entire time?!

“And I’m doing serious work here.” Zhuo looked at the trembling supervisor. “This old man isn’t a high-level executive. But if we dig deeper into his mind, we’ll definitely find the location of the previous Savior’s flesh pile!”

Yuan Anqing wasn’t yet proficient at deep hypnosis. His power was stronger than Zhuo’s, but unless it was an extreme emergency, he couldn’t perform beyond ordinary limits to rip memories from a sane person.

At the hospital, it was Zhuo who had suggested this infiltration plan.

“What kind of monster are you…” the supervisor’s voice trembled, but his pupils gradually dilated under the monster’s psychic pressure. “You are…”

“I am the person the Savior loves most,” Zhuo roared to the supervisor, using his mind-control aura.

Everyone in the room, including the nurses and the supervisor, repeated Zhuo’s words in a dull, synchronized unison: “He is the person the Savior loves most.”

Yuan Anqing: “…”

Zhuo added, “I am a tough guy who suffers from many tragic illnesses!”

The people in the room repeated that sentence too, their eyes blank.

“Though I’m a tough guy, I’m very delicate!” Zhuo was determined to defend his persona as a fragile flower to the spies.

Zhuo: “I am the Savior’s super sweetheart!”

The room repeated it obediently: “He is the Savior’s super sweetheart.”

Then Zhuo added another line: “Super duper sweetheart!”

Yuan Anqing pressed his hand on Zhuo’s scaly snout. “Stop adding personal stuff to the brainwashing!”

“I’m not! I’m just making sure they attack me instead of you in the future! I’m important to you! Attacking me is safer for you!” Zhuo insisted he was doing serious tactical work.

Zhuo added, leaning into Yuan Anqing’s touch, “And I really am a sweetheart.” He spoke with absolute certainty.

Yuan Anqing was momentarily speechless.

Zhuo sought confirmation, his red eyes wide. “Right?”

Yuan Anqing resignedly nodded. “Right.”

Zhuo raised his massive, horned head proudly, almost impressed by his own charm.