CR CH68

Chapter 68: “Gotcha”

“Captain’s act just now was way too convincing. I almost couldn’t keep up with him.”

The group walked into the main control room, and Zhao Hengyi had barely grumbled a word before You Li began mocking him.

“Actually, I think it was a bit over-the-top. That energy burst of yours was discharged like a laser cannon—were you trying to play a shonen anime protagonist?”

Tang Min shrugged: “You didn’t turn around to look at him, did you? His whole face was scrunched up. He probably wanted to project a sense of tragic heroism, but in the end, it was just a heap of meat squished together.”

“Are you two taking personal shots now?” Zhao Hengyi said loudly. “Isn’t the Captain even more of a poser? That cliff-fall of his even had a slow-motion effect! And that instant energy burst—wasn’t that just showing off? It looked like fireworks!”

“Normally, he goes in as ruthlessly as possible. Since when has he ever cared about aesthetics?”

“Do you still not get it?” Tang Min sighed. “He looks good no matter what. As for you… forget it.”

“Hey!! I only followed up because I saw him initiating the team fight, alright?!”

“Alright, cut it out.” Wei Jiangming rubbed his ears. “My ears are hurting from all your noise.”

“These kids must have been terrified.” His expression held a trace of helplessness. “Even though basically all members of Teams A and B will eventually end up in their respective high-level combat units and have to face these things sooner or later, still…”

“Still, that was only the Star Alliance’s real-scene restructuring technology. They still have the chance to walk a longer path.”

“Old Wei,” Irene pressed a hand onto his shoulder. “Don’t always get so melancholic. Only the living get to have a story.”

“Is the meeting over on the other side? Let me see the review.” After replying to the various departments, You Li intended to check on everyone’s performance.

“Not yet.” Ye gained authorization to enter the Federation Center’s conference channel, turning off his own microphone.

“It’s still going. They can hold out for that long? But when they get back, they really need a proper psychological debriefing. A Super S-rank task like that would’ve scared the pants off me back in my rookie days too.”

Zhao Hengyi leaned over. After a brief pause, his pupils dilated in sudden shock.

“Holy shit, what the hell is that?”

The inner truth behind this operation had not been disclosed to the Z01 team members beforehand. Using the latest version of the Star Alliance’s real-scene restructuring technology, the domain had reconstructed the Super S-rank Tier-Transcendence Task from the Blood Pod Incident.

The real-combat footage was to be publicly released on the Star Network as a special exercise commemorating the Blood Pod Incident, accompanied by posthumous honors for the fallen soldiers, preferential treatment for their families, and detailed releases regarding Tier-Transcendence Tasks to put new combat plans onto the official agenda.

Simultaneously, it served as an ultimate trial for the current Z01 cohort. The top three in comprehensive scores would directly enter high-tier combat units.

And at this moment, there were two windows on Ye’s screen. The smaller window showed the Federation Headquarters’ main conference room, while the larger window displayed the real-combat scene. The second Zhao Hengyi took a closer look, the feed cut off.

“The conference stream disconnected,” Ye stated calmly.

“Am I having hallucinations?” Zhao Hengyi pushed him aside directly, his eyes frantically searching around for Ling Kongmiao. “Holy crap, Boss, I saw a dragon… Wait, where’s the Boss?”

Irene’s gaze drifted toward the window, letting out a sigh.

“Who knows?”

My shadow seems to be alive.

From some unknown point onward, that unexplainable thought had settled into his mind.

When children got bored, they would play shadow games, making various shapes with their hands and gestures. Jiang Tianji had tried joining them, but gazing at his shadow only brought an intense sense of heart palpitations.

When he was little, he had been a walking encyclopedia of questions. Whenever he felt something was strange, he would climb onto Jiang Yan and look up at her.

“Mom, why do I feel like my shadow is alive?”

“Mom, why does Liang Chong have a pungent smell on him? Like corrosive gas. After I mentioned it out loud, Uncle Liang looked at me weirdly. Did I say something wrong?”

“Xiaobai has a really nice jasmine scent on him, but he always likes to hide. I secretly left a mark so I could find him by following the scent.”

…

“Mom, I’ve been a bit weird lately. Why would I do something like that?”

His doubts gradually transformed from curiosity into unease; his actions occasionally slipped out of his control.

Many strange scenes appeared in his dreams—some were unfamiliar ruins, while others were real-life people and objects.

He dreamt of arguing with a classmate. In his overwhelming fury back then, he hastily lowered his head, only to realize that his shadow had moved.

“He” stood up from the ground, drilling into his body in a flash. Before his dark green eyes turned completely black, he caught the terrified looks on the faces of his classmates and teachers.

“I had a nightmare—the shadow wanted to eat me.” That time, he woke up in the hospital drenched in cold sweat, tightly clutching Jiang Yan’s sleeve. “Mom, I saw my classmate and teacher fly outward, I…”

He spoke frantically, but halfway through, he suddenly realized something and stared blankly at the blanket in the hospital bed.

Why am I in the hospital?

“They’re fine.” Yet Jiang Yan had leaned down to hug him, comforting him softly: “Xiaotian, it was just a dream. Don’t be scared.”

But after that day, he never saw the classmate from his dream ever again.

Once he understood that certain problems were visible only to himself, he began to evade them. He knew he was mostly different from others, but he did not wish to have too many differences.

“When did you figure it out?” There had been a whirlwind of emotions in Liang Chong’s voice.

One was a “beast” raised as a human; the other knew he was a “beast” yet strived to act like a human. It was hard to tell which one was more pitiable.

In truth, the boundary between human and beast was exceedingly blurry.

Only when the innate destruction and battle-lust completely overwhelmed reason—when the shadow drew nourishment from the will, and the thought of “giving up” surfaced in an instant—would the human part die completely.

The reek of gunsmoke pervaded the air, the metallic stench of blood heavy against the nose. No one remained conscious.

When the awakening energy utterly destroyed the Star Alliance’s “restructuring source,” the domain collapsed. All monitoring equipment linked to the Federation Headquarters broke down simultaneously, and risk values flashed a deep-red warning.

The giant dragon crashed into a valley. The dust mist whipped up by the vortex made it impossible to discern the situation inside.

The dragon’s shadow vanished. A young man lay curled up in the valley, the tail behind him thrashing frantically. Near the tip of the tail was a row of spikes of varying depths, like bone weapons driven deep into the earth.

Ling Kongmiao was in a state of stealth. He stopped his footsteps in front of the young man, raising his hand to draw an invisible line in the air before himself.

“AAAH— UGH—!”

Jiang Tianji was covered in wounds, his dark green eyes overtaken by shadows. He roared and thrashed in agony as the overflowing energy continuously tore at his body, the spilling blood pooling into deep marks on the ground.

The shadow, like a leech, devoured his blood as it slowly detached from the ground, thrashing its claws and fangs as it hovered around Jiang Tianji’s side.

Ling Kongmiao remained motionless, quietly observing him from where he stood.

He must stand up on his own.

Jiang Tianji seemed to sense something. Breathing heavily, he dragged himself along the ground on his knees toward Ling Kongmiao’s direction. His body couldn’t endure the violent energy, slowly draining him of all strength.

He’s crawling toward me.

Only when Ling Kongmiao saw blood tears streaming from those lifeless eyes did a trace of genuine complexity surface in his own gaze.

His straight spine bent down at a certain moment. Kneeling with his knees touching the ground, he squatted directly in front of Jiang Tianji.

The emotions inside his chest throbbed frantically. He couldn’t rewrite a certain outcome; he was merely used to using affirmative statements whenever he spoke of Jiang Tianji.

He won’t.

He can’t escape it.

He has no other choice.

He must stand up on his own.

Irene used to say to him, “You’re a cowardly child.”

It was indeed true. He had settled on his answer to that single-choice question long ago. Among the two outcomes that could have transpired today, he had never once envisioned the alternative. Even knowing that things might slip out of his control, he was unwilling to face that result in advance.

Rustle. The subtle sound of flesh dragging against the earth echoed softly.

Even though his eyes had turned pitch-black and he couldn’t see anything at all, Jiang Tianji stubbornly crawled forward. In a void of absolute nothingness, the only thing he could perceive was a scent—a scent that couldn’t be more familiar.

The distance between them was very close now. Ling Kongmiao reached out his hand, wanting to wipe the blood and dirt from his face.

Just a little bit more. Just a tiny bit more.

His fingertips hovered behind the line. Perhaps the dust was too heavy, or perhaps his heart had swayed—Ling Kongmiao reached his hand slightly further forward.

And in that very instant, Jiang Tianji completely collapsed just centimeters away from him.

A soft thud echoed—heavy like a falling curtain.

“…”

Ling Kongmiao’s eyes widened slightly, frozen in place for a moment.

Surging waves gradually spread across the deep sea of his eyes, making it impossible to maintain his calm facade any longer.

Suddenly—

A blood-stained hand precisely gripped the hand he had frozen mid-air.

“…Heh, cough, cough.”

Between his coughs, Jiang Tianji’s voice carried a hint of a smile, light as a whisper.

“Gotcha.”

—My flower.

Author’s Note:

My flower is planted in the moon. When I caught him, the moonlight shone bright as day.

The shadow was torn apart, and we met again in our original forms—or rather, I found you once more.

My flower really likes to hide, just like a jasmine with mimosa-like traits.

Of course, after angering him, his second form also comes with the traits of a man-eating plant.

To express my current feelings in less roguish words, it would probably be:

I can become your blade, but you must be my flower.

—Fragments from Rogue Jiang’s Diary.