CR CH70

Chapter 70: The Inside Story

In the silent night, the two stood facing each other without a word.

Jiang Yan froze for a moment, then curved her lips.

“Is that so?”

She spoke with deep meaning: “Compared to him, I’m actually more worried about you. I know my child very well—he only looks obedient.”

“Captain Ling, as a… mother, let me give you a piece of advice.”

“Don’t pamper him too much, or else it’ll be easy to lose control.”

After speaking, Jiang Yan waved her hand at him. The glow of the elevator vanished as the doors closed. Ling Kongmiao stood where he was and watched her leave, then turned toward the window to light a cigarette.

He didn’t bring the cigarette to his lips. He quietly watched it burn down to the end before snubbing out the butt and tossing it into the trash can.

At the end of the dream was a jasmine flower; catching him meant going home.

The process of being devoured by the shadow was like a giant boulder slowly crushing his bones to pieces. A fleeting urge to give up flashed through his mind, but immediately following it, he saw those disappointed eyes. Jiang Tianji regained clarity in an instant, his consciousness taking the upper hand.

Beep… Beep…

The rhythmic sound of monitoring equipment gradually grew distinct. He opened his eyes and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, dazed for two seconds.

“You’re awake?” A faint voice came from beside him.

Jiang Tianji turned his head. Ling Kongmiao was sitting on the chair by the bed. Seeing him wake up, he closed his communication device.

“I…”

Jiang Tianji felt a subtle shift in his mood. Now that the suspicion deep within his heart had been thoroughly confirmed, he didn’t know how to open his mouth instead.

When he had awakened in the valley, he had realized he was unconsciously crawling in the direction releasing the scent of jasmine. He could sense the “mark” he had left behind; a long-looming suspicion he hadn’t dared to believe in finally had a chance to be proven.

It wasn’t entirely a performance, though. Once his consciousness regained clarity, the excruciating pain woke up along with it. Collapsing right there was indeed because he had wanted to rest for a bit.

But right after, the jasmine scent at the tip of his nose grew even more concentrated. He had a very strong premonition back then that something was hovering right above his head. Jiang Tianji subconsciously reached out to grab that strand of wind, only to catch something solid, tangible, and distinctly jointed.

All the puzzle pieces were strung together by this single thread. After a momentary freeze, even though he was nearly dying from the pain, Jiang Tianji couldn’t help but chuckle, stubbornly speaking through his coughs:

“Gotcha.”

He knew he had to say those words; otherwise, a certain someone would run away again and pretend he didn’t know anything.

While Jiang Tianji’s mind was wandering, Ling Kongmiao’s gaze shifted downward.

“Pull your tail back first.”

Jiang Tianji didn’t react for a second. Following his gaze, he saw a thick, powerful dragon tail currently wrapped around Ling Kongmiao’s lower leg. Realizing it was a part of himself, he slowly uncoiled the tail and rested it gently on the armrest of Ling Kongmiao’s chair.

“You just awakened, so your energy is unstable. You can’t retract your beast-form traits for the time being,” Ling Kongmiao browsed through the numerical analysis. “This condition will persist for a while.”

A certain someone’s gaze was far too burning. Ling Kongmiao raised his eyes, momentarily lost for words.

Jiang Tianji stared at him intently, clearly not having fully returned to his senses from that dream-like experience, blurting out a line:

“I knew you wouldn’t die.”

The process of tier-transcendence usually lasted only a few short seconds. As an alternate world constructed by energy, the mental domain was like water to a fish for mutated entities. The longer an ability user remained inside a domain, the more severe their negative condition became.

Continuously traversing between reality and illusion, their mental domains fluctuated wildly, leading to symptoms of frenzy.

This was their first time encountering a real Super S-rank task. The continuous mental interference had already pushed most of the team into a state of “distortion.” Even if they vaguely felt something was strange, they couldn’t think calmly in that environment back then—they could only fight mechanically, letting despair devour their willpower bit by bit.

“Wrong. I will die, and I could die at any moment.”

“This task was merely a virtual trial for you all, but it truly existed once. Less than 3% of the people survived, and all the accompanying instructors lost their lives back then.”

Ling Kongmiao said objectively: “Jiang Tianji, no one is invincible. The heroes and warriors of this world all live in their most brilliant moments.”

He spoke of these things very calmly, as if death to him was a matter as simple as going to sleep.

Jiang Tianji knit his brows slightly, but before he could refute, Ling Kongmiao brought up another matter.

“Commander Jiang came to see you. Seeing that you were fine, she went back.”

He checked the time and stood up: “I have another meeting. Try not to cause trouble during this period. Wait…”

Someone grabbed him. Ling Kongmiao stopped his movements and let out an extremely faint sigh.

Just as he thought Jiang Tianji was about to ask, “Xiaobai, why were you hiding from me?”, a certain tail gently nudged his waist.

Jiang Tianji looked up at him, saying only one sentence:

“But you are invincible.”

After a brief silence, a light laugh sounded from above his head. His head was pushed down firmly, forcing Jiang Tianji to lower his eyes. When he looked up again, he only caught a glimpse of silver hair flashing past the door.

Ling Kongmiao had changed a lot, sharing almost no similarities with the Xiaobai he used to know. Yet he still felt at ease; that blank space inside him was filled by the scent that had remained by his side all along.

Then what about Ling Kongmiao?

That undisclosed blank part of him was still enduring things alone. He was very cold—the feeling he gave off wasn’t loneliness, but serenity, as if he had accepted many facts that couldn’t be changed, thus remaining peaceful toward everything.

Jiang Tianji couldn’t describe the feeling in his heart. Closing his eyes, he was just about to rest a bit more when his device suddenly vibrated twice. He opened it and scanned it casually.

– Ling: [Image shared]

Upon seeing the picture of himself lying in a mud pit wiping away tears, Jiang Tianji instantly bounced up from the bed.

– Jiang: ??

After the shock faded, he looked at the chat box belonging to Captain Ling, which now featured this… rather unusual message. The rhythm of his heartbeat underwent a subtle shift.

Knock, knock.

The sound of knocking overlapped with his heartbeat, interrupting Jiang Tianji’s thoughts as he temporarily put away his device.

“Come in.”

Someone pushed the door open. He had originally thought it would be medical staff or Dr. He, but to his surprise, it was Ji Yandong.

“Captain?” He looked unexpectedly at the wings behind Ji Yandong’s back. “What are you… an angel?”

“Then what are you, a demon?” Ji Yandong reached out to flick the horn on top of his head, teasing, “Just call me by my name. I’m not your captain anymore.”

Ji Yandong poured him a glass of water: “The final trial is only a few days away. When the time comes, Feng Huo and I will also choose Special Support. We’ll meet again.”

“Feng Huo?” Jiang Tianji took a sip of water. “He doesn’t plan on going home?”

“This trial might have triggered him a bit,” Ji Yandong said. “After all, the location was on a D-rank star. He said that place looked a bit like his home, just with fewer low-built houses. Maybe something new grew inside his heart, and he wants to try walking forward.”

“He just woke up too. Someone told him his beast form looked like a burning porcupine, and he’s still fuming about it right now.”

Jiang Tianji let out a brief laugh, but turning his head, he noticed Ji Yandong staring at him absently.

His expression was complicated—he was clearly smiling, yet he seemed deeply melancholic.

Jiang Tianji: “You…”

“It’s nice to still be able to see you guys,” Ji Yandong lowered his eyes. “When I woke up today, I rushed right into the hallway, scaring the medical staff out of their minds.”

“Does it have something to do with your captain?” Jiang Tianji asked.

When he first arrived at Z01, the expression Ji Yandong wore whenever he brought up his former captain had felt strange to him.

“Yeah.” Ji Yandong fiddled with his bedsheet, skipping any preamble and getting straight to the point: “I’m one of the survivors of the Blood Pod Incident.”

“I sensed something was off the moment this task started, but I didn’t dare gamble. Even though it was a different group of people, it still felt like returning to that day.”

That day felt like yesterday. Ji Yandong remembered the youngest kid in the squad saying before they left that he wanted to eat rice noodles on the fourth floor when they got back, that his clothes hanging on the balcony hadn’t dried, and that he heard the weather would be sunny in a few days so he could air out his blanket on his day off.

When he woke up again, everything was gone. It was as if they had suddenly vanished from this world.

On the day Ji Yandong returned to the dorm, the clothes had already dried stiff. The furnishings hadn’t changed at all, still carrying everyone’s lingering scents, making him feel as though he had simply returned early. In just a little while, his teammates would push the door open with laughs and smiles.

He walked to the captain’s desk, picking up a book from the shelf to read. The captain liked reading; he used to say books had souls, and that every single book was a world of its own.

By the time he sat there and finished reading that book, no one had pushed the door open. The quietness was terrifying.

“It’s impossible to remain completely clear-headed during combat, but I was extremely clear-headed that day,” Ji Yandong smiled faintly. “The ability users held out until the final moment in that struggle. They didn’t give up. Sounds like a truly touching, heroic story, doesn’t it?”

Jiang Tianji had vaguely guessed some of it, his tail swishing unconsciously.

“That S-rank mutated entity… was my captain.”

“He pushed me out right before he was devoured, begging me to remember him—to remember his name.”

Ji Yandong kept remembering their very first meeting, when the tall, handsome young man had grinned cheerfully at everyone, saying:

“My name is Wen Kuo. The ‘Wen’ from world-renowned, and the ‘Kuo’ from vast sky and open sea.”

He murmured those words out loud: “The ‘Wen’ from world-renowned, and the ‘Kuo’ from vast sky and open sea.”

“To commemorate that incident, his… remains were put on display in the Interstellar Museum as an S-rank mutated entity, designated Code S9331. He was placed inside glass, with the specimen description reading: ‘Tribute to the Victims of the Blood Pod’.“

After stating this, Ji Yandong’s emotions actually stabilized, the surging feelings in his eyes fading away.

“Before, you asked me why your parents didn’t give you a name and only left a string of codes. I still can’t answer that question to this day.”

“But I hope you’ll always be Jiang Tianji.”

Jiang Tianji lowered his eyes. Even having guessed part of the truth, seeing these bloody facts laid bare before his eyes still made one draw a cold breath. And as things stood now, he had also completely lost any path of retreat.

“I will.”

Seeing that he didn’t hesitate in the slightest, Ji Yandong froze briefly before smiling softly: “You’re very special.”

“Most people carrying ‘modified’ genes find it impossible to accept after learning about their condition, but you seem to have known deep down all along.” A trace of hesitation flashed through his eyes, but he spoke up anyway: “Someone was by your side when you awakened, right?”

Jiang Tianji didn’t hide it: “Yes.”

“Then do you understand what that person will do once you go into a complete frenzy?”

“Him?” Jiang Tianji let out a low chuckle, his tone absolute. “He’ll kill me.”

Ji Yandong glanced at his tail, which was swaying with increasing frequency, rendered momentarily speechless.

“Don’t you think it’s quite romantic? A pledge of life and death, or something like that.”

Ji Yandong closed his eyes, muttering under his breath:

“Aunt Jiang was right. The one who needs to be careful is him.”

Jiang Tianji didn’t catch it clearly: “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Even though you stopped acting altogether after accepting yourself,” Ji Yandong spoke with measured consideration, “maybe these aren’t words I should be saying, but you ought to know that Captain Ling is an Alpha, an officer, and a man.”

“I know,” Jiang Tianji nodded.

There were no impurities in his eyes—no dodging, no flinching. Ji Yandong thought about it and added:

“I’ve heard some cute childhood stories. You two might become close friends who can talk about anything in the future.”

Jiang Tianji looked at him, the corners of his mouth curving slightly upward: “What do you want to ask?”

Seeing how direct he was, Ji Yandong felt a bit embarrassed as well, clearing his throat: “Isn’t your interest in Captain Ling a little too intense?”

“Yes.”

Ji Yandong choked, calling out hesitantly: “Tianji.”

“I think I have a shot.”

“…That is Captain Ling, and he’s an Alpha.”

“I know.”

“He’s an officer—your future direct superior.”

A hint of hesitation finally touched Jiang Tianji’s expression. Under Ji Yandong’s expectant gaze, he asked with utmost sincerity:

“Doesn’t that make it even more exciting?”

“…”

Knowing that he was intentionally trying to make him laugh, Ji Yandong didn’t expose him, letting out a gentle sigh.

“Although I’m quite touched, I still want to tell you: because your condition is unstable, there’s real-time monitoring here, bound to Captain Ling’s personal system.”

“…” The smile on Jiang Tianji’s face gradually vanished. “Then why did you…?”

Ji Yandong offered him a faint smile: “Who knows?”

“Aunt Jiang told me to say it, so I said it.”