TYMIMA Chapter 125

Si Hongche left the cell, while Asmodeus glanced once more at the trembling Lucas on the ground.

He hesitated for a second about whether to cut this person’s tendons, but in the end chose not to interfere with Si Hongche’s decision—less trouble is better than more.

He followed Si Hongche with his hands behind his back. “Chief Si, are you still planning to stay here? I remember the Federation Parliament assigned you to investigate Selarl’s cause of death. You’d better leave soon, before the chain cable car is blown up.”

Si Hongche stopped, not turning around, and asked coldly, “You don’t know why I’m staying?”

Asmodeus paused, then gave a low chuckle. “I just think that with Lord Benbu personally overseeing things, the net is absolutely secure. I’m just worried you’ll be disappointed by staying.”

This time, as long as Oliver dared to come, he would surely die in the trap.

Benbu had served the Elder for many years and was clearly closer to him than Si Hongche. The Elder specifically sent him to oversee the AGW Special Dangerous Death Row Prison’s setup, which meant that no matter what Si Hongche wanted, Oliver had to die.

If Si Hongche stayed, he couldn’t hide his lover anymore—he could only help collect the corpse.

“You’re talking too much,” Si Hongche said coldly, never looking at Asmodeus.

Asmodeus swept his only left eye over the whole prison and suddenly changed the subject: “Do you know why I volunteered for this bitter, remote prison?”

“Not interested.”

Asmodeus sneered, clearly not surprised by Si Hongche’s answer, but still continued, “Because I’m innately violent and cruel. From a young age, I had the urge to kill my parents. I’m a born sociopath. If I weren’t here, I’d be on the other side of the bars.”

“You don’t need to tell me your life story,” Si Hongche interrupted bluntly.

Asmodeus took out a cigarette, intending to light it, but remembered the prison’s smoke alarms and regretfully put it away.

He suddenly asked, “Can hatred really turn you into someone like me, Chief Si?”

Si Hongche heard this, withdrew his gaze, and couldn’t be bothered to respond—he just walked away.

Asmodeus waved his hand, ordering the experienced guards, “Hurry up and show Chief Si the way!”

That madman’s optical illusions—if you haven’t been here for years, you’ll never figure them out.

He didn’t choose to follow. Watching Si Hongche’s distant, unapproachable back, he mused, “Whether you’re that kind of person or not, you’re already unrecognizable. There’s no turning back.”

Si Hongche returned to his temporary quarters on the prison’s lowest level and shut the door tight.

In this surveillance-free area, he suddenly grabbed his thermos and hurled it at the mottled, cold wall.

Bang!

The inner lining shattered, twisting into a lump of scrap metal that rolled to the floor, leaving a pale dent in the wall.

Si Hongche’s forearm was still trembling violently, clearly the outburst wasn’t enough to vent his anger.

His mind kept replaying that hand reaching for Lucas, that prisoner’s gaze full of greed and lust.

Lucas, born of the Black Lantern Society, dark and ruthless, was unfazed by filth and blood—he could survive here like a fish in water.

But Oliver couldn’t. Oliver was sunny, innocent, kind, and gentle. Uriel had seen all the world’s darkness and ugliness, yet chose to blindfold Oliver, shielding him from human evil.

Si Hongche’s chest heaved violently, the air growing thinner.

Everything Oliver suffered eighteen years ago was slicing him apart, forcing him to live in endless pain.

“Chief Si, Lord Benbu asks you to come over,” a polite voice called from outside.

Si Hongche closed his eyes, forcing down his surging emotions. Only when his expression was completely calm did he reply, “Understood.”

Everything he and Asmodeus did in the prison would be watched by Benbu. This man had no parents, no wife, no children—other than following the three Elders, Si Hongche knew almost nothing about him.

He left the room to find Benbu already waiting with coffee.

Si Hongche sat down but didn’t touch the coffee.

Benbu glanced at him, stirring sugar cubes into his own cup. “The Elder wants you to follow the Federation Parliament’s orders and go to Tasman to investigate Selarl’s death.”

Si Hongche’s face was blank. “I’ll leave in five days.”

But Benbu smiled, sipping his coffee. “I’d rather you stayed. I feel more at ease with you here. The Elder trusts you because he’s transcended mortal emotions and doesn’t think you’ll lose your mind over obsession, but I believe you will.”

The obsession, of course, referred to Oliver. Benbu had never truly trusted Si Hongche, because Si Hongche wasn’t a believer in the gods.

There was never any god in Si Hongche’s eyes or heart. He only believed in himself—a paranoid personality, easy to use but never fully controlled.

Si Hongche slowly looked up, staring at him coldly. “Think what you like.”

Benbu said, “I still think there’s more to dig out of Lucas, but you haven’t managed it. The Elder is very dissatisfied with your report.”

Si Hongche replied coldly, “Maybe the Elder forgot my ability has limits.”

His third-tier ability, 【Command Obedience】, could issue commands to anyone, but how the command was carried out was entirely up to the subject.

For example, he could forbid Oliver from committing suicide, but he couldn’t stop Oliver from spitting out food or being severely depressed. As long as Oliver didn’t subjectively end his own life, it would count as obedience.

Or, if he interrogated Lucas and ordered him to reveal the real names of Black Lantern Society members, Lucas only had to give one correct name for it to count as obedience—the rest could be nonsense.

That’s why he’d ordered Lucas to state all members’ real names.

Interrogative commands were tricky. They demanded a lot from him, and he needed a certain understanding of the prisoner. Even a slight change in wording could distort the results.

And if someone’s perception was wrong to begin with, the result of obedience would be meaningless.

If a person truly believed a deer was a horse, then if Si Hongche asked them to name the animal in front of them, he’d only get “horse.”

That’s why, when he brought Oliver back from AGW Special Dangerous Death Row Prison, he didn’t interrogate him with his ability.

Because he believed Oliver was simple and easily swayed, that Uriel could easily deceive him, and what Oliver believed wasn’t the truth.

He arrogantly trusted the evidence he saw, the answers given by the Elder and authorities, but never trusted his own lover.

And when he himself became the authority, admired and worshipped by all, he finally realized that this so-called sacred thing was just a piece of paper, ready to be torn at any moment.

Benbu was silent for a long time, then narrowed his eyes. “Are you insulting the Elder?”

Si Hongche shot back, “Maybe you just can’t find a reason to refute me, so you’re using attitude to put a label on me.”

Benbu was momentarily speechless.

He drank his coffee in frustration and slammed the cup down. “I’ve made some adjustments to the trap’s design. My people will carry them out. When you see it, Chief Si, don’t be surprised. You may go.”

Si Hongche’s pupils shrank rapidly. When he noticed Benbu watching his reaction, he immediately returned to normal.

Late at night, Phobos Bay International Airport was still bustling, ablaze with lights. More than a dozen polar-bound flights were preparing for takeoff.

Many Hachimo people lived here, frequently traveling back and forth for business or family, which gave everyone great cover.

The temperature was finally cool, and the night wind made people drowsy.

For the next few days, the longest and most peaceful rest they’d get would probably be on the plane.

With fourteen people, the group was too conspicuous, so they split up into several smaller teams, blending into the crowds and booking flights that departed at similar times.

With Duma’s help, they didn’t have to worry about fake passports being flagged by the machines, nor about their faces leaving traces in the Federation’s system, and they certainly didn’t have to worry about the high-tech weapons hidden in their luggage being discovered.

Lance, Zhan Pingchuan, Lily, and Oliver chose the earliest departing flight. They passed through security smoothly and arrived at the departure lounge.

Oliver still wasn’t used to being in crowded places. As soon as he cleared the gates, he put on a mask, pulled up his hoodie to hide his blond hair, and kept his head down, avoiding eye contact and tucking his hands into his sleeves in front of him. The slightest disturbance made him anxious.

Eighteen years of imprisonment had left his nerves shot. He knew he was a fugitive, afraid of being recognized, afraid of being caught and dragged back, afraid of people’s attention and suspicion.

Even though he rationally knew these travelers didn’t know him, he couldn’t control his anxiety.

He used to love lively places, especially theme parks and gatherings. Now, he preferred quiet, wishing no one could see him at all.

He was doing his best to minimize his presence, when Zhan Pingchuan suddenly turned and said, “Long time no see, good friend.”

Oliver froze, lifted his head a little, and looked at Zhan Pingchuan with just his eyes, puzzled.

He actually envied Zhan Pingchuan’s warm, outgoing personality—so bright, like the sun. Even when facing danger or life and death, Zhan Pingchuan could remain so optimistic.

He’d almost forgotten that he used to be like that too.

“Hello, have we met before?” Oliver guessed Zhan Pingchuan was just one of those naturally friendly types, but he still replied politely.

Zhan Pingchuan was shocked, showing undisguised disappointment: “No way, you can’t have forgotten me. Think harder, okay?”

They’d once plotted an escape together, and Zhan Pingchuan had enthusiastically shared the best animated show ever with Oliver. How many four-year-olds in the world had such great taste and guts? How could Oliver forget him?

Lance listened and raised an eyebrow. In his memory, the only time Zhan Pingchuan and Oliver had crossed paths was in the seventh-floor corridor, when Zhan Pingchuan’s shout interrupted Si Hongche’s violence.

The result was a back full of whip marks and coaxing Oliver to show his glands.

Oliver immediately grew uneasy. He could count on one hand the people he’d seen in recent years, and he considered his memory pretty good, but he truly had no impression of Zhan Pingchuan.

“Sorry…” he apologized gently anyway.

“Hey, what’s there to be sorry about?” Zhan Pingchuan quickly shook off his disappointment—negative emotions never lingered on his face for more than five seconds. He soon chalked up Oliver’s forgetfulness to mental trauma and gave another hint: “Fourteen years ago, I was the one who wanted to help you break out. Remember?”

Lance looked confused.

Fourteen years ago? Break out? Back then, his little wolf cub probably still needed a bib to eat.

Seeing Oliver still frowning, Zhan Pingchuan clicked his tongue and continued, “My favorite cartoon is ‘The Red-Haired Knight Who Slays All and His Dog.’”

Who else could have such unique taste?

Lance: “…”

Oliver finally remembered. It’s hard to forget a cartoon with a name like that.

He looked at Zhan Pingchuan with a complicated expression, tugged his mask down a bit, and hesitantly asked, “You’re that… little kid?”

The words “little kid” were hard to say—after all, Zhan Pingchuan had grown up completely, and compared to the noble, handsome Alpha in front of him, that little kid from back then looked like he’d just crawled out of a mud puddle—very down-to-earth.

Zhan Pingchuan: “That’s me! I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself before they dragged me away, but thanks to you telling me about the virtual realm, I didn’t get exposed at the Challenge Cup.”

Oliver didn’t know how to describe his feelings. The little kid who once brought him a bit of joy had now reappeared in his life in this way.

“What a coincidence.” Oliver smiled with his eyes, forgetting his mask had slipped below his nose. “I’m actually watching that cartoon now.”

So fate really had prepared unexpected reunions for him. As long as he kept living, he’d stumble across the seeds he’d sown in the past.

Zhan Pingchuan’s eyes lit up: “It’s awesome, right? I rewatch it every year.”

Oliver kept smiling.

Zhan Pingchuan: “I knew you’d like it.”

Who wouldn’t like a little red-haired knight?

He reached out and flicked the tip of Lance’s hair.

Lance caught his arm, surprised: “You went to the Blue Pivot Building fourteen years ago?”

Zhan Pingchuan: “The top guild presidents meet in Qianyun every four years. My dad took me, and I got bored and wandered around. But darling, you never went, did you?” Otherwise, they’d have been childhood friends already.

Lance thought, right, he’d never gone. Ever since Lan Wendao learned there was an Outer God in his spirit realm, he’d tried to keep him hidden.

That only changed when he took over the Black Lantern Society.

No need to ask—he could guess that a Divine system awakened one would bring trouble.

And he probably knew where Lan Wendao had picked him up from.

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