AMTPA Chapter 34

Now, a game was laid out before Ji Chenxi.

The corner of his lips held that same faint smile, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Chi Zhuo, as if he were trying to see right through the other man with just a few simple words.

Silence stretched from him like a shadow, making it impossible to tell what he was really thinking.

Was he thinking of diving into a game that, for a young man like him, would be thrilling and dangerous? Or was he rejecting the feeling of being led around by someone else?

Even though the chance of him saying no was less than twenty percent, Chi Zhuo still felt a twinge of nervousness. His heartbeat jumped like it did the first time he piloted a mech as a kid. When people are tense, they subconsciously hold their breath. Chi Zhuo wasn’t holding his breath completely, but the shallow, controlled breaths betrayed his calm exterior.

Ji Chenxi’s probing gaze didn’t linger long before he finally smiled and said, “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Chi Zhuo replied.

“That’s a shame,” Ji Chenxi said lightly. “If you told me you really cared about the outcome, I might have indulged you.”

Chi Zhuo’s brows drew together. “Your Highness, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Ji Chenxi said, “I’m a little interested in the bet, just two percent maybe, but not enough to really play this game with you. Love games rarely end with a clean win. Chi Zhuo, you’re trying to drag me into a pit whose depth I can’t even measure.”

What the other party wanted wasn’t just to tempt him into playing with fire. To Ji Chenxi, an alpha could sometimes seem like a creature driven by desire and the need to control. They were arrogant, self-important, unwilling to submit. When two such creatures collided, it was bound to be a fight to the death. And even if someone actually died, the scariest part was that they might fall in love with the act of conquering and suppressing. The alpha’s flaws were like poison.

“Refuse?” Even though he had already understood the meaning, Chi Zhuo asked anyway, wanting confirmation.

“Yes,” Ji Chenxi said, a faint grin playing at his lips. “I think I made my refusal pretty clear.”

Ji Chenxi’s smile, when not fully lifted, wasn’t like a rose in full bloom. It was more like a mume flower—pure, flawless, yet carved with a beauty that reminded one of the finest jade, carrying a quiet hint of fading, fragile elegance.

That restrained smile somehow made his refusal feel even more real.

A refusal so unguarded made Chi Zhuo’s throat tighten. After a moment, he managed to force out a voice that sounded casual, as if it didn’t matter at all.

“It’s just a game. Your Highness naturally has the right to refuse.”

Ji Chenxi let out a casual hum. “See, just now when you said that, Chi Zhuo, you nearly scared me into thinking you liked me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Good, then let’s go.” With a simple farewell, Ji Chenxi didn’t wait for a reply. He stepped forward and left first.

He moved quickly, vanishing from sight in an instant.

Only after putting enough distance between himself and the lab did he slow his pace, going back over the lab to erase all traces of his presence, including the surrounding surveillance.

Once that was done, he released control of the system and set up a few small traps that would self-destruct if anyone tried to trace back an hour in time.

After finishing that, Ji Chenxi noticed the research data he had deliberately uploaded into the neural interface earlier.

Chi Zhuo wasn’t particularly interested in these experimental data, so Ji Chenxi hadn’t been in any rush to share it. Had he not seen it by chance, it would have just gathered dust in his neural interface. But he happened to notice it now.

He flipped through it casually, without hurry.

Most of the previous failed experiments were unbearable to look at. Ji Chenxi had almost assumed this lab was just a waste of resources, churning out useless trials with nothing of value. That was until he reached the core of the research and found a log titled ‘Miracle.’

The characters, bold and flowing across the page, made the cold, clinical log feel almost feverish. One could easily imagine how thrilled the person must have been while writing them by hand.

Ji Chenxi’s gaze darkened slightly. He had a feeling this might be the most important thing in the entire lab.

His fingers paused, not immediately opening the log. Some things, he thought, were like Pandora’s box—not meant to be touched lightly.

As he hesitated, a faint, almost hidden symbol on the neural interface flickered.

Realizing he hadn’t logged in for a while, Ji Chenxi decided to cut off the network, connect to the dark web, and switched through several interfaces before finally landing on a pure black chat page. Countless unread private messages glared at him. Ji Chenxi skimmed roughly to see who had reached out and casually tapped into a thread from someone familiar, over ninety-nine messages deep.

As he scrolled up to see what the person had been sending, a new message popped up.

Night Wanderer: [Bai Wei?]

Night Wanderer: [Missing person back?!]

Night Wanderer: [Stop pretending, I saw you read the message! Reading without replying is a crime!!!]

Message after message kept appearing. Ji Chenxi didn’t bother checking the older ones. He tapped the “read but didn’t reply” note and finally typed a reply:

Bai Wei: [Just saw it, been a bit busy lately.]

He lied smoothly, without a flinch. In truth, he had been pretty free lately, even freer than before. The reason he’d disappeared so long was simply to take a proper break.

Night Wanderer: [Stop scrolling, come to the group.]

Originally, Ji Chenxi had only intended to glance at a few messages, but he shifted gears quickly and joined their small group chat.

The group had been discussing black market matters, but as soon as Night Wanderer announced, “Bai Wei is back,” the tone of the chat shifted instantly.

Traveler: [What? Bai Wei? Do we even have this person in the group?]

Morning Star: [Bai Wei, long time no see.]

Night Wanderer: [Traveler, you’re really overacting.]

Wild Follower: [Since Bai Wei is back, why not talk about the upcoming Imperial Star auction together?]

Morning Star: [Not bad, Bai Wei is from Imperial Star anyway.]

After casually scanning the messages in the seven-person group, Ji Chenxi asked:

Bai Wei: [So, any plans coming up?]

Wild Follower: [No big plans lately. There was supposed to be something huge, though—someone contacted us wanting to kill the third prince of the Empire. I refused. Then there was chaos on Nanfei Star—a major incident where an alpha went out of control and killed seventy-two people. Unfortunately, by the time we investigated, that alpha had already been moved elsewhere. And strangely enough, we couldn’t find a single trace of their past life.]

Morning Star: [The person who tried to go after the third prince? Turns out he’s just some rich idiot second-gen who didn’t want an alpha, better looking than an omega, to become the future emperor. Big spender, almost tempted Wild Follower himself. Clearly, he was just a visible target. I noticed you were interested in the prince’s news, so I dug deeper for you. It’s messy, but we found out it was the first prince behind it. Many people covered it up afterward, but I managed to collect proof that it was his direct faction acting.]

Night Wanderer: [Wait, why are you two talking about the third prince? Let the royal family fight among themselves. That prince may be better looking than an omega, young, arrogant, and proud—that’s normal for a small alpha. The real event should be the Night Auction in two weeks, right?]

Morning Star: […Watch your words.]

Night Wanderer: [Huh??!]

Ji Chenxi read through everyone’s messages carefully before replying:

Bai Wei: [Is there something wrong with the Night Auction? Or is there something you want among the auction items?]

Ji Chenxi joining this seven-person group had been a coincidence. He had just turned ten when he discovered a knack for this sort of thing, randomly decoding a bunch of security networks. That happened to catch the attention of their leader. Both sides chased each other, trying to hack the other, and in the end, after not fighting directly, Ji Chenxi got to know a few of them.

Among these friends, two knew his true identity. But he knew everyone else’s. Who would have thought the top-ranked assassin, the head of a major financial conglomerate, heirs to wealthy families, and genius researchers all shared this tiny group?

Messages started flying crazily again. Even Traveler, who had been sarcastic at first, began speaking properly.

Traveler: [This Night Auction isn’t simple. It probably has the stuff we’ve been tracking. Bai Wei, Night Wanderer and Queqi will attend too—you two can meet and make contact.]

Ji Chenxi acknowledged with a simple reply.

The other six members had seen each other before and knew each other’s backgrounds. Ji Chenxi’s codename, Bai Wei, remained the most mysterious of them all.

When the topic of meeting in person came up, Night Wanderer got excited:

Night Wanderer: [Bai Wei, hahahaha, I finally get to see our Bai Wei! Quickly, tell me, is Bai Wei a real beauty?]

Morning Star: [Yes, you should go take a good look.]

Night Wanderer: [So, like Queqi, is Bai Wei an omega?]

Morning Star: [Very likely.]

Night Wanderer: [Aaaaaah, I’m getting excited!!]

Seeing these messages, Ji Chenxi almost shook his head. Morning Star had already guessed his true identity four years ago, yet now this gentle, intellectual guy was casually misleading the chatty group without hesitation.

After a few more exchanges with the others, Ji Chenxi casually glanced at his private messages and then logged out of the interface.

At this moment, it was clearly not the right time to contact Su Yu again. He had been planning to subtly tell Su Yu he was heading home first, when a call from Su Yu came through.

Ji Chenxi picked it up and asked, “What’s going on?”

“I’ve already left. I didn’t mention you came with me. Did you clear the club’s surveillance?”

“No. Too many people saw me here anyway. But I made a video of myself leaving and seamlessly stitched it in.”

“Good. Where are you now? I’ll come find you.”

Ji Chenxi glanced at the sky. He wanted to say it wasn’t necessary, but still gave Su Yu his location.

When Su Yu arrived, he didn’t come empty-handed—he brought a good amount of alcohol. Seeing where Ji Chenxi was, he exclaimed, “Nice spot! Hidden, perfect for some night air and drinks. I almost didn’t find you. Want some?”

Ji Chenxi nodded, took the drink, and after a sip, clicked his tongue. “Huh… it’s sweet.”

“That’s because you’ve been enjoying this flavor lately.”

Ji Chenxi smiled. “You’re talking nonsense again.”

“Next time I’ll bring tequila. Seems like the third prince has a thing for liquor that burns the throat.”

Ji Chenxi could hear Su Yu testing him, but just smiled and changed the topic. “Someone wants to drag me into a game.”

Su Yu was, after all, a wild and unrestrained handsome guy. But in front of Ji Chenxi, he practically turned into a doting caretaker. He smoothed down some stray hairs that had somehow gotten messed up before asking, “What kind of game?”

“A love game.”

Su Yu’s face immediately fell. “What the hell, a love game? Who’s gutsy enough for that? Must be someone from the Chi family. I knew it! Last time he bit your neck like that and you didn’t even get mad.”

“So… did you agree?” After a moment of disbelief, Su Yu asked, hopelessly.

“Want to guess?”

“Guess? Of course I don’t have to. You definitely agreed. You love this kind of thrill. Honestly, I wouldn’t even be surprised if one day you tell me straight to my face that you don’t like omegas, just like stabbing it out with alphas instead.”

This time, Ji Chenxi truly couldn’t hold back his laughter, his expression relaxing. “Seems like you all think I would agree.”

“And the truth?” Su Yu, caught off guard, didn’t expect a twist.

“Of course I refused.” Ji Chenxi shook the drink in his hand with elegant leisure.

Su Yu had just exhaled in relief when Ji Chenxi continued, “If there’s a bet involved, that’s too obvious. With a bet, people get cautious; every interaction is careful, guarded. But if there’s no bet from the start? Whether someone’s deliberate or not, how could he ever win against me?”

Su Yu almost despaired. “Third Prince… are you serious?”

“Not really, just joking. Don’t take it so seriously.” Ji Chenxi’s smile bloomed like a flower.

Su Yu: “…”

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