TYMIMA Chapter 123

Because Zhan Pingchuan shamelessly claimed the seat next to Lance—and Lance never objected—the Black Lantern Society members could only grumpily squeeze him into the middle of their group and sit down in frustration.

 

The Ghost Eye Guild members pulled out chairs and silently sat on the left side of the long table, staring at their young master.

 

No one expected the first step in this rescue operation would be watching their young master marry into the rival guild.

 

But the young master lived up to his reputation: in a crisis, in enemy territory, he was completely at ease, as if he were at home.

 

That poise, that level—definitely not ordinary.

 

Zhan Qinghe finally slammed the table, roaring, “Lan Wendao, so you sent your son to be a spy in Ghost Eye, huh!”

 

Lan Wendao shot back, “And what about you? You sent your son to be a spy too, and now he’s hitting on my darling!”

 

Zhan Qinghe: “How was I supposed to know that’s your darling? If I’d known, my son never would’ve gotten involved!”

 

Zhan Pingchuan quickly widened his eyes and shamelessly reached out from the enemy side: “Dad, don’t say that! If I’d known, you could’ve sent me for an alliance marriage. For the peace of both guilds, I’m willing to make this sacrifice.”

 

“…”

 

Zhan Qinghe was so mad his tiger ears nearly popped out. He cursed silently, “What a money-loser!”

 

Lan Wendao sneered, “Heh, my darling is decisive and holds a grudge—just you wait!”

 

After a long silence, Lance finally took a deep breath and said coldly and firmly, “Alliance is fine.”

 

That breath was still stuck in his chest, but whether it was a little wolf cub or a big bad wolf, he’d bitten and slept with him—and he quite liked it.

 

Lan Wendao: “?” How could a little Omega want to get married at eighteen! Is there something wrong with my parenting?

 

Zhan Pingchuan deliberately turned Lan Wendao’s laptop so his future father-in-law could see, flashing a bright and innocent smile.

 

Lan Wendao: “………………..”

 

Lance shot Zhan Pingchuan a glare and turned the screen back: “Alright, let’s get down to business.”

 

His tone wasn’t harsh, his voice still as clear as ever, but now it carried an undeniable seriousness, as if even the sound waves in the air had gained weight.

 

Zhan Pingchuan listened and watched, feeling something subtle stir inside.

 

This was the little fox’s true self: the White Pharaoh, who meant what he said and was ruthless and decisive.

 

Yet this same person would act all soft and obedient in front of him, calling him hubby, curling up in a ball to sleep in his arms.

 

How could life be this thrilling and wonderful?

 

He could hardly believe it.

 

It was just too good.

 

Zhan Pingchuan gave Lance a deep, thorough look before reluctantly looking away.

 

Adrian had already quickly accepted the new situation. In fact, his mind was almost entirely on the business Lance had just mentioned.

 

“First, we need to confirm that Lucas really is being held in AGW Special Dangerous Death Row Prison and that it’s not a fake lead from the Federation.”

 

If they tried to break into the prison and Lucas had already been transferred, it would be a total loss.

 

Dream Witch, now forced to sit on Lance’s right, brushed her hair aside and said, “No need to worry about that. We can hack into the AGW Special Dangerous Death Row Prison’s surveillance network. Duma is searching right now. Once he finds him, we’ll set out.”

 

Zhan Qinghe had already put on a serious face: “Alright, Ghost Eye can provide the most advanced rare lead ore weapons, timed bombs, grenades, and SR-1 suppressed pistols.”

 

In the whole Federation, only the Ghost Eye Guild could afford to bring out so many rare lead ore weapons.

 

Because the Federation government strictly controlled rare lead ore, each guild was supposed to hand over all their mined ore to the restricted zone, which would then distribute it as needed.

 

Of course, where there’s a policy, there’s a workaround—no one actually handed over all their ore. And with the most high-level underground cities, Ghost Eye Guild had become the king of rare lead ore hoarders.

 

The government knew this perfectly well, but since they didn’t want an open fight, they just turned a blind eye.

 

Lan Wendao also dropped his heartbroken-dad act: “Time is tight. Once Duma confirms it, you leave immediately. High Tower will arrange your flight to the polar region, and the media downstairs will provide cover.”

 

It took sixteen hours to fly from Phobos Bay to the polar region, and another day to reach the Loracity Icefield. That left at most three days for the rescue.

 

Of course, they couldn’t use a guild-owned flight, but Duma could hack the airline system to alter passenger info. In the digital age, hiding someone’s trail was just a matter of erasing their digital footprint.

 

The excited media reporters downstairs had already been arranged by Lan Wendao; they even had a fake negotiation wiretap recording ready.

 

For the next five days, while the rescue team was in action, the media would keep releasing new stories to distract the public and the Federation, creating the illusion that High Tower and Ghost Eye never left the hotel.

 

By now, Zhan Pingchuan had taken off his suit jacket, revealing a fitted black shirt underneath. He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves, too lazy to keep up the elite act.

 

“Alright, has everyone done their research? Who’s going to introduce the prison?” He looked at the three new Ghost Eye team members: Ling Qi, Kuhn, and Popov.

 

Ling Qi was about to answer when a gentle voice said, “I’ll do it.”

 

Everyone from Ghost Eye turned to look and finally noticed the quiet, blond Omega sitting at the end of the table. He was slim and gentle, clearly radiating a powerful S-class aura, but his eyes were always tinged with a fragile brokenness.

 

Oliver.

 

No introduction needed—everyone instantly thought of his name.

 

Zhan Pingchuan thought, Good friend, looks like he’s recovering well.

 

“The prison is very deep underground. It takes about 30 seconds to ride the elevator down,” Oliver said softly but steadily, as if telling a distant story. “Unless you have a weapon that can destroy the whole icefield, you can’t damage the prison at all.”

 

The Loracity Icefield was in the polar region, the only area not controlled by the Polar Glacier Organization. The environment was harsh, with constant blizzards, totally unfit for human life.

 

A tectonic shift a hundred years ago separated the Loracity Icefield from the rest of the polar continent, creating an 800-meter-wide, freezing, fast-flowing trench between the lands.

 

Only a single rope bridge connected the Loracity Icefield to the other continents. When it was built, eighty workers died in the sea below.

 

AGW Special Dangerous Death Row Prison was located in the heart of the Loracity Icefield. It was built by a nation two hundred years ago, once used to torture and imprison rebels, and was infamous for its cruelty.

 

Later, the Federation took it over, renovated it, and made it the AGW Special Dangerous Death Row Prison it is today.

 

What hadn’t changed was its notorious reputation.

 

“The entrance to the prison isn’t marked at all. The elevator is always buried in snow. If you’re not one of the staff, you probably couldn’t even find the door. I only went in and out twice and couldn’t find it myself,” Oliver said.

 

Besides, when he went in, he was blindfolded; when he came out, his whole mind was on Si Hongche, exhausted.

 

“Isn’t it like looking for a needle in a haystack?” Wu Peng asked anxiously.

 

Oliver frowned slightly: “The Loracity Icefield can’t grow crops. While I was imprisoned, I was never assigned any labor. That means all the prison’s food is supplied from outside. About every Monday, we’d get fresh-leafed oranges. I guess food is delivered once a week.”

 

No matter how tight the net, people still had to eat. As long as the guards took the elevator up to get food, they could find the entrance.

 

But finding the entrance was just the first step.

 

“In my eyes, the inside of the prison is like a Roman coliseum. The cells are circular, nine levels in total, open in the middle so you can see all the way down. But don’t think it’s really that simple—there are tons of optical illusions.”

 

Oliver recalled a scene that left a deep impression: “Once, a prisoner sharpened an orange branch and picked the lock. He ran desperately for the main door. Just as he was about to reach it, he stepped into thin air and fell all the way to the bottom, dying horribly. But to us, it looked like a flat road.”

 

Dream Witch asked, “Isn’t that an illusion?”

 

Oliver shook his head. “No. If it were, I’d know. It’s another type of ability. He pieced the prison together into a paradoxical space, breaking the boundary between two and three dimensions, overturning normal visual logic.”

 

Lance: “You mean a Penrose staircase.”

 

Zhan Pingchuan: “Huh?”

 

Dream Witch: “?”

 

Abaddon: “?”

 

Fata: “?”

 

Lily: “???”

 

Adrian: “Let me explain simply. For example, you see a road ahead, but when you get there, you find it doesn’t go through—it actually drops off. You turn around and see a wall, but the wall is actually passable. What you thought was a wall is just a flat painting.”

 

Zhan Pingchuan suddenly understood: “So you’re saying he can switch between two- and three-dimensional structures at will. What I see as a flat surface might actually be three-dimensional, and a cell I see might really hold someone, or it might just be a picture.”

 

Adrian: “That’s right.”

 

They got it!

 

The Ghost Eye team secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness they didn’t look as clueless as High Tower—one point for them.

 

Lance: “This person is probably a spatial-type awakened one.”

 

 

Zhan Pingchuan raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly—he thought the same, but he caught onto another key point.

 

“So, there’s no rare lead ore installed in the prison walls at all, and people’s abilities aren’t suppressed.”

 

Oliver nodded. “Yes. That’s why new inmates aren’t locked up right away. They’re first taken to a damp, cramped infirmary on the first basement level, where their pheromones are drained. This happens about once every three days, to make sure the prisoners have absolutely no ability to escape, even if they’re already wearing rare lead ore handcuffs.”

 

Fulunla gasped, suddenly feeling a dull ache in her own glands.

 

Even just losing too much pheromone is uncomfortable—let alone being completely drained?

 

Oliver didn’t notice the sympathetic looks others gave him and continued, “The whole prison is a Schrödinger’s structure. Even if I saw it one way before, it could be different now. I can’t offer any advice on the prison map—I think that’s our biggest challenge.”

 

Dream Witch was confused: “What’s a Schrödinger’s structure?”

 

Adrian: “Uncertain.”

 

Dream Witch looked around: “He doesn’t know. Do any of you?”

 

Adrian: “…”

 

Lance quietly grabbed his sister’s wrist and whispered, “Schrödinger just means uncertain.”

 

Dream Witch: “.”

 

Oliver continued, “I lived on the third floor. In four years, I never had the chance to see any other levels. I only know that each level holds different types of prisoners, and the treatment on each level is different. On some floors, the rate of mental breakdown is very high—they can’t handle the torture.”

 

His floor was better off. Aside from never seeing sunlight, being locked up all day, and having his pheromones regularly drained, he didn’t suffer much more.

 

“The lowest level is the control center for the whole prison and the only way out. People usually think the higher you go, the closer you are to freedom, but that’s not true. It’s this design that makes every escape attempt fail.”

 

He’d only realized this after getting out of prison.

 

“I can’t be sure about the exact number of guards, or give any info on the current staff. It’s been over ten years, and a lot has changed. But the lowest rank for guards here is E-class, and the highest is no more than C-class. That shouldn’t have changed—after all, it’s such a harsh place. If they weren’t really desperate for money, nobody would want to work here.” Oliver added.

 

Lance nodded.

 

That meant the guards weren’t much of a threat to people like them; it was the high-level awakened ones in management who were the real problem.

 

Just then, Duma’s voice came through all the electronic devices, rising and falling: “F-f-f-found… found… found… Lucas is…”

 

The Ghost Eye Guild members all whipped out their phones in shock.

 

The High Tower Guild was already used to it.

 

Lance said, “Duma, just tell me next time.”

 

Duma swam into Lance’s phone signal: “Got it, Lance.”

 

Lance: “Good boy.”

 

Lan Wendao immediately urged, “Let’s go! We’ll discuss the plan on the way!”

 

Zhan Qinghe: “Garage, your cars are ready.”

 

Everyone hurriedly got up, grabbed their luggage, and followed the staff out.

 

Outside the hotel, the media’s voices never stopped. They analyzed 108 possible futures for the two top guilds as they stared at a single lit window.

 

Lance was about to step out of the conference room when Zhan Pingchuan grabbed his forearm and pulled him into his arms.

 

He stumbled, bumping into a warm, broad chest.

 

Zhan Pingchuan was holding his suit jacket in his left hand, and gripping Lance with his right. The black shirt gave him a new kind of presence—a wild soul beneath a refined, noble exterior.

 

He looked down at Lance, Adam’s apple bobbing, and chuckled low: “White Pharaoh, give your hubby a kiss.”

 

Lance’s gaze flicked up to the silver rim of his glasses, his lashes curling, eyes reflecting Zhan Pingchuan’s playful expression.

 

Time was tight, so he quickly stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to Zhan Pingchuan’s lips, the white button scraping against the slightly open black collar.

 

With the hand wearing the High Tower Guild ring, he jabbed Zhan Pingchuan’s ribs three times, hard: “We’ll settle this when you get back.”

 

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 (advanced chapters available on kofi)