The intelligence Tao Yuan left behind before her death had proved to be the decisive turning point that ended the war. Because of that, her merits and faults were almost impossible to separate. Combined with Liu Yin’s personal request, the truth—that Tao Yuan had been an enemy spy—was never made public.
She became just another soldier who died on duty. History books mentioned her life in a few plain sentences, giving little reason for anyone to look deeper into the unclear details or find the hidden scandal.
As the ancestor of the Tao family, her story carried an obvious contradiction. It was common knowledge that two atavists could not produce offspring, yet Tao Yuan had left behind a bloodline. That alone proved she and Liu Yin had never truly ended up together. Perhaps her heart had wandered elsewhere, or perhaps Liu Yin had simply been nursing an unrequited love from beginning to end.
From a factual standpoint, Liu Yin had loved her deeply. Even after she bore another man’s child and gave her life in battle, he continued to honor his promise, watching over her descendants for generations.
How profound must that love have been?
“Do you have any idea?” a elder from the Tao clan sneered, shaking Tao Ying by the shoulders. “Liu Yin said it himself years ago—you look exactly like our ancestor, Tao Yuan! He’s lived for centuries, yet he engaged himself to a girl like you. It’s perverse. He’s treating you as nothing more than a stand-in! The person he truly loved was Tao Yuan, not you!”
Tao Ying froze. The color drained from her face as an unfamiliar, sharp ache blossomed in her chest.
Ever since she could remember, Liu Yin had always been by her side. Back then, he acted like a dutiful nanny and bodyguard. Whenever she wanted to dress up, he would teach himself how to braid intricate hairstyles and weave colorful hair ribbons. As a little girl, she would sit between his knees—he already looked like a handsome youth back then—wriggling restlessly, yet he never grew impatient. He only ever coaxed her with gentle, amused patience.
If she wanted to play, no matter how silly or boring the game was, he would play along. He was her best playmate, her sweetest older brother.
Then one day, her father asked if she wanted Liu Yin to be her fiancé.
“What’s a fiancé?” she had asked.
“The person who will become your husband when you grow up.”
“And what’s a husband?”
“Someone who will stay by your side forever and ever.”
“I want that! I want Ah Yin to stay with me forever!” She raised both hands, clearly happy.
Because Liu Yin was always there, she had taken his presence for granted. She believed he existed solely for her, that he belonged to her. The thought of ever losing him had never once crossed her mind.
Only now did she realize the vast, hidden history behind his eyes. She didn’t truly know him at all.
“It wasn’t… love?” Tao Ying looked up at her clan members, her eyes rimmed with red. “He doesn’t love me?”
“That’s right! He doesn’t love you!” the elder said firmly.
Desperate for reassurance, Tao Ying looked at Jing Pei. Her face fell, and her voice shook with tears she was holding back. “Ah Jin… does Liu Yin really not love me? Am I just a backup?”
Jing Pei thought she looked really cute. People who were truly sweet looked adorable even when they cried. She shook her head gently and said, “Why don’t you just ask him yourself?”
“Long Jin!” several patriarchs from the atavist families glared at her.
After hearing Jing Pei’s advice, Tao Ying thought it was a great idea. Like a determined, crying little force, she turned and rushed back out. When a Tao elder tried to stop her, she kicked him hard, sending him flat on his back.
When representatives from other families tried to block her path, a lethal scorpion tail lashed out like a whip, forcing them to leap backward in alarm. Taking advantage of the opening, Tao Ying sprinted into the night.
“Long Jin! Are you planning to betray the atavist families?!” a patriarch roared in fury.
Chu Xusheng stood beside Jing Pei as a silent retainer and enforcer, his scorpion tail slowly coiling back out of sight.
Jing Pei smiled sweetly. “What are you talking about? I’m simply helping a dear friend who suspects she’s being strung along by a scumbag. I’m just letting her clear up whether she’s a stand-in.”
Her reasoning was so solid that no one could find a single word to argue against it.
“Hmph! Long Jin, tonight is no time for your childish games,” another patriarch growled, suppressing his anger. “We are willing to play the villains so you can reap the benefits without dirtying your hands. You’d best behave and keep your nose clean.”
“Forget it,” someone else interjected. “We have more than enough people out there. One silly girl running out won’t change anything.”
RUMBLE!
Outside, a building collapsed with a deafening crash. The floor of the banquet hall shook like an earthquake, and the roars of battle outside grew louder by the second.
Chen Mo wobbled, nearly losing his footing. He grabbed Feng Yilian by the shoulder, his expression wild with shock. “Holy crap… Liu Yin is that general from the history books? A historical figure came back to life? No… he’s been alive this entire time?!”
“Yes,” Feng Yilian murmured under his breath, his eyes fixed on the chaotic scene outside. “He is a legend, a true hero. And these people are turning on him just to satisfy their own petty greed.”
Chen Mo blinked. “Lotus?”
“Those are the Liu family, the Feng family, and the Ge family,” Feng Yilian said, pointing toward several groups among the crowd blocking the doors. “Their ancestral homes lie in Liuyun Prefecture—the very province Liu Yin guarded over a thousand years ago. To this day, a bronze statue of Liu Yin stands in Liuyun Prefecture, surrounded by burning incense day and night. The people there worship him as their guardian deity.”
Noticing something strange in his friend’s expression, Chen Mo grew serious.
Tang Qiaoqiao also sensed the shift and rushed over. “Lotus, what’s wrong? Are you so mad you’ve lost your mind?”
But Feng Yilian looked surprisingly calm. “I’ve just come to see things clearly. The answer I’ve been looking for a long time has finally become clear.”
He looked down at his phone. As expected, there was no signal—the area had been completely blocked to stop anyone from calling the authorities.
Jiang Qing watched silently from a corner, a trace of bitter mockery lingering in his classic almond eyes.
This was the true nature of the atavist families. This was human nature. The government’s victory at the 8.20 Conference had only happened because most atavists voted out of self-interest. The miracle of that conference would not repeat itself tonight.
Will Liu Yin die? Jiang Qing glanced at Jing Pei, who currently seemed to have no intention of stepping in. Jing Pei wouldn’t simply watch Liu Yin perish, but the Long family’s combat strength rested solely on her and Chu Xusheng. Even adding Patriarch Wu and Wu Ying wouldn’t be enough. After all, the enemies were not limited to the hall—a massive force was lurking in the surrounding apartment buildings, alongside an elite squad from the illegal organization.
Or perhaps she and the Information Broker have already arranged external reinforcements? Could it be Qiu Fa again?
Suddenly, a bloodied guard burst through the broken doors. “We can’t hold them! We need more men out there!”
Meanwhile, in the unfinished luxury apartment complex surrounding the perimeter of the Long Estate…
Black Iron stood near a window, watching the chaos unfolding at the Long Estate. Plumes of smoke and fire rose into the night sky, accompanied by distant explosions and shouting.
It seems Plan A failed and Plan B has begun, a voice echoed inside Black Iron’s mind through their neural link. I thought they might chickened out at the last second and we’d have to force their hand, but they’re surprisingly enthusiastic.
Black Iron snorted cold air, his expression icy. Never underestimate human malice. It’s deeper than hell and far vile than any demon.
When do we move? I’m getting impatient staying here.
What’s the rush? There are still plenty of atavist family members out there. Let them make the first move.
Inside the various apartment buildings, groups from different atavist families occupied different floors. Men and women of all ages stood in silent anticipation.
They watched the fires at the Long Estate, knowing full well that despite all the noise, no alarms would reach outside—the area had long been sealed off.
“Uncle, who exactly are we supposed to capture tonight?” a young man asked, twirling his braided hair. “I heard almost every atavist family has sent out their entire force.”
Several youngsters perked up their ears. “Yeah, we’re about to strike and we still don’t even know who the target is!”
To prevent leaks, only the top leaders of each participating family knew the full scope of the plan—and that the target was Liu Yin. Everyone else was simply following orders.
A few elders who knew the truth exchanged glances and decided it was time to reveal a portion of the plan.
A photograph of Liu Yin was projected onto the concrete wall. “This is the target. Liu Yin. A student at Twelve Zodiac Academy, technically affiliated with the Tao family.”
“Liu Yin? Him?” The younger generation who attended Twelve Zodiac Academy were stunned. “Why him? Isn’t he just an ordinary half-cyborg? Though it is pretty weird that the Tao family wanted a fellow atavist as a son-in-law…”
Since the Tao family atavists had always been an odd bunch, most assumed they were simply too lazy to care about lineage. The youngsters quickly accepted the explanation and lost interest.
“Alright, stop asking questions,” an elder snapped. “You’ll understand why later.” He could have explained more, but something told him it was better to keep quiet.
To most students, Liu Yin was quiet and reserved, barely ever leaving Tao Ying’s side. He had almost no friends, and what people knew about him was virtually zero.
A thousand years ago, Liu Yin had been a commander capable of defending an entire province on his own. Though his primary strength lay in strategic brilliance, his personal combat capability as a half-cyborg royal was formidable.
With Liu Yin at the center, every metallic object in the vicinity began to vibrate violently. Screws embedded deep within wooden frames ripped free. Countless blades, metal fixtures, and loose iron swept through the air like a metallic storm, crashing down upon his attackers.
At the same time, streams of gunfire burst from his mechanical forearms.
Underground power cables ruptured beneath his feet, sending high-voltage currents surging through the soil. Dozens of attackers collapsed, their bodies convulsing violently on the electrified ground.
Wails of pain echoed through the night.
Right then, Tao Ying came running through the wreckage, softly crying. “Wuuuu… Ah Yin…”
Hearing her voice, Liu Yin turned immediately, his previous calm replaced by sheer tension. “Little Peach?”
Bodies lay scattered across the ground. Seeing Tao Ying struggle to navigate the debris, Liu Yin extended his hand. His wrist detached, his arm transforming into a gleaming steel chain that shot across the distance. The chain wrapped gently around Tao Ying’s waist, lifting her gracefully into the air and pulling her directly to his side.
“Did they attack you?” Liu Yin asked, quickly checking her for any injuries. He had expected she’d be safe with Long Jin and Wu Ying.
Tao Ying nodded forcefully, pouting tearfully. “They said you only like Tao Yuan! They said I’m just a replacement!”
Tears trickled down her long, curled eyelashes, pooling in her large, expressive eyes. “Is it true?”
An unfamiliar ache tightened in her chest, so sharp she felt as if she might die. Was she poisoned?
Hearing that name from her lips, Liu Yin froze for a second. He reached out, gently wiping the tears from her face. “It’s not true.”
Tao Ying sniffled, her voice thick with jealousy and hurt. “Did you guard the Tao family all these years because of her? Did you love her way more than you love me?”
Liu Yin remained silent for a long moment.
Thinking his silence was an admission, Tao Ying was about to burst into another tantrum when Liu Yin let out a soft, helpless sigh. “I can’t remember anymore.”
Tao Ying paused, her momentum instantly derailed. “Huh?”
“Do you know how long ago that was?” Liu Yin murmured, a touch of gentle melancholy touching his voice. “So many things have faded from my memory.”
A thousand years was a vast expanse of time—long enough for empires to rise and fall, for civilizations to blossom and decay, and for every face from his youth to vanish into history.
The intelligence Tao Yuan left behind had brought an end to the war. The invading nation surrendered, paid reparations, and faced international tribunals. Among the war criminals tried was the proud, aristocratic young man who had fathered Tao Yuan’s child—Liu Yin’s former rival on the battlefield.
Upon learning of Tao Yuan’s death, that arrogant man had broken down in tears.
After his execution, Liu Yin tracked down Tao Yuan’s child, who was then living in a cold, neglected orphanage. He brought the boy back to Hualan and chose a mountain covered in peach trees as their home—giving birth to the Tao clan.
Liu Yin hadn’t sought out the child merely because of a promise. That promise had been little more than a casual remark, and he had no obligation to keep it. He had done it out of comradeship and the lingering affection he held for Tao Yuan, unable to stand by and watch her child suffer.
But the boy became dependent on him, and because of his sensitive background, he needed constant care. Over time, that care turned into a lifelong duty. Liu Yin was naturally very responsible—sometimes so much that he seemed almost mechanical.
The boy grew up, married, and had children of his own. Soon, little toddlers were running around Liu Yin’s legs, calling him “Little Grandpa”—a strange title, considering he still looked like a handsome youth, far younger than their own fathers.
He spent a warm, peaceful era with the Tao family. It had been the happiest time of his life—surrounded by family, close friends, and a nation rebuilding itself into something bright and full of hope.
Then, the first child grew old and passed away. The children who used to call him “Little Grandpa” grew grey and followed. His comrades, his closest friends, and even his bitterest rivals died one by one.
“My condolences.”
“Please accept our condolences.”
“This is the last one, isn’t it? Ah…”
“Living too long… doesn’t seem like much of a blessing, does it?”
At the funerals, those who knew his secret would look at the young man in his black suit, a white flower pinned to his lapel, and sigh softly. That was the last friend Liu Yin ever sent off.
As time marched on, the descendants of the Tao family multiplied. Gradually, they forgot why he had come and why he stayed. They pieced together fragments from history books and old memoirs, assuming he was simply a tragic romantic bound by an ancient pledge, rather than a man who had grown to love their family as his own.
Liu Yin traveled the world for a long time. He walked across continents, yet his heart remained hollow. It felt as though his world had died alongside his last friend, leaving behind only grey ashes.
He chose to sleep. He held no remaining attachment to the world and wished only to rest until his mechanical lifespan reached its natural end.
Yet even in slumber, he dreamed endlessly. He dreamed of the war—of bloody smoke, shattered corpses, and desperate cries. He stood inside that high command tower night after night, searching for a way out for his people, walking through knee-deep mud that never seemed to end…
Then, a tiny hand forcefully pried open his eyelid.
Like a computer being forcibly booted up, he was dragged out of the endless swamp. His vision slowly focused, revealing a round, chubby, rosy-cheeked face staring down at him.
Little Tao Ying, dressed in a pink onesie, was leaning over his coffin-like bed. The dusty lid had already been shoved onto the floor.
Liu Yin stared at her, his mind completely blank. He tried to blink, but could only move one eye—the girl was still holding his other eyelid open.
“…What are you doing?” he asked. He had never been treated like this in his entire life.
The toddler pulled her hand back, her angel-like face breaking into a sweet, beaming smile. “The storybook says the prince has to kiss the princess to wake her up! I thought that was super dumb, so prying your eye open worked way better, right?”
“…I’m not a princess.” Liu Yin sat up, blinking his sore, watery eye.
“Yup, you’re Sleeping Beauty!” she said with complete confidence.
“I’m a boy.”
“Boys can’t be Sleeping Beauty?” She tilted her head, her round, innocent eyes staring at him.
“…”
Liu Yin felt a headache coming on. “Who are you? What year is it?”
“I’m Tao Ying! What year? I’m three years!”
“…You mean you’re three years old, not three years.”
Before he went to sleep, there was no Tao Ying in the family. He rubbed his aching temples, feeling the deep sorrow from his nightmare slowly dissolve under the touch of the pushy little girl who was already climbing into his lap, demanding a hug.
The war had ended long ago. He no longer needed to stand guard in that cold tower.
Yet he had only slept for a little over a century. He still had more than a hundred years left in his lifespan. How was he supposed to survive the remaining years?
The years that followed were indeed exhausting—not because he felt isolated from the world, but because this child was impossible difficult to raise.
“Little Yin!”
“Don’t call me that.”
She corrected herself instantly. “Ah Yin!”
“…”
“Ah Yin, carry me!”
“You have feet.”
“Waaaaah!”
“…Fine, I’ll carry you.”
“Ah Yin.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Little Yin!”
“…”
“I want my hair braided! Not by the nanny, I want Ah Yin to do it!”
“I don’t know how.”
“Waaaaah!”
“…I’ll go learn right now.”
Liu Yin had never met a child so clingy, bold, and bossy. She believed she had found him in the attic and woke her “Sleeping Beauty” with her clever method, so she stuck to him all the time. Even the smallest upset would bring on instant tears.
He knew all toddlers were like this, but none were quite as adorable or clever as Tao Ying. When she smiled, she looked like an innocent angel; when she cried, it melted his heart, making it impossible not to spoil her.
Before he realized it, the grey, lifeless world he once inhabited was filled with her colorful toys. He no longer dreamed of war or corpses—his dreams were consumed by learning how to braid hair or trying to coax his little ancestor to stop crying.
The legendary young general who once commanded armies had been transformed into a full-time “male mom” growing peach trees every single day.
A few years later, Liu Yin realized that Tao Ying was the reincarnation of Tao Yuan’s soul. A thousand years later, that soul had returned to the Tao family. He had stared in wonder for a long time before old memories surfaced—feeling like events from a past life.
In the end, he offered a faint, gentle smile. Regardless of the past, meeting an old friend again in this life was something to be cherished.
…Though that warm feeling was promptly shattered when little Tao Ying threw a tantrum and kicked him straight in the face.
When Tao Ying’s father accidentally found out, he—and the rest of the family—assumed Liu Yin stayed out of loyalty to his old promise with Tao Yuan. Feeling sympathetic, he took it upon himself to arrange the engagement, hoping to help Liu Yin out.
Yet love could never be forced.
Looking at the tearful girl before him, Liu Yin felt a subtle, aching warmth in his chest. Around them, the surrounding enemies were gathering once more.
“Stop crying,” he said softly. “Go find Long Jin and Wu Ying. I’ll be fine.”
Tao Ying was upset right now only because she thought her most cherished possession was being taken away, not because she was truly in love with him. In the Peach Demon clan, when an atavist fell in love, their body would burst into bloom.
Meanwhile, at the headquarters of the illegal organization…
“We just received word from Black Iron. Everything is proceeding smoothly,” the host said, resting his hand on his bird-head cane as he smiled at his colleague. “The atavist families have already moved against Liu Yin.”
“Wonderful! The moment they struck, we won,” another member chimed in. “Whether Liu Yin lives or dies doesn’t matter anymore. The government will be completely disillusioned with the atavist families, and the rift between them will never heal.”
To attack a national hero was an act of absolute betrayal. Who could ever trust such monsters again? Their objective was already accomplished. As soon as the government learned of this, and once the news leaked to the public, Hualan would be shaken to its core. The atavist families would become the target of universal hatred.
“Still, it’s better if he dies,” another added. “A half-cyborg royal is a major threat. The thing inside his body is a ticking time bomb.”
The others pondered the thought. Though few people in the world knew about the secret organ inside cyborg royalty—and fewer still knew its true purpose—it was best to eliminate the risk altogether.
“Our research team and dissection experts are on standby,” the host said smoothly. “Our contacts within the government are ready to notify the President and top officials the moment Liu Yin is secured.”
“And our wealthy investors won’t be idle either. By tomorrow morning, the news that the atavist families murdered the legendary war hero will spread to every corner of Hualan!”
The host tapped his cane and chuckled. “This fire is going to burn bright.”
SWISH!
A sharp whistle cut through the air. Liu Yin’s eyes narrowed as fresh reinforcements arrived, launching a new wave of attacks.
“You bastards! Stop picking on Ah Yin!” Tao Ying turned, her face flushed with fury.
“No! Stay back! Go find Long Jin!” Liu Yin wrapped his arm around her waist once more, tossing her safely out of the battle zone.
Outside, the sounds of fighting grew louder and more intense. The idea of a national hero being hunted like an animal weighed heavily on everyone watching.
“Long Jin!” Tang Qiaoqiao couldn’t hold back any longer, calling out to Jing Pei in desperation.
“Dad?” Wu Ying looked toward Patriarch Wu as well.
Jing Pei leaned on the table, her face showing nothing. Family head Wu scratched his head, looking worried but stayed where he was.
Seeing this, the other patriarchs breathed a sigh of relief. It didn’t matter if the Long and Wu families helped—as long as they didn’t interfere, the sheer number of attackers would be enough.
With the doors thrown wide open, only a few people remained inside the banquet hall. Most had already joined the fray outside.
Tang Qiaoqiao clenched her fists, her temper flaring. She made a move to charge out, only to be blocked immediately.
“Stay right where you are,” a Tang elder warned coldly. “Don’t go betraying your own blood again.” He glanced sharply at Chen Mo and Feng Yilian. “That goes for you two as well.”
Suddenly, a deafening explosion shattered the air. Shards of brick and stone sprayed inward like bullets. Guests scrambled for cover, coughing as thick dust filled the room.
When the smoke cleared, an entire wall and part of the roof had been blown away, exposing the brutal battle outside.
Dozens of atavists bombarded Liu Yin with a relentless assault—fireballs, ice spears, giant hammers, and blades rained down upon him without mercy.
Sweat and blood streaked Liu Yin’s face. Mixed with dirt, he looked battered and exhausted.
“Ah Yin!” Tao Ying sprinted back toward him, her voice cracking with tears.
Her cry was faint amidst the roar of battle, but Liu Yin caught it instantly. Answering her call was an instinct ingrained deep within him. He turned his head for a fraction of a second—yet in a fight of this intensity, even a millisecond’s distraction was fatal.
A long blade plunged straight through his abdomen.
“AH!” Tao Ying screamed as if she had been stabbed herself.
Taking advantage of the opening, the attackers instantly identified his weakness.
“Use Tao Ying to threaten him!”
“He really is a romantic fool! A girl who just looks like his ex has this much sway over him!”
“Rough her up a little! Let’s see if he keeps fighting when she screams!”
“Is that really okay? She’s a Tao…”
“Who cares?! She’s the only Tao atavist here, and the squibs in her family want Liu Yin dead more than anyone!”
Blinded by bloodlust, their rationality had completely vanished, leaving behind only ruthless ambition.
Tang Qiaoqiao shook with rage, and Chen Mo gritted his teeth.
Feng Yilian watched the scene, his eyes dark. Among those shameless attackers were members of his own Feng family—elders who usually carried themselves with stern dignity, now clawing savagely at a young girl, their faces twisted with grotesque greed.
His breathing grew ragged as memories flooded his mind—the strict, oppressive rules of his family, the rigid hierarchy where elders ate first while younger members bowed daily, and the severe punishments for minor infractions.
He was the young heir, pampered and flattered, while relatives on the fringes lived worse than servants. Yet those same abused family members would turn around and trample on the dignity—and lives—of ordinary people outside.
With so many family members, why did it feel so cold? Why did a modern society feel like an oppressive feudal regime where freedom was a luxury and equality was an impossible dream?
And now, they were trampling on an ancestor, a national hero.
Feng Yilian turned to his two friends, his voice low and steady. “I’m going to do something. Cover me.”
When several elders tried to grab Tao Ying, Jing Pei and Wu Ying stepped in, sending the old men flying with brutal force.
“Long Jin! Wu Ying!”
Jing Pei smiled faintly. “Haven’t I said it before? Tao Ying and Liu Yin are two separate matters.”
“Dammit!” The patriarchs cursed. Turning back toward Liu Yin, they saw that despite his injury, his attacks had grown even more violent and lethal. They were losing ground fast.
“Call in the reinforcements!”
“Send the signal!”
Several men pulled out red signal flares, lighting them instantly. Bright red fireworks shot into the night sky, bursting into brilliant crimson blossoms above the estate.
Hahaha! Finally! This is getting good! Black Iron’s squad members cheered in excitement from the unfinished apartment building.
Black Iron gazed toward the Long Estate, a cold smirk curling his lips. Liu Yin, a thousand years ago, did you ever imagine this day would come? All your achievements, all your blood and tears, reduced to nothing. You brought this on yourself!
“Target: Liu Yin! Dead or alive!”
“Move out!”
Upon seeing the signal, the leaders of the atavist families gave the order. Hundreds of atavists poured out of the surrounding apartment buildings like army ants, surging toward the Long Estate with terrifying momentum.
Even for Liu Yin, surviving an onslaught of this scale seemed impossible.
“Everyone,” a voice suddenly echoed through a loudspeaker, spreading across the estate and reaching the ears of every advancing atavist.
The advancing crowd faltered, many slowing their pace.
“Wait… isn’t that Lotus’s voice?”
“Is that Feng Yilian?!”
“I am Feng Yilian of the Feng family,” the voice confirmed.
“What is that brat doing?!” a Feng elder roared. “Find him and shut him up!”
Feng Yilian stood on the roof, holding his signalless phone connected to a portable amplifier. It wasn’t as loud as a professional loudspeaker, but it was more than enough to reach every atavist within the perimeter.
“Tonight’s operation—I imagine many of you are still confused about who the target is and why he’s worth summoning every atavist family in full force,” Feng Yilian said, gazing into the distance. His usual lazy, indifferent expression was gone, replaced by a golden-red flame burning deep within his eyes, threatening to pierce the dark night.
The elders who were rushing up to stop him suddenly felt a wave of unease.
Just as they reached the roof, two figures barred their way.
Chen Mo expanded his snow-white wings laced with black feathers, creating a gust of air that formed an invisible barrier. Tang Qiaoqiao’s arms had transformed into fierce, furless demon-rabbit claws, her pink ears standing straight as she tracked every movement.
“Chen Mo! Have you lost your mind?!” a relative barked. “How long are you going to play along with Feng Yilian’s foolishness?!”
Chen Mo smirked. “Well, you elders always told me to hang out with Lotus. I’m a loyal guy—once a brother, always a brother. Standing shoulder to shoulder and taking a few hits for a friend is basic courtesy, right?”
“Tang Qiaoqiao! You—”
“Shut up! You’ve completely humiliated us!” Tang Qiaoqiao snapped, her eyes blazing. “If Teacher Wen found out about the despicable things you’re doing, what would he think of me?!”
With his friends holding the line, Feng Yilian kept going without stopping.
“Tonight’s target is Liu Yin. His true identity is someone we’ve all read about in our history textbooks. Over a thousand years ago during the war era, he was a legendary young general who guarded an entire province on his own. He is the sole surviving founding minister of Hualan!”
Among the crowd advancing toward the estate, members of the Liu, Feng, and Ge families from Liuyun Prefecture came to a dead halt.
“What?”
“Who… who did he say Liu Yin is?!”
No one was more familiar with Liu Yin than those three families. Every child in Liuyun Prefecture had grown up listening to his legend.
The elders leading those groups felt their hearts sink. “Don’t listen to his nonsense! Feng Yilian is just making up lies to save his friend! Keep moving!”
The older generation hesitated, but the younger atavists refused to budge.
“If he’s lying, why would he pick that name?!”
“Yeah, Liu Yin is a half-cyborg, right? And he’s lived with the Tao family for years!”
“Could it… could it really be him?!”
“If Liu Yin is truly that hero, why are we doing this?!”
“Because they lost the vote at the 8.20 Conference!” Feng Yilian’s voice thundered over the loudspeaker, answering their doubts. “Article 1 of the Atavist Management Regulations was amended, and the old guard has been seething ever since. They want to capture Liu Yin, dismantle his body, and steal his technology so they can stand against the government’s power and remain untouchable forever!”
More and more atavists stopped in their tracks. The smooth, rapidly tightening circle of attackers fractured into chaotic, irregular lines.
Shouts and arguments erupted across the grounds.
“Silence! Follow your orders!” the elders shouted angrily, trying to regain control through fear. “Are you going to disobey your own families?! Do you want to be punished?!”
The threat was effective. Raised under strict family discipline, few possessed the courage to rebel. Hearing the word “punishment,” many fell silent, their faces turning pale as traumatic memories resurfaced.
Feng Yilian looked toward the battered figure of Liu Yin in the distance and raised his voice higher.
“Now, are they threatening you again? Because you possess a conscience, because you know right from wrong, and because you still carry a sense of shame! Meanwhile, they are selfish, cold-blooded, and utterly vile!
“A hero bled and suffered to carve out an era of peace for us—giving them lives richer than emperors. Yet instead of gratitude, they feel he hasn’t given enough. They want to strip his flesh, break his bones, and devour him whole!”
