Wu Ying wondered who that was, but she didn’t dwell on it. Since Qiu Fa brought her along and clearly trusted her, there was no reason to question her presence.
Right now, her worry lay entirely with Tao Ying.
“Director Qiu, Xiao Tao didn’t mean it. She had her senses at first, but we rushed in without understanding the situation and drove her to this point. The fault is ours…” She stepped forward, trying to explain to Qiu Fa, terrified that he might strike too harshly.
“Director Qiu?”
“Did someone call the police?”
“Ah, really now…”
The others noticed Qiu Fa as well, their expressions shifting. The injured ones looked embarrassed, trying to salvage their pride. “Why call the police? It’s not like we can’t handle one young girl. We just held back our lethal moves out of fear of killing her.”
It wasn’t a total lie. Among the great atavist families present, the Feng family possessed Phoenix Fire, the ultimate bane of plant-type atavists. Water and carbon dioxide couldn’t put it out; even diving into a lake wouldn’t stop the burning. With so many Feng family atavists present, including Feng Yilian, whose purity matched Tao Ying’s, taking Tao Ying’s life was well within their power.
Qiu Fa’s gaze swept across them without truly taking them in, searching for someone specific. He didn’t find her.
He walked straight toward the furious Tao Ying, his pace steady and calm as he slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket with one hand.
The Blood Peach had grown massive. If the barrier hadn’t held her back, she would have expanded enough to blot out the sky once she drained the forest park of all life. Right now, not a single green leaf remained on her branches—only a striking, unsettling crimson. Thick, glowing blood vessels pulsed along her trunk, bulging like swollen veins.
As Qiu Fa drew near, she seemed to sense danger. More and more roots burst from the soil, whipping toward him.
“Xiao Tao!” Wu Ying panicked, reaching to throw her tortoise shell to block the attack. She wasn’t worried about Qiu Fa—she feared Qiu Fa would slice Tao Ying to pieces. With so many roots, how much blood would be shed? How severe would the wounds be?
Even now, Tao Ying hadn’t recalled the roots attacking the hot spring inn. Like a dragon clinging to its treasure, she refused to let go. Guilt washed over Wu Ying; she should have realized sooner that Tao Ying only wanted to reclaim her lover.
“Ah!” Inside the secret room, several researchers shrieked in terror.
The door to the room had warped, leaving a gap where root tendrils squirmed inside like tentacles. Jin Ji detached his left arm, which mechanized into a blade as he fought off the creeping roots.
“Don’t waste time, keep going!” Jin Ji bellowed.
Several researchers trembled, turning toward Liu Yin on the operating table. Only one last protective layer remained before they could reach his heart. But right now, how could they care about a heart? They were all going to die.
“Keep your scalpels steady! For our grand goal, dying here is worth it! This is to clear away future troubles for our great Lord!” a man’s deep voice roared. He was the leader of this research group.
His shout seemed to inject a surge of desperate courage into them. “Ye-Yeah! We’re dead anyway, we might as well make it count!”
“Drag them to hell with us!”
“They’re only going to outlive us by a little bit!”
Pumping themselves up, they lowered their heads and resumed their work.
Jin Ji gritted his teeth, swinging his blade to sever a root charging toward Liu Yin. Scars covered his body, but his half-cyborg nature turned his flesh to steel, preventing the Blood Peach from draining his blood or moisture. Still, the door was on the verge of being ripped away by the roots outside.
Could they hold out until Liu Yin’s heart came out?
Jing Pei stood behind the inn. Due to Tao Ying’s rampage, the electric fence surrounding the hot spring inn was warped out of shape. Sparks flickered here and there, though the voltage had likely weakened.
The problem lay inside the inn. Looking at the gnarly Blood Peach roots creeping over the walls, Jing Pei’s brows furrowed.
The hallways must be completely packed. Where was there any gap for her to slip through? And it wasn’t appropriate for her to use atavist power to attack Tao Ying.
She pulled out her phone and called Qiu Fa.
Qiu Fa answered, silently prompting her.
“The back is completely blocked by her roots,” Jing Pei said. “I can’t get in. Think of something quickly.”
“Got it,” Qiu Fa replied.
Qiu Fa hung up and looked at the roots rushing toward him. Atavist power spread out in an arc before him like a shield, blocking the assault. Then, the arc stretched and expanded rapidly, turning into a giant net.
With every step he took toward Tao Ying, the net expanded, growing taller than Tao Ying herself. It was enough to wrap around her, but it didn’t stop there—it began curving from the sky and both sides until it enclosed the hot spring inn as well.
The bloody scene Wu Ying imagined—Tao Ying torn apart by Qiu Fa—never happened. Qiu Fa handled Tao Ying firmly but gently, almost like an art.
Once the prey was caught, the barrier tightened, sending out a heavy, crushing pressure. The roots around the inn quickly pulled back like a tide going out, like a snake running from a predator without thinking.
Bang! The door to the secret room was ripped away.
Just as Jin Ji was sinking into despair, he felt a wave of atavist power sweep over his body. The swarming vines froze instantly, then slowly retreated.
Jin Ji panted, eyes widening at the sight.
“Wh-What level of control is this…” Members of the atavist families stared with wide eyes, muttering in disbelief.
Atavist power served as the foundation for every atavist, much like the foundation of a house; the larger and sturdier the foundation, the safer and grander the structure could be built. But doing so was immensely difficult. None of the people present possessed such abundant atavist power, and even if they did, no one could manipulate and stretch their power so freely to this extent.
At that moment, on the operating table, the final layer of protection surrounding Liu Yin opened. A soft, fragile heart lay exposed, beating continuously… Thump, thump, thump…
At the same time, a drop of blood came up from the wound.
Outside, Tao Ying’s roots paused as Qiu Fa’s net forced them back. Then, as if suddenly snapping awake, she began struggling violently, uttering monster-like, frantic roars.
Trapped like a beast in a glass sphere, she thrashed her tendrils wildly against the walls, trying to break free, but could not budge them in the slightest.
With Tao Ying’s roots retreating, Jing Pei was finally able to step inside the hot spring inn.
Meanwhile, the organization received news that after their plan had failed, something else had happened to Liu Yin.
The host was already furious over the turn of events. Black Iron’s audacity in demanding gold despite failing his task had pushed his temper to the limit. Hearing this new report, his overheated brain caught a chill. He re-read the message Black Iron had sent earlier, realizing the true meaning behind the words.
In an instant, his hairs stood on end. It felt as if an invisible hand was holding him in its palm.
Yet, the entire Black Iron squad could no longer be reached.
He immediately contacted the personnel at the hot spring inn. The security captain didn’t answer; the front desk didn’t answer. So, he contacted the research group leader.
Inside the secret room, the leader held up Liu Yin’s freshly beating heart.
“Task complete,” he breathed, letting out a sigh of relief.
Jin Ji let out a sigh of relief as well.
A faint vibration came from a pocket. The leader instructed a subordinate to place the heart into a container while he pulled out his communicator.
The primary method of communication within the organization was text messages, as eyes processed information faster and more accurately than ears. Local accents, non-standard speech, and varying speaking speeds wasted time and risked miscommunication during missions. Text messages allowed recipients to respond whenever time permitted.
Thus, the leader opened the communicator, and a line of text met his eyes:
[Mission failed. Black Iron squad wiped out. An enemy disguised as our personnel. Call back immediately.]
Jin Ji sensed something was wrong the moment the leader pulled out his communicator, but it was too late. Within a second, the leader absorbed the message, looking up at him in shock.
Time seemed to freeze. The leader’s glasses fogged up from his mask and rising body heat, while Jin Ji’s entire body tensed.
The mission had failed, the Black Iron squad was wiped out, and an enemy was disguised as their personnel… Wait, who was this cyborg? In their rush, they had never verified his identity, assuming that since he delivered Liu Yin, he had to be one of them.
Now that he thought about it, no one knew him. Tonight’s roster had no cyborgs on it. If he were reinforcements sent by the organization, how could the higher-ups not know? Why would they say the mission failed?
“All done,” a researcher said, walking over with an insulated medical box containing Liu Yin’s heart, which Jin Ji had requested earlier under the guise of organizational orders.
At that moment, the leader moved like an arrow from a bow, snatching the box from the researcher’s hands. He lunged toward a machine, shoving the box beneath its beam head and placing his hand over a red button.
“You saw what this machine can do earlier. It can cut through the toughest armor of the Cyborg Clan’s royal family. This insulated box is made of ordinary material, and the heart inside is just an ordinary organ. One press of this button, and the heart will be sliced in two!” he yelled frantically, sweat pouring down his forehead.
Jin Ji had indeed witnessed the machine’s terrifying power, so he didn’t dare move recklessly. His boss had specified that Liu Yin’s heart had to be taken alive to retrieve the ultimate weapon hidden within.
Yet at that exact second, the leader’s face darkened. “Your target was this heart all along! Are you after what’s inside it? Don’t even dream of it!”
With that, he slammed his hand onto the switch.
The beam head instantly discharged a red laser beam. Jin Ji’s eyes widened, and he threw himself forward without hesitation, using his body to shield the insulated box, unconcerned whether the beam would slice through his own torso.
Expected pain never came. Instead, several shrieks and thuds echoed through the room.
Jin Ji looked up and saw Jing Pei standing in a cloud of dust, her foot firmly on the leader’s head. She smiled down at him. “You okay?”
Jin Ji scrambled to his feet, clutching the insulated box. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, I…”
“It’s fine, you did great,” Jing Pei said.
She didn’t blame him in the slightest for almost failing the task. Jin Ji felt deeply moved and ashamed. Back at the factory, if he made a mistake on a product, his father would berate him harshly or even beat him. His boss, on the other hand, only cared whether he was hurt.
He promised himself that once they got back, he would train twice as hard and dedicate his whole life to serving her.
“Who are you…”
Snap. The leader, pinned beneath Jing Pei’s foot, struggled to ask. Before he could finish his sentence, Jing Pei shifted her foot from his back to his nape, applying light pressure. The sound of breaking bone rang out, and he breathed his last.
With the heart extracted, Liu Yin’s wound was left untreated, blood flowing continuously. Though the cyborg royal body began self-healing to stem the bleeding, he had still lost a significant amount.
Outside the inn, the Blood Peach grew even more frantic, thrashing wildly. Her roots slammed against the barrier of atavist power like a suicidal beast, breaking roots, snapping branches, and scattering blood that painted the ground and the invisible wall crimson.
“Does she not feel pain?”
“She’s a trapped beast now. What else can she do? Creatures without reason are like this.”
“See that? Never let yourselves fall into a full atavist state, especially you guys. With your low purity, going full atavist is useless anyway—you’ll just get beaten to death…”
The members of the atavist families, realizing there was nothing left for them to do, gossiped amongst themselves.
Qiu Fa’s brows knit together as he looked at the inn behind the Blood Peach.
Having leveraged the organization’s venue, staff, and expensive machinery, then turning around to kill off their researchers, Jing Pei felt zero guilt.
They were a bunch of bottomless researchers who had dissected and experimented on countless living subjects; a quick death was mercy.
“Is it done?” Jing Pei looked at Jin Ji.
Jin Ji straightened up from Liu Yin’s operating table. “Done.”
“Let’s go,” Jing Pei said.
There was only one exit from the secret room. Jing Pei led Jin Ji out into the corridor, only to run right into Qiu Fa walking toward them.
Jing Pei’s breathing caught slightly.
Qiu Fa paused, looking from Jing Pei to Jin Ji, his gaze landing on the small box in Jin Ji’s hands.
It was a standard medical insulated box used for preserving organs, capable of maintaining organ viability while keeping them sterile.
Jing Pei tilted her head slightly, whispering to Jin Ji, “Go first.”
A few steps ahead was an intersection with another corridor.
Jin Ji knew who Qiu Fa was and didn’t dare waste a single word, immediately rushing down the other corridor with the box.
“Stop,” Qiu Fa called out suddenly.
Jin Ji didn’t stop, rounding the corner into the hallway. Qiu Fa’s brows furrowed, and he moved instantly.
Before he could enter the hallway Jin Ji had taken, Jing Pei stepped forward, blocking his path.
“Director Qiu, that’s my subordinate. He’s a good person and easily frightened. If you have business, talk to me—don’t scare him.”
Qiu Fa’s gaze flared like torches, staring down at Jing Pei. “What is in his box?”
“Take a guess,” Jing Pei smiled.
At this moment, Qiu Fa was in no mood for jokes. As an enforcer, his instincts were razor-sharp, but an emotion deep within made him reluctant to believe his intuition. He shot Jing Pei a look and strode into the secret room.
Liu Yin lay on the operating table. Near his neck was a transparent anesthesia mask that had been pumping anesthetic gas into his body, keeping him unconscious, now tossed aside.
His limbs were intact, his face pale, his chest bare. A long, unhealed incision stretched across his chest, letting Qiu Fa know his torso had been opened up.
His expression shifted drastically as he realized what was inside the medical box in that man’s hands.
Even for the royal family of the Cyborg Clan, losing a heart was fatal.
Qiu Fa turned on his heel to pursue Jin Ji. He could tell at a glance that the man wasn’t strong; even with a ten-minute head start, he couldn’t escape his pursuit.
What he didn’t expect was that Jing Pei blocked his way once again.
“Jing Pei! What on earth are you doing?!” Qiu Fa suppressed the storm of emotions inside him, staring at her coldly.
“I’m sorry, Director Qiu. Just this once,” Jing Pei said, her heart trembling slightly as she met his pained gaze. Feeling a pang of reluctance, she nevertheless stood firm in front of him.
If she let Qiu Fa chase Jin Ji, Jin Ji wouldn’t make it. And if she ran, she wouldn’t make it either. That was the plan from the start: if Qiu Fa appeared, she would stall him while Jin Ji escaped with the heart.
Everything became crystal clear. Tonight’s so-called date was a complete farce—just a manipulation by this information broker, using him to hold back Tao Ying so she could accomplish her goal smoothly. Meanwhile, he had dressed in a suit, brought a gift, and arrived with a heart full of joy, like a fool.
Outside the inn, Jin Ji sprinted out the back door. The barrier master from the atavist families had lowered the barrier when Qiu Fa appeared, watching Tao Ying at the front gate. Sensing something, Tao Ying roared in agony, hammering wildly at the air, yet unable to break free.
Thus, Jin Ji enjoyed a clear path, running frantically down the mountain.
“Move!” Reclaiming Liu Yin’s heart was the top priority. Given Liu Yin’s status, Qiu Fa could not stand by and watch him die. He pushed Jing Pei aside to give chase.
Jing Pei couldn’t let him go, and in an instant, the two traded blows.
This time was different from their earlier spar. Not long ago, their exchange was mere flirting, neither using full strength, both enjoying the moment.
This time, to achieve her goal against a powerhouse like Qiu Fa, Jing Pei had to unleash her full capabilities.
“Is this how Mei Yanlan taught you?” In Qiu Fa’s private training bubble, before Jing Pei could even react, she had been pinned to the ground by Qiu Fa, his foot planted on her back, rendering her immobile.
Jing Pei gritted her teeth. “Stepping on me like this… isn’t that a bit harsh?”
“If I were an enemy, I’d step on your head and crush it,” Qiu Fa said expressionlessly, looking down at her. His amber eyes shimmered like translucent gold under the light, complementing his sharp, handsome face and his dignified, unyielding uniform.
“If you feel humiliated, remember this feeling well. Learn properly, and don’t fear pain.” He lifted his foot and pulled her up, treating her like a soldier under his command rather than a young woman.
Jing Pei endured it silently, thinking: My skills aren’t up to par yet, I’ll swallow it for now. One day, I’ll step all over you too, Director Qiu.
Jing Pei’s martial arts had initially been taught by Mei Yanlan. Mei Yanlan’s combat style was forged through life-and-death battles—agile, fierce, merging soft grace with lethal precision. But Qiu Fa was a step above: more concise, more powerful, more fatal. Not a single wasted movement, focusing on one-shot kills while conserving energy.
Who knew how many beatings he had taken in prison, how many times he had been stepped on, to cultivate such mastery.
Combining the two styles, Jing Pei forged a rhythm of her own. Even when sparring with Mei Yanlan, she could hold her ground.
Mei Yanlan had been deeply astonished. “You really are a genius. Less than a year…”
Jing Pei had replied, “Well, a fine master produces a fine pupil. Getting beaten up speeds up growth.”
The result of being personally trained by Qiu Fa was her rapid growth, but the consequence was equally obvious.
Qiu Fa’s eyes grew increasingly complex—shock, disbelief. Then, during a probing strike as his sharp claws clashed against Jing Pei’s arm, a shower of sparks erupted like steel needles scraping against a steel shield.
Jing Pei’s sleeve tore open, revealing the shimmering, deep-green scales beneath.
Dragon scales!
“Long Jin… it really is you!” No wonder he hadn’t seen Long Jin outside earlier, despite such a major event happening so close to the Long estate.
Jing Pei had long known her identity would be exposed eventually and was mentally prepared. Now, she could go all out.
Her delicate hand transformed into a dragon claw as she faced him. “I’m sorry. Just this once.”
To be enemies.
Qiu Fa was determined to pursue Jin Ji, while Jing Pei was equally set on stopping him. With Jing Pei fighting at full strength, even Qiu Fa couldn’t break away immediately.
The hot spring inn, already damaged by Tao Ying, was falling apart. As two powerful atavists fought inside, the shockwaves from their power were too strong. Dust fell from the walls, and the building came down with a loud crash.
Outside, the frantic Blood Peach finally shattered Qiu Fa’s net during the moment his concentration flickered.
She didn’t know anything, but somehow felt that someone had taken her most precious treasure, pushing her to chase the thief without thinking.
Exhausted beyond measure, she needed energy to sustain herself, rapidly absorbing the vitality of the forest park while attacking anyone in sight.
“!!”
“Damn it! How is she starting up again?!”
“Qiu Fa! Qiu Fa!”
“Is anyone going to handle this?! Screw it, let me kill her!”
“Ah! Save me! Save me!”
The chaos outside merged with the thunderous collapse of the inn.
Rumble…
Everything descended into total mayhem.
Jing Pei crawled out from the rubble. Seeing that she had stalled enough time, she didn’t linger for a second longer, disappearing into the shadows of the trees.
Qiu Fa wanted to pursue her, but Tao Ying’s rampage demanded immediate attention. If left unchecked, either Tao Ying would slaughter the atavist family members, or they would kill her.
“Jing Pei… Long Jin…” Qiu Fa stared at her disappearing figure, veins bulging along his neck.
“Xiao Tao…” Inside the collapsed inn, the poison and anesthetic in Liu Yin’s system had partially decomposed. He murmured weakly, forcing his eyes open amidst the dizziness.
During surgery, they had pumped him with heavy anesthetics. His senses hadn’t fully recovered, and without his vital heart, his body lacked its energy core, leaving him near total collapse.
Yet he heard the roars outside—a sound filled with terror and sorrow that made his heart burn with anxiety.
He rolled off the operating table, nearly falling to the ground, stabilizing himself against the edge before staggering forward.
The secret room was the only room that hadn’t collapsed, but it was buried under heavy debris. For the old Liu Yin, this would have been a trivial obstacle, but now, he could barely move the heavy concrete blocks.
How could he get out?
Worrying desperately about Tao Ying, he disregarded his broken body. Forcing his strength resulted in severe injuries: rebar and concrete sliced open his skin, a sharp stone tore open his shoulder as he pushed it aside, and when a gap proved too narrow, he gave up an entire arm to squeeze through…
“Xiao Tao… Xiao Tao…” He finally crawled out from the ruins like a broken robot. Sparks flickered from his discarded shoulder where exposed wires sputtered electricity.
“L-Liu Yin…” The atavist family members stared in shock at the crawling figure.
The Blood Peach had once again been netted by Qiu Fa, hammering herself against the barrier as if to shatter her own body, far more frantic than before.
Tao Ying’s rage and fear reached a crescendo as her expanding roots realized Jin Ji was moving further and further away, beyond her reach. She felt trapped in a terrifying nightmare, suffocating, unable to do anything but struggle blindly.
Ever since her earliest memories, Liu Yin had been by her side—her best companion, friend, teacher, and family.
Her feelings were too vast, too deep, so much so that she had never bothered to distinguish between friendship, romance, or family ties. As long as he was by her side, why bother labeling it?
Liu Yin belonged to her, and they would be together forever. That belief was rooted deep in her soul until today, when she suddenly realized Liu Yin could leave her—either by his own choice or by being taken away.
She was terrified, utterly terrified. Please don’t leave me.
“Roar…” The Blood Peach let out a monster-like cry, thrashing violently, ready to tear apart anyone who drew near.
Liu Yin’s body wobbled, staggering step by step into the net.
“Dangerous! Don’t go in there! She’s lost her humanity, she’ll devour you!” someone yelled in horror.
However, the image of Liu Yin being pierced and drained by roots didn’t happen. The Blood Peach’s frenzy ceased. The wild, thrashing roots froze in mid-air.
Step by painful step, Liu Yin reached the Blood Peach, leaning his weary body against her trunk, resting his forehead gently against her bark. He whispered softly, “Xiao Tao, don’t be afraid. I will always stay with you.”
The roots all retracted into the earth. The terrifying Blood Peach tree seemed to instantly calm down under the moonlight, losing its menacing edge.
Before everyone’s astonished eyes, the leafless peach tree suddenly burst with countless flower buds—light, lively, like joyous little spirits popping out, blooming one by one in full glory.
Peach blossoms came from Hualan and were pretty common, but no one there had ever seen ones this stunning. Crimson and pink mixed together, almost covering the night sky, shining with a beauty that felt like a burning heart on full display.
The peach tree is young and elegant, brilliant are its blossoms.
