The commotion tonight proved far too massive to conceal. Even though the government kept quiet about the prophecy of Qiu Fa’s death to prevent panic, various Atavist families still sensed something amiss.
Few truly understood the whole picture, however.
Jiang Qing was likely the sole outsider privy to the truth.
He kept close tabs on the situation, quietly relieved that the Wu Family Head and Wu Ying were away in other prefectures hunting down organization members. Had they remained in Yunjin Prefecture, they surely would have jumped into the fray. Such monsters were far beyond their ability to handle.
“Who’s going to win this game in the end?” He glanced down at his phone, his clear phoenix eyes calm and relaxed. Like he had done many times before, he stood on the sidelines watching the pieces move—no comments, no sides taken, as if winning or losing didn’t matter to him.
Until a phone call came through.
Inside the Central Command Center, everyone stared speechless at the screens, watching monsters pour out from the rift in an endless stream.
A few younger staff members turned pale, their eyes filled with despair.
Handling a single beast had proven grueling enough, yet now dozens rushed out alongside a horde of smaller creatures. With more continually crawling through the gap, could human strength truly overcome such a calamity?
The situation was dire.
Madam President immediately spoke up. “Generals, how is our firepower deployment coming along?”
“Time is far too tight. Many Atavist missiles remain in transit. We need at least another hour to assemble enough munitions for a coordinated barrage.”
“Moreover, our initial plan is insufficient. We need far more heavy firepower, which means clearing a much larger battlefield.”
“Send teams to escort the villagers out and seal the roads! Clear the battlefield immediately so our fighters can engage without distraction!”
Madam President fixed her gaze on the screen. “Qiu Fa needs backup.”
Along the outer perimeter beyond the village, centered around the ruins of the Qiu Estate, various weapons had already been mounted. Atavist warriors stationed there acted on orders right away, surging toward the battlefield.
The elephant-sized companion beasts proved just as troublesome as the giant Serpent-lizards. Though less durable, their sheer numbers were overwhelming. The moment they emerged, they locked onto the fleeing villagers at terrifying speed.
Qiu Fa had no choice but to break off from his clash with the Serpent-Lizards to intercept the horde, taking several heavy blows in the process.
“Director Qiu!” A young Atavist fighter, clearly idolizing Qiu Fa, sprinted directly into the fray. “Director, I’m here to help!”
Qiu Fa’s face shifted. “Get back—”
A split second too late. One of the Serpent-Lizards vanished into thin air, reappearing right above the young man with jaws wide open to swallow him whole.
Watching the battle through a screen made Qiu Fa look so dominant that some viewers fell under the illusion that these beasts were manageable.
Only when the monster’s maw loomed over his head did the young fighter grasp the terror of his mistake. He tried to dodge, but fear froze his limbs, leaving his mind completely blank.
In that fraction of a second, a sharp bell chimed, followed by a flash of red light. An immense force yanked the young man back, flinging him across the air just as the monster’s razor teeth snapped shut inches from his boots.
He looked up, heart pounding.
Red wavy hair, golden bells ringing softly beneath her horns, a charming mole beneath her eye, and a seductive smile on her red lips. Mei Yanlan turned her head to glare at the beast, muttering under her breath, “I might have said I don’t care what kind of world those three brats face in the future, but I never gave this world permission to end today.”
“W-What?”
Her striking crimson eyes dropped down to lock onto him. “Follow orders, won’t you, rookie?”
“Captain… Captain Mei, I’m so sorry!” The young man’s pale face flushed instantly.
“Get out of here.” With a wave of her hand, Mei Yanlan tossed him far to safety.
She turned back to Qiu Fa. Behind her stood several figures of varying heights, each radiating formidable aura. “Tribunal Division Special Forces, Numbers 1 through 10, reporting for duty.”
Qiu Fa replied instantly, “Numbers 9 and 10, search beneath the castle ruins and locate those three machines.”
Closing that rift remained the top priority.
“Understood!” Two figures darted toward the rift, digging through the rubble for the machines, while the remaining eight joined Qiu Fa in battle.
The Special Forces represented the pinnacle of combat strength in the Tribunal Division, second only to Qiu Fa himself. Limited strictly to ten slots, their rankings reflected pure strength, with any member forced to forfeit their rank upon losing a challenge. Each was an elite powerhouse of Hualan, taking on only the highest-difficulty assignments. Their identities remained classified, answering solely to Qiu Fa’s command.
Even among the central government elite, few knew who these ten individuals were, let alone witnessing all ten fighting side by side on the same battlefield.
Against Hualan’s absolute peak combatants, the Serpent-Lizards’ stealth, super speed, and precognition no longer seemed invincible. The beasts shrieked under the relentless onslaught, sending a wave of thrill through those watching the screens.
Before long, Numbers 9 and 10 uncovered the three machines amidst the wreckage.
“Great! Wait, how do we shut these down?” Number 10 froze, staring at the unfamiliar controls. The buttons did not feature standard letters or numbers, but strange, punctuation-like symbols.
“Can we just smash them?” Number 9 raised a heavy fist.
“Don’t touch them!” Qiu Fa called out, dodging a monster’s whipping tail. He recalled the machine from Bubble 109—Jing Pei had strictly forbidden destroying it back then. These devices required a specific password to reverse their programming; smashing them might lock the rift open permanently.
“Quick, we need to crack the code!” The central command center sprang into action. As Number 9 slapped password decoders onto the three devices, top hackers and codebreakers began working frantically.
“Hmph. Trying to crack our code? Try again in a hundred years,” the Moderator scoffed, watching the screen and guessing the government’s moves.
“Wait, how was the password leaked during the Bubble 109 incident? Did we ever find out?” an organization shareholder asked.
“No, but this time is different,” the Moderator stated confidently. “Only three people know the code: myself, the Godfather, and Old Lei. Old Lei is dead. Would the Godfather or I leak it? A breach is impossible.”
The other board members relaxed upon hearing those words.
The Moderator was not exaggerating. The organization had spent centuries and trillions in funding to develop this technology. The encryption far surpassed that of nuclear launch codes, making a quick crack utterly impossible.
“To crack this encryption… it would take at least fifty years,” a lead cryptographer reported, face pale.
On screen, every fighter from Qiu Fa to Mei Yanlan was already soaked in blood, fighting a desperate war of attrition against two fatal factors.
First, the Serpent-Lizards possessed a horrific self-healing ability that far exceeded human limits. Severed limbs and heads regenerated in under five minutes.
Second, with the rift wide open, as soon as a beast was beaten into near-death, a fresh one crawled through to take its place, accompanied by swarms of smaller beasts making surprise attacks.
Qiu Fa bore the brunt of the assault. The monsters treated him as their primary target, swarming him relentlessly as though hatred for him were encoded into their very DNA.
Mei Yanlan spat out a mouthful of blood, swaying slightly as she glared at the horde. “Damn it, this never ends.”
Suddenly, several Serpent-Lizards vanished into thin air. The fighters braced themselves, only to realize the beasts had reappeared above the ruins, lunging directly at Numbers 9 and 10 guarding the machines.
The beasts emerging from the rift had previously ignored the machines, taking Numbers 9 and 10 by surprise. Though both fighters dodged the initial ambush, they left the devices exposed.
Two massive claws slashed toward the control panels from different angles. Realizing the monsters intended to destroy the machines, Qiu Fa flashed across the field.
Moving like lightning, he arrived in the fraction of a second before the claws landed. He concentrated his Atavist power into a transparent shield directly in front of him. But with two claws striking from opposite directions and his strength heavily drained, his shield could only cover one side. He chose to turn his back to the second claw, offering his own body as armor.
The claw in front slammed into the shield, sending ripples across the barrier. Meanwhile, the claw behind swept down toward his bare back.
“Director!”
“Qiu Fa!”
Everyone watching held their breath in horror.
Suddenly, a giant teal shadow dropped from the sky.
A heavy thud echoed across the field, followed by a harsh screech as sparks flew where the claw scraped against the teal barrier.
“What is that…?” People stared in disbelief.
Qiu Fa turned his head to see a massive, translucent teal scale radiating a familiar aura that set his heart racing.
A Dragon’s reverse scale—the absolute strongest defense in the world, second only to the shell of the Black Tortoise.
“Hello, Director Qiu. Need some help?” Jing Pei sat atop the reverse scale, looking down at him with a mischievous smile.
In that moment, Qiu Fa felt his soul tremble. Seconds ago, he had braced for death, filled with bitter regret that he might never see her again.
Then, miraculously, she descended from the sky like a savior.
“Long… Long Jin?”
“What’s there to fear? She’s just a little girl. What difference can she make besides throwing her life away?” the Moderator sneered.
“Exactly. Without the password, that machine can’t be shut down. If destroyed, the rift will take at least a week to heal naturally. A week is more than enough to turn Yunjin Prefecture into hell!”
The beast that had struck the scale paused, momentarily confused by the sudden obstacle, before lunging again.
Jing Pei leaped down from the reverse scale and said to Qiu Fa, “You can borrow my scale. Protect me while I close this rift.”
“I told you never to lend it out! Put it back!” Qiu Fa shouted sternly. He yanked the reverse scale from the ground and tossed it back to her. A dragon’s reverse scale hid its single fatal weak point; exposing it in battle was suicide.
Jing Pei caught the scale and absorbed it back into her body without arguing. Her casual demeanor masked deep concern.
Due to the plot’s interference, the scenario had diverged from her original draft. In her novel, there were no swarms of Serpent-Lizards, no Tribunal Division Special Forces, and no government intervention. Qiu Fa had faced those enemies alone after being deceived by Old Lei’s fake memory bubble into believing he killed his own family, fighting to his death in despair.
Now he had allies and government support, but the enemy count had multiplied a hundredfold. The monster’s sudden attack on the machines had undoubtedly been orchestrated by the plot to stop her.
She reached the control panels and began punching in the code.
“She knows the password?!” Inside the organization’s headquarters, everyone’s face turned pale. They stood up in shock, glaring at the Moderator.
The Moderator turned deathly pale. “Impossible! How could she know? That’s impossible!”
“You betrayed us! You’re the traitor!”
“It wasn’t me!”
“If not you, did the Godfather leak it?!”
The Moderator stared back at the screen, his fingers trembling, praying that Jing Pei would enter an incorrect code and trigger the self-destruct sequence.
His hopes vanished instantly.
First machine: “Password accepted. Reversing program.”
Second machine: “Password accepted. Reversing program.”
Third machine: “Password accepted. Reversing program.”
The rift connecting to another world began to shrink. The spatial force proved unstoppable; a Serpent-Lizard caught halfway through thrash wildly, but the narrowing gap sheared its body cleanly in two before it could escape.
As the black mist around its severed half dissipated, the beast died instantly.
Qiu Fa’s eyes narrowed as he grasped the truth. “Their weak point is seven inches below the chest. The black mist is the source of their regeneration.” A ruthless smile touched his lips. “Cut these wretched things in half!”
Mei Yanlan grinned, licking her lips like a demon preparing for a feast. “Understood.”
The other fighters readied their weapons. “Time to strike back.”
Targeting the spot seven inches below the chest severed their regeneration, killing them instantly. Otherwise, chopping off their heads or limbs accomplished nothing.
Even knowing the weak point, cutting such massive, mist-shrouded beasts in two required immense physical force and precise coordination. For ordinary fighters, it would have been an impossible task.
However, these individuals represented Hualan’s absolute peak combat units, working in flawless sync.
With the rift closed and no new enemies arriving, the Serpent-Lizards were sliced in two one after another, falling dead to the ground.
“We did it!!” Cheers erupted across the central command center.
Meanwhile, furious accusations rained down on the Moderator. “How did Long Jin get the password?!”
“You really were the traitor! No wonder we could never track down the information broker’s network!”
The Moderator stood pale and speechless. Since the Godfather would never leak the code, he remained the sole suspect.
Yet he had never spoken a word!
How on earth did she know the password?!
In truth, Jing Pei did not know the password herself—she simply knew who held it.
Jiang Qing’s temples throbbed with a rising headache.
He had expected to remain a detached bystander tonight, never anticipating another call from that infuriating information broker.
“I know you only care about standing on the winning side,” her voice had spoken through a voice changer. “But with me joining the board, victory remains undecided. If you don’t give me the password, you’ll be the loser tonight. You wouldn’t want Wu Ying learning your true identity, would you?”
“If you intend to win, isn’t it a bit late to act now?” He had crushed the flower petals in his hands, speaking coldly. The opening of the rift meant the organization’s experiment had succeeded, bringing their grand vision closer to reality.
“How do you know this wasn’t part of my plan all along?” she laughed softly. “I’ll give you thirty seconds.”
Jiang Qing could never see through her, but he could not deny her overwhelming odds of success, especially with her alliance with Long Jin.
He had no choice but to hand over the code.
Shortly after, news reached him that Long Jin had closed the rift, resolving the crisis.
He checked his phone, where school group chats buzzed with discussions about the night’s events and the various accidents that the Twelve Zodiac Academy students had helped resolve.
As he browsed through the messages, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Did the organization cause those accidents to stop Long Jin? How could they have known she would close the rift? And why was he completely unaware of such a plan? Wasn’t the organization trying to block someone else entirely?
“Wow, look at that rain!” In the Nevergone District, Min Yue held her tea cup, gazing out the window at the downpour.
Behind the desk, Min Jing noted dryly, “Eleventh time.”
That made eleven times she had commented on the rain today.
Min Yue continued, “If this were before, we’d be completely soaked! I can’t believe we’re sitting comfortably in a dry room enjoying the view!”
The Nevergone District had undergone a total transformation. Mountains of trash and crumbling ruins had given way to newly constructed buildings, with wide, clean streets cared for by the residents. Thanks to affordable rent, people were moving in, and the district government was actively attracting businesses. The once-abandoned slum was slowly coming back to life.
“Indeed. We owe all of this to Miss Long Jin,” Min Jing said gently, looking at her daughter.
Min Yue nodded vigorously, her face full of pride.
“In that case, to follow Miss Long Jin’s example, finish these two pounds of test papers,” Min Jing said, pulling a heavy bag of worksheets from under the desk.
Min Yue’s face collapsed instantly. “Measuring homework by the pound?! That’s cruel!”
“These are sixth-grade math and language papers. Once you finish, you can move on to middle school material.”
With Min Jing elected as district chief, Min Yue needed a proper education if she wanted to help her mother, rather than remaining the wild child who ran around taking odd jobs.
“Haha, let me do it tomorrow! It’s almost ten, I need to take Jin’s call!” Min Yue dashed out of the office before her mother could stop her.
Min Jing watched her lively figure with a gentle smile and returned to her work.
Min Yue ran down the hall, checking over her shoulder to ensure her mother wasn’t chasing her with the test papers. Satisfied, she sat on a bench and pulled out her phone.
Jing Pei made it a habit to call her every evening to chat and help with her studies. School was boring to the point of tears, but Jing Pei’s explanations always made sense easily, so she looked forward to their nightly calls.
Min Yue waited patiently on the bench.
However, even after Min Jing finished her work and walked out, the phone never rang.
“She must be busy tonight,” Min Jing said, opening a large umbrella as she walked over. Mother and daughter strolled home together, escorted by several armed guards and two Atavists guarding the district chief’s safety.
They had grown accustomed to the added security.
“Don’t be clingy. She’s the head of a major family now with endless responsibilities…”
Their voices faded into the distance. Rain puddles reflected their figures, along with another shadow running past them in a hurry.
Chu Xusheng arrived outside the district office building, breathing heavily, only to find the lights on the top floor turned off.
“Where are Chief Min and Min Yue?” he asked the guard at the entrance.
Recognizing him as Jing Pei’s acquaintance, the guard answered in surprise, “Chief Min and Miss Min left a while ago. Didn’t you see them?”
Chu Xusheng froze. “What?”
He hadn’t seen them at all.
A massive beast collapsed with a heavy thud, splashing mud and shattered stone across the ruins.
Jing Pei stood atop the rubble of the Qiu Estate, feeling a surge of regret. The Qiu Family castle was gone, leaving the Big Cat without a home.
She watched the fighters clear out the remaining beasts, occasionally swatting away smaller monsters that ventured near her. She had little interest in physical combat, preferring to use her wits and words.
Besides, Qiu Fa and Mei Yanlan could handle the remaining monsters now that their weak point was exposed.
Yet…
Wasn’t this a bit too smooth? Something felt off.
A faint unease crept into her mind.
At that moment, the remaining dozen Serpent-Lizards suddenly stopped attacking. They trembled in unison before vanishing into stealth.
“Are they trying to run away?” Everyone reacted without thinking, quickly stepping back to form a solid barrier of Atavist power around the field.
However, no beast slammed into their barrier. Instead, the stench of blood filled the air before a Serpent-Lizard reappeared.
It crashed onto the ground, completely devoid of black mist.
“It’s dead?” Mei Yanlan stared in surprise.
A second Serpent-Lizard reappeared, equally lifeless. Then a third, a fourth, a fifth… Every beast that reappeared was already a corpse.
Jing Pei’s brows knitted tightly. What were they doing? Did she ever write such a setting? Searching her Memory Palace, she pulled up the Serpent-Lizard entries:
[Serpent-Lizards are cruel and cunning, possessing stealth, precognition, and super speed. The black mist surrounding them acts as poison to enemies and a powerful healing fog for themselves, capable of mending almost any wound. To kill them, one must destroy the fog-generating organ located seven inches below the chest.
They are formidable creatures, with adult White Tigers being their sole natural predator. Because adult White Tigers hunt them specifically for their hearts, Serpent-Lizards will stop at nothing to kill young White Tigers to ensure their species’ survival.
Their hatred for White Tigers is deeply encoded into their DNA.
They are social creatures; seeing one means a pack is nearby. Because they harbor many parasites, they live alongside companion beasts that help groom them.
Note: Serpent-Lizards possess a hidden skill, which is: ???]
Seeing the question marks on the last line, Jing Pei cursed mentally. She had left the hidden skill blank when drafting the novel, and the rebellious plot had filled the gap! The Serpent-Lizards were sacrificing their lives to feed a single member, concentrating their pack’s power to breed a far larger, far more horrific beast—a Poison Tengxi King!
“Stop them!” she yelled.
Before the others could react, Qiu Fa lunged forward, but his strike hit empty air where the last corpse had landed. While mid-air, he heard Mei Yanlan’s frantic shout: “Jing Pei!”
Qiu Fa turned his head, his pupils shrinking in shock.
A colossal shadow fell over her. Before the massive monster, Jing Pei looked like a tiny ant. She ran with all her strength, but could not escape the shadow looming above her.
They realized too late: the beasts had fed themselves to their leader to create a Poison Tengxi King!
“What a cliché trope!” Jing Pei cursed, pulling out her reverse scale. But before she could use it, a sudden force knocked the scale from her grip. The Poison Tengxi King’s precognition far exceeded that of ordinary beasts.
Panic flickered through her mind for a second before she forced herself to calm down. It was just death—she had died before, and she still had a backup plan.
As a sharp, piercing force approached her back, Jing Pei braced herself for the impact. Suddenly, a powerful, warm body slammed into her, shoving her out of the way.
She tumbled across the ground, her vision blurring. When she looked up, her blood ran cold.
A barbed, needle-like tail had pierced through the Atavist barrier and driven straight through Qiu Fa’s chest, impaling his heart.
Scalding blood gushed from the wound, turning toxic black almost instantly.
“Run…” Qiu Fa grabbed the tail stuck in his chest, holding it still with all the strength he had left. His face went pale, and his amber eyes were full of things he couldn’t say.
“Qiu Fa…” Jing Pei felt as though her own heart had been pierced.
“Run!”
Jing Pei scrambled to her feet and sprinted backward, pulling out her phone to call Min Yue.
“The number you have dialed is currently unavailable…”
She immediately dialed Chu Xusheng. He should have arrived at the Nevergone District by now.
Chu Xusheng answered instantly, his voice panicked. “Family Head, Min Yue and her mother are missing! I searched all over the Nevergone District, but I can’t find them anywhere!”
Jing Pei froze in her tracks, staring up at the night sky. In the dark expanse above, she seemed to see a face smiling down at her in triumph.
The disasters sent to block her path had been mere distractions. The plot had targeted Min Yue all along.
Without Min Yue’s time-reversal ability, she could not save Qiu Fa.
Jing Pei looked back at Qiu Fa just as Mei Yanlan grabbed her and dragged her away. Thinking Jing Pei was trying to jump back into battle, Mei Yanlan shouted, “He’s already dead! Don’t be stupid!”
Jing Pei knew he was dead, yet hearing those words spoken aloud cut through her like a blade.
She clenched her teeth, a fierce anger burning in her chest—a feeling she hadn’t felt in years.
