At that moment, every face within the Organization’s headquarters froze in place. Beneath their motionless expressions, a uniform layer of sheer terror crept across their features.
We’re… we’re finished. We’re going to be burned alive.
Jiang Qing’s expression went blank for a split second, but he swiftly regained his composure. His eyes darted to one of the multiple monitors displaying a tactical map. Interspersed among a dense cluster of red dots were a few surviving green dots. Seeing those green dots, the tension in his face eased slightly.
“Calm down,” Jiang Qing said, his voice surprisingly steady. “We don’t fall under his judgment. The fire won’t touch us.”
The high-ranking executives turned toward Jiang Qing as if looking at a savior, their eyes wide with desperate hope. “Really?!”
Jiang Qing gestured toward the green dots with his chin. “Every single person who died was physically present at the scene to execute the siege against Long Jin. Those who merely planned it without being physically present are still alive. The only reason headquarters triggered the Scales of Judgment is because we brought back several assassins earlier.”
The red and green dots on the monitor showed the Organization’s remaining sleeper agents across Hualan. They were all involved in Jiang Qing’s operation or knew about it. If an agent’s vital signs stopped or they disappeared from the monitoring system, their marker turned red. Several green dots were still active in Yunjin Prefecture, with some very close to Lou Ting. This showed that simply leaving the area affected by his judgment wasn’t what mattered.
“The greater the power, the stricter the limitations,” Jiang Qing explained calmly. “A domain-wide judgment on this scale cannot possess the same precise nuance as his short-range executions. The rules operate strictly by literal definition. ‘Participants of the siege’ means literal, physical participants. We are merely the strategists behind the curtain. We did not participate in the physical siege.”
Upon hearing his explanation, the executives exhaled a collective sigh of relief, their racing hearts finally finding a moment to breathe.
“Thank goodness!”
“So that’s why the Scales of Judgment appeared without immediately burning us?”
Jiang Qing paused, his gaze immediately shifting to another monitor. That screen broadcasted an aerial view of the exterior world. A colossal pair of Scales of Judgment floated over the sea just beyond the border of Yunjin Prefecture. Though the invisible spatial bubble housing their headquarters was not visible on screen, they knew with absolute certainty that their headquarters was trapped within the energy field of those scales, rendered completely immobile.
Yet why hasn’t there been any reaction?
Everyone else who triggered the Scales of Judgment had been incinerated by karmic fire within seconds. Why was the pair of scales encapsulating their headquarters hanging motionless in the sky?
The nerves that had just loosened abruptly tightened once more, a sinister, terrifying premonition surging through his chest.
“Found you.”
Lou Ting’s eerie, beautiful voice echoed through the room like a demon’s whisper. Everyone present heard it clearly.
“Ah!” One of the executives shrieked in terror, stumbling backward.
Through the linked energy of the Scales of Judgment, Lou Ting could perceive everything contained within their bounds, and his voice carried directly to every soul trapped inside. Thus, every member throughout the entire headquarters heard him as if he were standing right beside them.
Most of the personnel working within headquarters had been watching the live broadcast, anxiously tracking Lou Ting’s movements. Because they could not see outside their invisible bubble, they had been entirely unaware of the crisis enveloping their headquarters. Hearing his voice so clearly—as if the Six-Winged Angel were standing directly inside their halls—a wave of utter panic erupted.
“Lou… Lou Ting is inside?!”
“What’s happening?! What’s going on?!”
Pandemonium broke loose. Members abandoned their workstations, spilling out of every building in a frenzy.
Tang Woxue blended seamlessly into the chaotic crowd, flowing out of the Atavist Serum Research Facility. Yet as he walked, his trajectory gradually drifted sideways, cutting diagonally through the surging mob. Beneath his usual bright, cheerful demeanor, a sharp, brooding gaze remained fixed on the Cutting-Edge Technology Building.
Unlike the Serum Research Facility, that structure was the cradle of the Organization’s core technology—the very birthplace where membrane-breaking tech had been nurtured for centuries. It was the cradle meant to usher the world into the Great Cosmic Convergence.
The exact coordinates of the Ice Age Realm, along with the secret locations of membrane-breakers hidden across the globe, had to be stored inside that building.
A short distance behind him, a shadowy figure stalked Tang Woxue from afar. Cold, serpentine eyes watched his every move from beneath a mane of long black hair—it was none other than the original head doctor of the Atavist Serum Organization.
Ever since Tang Woxue joined the organization, the serum research had moved forward by leaps and bounds, pushing him into the background. Now, every researcher at the facility looked to Tang Woxue as their leader, leaving the former head doctor’s position almost forgotten.
What infuriated him even more was that Tang Woxue was merely a self-taught atavist doctor who had switched careers halfway through!
At a time when everyone was terrified of being struck down by Lou Ting, where was this fellow sneaking off to?
Inside the main conference hall of the Organization’s headquarters, the faces of every high-ranking official turned as pale as sheet paper.
Lou Ting said he found us?
They stared at the primary broadcast monitor.
The commercial airship carrying the livestreamer had halted its course, not daring to advance any further after Lou Ting’s descent. Having established emergency communications with air traffic control, it hovered safely along the flight path. Thanks to its position, the streamer maintained the absolute best vantage point, so close that every nuance of Lou Ting’s expression was captured in crisp detail.
Over a billion viewers worldwide were crammed into the stream—the absolute maximum capacity the platform’s servers and every emergency backup server could handle. Latecomers were completely locked out.
Lou Ting knew the eyes of the entire world were on him. He knew precisely where the nearest camera lens was positioned, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Organization’s leadership was watching that very feed.
His cold, silver eyes locked directly onto the camera. For a chilling second, Jiang Qing and the others felt as though they were making direct eye contact with him. They saw the scorching fury and lethal intent boiling within those silver depths. Even after incinerating a wave of enemies, the tempestuous emotions in his chest had not abated in the slightest.
A cruel, razor-thin smile slowly curved the angel’s lips. Brilliant golden light condensed once more at the tips of his toes.
“Second Trial,” Lou Ting declared, his voice echoing across the heavens. “Rule: Anyone who knew of this siege and failed to report it, stood by as an idle spectator, or fueled its flame is guilty. Executed.”
The heavenly cadence resounded in the ears of all. As his words fell, a second wave of golden light rippled outward from his feet, expanding across the sky like a surging tide.
Under this new rule, every remaining sleeper agent who had escaped the first round, as well as the entirety of the Organization’s high-ranking leadership, would be wiped out without exception.
The executives’ legs buckled, their faces turning ash-gray as they turned toward Mr. Fei and Jiang Qing in utter despair.
“Jiang Qing!” Mr. Fei snapped, his voice sharp beneath his mask.
Jiang Qing slammed his palms against the wooden tabletop. Damn it! He had anticipated that Lou Ting’s true capability far exceeded public knowledge, but he had never imagined it reached a scale this absurd!
On the smooth walnut surface beneath his hands, a ring of condensation formed from the ice-cold sweat dripping from his palms. The thunderous beat of his own heart battered his eardrums. Thump. Thump. Thump…
As the world watched Lou Ting’s broadcast in breathless shock, Division Nine was thrown into utter chaos. Inside Hualan’s Central Government Building, an emergency high-level summit was convened immediately.
“Do not act rashly! Lou Ting’s objective is the Organization! Do not draw his wrath toward us!”
“Liao Yi’an, tell Division Nine to stand down! No one is to make any unnecessary moves at a moment like this!”
“Madam President, the boundaries of the first trial have been mapped out. Oddly enough, a massive pair of scales has appeared over the ocean near the southern coast, but it remains completely motionless.”
The sudden appearance of the enormous scales rising from the waters off Yunjin Prefecture quickly caught the attention of coastal residents. Numerous photos were uploaded online, but no one dared approach the anomaly. Instinctively, people fled in the opposite direction. Humanity’s innate fascination with spectacle had long since been tempered by a world where curiosity could easily cost them their lives.
Reports of Lou Ting’s judgment had swept across the internet. Everyone deduced that he was executing those responsible for Long Jin’s death, yet the scales floating over the sea appeared completely empty.
Just as the public debated the meaning of this phenomenon, Lou Ting’s voice echoed through the air once more.
“Found you.”
“Second Trial. Rule: Anyone who knew of this siege and failed to report it, stood by as an idle spectator, or fueled its flame is guilty. Executed.”
The government leaders processed his words almost simultaneously, their eyes flashing with sharp realization. “Could it be?! Is there a spatial bubble floating over that stretch of sea?!”
“Jiang Qing?!”
“The Organization’s headquarters!”
Madam President rose to her feet, her voice ringing clear and decisive. “Lou Ting is not our primary concern right now. Generals, this opportunity will not come twice. Strike now!”
The nation’s military apparatus mobilized instantly. Formidable fighter jets roared out of military airbases in full force. Naval battle fleets glided out from underwater submarine bays. Ground forces, in coordination with the Public Security Bureau, initiated an emergency evacuation of the coastal regions.
War was on the horizon.
Clatter!
The sound of a glass crashing to the floor broke the tension in the command room.
Madam President turned her head in surprise, finding her Secretary-General standing pale-faced, looking thoroughly shaken.
“What’s wrong?”
“N-Nothing,” the Secretary-General stammered quickly. “I… I just felt a momentary wave of dizziness.”
Madam President thought nothing of it. The Secretary-General had stayed up the entire night alongside her as crisis after crisis erupted. Before anyone even had time to process the grief of losing Qiu Fa and Long Jin, they were forced to throw themselves into the next emergency. For a non-atavist, physical and mental exhaustion was entirely expected.
“Madam President, please excuse me while I wash my face to clear my head,” the Secretary-General requested hurriedly.
“Go ahead.”
The Secretary-General turned and walked briskly out of the room. Yet instead of heading toward the restroom, she stepped directly into the elevator, descended to the ground floor, and left the Central Government Building entirely. Entering a nearby coffee shop, she borrowed a phone from the clerk.
With practiced speed, she typed in a number and sent a brief text message.
Then she dialed a second number, sending a second message.
Deleting both sent logs, she returned the phone to the clerk, picked up a cup of iced coffee, and walked calmly back toward the government building.
“Jiang Qing!”
“What’s the rush?” Jiang Qing snapped, his patience wearing thin. “Can’t you see that Lou Ting’s second wave is expanding noticeably more slowly than the first? We haven’t reached the end yet.”
Though cold sweat soaked his dress shirt completely, his mind remained sharp enough to analyze the situation.
The other executives, however, had completely lost the capacity for logical thought under the crushing weight of Lou Ting’s terrifying power and the imminent destruction of their “great cause.”
One couldn’t entirely blame them. Most of these high-ranking officials held their positions through bloodline inheritance rather than merit. The Organization had enjoyed smooth sailing for centuries, and the floating spatial bubble housing their headquarters had always been an impenetrable sanctuary. Sitting comfortably in the rear, when had they ever experienced a crisis of this magnitude?
They were currently positioned at the outermost edge of Lou Ting’s domain. Although the second wave of judgment was expanding far more slowly than the first, the time remaining to them was rapidly ticking away.
Jiang Qing’s mind raced, evaluating potential solutions. The first option that surfaced was to eliminate the few assassins currently taking refuge inside headquarters.
Those assassins had successfully evaded the Atavist families and the Tribunal Division after the siege against Long Jin. Since headquarters happened to be drifting nearby and the Organization was desperately short on high-level combatants, they had been brought aboard as extra security.
No one had expected that decision to trigger a catastrophic crisis for the organization.
The only reason the Scales of Judgment were currently locking headquarters in place was because those assassins met the criteria of the first trial. If those assassins died, the scales holding headquarters would vanish, allowing the spatial bubble to flee before the second wave reached them.
However, the problem was that those assassins would never submit to execution willingly. While the Organization operated much like a fanatic cult—with many members willing to sacrifice everything for the cause—these mercenary atavists were a different story.
Most of them had joined either to indulge their bloodlust or because they were wanted criminals with nowhere else to turn. Following orders to kill was one thing, but asking them to offer their necks for the Organization’s survival was a pipe dream.
Right now, those mercenaries were undoubtedly on high alert, like skittish birds. Any attempt to poison or ambush them would likely trigger a chaotic internal brawl, wasting precious time they could not afford to lose.
That path won’t work.
Jiang Qing raised his head, his eyes cold. “The first trial’s target isn’t us, which means we aren’t physically trapped by the scales’ binding force. The second trial targets us, but we’re currently at the very edge of Lou Ting’s judgment domain. We can leave headquarters on a speedboat right now, escape beyond his radius, and return once the domain dissipates.”
The general personnel inside headquarters were entirely unaware of the full plan, meaning they wouldn’t trigger the second trial’s conditions. Leaving them behind temporarily would pose no threat to the facility itself.
Mr. Fei and the executives saw a lifeline in his proposal. Without a moment’s delay, they rushed toward the lower levels, barking orders to prepare high-speed watercraft.
Jiang Qing descended the staircase alongside them. Deep down, he held another contingency plan, though he was deeply reluctant to use it unless forced.
Yet before they even stepped out of the building, Jiang Qing’s phone vibrated. Glancing down at the screen, his pupils shrank to tiny pinpricks, his feet coming to a dead halt.
—The government has discovered your location. The military is deploying an annihilation force. Run!
Drops of cold sweat poured down his forehead.
Seeing him stop abruptly, Mr. Fei turned around. “Jiang Qing?”
Mr. Fei hurried back and glanced at the message on Jiang Qing’s screen. His expression instantly darkened beneath his eagle mask. Behind him, several executives nearly collapsed where they stood.
Mr. Fei’s eyes burned with a blood-red light behind his mask.
They could temporarily flee headquarters to escape Lou Ting’s judgment, but stepping outside meant running directly into the path of Hualan’s entire military apparatus! The moment they entered open water, they would be intercepted and wiped out! Centuries of foundation would be reduced to ash on the very eve of their ultimate victory.
They were completely cornered.
Feeling the lethal glare emanating from Mr. Fei, Jiang Qing felt a throbbing pressure build behind his temples. His head ached as if it might split open. That reluctant contingency plan he had harbored now stood as their sole surviving option.
An unbearable irritation welled up within him—a creeping, maddening sensation that he was still being led by the nose by Long Jin, even beyond her grave.
Veins bulged along his forehead. Jiang Qing gritted his teeth, tilting his head slightly upward toward the sky.
“Lou Ting,” Jiang Qing called out, his voice sharp. “Since you can hear everything happening here, let’s make a deal.”
Lou Ting’s voice echoed back coldly from the heavens. “What kind of creature are you to think yourself worthy of bargaining with me?”
“Then it seems you don’t care about Long Jin nearly as much as I thought,” Jiang Qing sneered. “Do you know we threw her into another world? Do you have any idea how brutally cold that realm is? You’re so focused on slaughtering us, yet you haven’t given a single thought to rescuing her?”
High above the clouds, Lou Ting’s expression shifted subtly on the chain. He had never believed for a second that Jing Pei could truly die—how could his deity be slain by mere mortals? Yet an undeniable knot of unease tightened in his chest.
Noticing the brief silence, Jiang Qing instantly knew his words had struck a chord. He pressed his advantage ruthlessly. “And do you know that Qiu Fa dove in after her without a second thought? While another man is sharing life and death alongside her in another world, you’re out here throwing a childish tantrum to vent your emotions. No wonder she never chose you.”
BOOM!
The golden light hovering over headquarters violently flared. Inside the facility, one of the assassins who had participated in the siege shrieked in agony as black karmic fire erupted from his body. No matter how wildly he rolled on the ground or dove into the courtyard lake, the flames burned relentlessly until he was reduced to a pile of dark ash.
Panic erupted throughout the facility as terror seized every heart.
Jiang Qing clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, yet a mocking smile stretched across his lips. “If you lift these Scales of Judgment right now, we will open the portal to the Ice Age Realm and allow Long Jin to come back out. How about it? Or are you willing to forfeit her only chance at survival just for the sake of this world?”
Deep within the Ice Age Realm.
The moment Jing Pei had tumbled into this dimension, the extreme cold had instantly numbed her body.
Howling, razor-sharp gales swept across the barren landscape. The moment she entered, a violent gust caught her, tumbling her across the frozen expanse. Her sensory perceptions dulled rapidly. She felt her body plunge into a soft, deep snowdrift, sinking downward for nearly twenty seconds before coming to a rest, completely buried beneath a thick layer of white.
The severe wounds across her body had lost all sensation due to the sub-zero temperatures. Maintaining absolute mental composure, she channeled her remaining Atavist power, forcing her blood to circulate and keeping her heart beating at a steady rhythm.
Jiang Qing had assumed that she would freeze to death within minutes. Given her blood loss and the absence of thick fur, that expectation wasn’t unreasonable; a Dragon Atavist would normally succumb to the cold very quickly. That would have been the case—if Tang Woxue hadn’t been the creator of the virus.
The compound Tang Woxue engineered was designed to induce a state of suspended animation if administered without an antidote. However, if a pre-antidote was taken beforehand, the chemical nature of the serum inverted completely—transforming from a lethal toxin into a potent, life-preserving supplement.
Thus, while Jing Pei appeared fatally wounded, her actual condition was far less dire than it seemed.
She lay quietly beneath the snow, waiting. She knew she wouldn’t have to wait long.
Sure enough, a soft rustling sound echoed from above. The dark layer of snow over her eyes thinned rapidly. The sound of rapid, ragged breathing reached her ears, followed by the sight of a familiar figure. A blinding white glare and an ashen, desperate face filled her vision simultaneously.
Jing Pei wanted to open her eyes, to smile, to reach out her hand—but her facial muscles were completely frozen and refused to obey. Unable to move, she could only blink her dark, clear eyes up at him.
In the next second, she was pulled tightly into a powerful, desperate embrace.
Qiu Fa held her close, feeling as though he were cradling a block of solid ice. When he had dug through the snow and seen her waxy, bloodless face, he had genuinely feared she was a corpse—until those familiar, stubborn eyes blinked up at him. Pressing his cheek against her carotid artery, the faint, steady pulse beneath her skin felt sweeter than any sound in the universe.
“You complete lunatic! What were you thinking?!” Qiu Fa barked, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and intense relief. White clouds of condensation billowed from his lips with every ragged breath, his heart aching from the sheer terror he had just endured.
Sensing that he was on the verge of exploding with anger, Jing Pei let out a soft, whimpering sound, acting pitiable and sweet to coax his anger away.
Qiu Fa knew she was playing a part, but the bloody wounds covering her body were painfully real. Seeing her like this pierced his heart, completely draining his anger. Wrapping his thick winter coat tightly around her, he lifted her like a child and immediately turned toward the direction of the portal.
If they moved now, there was still time to escape.
However…
“No…” A faint, raspy voice stopped his footsteps.
“What?”
“I’m not going back out.”
Qiu Fa glared down at her, meeting those deep, mysterious dark eyes. He instantly understood her meaning.
This is part of the plan.
“Am I part of the plan too?!” Qiu Fa demanded, his tone turning sharp and stern. He was genuinely furious now. “Do you have any idea how long a human can survive in an environment like this?!” She was gambling with her very life.
“I’m sorry,” Jing Pei murmured softly. By saying “I,” she implied that Qiu Fa was free to leave on his own.
That only fueled his anger further. Just as he opened his mouth to lecture her, she whispered, “Stay here and keep me company… okay?”
The blazing fire in his chest instantly cooled into an ember.
“Hmph. What else can I do? Leave you here alone to freeze to death?” Qiu Fa grumbled coldly.
Before Jing Pei could think of another way to coax him, she felt a thick, warm layer of Atavist energy envelop her entire body. It formed an impenetrable protective barrier, completely isolating her from the howling, razor-sharp winds that threatened to freeze one’s very marrow. Her ice-stiffened hair softened, the frost evaporating instantly.
Yet Qiu Fa clearly felt that wasn’t enough. Blocking the external cold merely stopped further damage; her body was still freezing from the inside out, and she needed true warmth to recover.
His form began to shift. Wrapped securely within his protective bubble, Jing Pei floated gently in the air, feeling as safe and comfortable as an infant in a cradle. Then, a majestic White Tiger—far larger and more awe-inspiring than the form she had seen in the spatial bubble—appeared before her eyes.
Before she could even lavish her dream tiger with praise, she froze in shock.
She watched as Qiu Fa used his sharp claws to slice open the flesh over his own chest, carving out a deep, open wound. To prevent the extreme cold from instantly freezing the injury, he continuously used his Atavist energy to keep the blood warm and circulating. In the next second, the energy bubble holding Jing Pei was gently drawn inside his chest cavity—placed directly against his heart, the warmest place in his entire body.
Jing Pei’s freezing body gradually absorbed the radiating warmth. She couldn’t see his heart through the thick, glowing layer of Atavist energy, but the powerful, steady thump-thump, thump-thump echoed clearly in her ears. Reaching out her hand, she could practically feel its beat against her palm.
If she wanted to slay this legendary Guardian God of Hualan, she could do so right now with absolute ease.
Jing Pei found herself at a loss for words. “What… what are you doing? This is the first time in my life I’ve ended up inside someone’s chest. Aren’t you afraid of scaring me?”
“Better scared than frozen to death,” Qiu Fa retorted coldly.
Resting inside his warm, secure chest, feeling the life returning to her stiffened limbs, Jing Pei pondered the moment. Many people had claimed to care for her, but she had never truly understood the concept because she didn’t know how to love others, nor did she grasp their feelings for her.
This was the first time she truly understood what it meant to be held in someone’s heart—so directly, so palpable, and with such impossible warmth.
“Qiu Fa, you can’t do this,” Jing Pei murmured softly.
“Why not?”
“If you keep doing this… I’m going to want to marry you. For real,” Jing Pei whispered, resting her cheek against the direction of his pulse, feeling the scorching heat radiating through her.
Qiu Fa went completely quiet, though his heartbeat abruptly spiked, thumping at a frantic, rapid pace.
So warm… so incredibly hot.
While they spoke, the interdimensional rift in the sky above gradually shrank and sealed shut.
They were now completely trapped inside this strange dimension, with no telling when—or if—anyone would ever open a portal to this world again.
Looking up at the sky where the portal had vanished, Qiu Fa finally spoke. “The rift is closed. What do we do now?”
“We wait.”
“Wait for how long?”
Jing Pei pressed herself closer against his heart, her soul filled with a quiet, overwhelming fondness. “I don’t know. Maybe soon… or maybe we’ll have to wait until tomorrow night at 9:00 PM. That’s the ultimate deadline.”
Qiu Fa frowned. She was always like this—mysterious, carrying an impossible heavy burden all by herself, leaving him feeling helpless, anxious, and deeply heartbroken.
“You used yourself as bait and took such an astronomical risk… what is your ultimate goal?”
A mysterious, gentle smile touched the corners of Jing Pei’s lips. “My goal? … It’s simple, really. To prune away the redundant branches so the flowers can bloom even better.”
