TYMIMA Chapter 36

Zhan Pingchuan waited until sunset without seeing Lance. He found it incredible—was it so difficult to downgrade these days?

Was it that hard to transfer to the Attribute College?

He lazily leaned on the balcony, occasionally wondering if the person he had wanted to help escape back then had really done something bad, then thinking about what was written in the autopsy report that made Si Hongche so crazy.

Four years old, the same age as he was back then. No wonder Si Hongche looked like he wanted to eat someone in the camera.

—You actually know how to protect children too.

Could it be that the person back then had indirectly caused Si Hongmei’s death?

Zhan Pingchuan vaguely remembered that before the elevator door closed, he hadn’t heard that person refute.

Did that mean that for him, Si Hongche’s accusation was also tacitly accepted?

But would a person so gentle that he couldn’t bear to frighten him with gruesome wounds really do something to harm a child?

Zhan Pingchuan couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard he thought.

And how exactly was he supposed to steal this autopsy report? The Blue Pivot building was full of cameras. After so many years, wouldn’t there be infrared sensors, artificial intelligence, password permissions, iris scans, and all sorts of other things added?

The little red fox must still be looking forward to their romantic internship journey for two.

He had thought they could deepen their relationship through orderly daily work, but unexpectedly, the internship was fake, and stealing secrets was real, literally walking a tightrope on a cliff.

Zhan Pingchuan rested his chin on his hand, feeling somewhat sad.

The missions were increasingly risky. With the slightest carelessness, he would become a federal criminal. With such a crappy identity, how could he properly confess to a beautiful little Omega from a decent family!

But he had already kissed the gland, held hands too. If he kept pretending to be oblivious and dragging things out without confessing, would Lance think he was a scumbag?

Damn it, he was a 24K pure good man.

Couldn’t take it anymore, better send a text first.

Zhan Pingchuan took out his phone, facing the night wind, and quickly typed a line—

[Not done yet? Want me to buy some food?]

In He Jing’en’s office, Lance’s phone vibrated at the right moment.

His emotions were interrupted, breaking free from the heavy and chaotic information. Looking down, he saw Zhan Pingchuan’s big white dog avatar peering out from behind a door peephole.

Ridiculously stupid.

But it had to be said that this avatar, at this moment, added an unexpected bit of joy for Lance.

So he pressed his lips together. Although his expression didn’t change much, there was clearly a hint of amusement in his eyes.

He Jing’en asked with a smile: “Your Alpha?”

Lance quickly replied with a “yes” and then put his phone away, instinctively denying: “No, he’s not.”

He was now speaking with He Jing’en in his capacity as the White Pharaoh of the Black Lantern Society. He didn’t want to involve Zhan Pingchuan.

That little idiot, though of ordinary background, had an upright nature. These dealings that went against the Blue Pivot inspection team and even the Federation government might not be acceptable to Zhan Pingchuan.

But Lance wouldn’t feel guilty; he could keep it secret as long as possible.

He Jing’en didn’t believe him at all and chuckled softly: “Having been a teacher for so long, I see these things very clearly. That bread was so small, there were four people in the room, yet you broke half for him?”

Lance sensitively retorted: “He gave it to me.”

He Jing’en looked at him, not arguing, just smiling and sighing: “University is still the best. Nothing has changed, everything is pure.”

Lance didn’t want to discuss Zhan Pingchuan with He Jing’en anymore. He tucked the fountain pen into his pocket, watching a moth quietly landing on the incandescent light.

Lance smiled: “I’ll go now. Also, don’t worry about the interrogation records and autopsy report. If there were any flaws in them, Oliver wouldn’t be in his current situation.”

Lance knew that He Jing’en specifically mentioned the old files in the third underground level of Blue Pivot’s database hoping to leave an impression in his mind, making him unable to resist seeking the truth during his internship before taking action.

How did He Jing’en know those things were hidden on the third underground level? Most likely, he had thought about investigating himself, but Blue Pivot was airtight, and he had no chance to get close.

Actually, with Si Hongche’s meticulous mind, it was impossible that he hadn’t doubted the authenticity of the event. Human nature is to seek benefits and avoid harm. Lance also believed that, at least before the incident, Si Hongche had liked that lively and sunny Oliver.

So at that time, he must have hoped more than anyone that Uriel hadn’t killed his sister, that it was all a misunderstanding.

But the evidence must have been flawless.

When evidence is made impeccable, the false becomes true. Moreover, human nature is complex; those who appear to be good people on the surface might still make mistakes when drunk.

But Lance didn’t care whether Uriel had really killed someone. This was far beyond his responsibility.

His occasional sympathy made He Jing’en mistakenly believe that the Black Lantern Society was truly some charitable organization, and that he was some great philanthropist who sympathized with the world.

“By the way,” He Jing’en called out to him at the last moment, rubbing his hands expectantly, “do you really want to study history?”

“I’m sorry, but no.” Lance gently closed the door, also shutting the momentarily dejected He Jing’en inside the office.

There was only one Oliver in this world who was equally passionate about what you pursued. That’s why he was unique, why this teacher-student relationship had been unforgettable for eighteen years.

But people and things in this world are always easier to encounter than to seek.

Walking out of He Jing’en’s office, Lance called Mad Clown. The gravity on his face completely disappeared, switching to work mode in a second: “I’ve found a way to assassinate Oliver.”

Mad Clown: “Shh, we’re at High Tower. The Tasman Pirate Nation wants to order a batch of red parrot crystal ores. They’re offering a high price. Now they’re drawing lots to see who will go bid. It’s a plum job, bidding on a cruise ship in international waters.”

The Tasman Pirate Nation wasn’t affiliated with the Federation government. It was an organization outside the rules. Since most of their Awakened ones were fish form, they rarely set foot on land.

When the Federation government was first formed, they refused the invitation. There might have been several conflicts back then, but their ships were hard to track in international waters, so the Federation government eventually had to give up.

Lance wasn’t interested in crystal ore trading and directly asked: “Who from the Black Lantern Society is here?”

Since the Black Lantern Society was secretly established within High Tower Guild, its members all had legitimate identities within High Tower Guild.

For example, Mad Clown was the crazy clown who always painted his face with weird oils in the Black Lantern Society, but in High Tower Guild, he had to wash his face clean and appear as Lan Wendao’s personal assistant, Lukas.

Mad Clown turned his head to look at the strange meeting room: “Your sister, Dream Witch, is comforting some sulking little lover.”

“Duma is assembling Lego on the floor. He hasn’t moved for nearly five hours. If this continues, mushrooms will grow on him.”

“Fata is fiddling with his few jars of ointment. Abaddon has been poisoned and fainted several times, but fortunately, he’s been saved each time, so don’t worry.”

“Um… Lily isn’t here. She has a mid-term exam next year, and her stepmother has sent her to tutoring classes. You know, a fourteen-year-old little loli saying she’s actually a cadre of the Black Lantern Society would scare her parents… Oh, your dad is also here, furiously cursing that idiot from Desert City.”

Lance’s eyes cooled: “So basically everyone is here?”

Mad Clown revealed a malicious, bad smile: “Tsk, tsk, young master, you’re really so boring. Don’t you want to know what your dad said? I told him that guy even helped you resolve your pheromone disorder.”

Lance didn’t expect him to do anything good behind his back and directly ordered: “Clear out all non-Black Lantern Society miscellaneous personnel, and use the anchor point to bring me back.”

Mad Clown immediately drooped his face: “Is it such a big deal that requires me to consume so much of my ability…”

Lance: “It’s important business.”

No choice, the Black Lantern Society was under Lance’s command. Mad Clown had to activate his ability and remotely pull Lance back to High Tower Guild’s headquarters.

Such a long-distance [Shadow Anchoring] depleted most of Mad Clown’s ability. He fell onto the carpet like a slacker, whining: “Can I speak now? I feel like I’ve been forcibly pressed by eight hundred Alphas.”

Duma put down his Lego, cradled Mad Clown’s head, looked down at him, and seriously asked: “What does it feel like to be forcibly pressed by eight hundred Alphas?”

Fata pulled Mad Clown away from Duma’s hands, took out a jar of ointment, applied it to Mad Clown’s temples, his voice hoarse and broken from poison erosion: “E, nough, don’t, cor, rupt, the, child.”

Mad Clown sniffled, resting his head on the part of Fata’s knee that wasn’t soaked in poison, refusing to get up.

“Your ointment works well, but it smells bad. Can you add some fragrance in the future?”

Lan Wendao seized the opportunity to rage: “I can’t stand some yellow-haired youngsters these days, not even checking whose precious son’s waist they’re casually touching!”

Dream Witch glanced at Lan Wendao, disdainfully reminding: “Calm down, he has black hair.” Then she turned her head, softly laughing as she sent a voice message to the person on the other end of the phone, “Baby, don’t be upset. How could I think you’re fat? A bit of meat is better to touch. Didn’t sister just praise you last time?”

Lan Wendao was so uncomfortable he felt itchy all over: “Can’t you say these filthy words in private?”

Dream Witch smiled slightly: “This is how we Alphas coax little Omegas. Otherwise, how would we get them?”

Just as she finished speaking, Lance appeared in the meeting room. The sudden gravity made him lose his balance, and he quickly steadied himself on the sofa.

When he opened his eyes and looked around, he frowned in confusion: “Didn’t you say to clear out non-Black Lantern Society miscellaneous personnel? Why is my dad still here?”

Lan Wendao: “……”

Mad Clown shrugged: “Because he’s the boss, young master.”

Dream Witch casually tossed aside her phone with the coquettish little lover. She propped her chin with one hand, raising her enchanting eyes to look at Lance: “I heard you called another Alpha ‘big brother’ in the underground city?”

“I was pretending.” Lance explained helplessly. He had to show a worried appearance as if entering the underground city for the first time. Calling him “big brother” was purely to maintain his persona.

After all, that little idiot was three months younger than him.

The smile at Dream Witch’s lips faded, and her coffee-colored long hair, following its owner’s mood change, gradually lost its color, turning light brown.

She furiously crushed a walnut, asking sinisterly: “Where’s my knife?”

Lan Wendao said irritably: “You calm down too. You’re criticizing me, but you don’t get angry when they hug each other. What’s wrong with calling someone ‘big brother’?”

Dream Witch’s hair color faded even lighter: “Omegas are supposed to be touched by Alphas, what’s there to be angry about? But I am Lance’s only sister!”

“You are, my only sister.” Lance was already accustomed to the family atmosphere. He took the walnut kernels from Dream Witch’s hand, stuffed them into his mouth, complained they didn’t taste good but still wanted them, then tossed the Bone Flower he had brought from the underground city to Fata: “Help me prepare a powerful supplement for plant system Awakened ones.”

Dream Witch gritted her teeth and crushed two more walnuts, feeding them to the family’s only brother.

Fata raised his hand to catch the plant, lowered his head to look at the small yellow flower bud in the center: “C-level, beast, Bone Flower, at most, makes Awakened ones, two hours, peak, state, what are you, doing?”

Lance gathered all the walnuts into his mouth, smiling slightly: “The applicant is mentally confused. I’m afraid he doesn’t even have the strength to commit suicide.”

Mad Clown lifted his eyelids, tilting his head: “You said you found a way to assassinate him. What exactly is it?”

Lance briefly explained what He Jing’en had told him, then straightened up, patted the walnut fragments from his palms, and ordered: “The operation is set for the Dawn Day internship period two months later. I’ll determine Oliver’s specific location, Mad—”

Before he could finish, Lan Wendao suddenly stood up. He frowned in disbelief, his expression far more serious than when he was scolding Zhan Pingchuan.

At this moment, Lan Wendao didn’t even have the patience to hide anything. Amid everyone’s surprised gazes, he asked directly: “You said Oliver is Uriel’s brother?”

Lance’s words were interrupted. He raised his eyebrows slightly, looking at Lan Wendao with interest. He didn’t speak but showed a surprised yet understanding smile.

Uriel.

You really do know a lot of people.

“What’s wrong?” Dream Witch crushed the walnut shells into powder and sprinkled them into the ashtray, clearly also entering work mode.

Lan Wendao didn’t explain. He deliberately avoided Lance’s gaze, his eyes fixed on a tile in the room, issuing an order: “Change of plans. Cancel the assassination. Bring Oliver back to High Tower Guild alive.”

Lance raised an eyebrow, looking at Lan Wendao thoughtfully: “Why?”

He instinctively felt that Uriel must be related to the rebellion suppression.

Even though Lan Wendao had tried his best to conceal it, not wanting to discuss anything about the rebellion suppression in public, Lance still keenly sensed that Lan Wendao was actually very, very concerned about this event.

Lan Wendao seemed to have a headache. He pressed his palm against his forehead, perfunctorily saying: “This has nothing to do with you. Uriel and I have some connection. I didn’t know he had a brother before, let alone that his brother had been tortured for eighteen years under Blue Pivot’s control.”

Forced.

Lance thought to himself.

If they were truly acquaintances, how could he not know the other had a brother?

Lance smiled and asked: “Dad, do you know where the missing Uriel went?”

Lan Wendao took a deep breath and exhaled heavily: “He didn’t disappear. He died eighteen years ago.”

Mad Clown sat up with a start: “So he didn’t sneak away, leaving his brother to suffer in his place?”

Abaddon, who hadn’t spoken until now, moved his clumsy body. He raised his thick palm, and a huge green orb appeared before him. The orb emitted a strange, cold aura from hell. Abaddon said in a muffled voice: “This is easy. As long as he’s below A-level, give me something that belonged to him, and I can ask his spirit.”

Lan Wendao sneered: “Useless. His soul has already been torn to shreds.”

Lance’s pupils suddenly contracted.

Even his soul was shredded—this was to prevent Awakened ones who could summon spirits from questioning him.

Perhaps He Jing’en wasn’t wrong. Uriel was innocent from beginning to end.

“Go ahead with it for now. At least for Uriel’s sake, Oliver can’t die so ambiguously.” Lan Wendao sighed.

Duma looked up at Lance, expressionless like a little robot, but his tone was soft and serious: “Lance, can he come and assemble Lego with me?”

Lance rubbed Duma’s head, his eyes hiding complex considerations. After a while, he smiled: “Alright, change of plans. We’ll bring him back even if we have to kidnap him.”

Actually, he was more curious about what connection Lan Wendao had with Uriel.

“I don’t have any ideas yet on how to take someone from Si Hongche’s hands and get away safely. It’s late. Mad Clown, take me back first.”

Lance raised his chin toward Mad Clown.

Mad Clown grumbled: “I’ll never work for you again in my next life!”

Lan Wendao looked at the wall clock nearby, frowning: “It’s already this late. Why not stay for dinner before leaving?”

Lance’s expression became somewhat subtle, his eyes moving to a spot eight zhang away from Lan Wendao: “I can’t. Someone’s waiting for me.”

Lan Wendao had quite a few complaints about his son not wanting to stay home after coming of age: “Who’s waiting for you?”

Lance paused, calmly repeating: “…Someone.”

“……” Lan Wendao, seeing his slightly reddened earlobes, clutched his chest, feeling like he wanted to die.

When Lance was teleported back to school by Mad Clown, it was already completely dark.

Almost an hour had passed since he had replied to Zhan Pingchuan with that “yes.”

Consider it payment for taking the blame for that little idiot.

Lance silently thought.

However, he still felt anxious about the passage of time, his footsteps unconsciously accelerating to the fastest. He leaped up the stairs in a few steps, precisely inserting the key into the lock.

As soon as he pushed the door open, he saw the desk filled with food, even including two bottles of beer.

Zhan Pingchuan was half-asleep leaning on the bed. Hearing the door, he opened his eyes and turned over: “Did you sort things out?”

Lance looked at Zhan Pingchuan, who had already showered, then at the sandwiches and oden that had cooled but remained untouched, murmuring: “Mm, he said he’ll think about it.”

Zhan Pingchuan raised his eyebrows high: “Am I out of touch with the times? Are history graduates about to march toward top Federation salaries?”

Lance was amused by him: “I’m hungry, Zhan Pingchuan.”

Zhan Pingchuan glanced at the desk. The once-steaming oden bag was covered with a layer of heavy moisture, but it was no longer steaming.

“It’s a bit cold. Let me find a way to heat it up for you?” Zhan Pingchuan said, about to put on clothes and go out.

“No need, this is fine.” Lance grabbed his sleeve.

So the two sat at the desk, tore open the sandwich packaging, removed the bag covering the oden, and twisted open the two bottles of beer that weren’t particularly strong, enjoying one of the few peaceful dinners before the storm.

Lance was truly hungry. The oden was light and delicious, suiting Harbor Tan’s taste. He ate most of it and even drank his beer to the bottom.

The Federation government had strict regulations prohibiting minors from drinking alcohol. Lan Wendao might disregard other Federation laws and regulations, but he particularly endorsed this one. So at least until three months ago, Lance hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol.

After drinking a bottle of beer, Lance’s cheeks inevitably flushed red.

He wasn’t drunk, but his nerves, tense for days, finally relaxed, causing some haziness and dizziness.

He propped his chin with one hand, his glasses sliding down his nose bridge. His thick, long eyelashes escaped from the edge of the lenses. His amber pupils reflected the soft light of the dormitory, his eyes showing a different demeanor than usual.

He couldn’t tell if he was currently the disguised good student or the White Pharaoh. His reddish-brown long hair fell along his arm, his gland faintly emitting the fragrance of star magnolia.

Lance glanced at the empty oden packaging, his voice somewhat muffled: “Zhan Pingchuan, do you think people really want to kill when they’re drunk?”

Let alone killing a child only four years old.

Zhan Pingchuan moved the beer aside, listening to this nonsense, thinking Lance was probably a confused little red fox now.

He was just about to grab the little red fox by the neck and put him on the bed, wrapping him into a fox ball.

Then he saw Lance suddenly tilt his head to look at him, playing with a strand of his own hair, smiling and asking: “But why is it that when I’m drunk, I only want to kiss you?”

Zhan Pingchuan: “!”

What nonsense—this was just his wife’s unique way of flirting.