TYMIMA Chapter 5

Deng Zhi straightened up, repaired her bones, and walked directly to Erdiff’s body, neatly slicing open his outer garment.

 

As the clothes fell open, just beneath Erdiff’s belly, two glands remained alive, sustained by the host body’s blood supply.

 

Erdiff had forcibly sewn the two glands under his own skin and had F-level school workers with healing abilities treat his rejection symptoms daily.

 

Deng Zhi quickly sensed her own gland. She thrust her sharp bone finger into Erdiff’s belly and extracted the gland, then, fighting back nausea, stuffed it between her teeth.

 

She had no flesh to store it in now.

 

Fortunately, the gland hadn’t died. After returning to its original body, Deng Zhi found her pheromones much more abundant.

 

The other gland hidden in Erdiff’s belly gradually stopped pulsing. It had finally followed its owner in death.

 

The clown wiped blood from the corner of his mouth while supporting Lance, who was suffering from pheromone chaos. With a forced smile, he said: “Congratulations, young master, your mind hasn’t been completely corrupted. The chairman will be extremely pleased to know.”

 

Lance, lips pale, clutching his gland, replied: “Good to know. Tell my father I need a small twenty-thousand-yuan illness.”

 

The clown wanted to continue taunting him, but at that moment, Erdiff’s corpse suddenly emitted a three-dimensional golden light, as if opening a holographic projection. A younger Erdiff appeared in the projection.

 

His expression was clearly tense, cold sweat sliding down his pale blue profile. As if under some command, he spoke very seriously to the person in front of him, uttering one sentence—

 

[I know the Capital City rebellion suppression was a complete lie, a premeditated massacre.]

 

As the words ended, the golden light disappeared.

 

The clown heard the sentence clearly and his expression instantly turned grim.

 

Lance asked breathlessly: “What’s wrong?”

 

He didn’t know much about the Capital City rebellion suppression. His family seemed intentionally to prevent him from learning about this history. When formulating this plan, upon learning that Erdiff had distinguished himself in the rebellion suppression, he casually asked about it. Old Lan immediately acted as if he’d stepped in dog shit, cursing and avoiding the topic.

 

The clown suddenly looked at Lance: “Young master, you can’t leave now.”

 

Lance: “?”

 

“Did you hear what the corpse said?” the clown asked.

 

Lance had heard, but he really had no strength to think about it.

 

The clown explained: “This is a Control system S-level ability [Death Oath Curse]. Secrets can only be revealed upon death. Once the host dies, the curse is lifted, and the deceased will reveal the truth about the secret. If multiple people hold the same secret, each can only reveal part of it. Through this method, the curse caster knows who leaked their secret and which part was leaked.”

 

“And then?”

 

“The victors of the rebellion suppression are the current high-ranking officials of the Federation government. The Black Lantern Society doesn’t want to cause such big trouble right now.”

 

Deng Zhi tried hard to read their lips and roughly understood the clown’s meaning.

 

She raised her arm bone, then lowered it, raised it again, then lowered it again.

 

She hadn’t known Erdiff was hiding such a big secret. If it weren’t for her, Lance wouldn’t have been dragged into this trouble.

 

The clown spread his hands: “Sorry to trouble the young master to return to school and pretend to be a good student for a while, to escape the Federation government’s assassination.”

 

Lance: “……”

 

Because Star University’s inspections were strict, Lance had to use his real appearance for the exam and enrollment. So if he mysteriously disappeared after Erdiff’s death, he would inevitably become a prime suspect for the Federation government.

 

The clown was right; he had to return to school.

 

But in his current state, he definitely couldn’t maintain a flawless disguise in front of his new roommate.

 

He planned to borrow a poisonous insect from Deng Zhi, go back and poison his new roommate half to death, then naturally have the dormitory to himself.

 

As soon as he mentioned it, Deng Zhi wanted to give him all her insects.

 

She held up her various strange insects, arranging them before Lance’s eyes. Although she couldn’t speak or express emotions, the little insects neatly lined up represented all her gratitude.

 

Lance chose a white one, only half the size of a pinky nail, looking much like a seven-spotted ladybug, except without the ugly spots on its shell.

 

This insect was called a Moth Rong Weng, highly poisonous with toxins difficult to detect. Its symptoms resembled fulminant myocarditis. This highly concealed toxin would make it convenient for Lance to evade connection.

 

But the Moth Rong Weng’s only drawback was its eye-catching white color, making it easy to spot. To poison someone without being detected required some skill.

 

Lance placed the small insect on his collar. The insect seemed to like the overflowing scent of star magnolia, so it moved closer to Lance’s gland before settling down quietly.

 

Deng Zhi instructed the insect to obey Lance’s commands, then turned, extended her bone finger, and lightly touched the clown’s sleeve, earnestly gesturing: “Where… is… my… mother?”

 

Her charred bones were discovered by the Black Lantern Society thanks to her mother’s plea for help. She found it hard to imagine that her deaf-mute, clumsy, timid mother would contact the most mysterious and terrifying illegal organization.

 

Now that she had finally avenged herself, she suddenly wanted to see her mother.

 

The clown struggled to decipher these few words in the dim light and suddenly fell silent. He wanted to raise his exaggerated, comical lips as usual and make a joke, but this time he couldn’t manage it.

 

So he broke off a piece of ice to apply to Lance’s burning hot gland, pretending not to understand Deng Zhi’s gestures.

 

But in the clown’s silence, Deng Zhi understood something. Her hollow eye sockets stared blankly at the clown, as if needing a long time to digest this news.

 

Lance tied his hair ribbon around his scratched neck to stop the bleeding, then took two tablets of strong pheromone stabilizer. Fighting against his body’s unusual temperature, he said to the clown: “Take her there.”

 

Everything has a price. Even S-level powers cannot have everything they wish for.

 

Moreover, the Black Lantern Society had no obligation to care for a client’s emotions.

 

“You’d better take care of yourself first,” the clown bared his teeth.

 

Human-made pheromone stabilizers were far from enough to counter the damage It had caused. Lance still had much to endure to survive the pheromone chaos.

 

But the clown made an exception, tearing off a piece of his soul and anchoring it to Deng Zhi’s shadow.

 

Lance had left an anchor point at the podium of Star University, used for throwing Erdiff’s corpse. Now it came in handy.

 

When Deng Zhi arrived at the plaza, the mascot was lying quietly in a puddle, its clockwork damaged by the rain.

 

Deng Zhi activated her ability pheromones and easily tore open the rain-soaked mascot costume, revealing the hunched, tiny figure inside.

 

She could hardly imagine how such a frail body had supported such a heavy mascot.

 

Deng Zhi carefully brushed aside the white hair stuck to her face, trying hard to see.

 

When she learned of her mother’s death in the underground city, she hadn’t cried. She felt lost, suppressed, angry, but nothing more.

 

To escape her original family, she had applied to Star University, the farthest from home. She had left everything behind because she remembered an award-winning article that said an S-level’s mission was to always move forward, never looking back at old attachments.

 

So, she hadn’t seen this face for two years.

 

She still remembered the first impression she had of her mother’s face, at age five.

 

Her father had been recruited at a labor market to become a worker, allowed to follow a major guild into the underground city to help mine crystal ores in exchange for living supplies.

 

When he returned, he gesticulated excitedly, talking endlessly to several brothers about the power and advancement of the major guild. At the height of his excitement, he downed a cup of yellow wine in one gulp, as if he too had become a member of the major guild, sharing in its glory.

 

Deng Zhi stood by the door, watching them chat for a long time. Though she didn’t understand, she inexplicably shared their excitement. Then she turned around and saw her mother, hunched over, accidentally dropping the ladle on the ground.

 

Her mother, deformed in body, had become deaf and mute, and hadn’t heard the sound.

 

Her father rushed over in one stride and swung his palm to strike her.

 

Deng Zhi saw that face—ugly, rugged, utterly unattractive.

 

Then she sat on a small stool with her father and the uncles, eating the dishes on the long table.

 

Her mother curled up in the corner by the stove, her tiny frame swallowed by the windowsill.

 

Deng Zhi didn’t feel anything was wrong.

 

At seven, she learned about Mother’s Day at school. According to the teacher, mothers should receive gifts from their children on this day.

 

A gift was a magical switch that could trigger unexpected emotions.

 

So that day, Deng Zhi went to the market alone and traded her lunch for a pink butterfly hair tie.

 

She gave this to her mother and, just as the teacher had said, she saw rolling tears, a naive smile, and an incomprehensible action.

 

For the first time, her mother looked in the mirror, put on the hair tie, and carefully adjusted it for a long time.

 

Deng Zhi wanted to say it was useless—she would still be ugly and strange with it on.

 

But for some reason, what came out was a lie—

 

“It looks good.”

 

Later, her father heard from someone that male Alphas had a high probability of awakening at higher levels, could join major guilds in the future, and achieve class mobility.

 

So he began to seek out women like a yard dog to produce male Alphas. He didn’t approach her mother because he said seeing her face made him nauseous.

 

Deng Zhi didn’t think he was entirely wrong. People were often frightened by her mother, which was why she rarely went out.

 

At ten, Deng Zhi happened to visit a classmate’s home. She forgot why, but remembered witnessing an unforgettable scene.

 

Her classmate’s mother ate at the table with everyone else, talking and laughing.

 

She pointed and asked, “Why? Why isn’t she eating by the stove?”

 

Her classmate said everyone did this; normal people all did this.

 

Deng Zhi murmured, “Is that so?”

 

She realized then that her family was abnormal.

 

That night, she found the long table irritating, so she picked up an axe. Later, her father was angry enough to hit her, but seeing the axe, he didn’t dare.

 

At sixteen, some classmates with earlier birthdays had already differentiated their attributes and awakened their levels, but she hadn’t.

 

Someone privately said it might be because her gland had been damaged when she was young.

 

Only when she caught someone and asked carefully did she learn that she had entered an underground city when she was three.

 

That underground city had suddenly appeared and hadn’t been reported to the Federation government yet, existing in an unregulated state.

 

Somehow, she had entered that underground city.

 

She had no memory of what happened next, only knowing that the guild asked for help didn’t send anyone. Her father had already decided to give up, but her mother, who wasn’t an Awakened, ran in.

 

She learned in school that the radiation in underground cities was lethal to civilians without pheromones.

 

So her mother hadn’t always been so ugly.

 

That day when she returned home, her father seemed to have finally produced a male Alpha. He was very happy, so her mother’s bowl finally had a whole chicken leg.

 

Everyone loves roasted, sizzling chicken legs. Her mother happily hugged the bowl, carefully tearing the chicken meat along the grain, eating it with thin porridge.

 

Uncles came to congratulate her father on his prospect of crossing class boundaries. Entering the yard, they saw her mother sitting on a small stool eating. One casually grabbed a handful of sand from the ground and threw it into her mother’s bowl.

 

“How dare you eat chicken legs!”

 

They laughed together, sharing this joke on this joyous day.

 

Her mother clutched the bowl, stamping her feet and crying loudly, making angry howls from her throat. She truly cherished this chicken leg.

 

Deng Zhi watched her mother, whose hair had already turned white, still trying to find chicken meat not covered by sand. Her tears fell into the bowl one by one, as pitiful as a child.

 

Deng Zhi suddenly felt everything here was so base, so disgusting.

 

Driven by this strong sense of nausea, she picked up an axe and walked over. She cut their necks one by one, like bleeding livestock.

 

She tore their flesh along the grain like chicken meat, mixing it with sand.

 

She heard her father’s shrill, ghostly screams.

 

She thought, since her father and his brothers were so close, eating at the same long table, they should be together forever, even mixed with sand together.

 

She numbly looked at the broken corpses before her, wondering how to dispose of them.

 

Suddenly, thousands of poisonous insects came from all directions, swarming over, tearing and devouring the corpses, removing all traces.

 

She had awakened, S-level.

 

From a very young age, Deng Zhi knew that S-level could transcend class. She would eventually join a major guild and forever leave this strange, disgusting place.

 

The day she was admitted to Star University, her mother carefully peeked out from the iron gate. Deng Zhi noticed she was wearing that butterfly hair tie again.

 

Actually, with Deng Zhi’s adult perspective, that hair tie was both vulgar and outdated.

 

But her mother naively believed she thought it looked good, and used both hands to gesture, asking when she would return.

 

Deng Zhi didn’t answer. She knew she wouldn’t come back. She should, as the article said, sever old attachments and walk toward her own life.

 

Her heart was hard; even Erdiff, who especially “valued” her, said so.

 

The rain showed no sign of stopping. The mud on the butterfly hair tie was washed away, revealing its original pink color.

 

Was it vulgar?

 

Was it outdated?

 

None of that mattered anymore.

 

Deng Zhi suddenly realized she had never so depended on or missed a person.

 

She wanted to ask if her mother had been afraid before death.

 

Had she cried from pain?

 

Had she finally eaten a whole oily chicken leg?

 

This hunched, frail woman before her wasn’t an old attachment, but the origin of her life.

 

What she had abandoned along with that vile land was endless, countless yearning.

 

From today on, no one would ask her when she would return.

 

Deng Zhi tilted her head back in anguished wailing, but only the wind passing through her throat bones made rustling, squeezing sounds. She wanted to cry, but her eye sockets were dry and black, filled with rainwater.

 

So this was what it felt like to be unable to hear or call out.

 

How could a person’s life be as bitter as yours, Mother?

 

##

---