Oliver felt like he was on a roller coaster. After a bout of dizzying ups and downs, his vision was covered with light again.
He instinctively closed his eyes tightly, avoiding the harsh light. Having lived in the confinement room for so long, accustomed to darkness as his companion, his eyes could no longer adapt to ordinary brightness.
Lance supported him from the side, his palm pressing against hard bones: “We’re here.”
Oliver took a long while to recover, until physiological tears were forced out, before he could barely open his eyes.
There were many people in the hall—men and women, Alphas and Omegas, adults and children.
They all looked at him in unison, their gazes curious, examining, indifferent, meaningful, or… sympathetic.
Oliver felt somewhat awkward. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him directly. In Blue Pivot building, except for Mr. Lauen, no one dared defy Si Hongche to show him a moment of kindness.
He clenched and unclenched his hands, not knowing where to put them. He didn’t recognize any of these people, and this situation made him especially nervous. He tried to maintain propriety, nodding slightly, wanting to greet them, but when he opened his lips, he didn’t know how to speak.
He hadn’t been this kind of personality before, but he could no longer find that once-popular version of himself. Suffering had left deep, bone-visible marks on him that he couldn’t forget or remove.
Could he really be reborn?
Actually, Oliver didn’t hold much hope for this.
He just wanted to thank his teacher for eighteen years of concern, and he couldn’t bear to disappoint Lance’s kindness.
He knew Lance had given him a chance for survival and revenge, but his heart was already dead, his body at its limit. He truly had the will but lacked the strength.
But if before dying, someone could feel satisfied because of his choice, then even pretending to be strong…
“Let me introduce—this is Oliver, also the eighth member of the Black Lantern Society.” Lance looked at his companions who could barely contain themselves with a half-smile, very perceptively stepping aside to present the lamb Oliver who had just escaped the tiger’s den.
Dream Witch was the first to approach. She wore a black off-shoulder fitted dress, her thick wavy hair cascading to her slim waist. As an Alpha, she was a full 1.78 meters tall, giving her an exceptionally superior and graceful figure with perfect curves.
Her makeup was exquisite, her red lips sexy, and her brown pupils held bewitching power. Even the most pure-hearted Omega would have their heartbeat disrupted looking into her eyes.
“This Omega—haven’t I seen you before?”
Dream Witch’s voice was seductive, her gaze falling directly on the Omega’s gland, which was flushed from extensive use of [Virtual Realm].
She keenly observed that Oliver’s gland had been permanently marked, but supposedly the Alpha who marked him wasn’t gentle. Under such circumstances, it wouldn’t be strange fo
r an Omega to develop serious psychological problems due to loneliness and emptiness.
Although Dream Witch had many lovers, she had her principles. Everything was consensual, and without being prepared to take responsibility for life, she would never mark any Omega.
“Tsk, even the eyelashes are pale gold. No wonder he’s so fair.”
If only her lovers had such adorably trembling golden eyelashes—she would definitely play with them lovingly.
“…” Oliver didn’t know where to look. When his gaze dropped slightly, it fell on her proudly upright chest. He hurriedly lowered his head, only to see snow-white slender legs. When he turned his head away, it seemed impolite.
He was no longer young—logically, he shouldn’t be embarrassed by a few casual flirtations from an Alpha, but he really… really hadn’t encountered such an enthusiastic Alpha before.
For a moment, his long-standing despair and dejection were temporarily suppressed.
Lance lounged in the sofa in the center of the hall, casually crossing his left leg, rarely being kind enough to break the awkwardness: “No, you haven’t seen him. You’ve just slept with so many little golden retrievers that you’ve become face-blind.”
Dream Witch’s expression stiffened. She quickly smiled and said sincerely to Oliver: “Little golden retriever… pfft, little olive tree, don’t listen to him. I’m a very devoted Alpha, especially to golden-haired Omegas like you.”
“…Mm.” For politeness, Oliver raised his eyes to look into Dream Witch’s eyes.
And though he hadn’t taken those words seriously, he couldn’t help but believe them.
He knew Lance was probably telling the truth, but emotional impulse made him more willing to believe Dream Witch’s words. Soon, what Lance had said became insignificant in his heart.
Dream Witch exhaled lightly, her breath warm and fragrant, intoxicating: “A premium S-level Omega like you really shouldn’t get involved in romance too early, or those scumbag Alphas will lure you away with a crook of their finger.”
“…Yes.” Oliver responded instinctively.
Dream Witch leaned closer, her coffee-colored wavy hair brushing past inadvertently: “Look how thin you are. You need to gain some weight to feel good to touch.”
“…Okay.” Oliver had no idea what he was agreeing to.
Lance lightly tapped the sofa armrest, the knocking sound disrupting Oliver’s gaze, and that stubborn belief suddenly vanished completely.
“My sister, Lan Qi, Black Lantern Society codename Dream Witch. Don’t look into her eyes easily—[Bewitch] is her most skilled ability.”
Oliver awakened as if from a dream.
To easily bewitch an S-level, Dream Witch’s level wouldn’t be low.
The Black Lantern Society really was full of extraordinary people.
Lance pointed to Mad Clown lying on the ground nearby, looking pale as a vegetable: “Lukas, Black Lantern Society codename Mad Clown. The teleportation ability is his. You can return the anchor point to him—that’s his soul fragment.”
Mad Clown had drunk too much of Fata’s stamina-enhancing medicine tonight and was already half-dead from how awful it tasted, looking even weaker than Oliver.
“I’m—ugh—not in optimal—ugh—condition tonight—ugh—”
Just thinking about the medicine’s taste made Mad Clown’s stomach convulse, his face growing even paler.
He should have applied his favorite clown makeup and shaken hands elegantly with the new member in his most eerie, unsettling appearance, not like now, resembling a disheveled pretty boy with morning sickness.
Fata covered Mad Clown’s mouth with one hand, his voice hoarse: “Stop, talking, makes people, want to vomit.”
Mad Clown stared in disbelief that the first person to find him disgusting was actually Fata. His fingers trembled as he grabbed Fata’s shirt front: “It’s all because—ugh—of you—ugh—!”
Lance continued introducing: “Zhai Fang, codename Fata, elemental system Awakened one with special pharmaceutical talents. The Bone Flower you ate was prepared by him.”
Shortly after Fata was born, he was kidnapped by human traffickers to foreign lands. The local tribes, unwilling to sacrifice their own children but wanting to preserve their ancestors’ cruel poison-making and pharmaceutical techniques, bought children to practice on.
Obviously, this cultivation method had no scientific basis or safety guarantees. Large numbers of children died, and their corpses were used as medicinal ingredients for refinement.
Fata’s throat was poisoned mute, his eyes poisoned blind, his body full of strange toxins, his skin constantly ulcerated and festering. He was about to die.
At that moment, he awakened—he gained the ability to manipulate molecules.
He forced the toxic molecules invading his heart and lungs out of his body, preventing his precarious bodily functions from further deterioration. After encountering modern science, he discovered that all medicines were composed of compounds, and he could not only decompose medicines but also create them.
He actively sought out the Black Lantern Society, using their power to slaughter the entire tribe.
Oliver immediately understood Mad Clown’s feelings.
How could anyone say there was no true empathy in the world?
There was—at this moment, he and Mad Clown had achieved unprecedented mutual understanding.
But awful taste aside, Oliver’s body was still in peak condition, all thanks to Fata’s small bottle of ointment.
“Thank you.”
He nodded to thank Fata while crouching to carefully pick up Mad Clown’s soul fragment from his own shadow.
This was actually a soul—someone could actually tear apart their own soul at will.
Oliver had received too many new things this evening. He carefully held the small black mass of soul, brought it to his lips, and gently blew away the dust.
Mad Clown suddenly trembled all over, his cheeks flushing red: “You, you, you—don’t blow—”
Oliver froze, immediately becoming flustered. He watched Mad Clown spring up as if wound up, no longer nauseous or breathless, just tensing his increasingly red face that lacked makeup to hide it.
Dream Witch said casually: “Oh, his soul shares sensations with his body. Blowing on it like that is no different from blowing on his naked body.”
“…”
Oliver hurriedly handed over the soul in his hands, stammering: “S-sorry.”
“Forget it, it’s fine.” Mad Clown shook his head to dispel that bit of heat, took the soul, and merged it into his body.
“And this one, Liao Wuliang, codename Abaddon. He’s the one with the ability to summon the dead.”
In the room, the clumsy big guy sat silently in the corner throughout. His skin was as rigid and pale as a corpse. If not for his pitch-black eyeballs constantly moving with the sounds in the room, Oliver would have thought he was just a statue.
Abaddon spoke in a muffled voice: “The dead are in a state of nothingness. They cannot obtain nor need anything from the human world. My ability can temporarily bring them to the human world, but I cannot keep them here.”
Oliver silently repeated the name: Abaddon.
In history before Dawn Day, there was a book called the “Bible.” In the Bible, Abaddon was called the Lord of the Dark Abyss, able to command evil spirits and monsters from hell—a demon who opposed the divine.
Thinking carefully, whether Mad Clown, Dream Witch, or Abaddon, they were all villainous figures in past history, just like the Black Lantern Society’s current role in the Federation.
But were divine beings necessarily holy and just?
Who was right and who was wrong—how could it be generalized?
“This little friend—” Lance paused, noticing that Duma was still holding his computer with eyes closed, his consciousness drifting somewhere unknown.
He had accidentally forgotten this little computer brain.
Lance stood up, walked over, put two fingers together, and gently snapped beside Duma’s ear.
“Duma, that’s enough. Come back.”
Hearing Lance’s call, Duma withdrew his consciousness, raised his clear eyes, and said seriously: “Lance, I’m fighting. I can’t give up.”
Lance adjusted his glasses with one finger, first nodding, then chuckling softly: “But the law says children can’t fight.”
Duma had autism since childhood, resulting in emotional deficiency and inability to give his parents and relatives any positive response.
Later he had healthy twin brothers and a beautiful sister. He became the extra person in the family.
He would always stand quietly to the side with no expression, watching the family’s harmony, laughter, and play.
He subconsciously understood something but couldn’t express it or change it.
He could only make himself obedient, more obedient, existing in this family like a quiet, compliant machine.
But at age ten, he was still abandoned by the seaside in Harbor Tan. They hoped he would be swept away by the rising tide, along with the burden he brought to this family.
Lan Wendao found him, but no matter how he tried to guide him, Duma’s habit of following orders like a machine would never change.
Of course, he would only obey orders from people he trusted.
Duma tilted his head, and after a moment, put down the computer: “Alright, I’ll listen to Lance.”
But I’m sixteen, not a little kid anymore, he thought silently.
Lance continued introducing to Oliver: “Duma, just called Duma. His consciousness can access any network. He’s the one who handled Blue Pivot building’s surveillance cameras.”
“There’s also one called Lily, who’s probably—” Lance glanced at the time.
Mad Clown weakly continued: “Probably at home frantically copying tomorrow’s physics, math, and chemistry homework. Lily is a weird, violent little loli who can’t go anywhere in the world without learning math and science.”
Lance glanced at Mad Clown with a hint of reproach in his eyes, then withdrew his gaze and said unhurriedly: “Finally, there’s me. My real name is Lance, codename White Pharaoh, and I’m the actual leader of the Black Lantern Society.”
“White… Pharaoh.” Oliver awkwardly pronounced these three words.
So the one who killed Erdiff, who killed Boras and Kluova, was this seemingly harmless young man before him.
“Alright, everyone’s been introduced. Now we should—”
“Ahem!” Lan Wendao coughed heavily, interrupting Lance’s words.
Lance found it amusing but feigned surprise: “Dad, today’s an internal Black Lantern Society meeting. You’re here again?”
Lan Wendao: “…” His precious child had grown up and become less considerate.
Lance smiled: “Since you’re already here, why don’t you tell Oliver how you knew Uriel and how you discovered Uriel was dead?”
Lance actually wanted to ask more—what exactly was Lan Wendao hiding? Why couldn’t even Si Hongche find traces of Uriel, yet he knew? Where was Uriel’s body discovered, and was it also related to the Rebellion Suppression? Had Lan Wendao been to the Rebellion Suppression site back then?
Oliver was surprised and immediately looked at Lan Wendao, who sat calmly in the corner. He gestured anxiously while speaking: “You… know… my brother?”
But Lan Wendao indeed didn’t directly answer Lance’s question. He cleared his throat, adjusted his sitting position, and gestured to Abaddon: “We’ll discuss that later. Wuliang, first find out the truth from back then.”
Abaddon nodded, extending his hand toward Oliver, his voice deep and heavy: “Please give me Si Hongmei’s belongings.”
Oliver had to suppress his questions and slowly took out the beige hair clip, holding it under the light.
Eighteen years had passed, but he could still clearly remember how Sui Sui looked wearing the hair clip—so vivid, cute, and well-behaved.
Sui Sui’s life stopped that night, and hadn’t his life as well?
Finally, he could see Sui Sui again.
High Tower Guild was only one step away from the truth, but within the restricted zone, everything was still in chaos.
The moment surveillance was restored, the First District director’s voice broadcast throughout the entire restricted zone—
“Everyone return to your residences immediately. No loitering outside. Blue Pivot inspection team will give everyone a reasonable explanation for tonight’s events. Until then, no one is allowed to maliciously spread related rumors!”
“Disperse immediately and return to your residences, or merit points will be deducted according to delay time!”
Hearing it was linked to merit points, the watching crowd stirred like a disturbed hive, bumping into each other, blocking one another, completely inefficient.
Zhan Pingchuan mixed in with the crowd, unhurriedly moving toward the dormitory direction.
The First District’s broadcast struck him as ironic.
Malicious, rumors.
How to determine malice, and how to know what’s rumor?
What did one life’s death mean to them?
He believed that from today on, no one in the entire restricted zone would mention Oliver’s name again, no one would pray devoutly for him. Everyone’s life would continue as before—only he had truly disappeared.
Zhan Pingchuan had just left the crowd and was about to turn the corner.
But just then, Blue Pivot building’s main entrance suddenly burst open!
Si Hongche emerged wearing a leather jacket, fingers dripping blood, eyes full of murderous coldness, striding out from within.
Many people had seen Si Hongche rush into Blue Pivot building in despair, seen him emotionally collapse over that person’s disappearance, but now, that decisive Second District director, that merciless demon seemed to have returned.
Screech—
A grinding sound as wheels scraped across the stone road, stopping steadily before Si Hongche.
Over ten Second District team members stood ready, quickly running to Si Hongche’s side to form ranks.
Si Hongche raised his bloodshot eyes, cold killing intent condensing in his gaze. He clenched his fists forcefully, knuckles cracking, the blood-streaked backs of his hands splitting open again, blood flowing freely.
Yet he seemed oblivious to it. He protected the [Envelop] filled with Oliver’s remaining scent inside his leather jacket, stepped into the vehicle, and commanded sternly: “To Star University!”
Zhan Pingchuan watched the off-road vehicle break through the crowd, raising dust, and after thinking for a moment, his expression suddenly changed.
He immediately pressed his earpiece, speaking urgently and briefly: “The Star University principal is in danger. Tell my dad to take him away from home right now!”
“What?” The supervisor was somewhat surprised to receive Zhan Pingchuan’s call—they were still analyzing Si Hongmei’s death records.
Zhan Pingchuan had no time to explain: “Also, have my dad force the truth out of him immediately after finding him!”
He wasn’t sure if Zhan Qinghe could make it in time, nor how long Yan Qili could survive, but once Si Hongche also suspected Yan Qili, the person behind the scheme would never let Si Hongche know the truth.
This meant Yan Qili’s time was running out.
“Understood.” The supervisor replied gravely.
Zhan Pingchuan took a deep breath, restraining himself: “Be careful.”
Ghost Eye Guild couldn’t have brought many people to the capital city, or they would have aroused the Federation government’s suspicion long ago.
With insufficient manpower, trying to take Yan Qili away before the schemer could act was also a difficult test.
Once the Federation government discovered Ghost Eye Guild’s involvement, there would truly be no way back.
Si Hongche charged out of the restricted zone like a vengeful demon. Only then did the Seventh District director close underground third floor access and leisurely come up.
Today had been truly interesting—that person died, and Si Hongche went mad.
He accompanied Si Hongche to the underground third floor, where among the layers of iron cabinets, they found the one the intruder had opened.
All of Si Hongmei’s death records were spread out neatly, obviously for convenient photographing.
Though he had guessed there were irregularities in the past events, he didn’t know where exactly, since all evidence was seamless and flawless. So he had believed it completely back then, thinking Si Hongche was ruined by emotions, his family destroyed.
These records—Si Hongche had actually studied them countless times back then. Because there were truly no flaws, he had no choice but to seal them away.
After all, every time he read them was mental torture.
“Surveillance, interrogation, obscene videos on the computer—everything’s there. Even Uriel himself wouldn’t say where he went that night. Where could the problem be?”
The Seventh District director was asking himself, and also asking Si Hongche.
However, once seeds of doubt were planted in one’s heart, looking at all evidence with a questioning eye would always reveal clues.
Si Hongche’s gaze fixed on the final autopsy report. His bloody handprints smeared the white paper. Time had passed, but the words on it remained as shocking as fresh blood.
His breathing was heavy, temples throbbing with sharp pain, but an emerging, tremendous fear and trembling enveloped him, preventing him from collapsing.
Finally, he saw the examiner’s name—
Yan Qili, Star University Principal.
The Seventh District director followed his gaze and feigned surprise: “Ah! What year did Principal Yan become Star University’s principal?”
The fourth year after the Rebellion Suppression, the year Oliver was released from AGW Special Dangerous Death Row Prison after serving his sentence—an ordinary worker from the restricted zone’s medical center suddenly became the principal of the Federation’s highest institution of learning, Star University.
From then on, Star University fell into a long period of disorder and chaos.
Attribute Research and History College Dean He Jing’en retired due to illness, living in a daze, while Erdiff seized the opportunity to rise to power and control real authority.
The Student Care Office was nominally for care but actually for surveillance. Through harsh staff management and bonus evaluation regulations, Star University was turned into a colosseum devoid of humanity and full of scheming.
Students engaged in infighting, bullying, mixing, and exclusion, forming distinct hierarchies and chains of contempt. The school not only turned a blind eye but also helped cover up, hide, and calm public opinion.
Yan Qili was fundamentally just an incompetent and ineffective administrator, yet even so, he remained firmly seated as principal.
Then there was only one explanation—he was a puppet.
##
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
https://t.me/s/IZZI_officials