Chapter Twenty-Four: The Tribunal of the Organization (Part One)

Ability Training Institute, Underground Prison.

This underground prison was constructed with modern technology. The entire structure exudes a mechanical atmosphere, grand and imposing, yet the interior cells are deliberately crafted to appear damp and decayed.

Anyone who ends up in the underground prison is rarely a decent person; the institute offers them no privileges. This place is even worse than the detention rooms at the police station.

Xia Yan lay on the creaking wooden bed, eyes open, deep in silent thought.

The cell was cramped; aside from the bed and a chamber pot, there were only a few steps of space. The stench was unmistakable.

After the institute’s member ranking competition concluded, Xia Yan was arrested—on the direct order of Director Aiyou herself.

Following the clues, Xia Yan had gradually pieced together the events. Though not entirely clear, most of the fog had lifted.

Now, he needed to hasten the institute’s trial, achieve acquittal, regain his freedom, and prepare for the next step.

The truth was already beginning to surface.

At the prison guard’s station, Gong Kui verified her identity and followed a humanoid robot deeper inside.

She arrived at Xia Yan’s cell and, seeing him without a trace of dejection, smiled. Even here, even faced with an unknown fate, this man remained so calm.

Her purpose was to speak with Xia Yan, but in fact, she had only one question to ask him.

This question was crucial, even for Gong Kui herself. If she made a mistake, she would regret it deeply.

“Xia Yan,” Gong Kui spoke first.

“Hmm?” Xia Yan looked over. “Miss Gong Kui, what brings you here?”

“In three days, the institute will put you on trial. The outcome is uncertain,” Gong Kui said slowly. “You shouldn’t have acted impulsively, but now it’s too late; there’s no point in me advising you further.”

The heavy topic created a distance between them, so Xia Yan changed the subject. “Miss Gong Kui, may I ask, that demon who died—was he the director’s nephew?”

“Yes… he was indeed the director’s nephew. Why do you ask?” Gong Kui replied.

“Was this Daren always by the director’s side?” Xia Yan pressed.

“I can’t be certain, but that seems to be the case. After all, Daren rarely appeared within the institute.” Gong Kui nodded.

“Miss Gong Kui, I have a question for you. Please answer truthfully,” Xia Yan said, unusually serious.

“Go ahead,” Gong Kui replied, calmly meeting his gaze.

“Levin—is he a demon?” Xia Yan stared at Gong Kui, his expression grave.

Gong Kui was momentarily stunned, then gave a bitter smile. After a long pause, she nodded, barely perceptible, but Xia Yan noticed.

Levin was indeed a demon. The incident could no longer be dismissed as mere coincidence. One by one, Gu Yue’er’s partners had died—all part of the demons’ plot.

What was their purpose?

Xia Yan didn’t know, but he knew one thing: those people were his enemies. As long as he killed them one by one, that would suffice.

Gu Yue’er’s oddities, Zhu En’s anomalies—all orchestrated by the demons. The events involved at least four people: Daren, Levin, Qiu Fangning (who had graduated), and Director Aiyou. Among these four, there was certainly a conspiracy targeting Gu Yue’er.

Xia Yan considered intervening in the affair, even declaring war on Levin. They feared he would disrupt their plans and so sought to eliminate him in secret—that’s why Daren intervened.

“What do you plan to do, Xia Yan?” Gong Kui asked.

“I don’t know their purpose, but it can’t be anything good. What I can do is kill them one by one. Daren is dead; next is Levin. I will not spare him. I’ll kill him in front of everyone, with my own hands,” Xia Yan’s tone was cold and crazed.

Levin was a member of the institute’s management, not just any management member, but a director—a powerful figure beyond doubt. Yet Xia Yan declared he would kill him, and so he would.

Xia Yan would rather sacrifice himself, become a fiend, sever his own limbs, perish together—whatever it took, Levin must die.

Evil must be erased. Their existence only pollutes this world. After Levin, the director would be next.

No compromise. Never compromise. Even if he ended up in the underworld, he would drag them down with him.

If you have the courage to harm your friends, you must have the courage to face retribution. Without such resolve, they don’t even deserve to pollute this world.

Levin, wait for me. Prepare your neck, and wait obediently.

Gong Kui could clearly see the madness and confidence in Xia Yan’s eyes—a determination that would never yield.

“Miss Gong Kui, I must speed things up. I want to challenge Levin immediately, cripple him, and extract the last information from him,” Xia Yan’s expression verged on insanity; he could hardly wait.

“Xia Yan, calm down. You must first stand trial. Only after acquittal can you act,” Gong Kui said helplessly. Xia Yan had no awareness of his own imprisonment.

“I understand. I’ll wait patiently for three days.” Xia Yan gritted his teeth. “Miss Gong Kui, has Gu Yue’er disappeared?”

Gong Kui was shocked, staring at Xia Yan in confusion. “You figured it out?”

“Because it’s highly likely. If it’s true, it confirms all my suspicions.” Xia Yan clenched his fists, his face dark. He would not let those people go. They were despicable beyond measure. A director would do such a thing to Yue’er—was she not afraid of divine retribution?

Xia Yan bit down hard, blood seeping from his gums—his madness was evident. He was eager to kill them.

“Xia Yan, don’t worry. I’ll help investigate. Any news about Gu Yue’er, I’ll let you know immediately,” Gong Kui comforted him, fearing he might lose control.

“I’m not worried.” Xia Yan shook his head, his calm terrifying. “Their goal must be to develop Yue’er’s second ability. Before that, her life won’t be in danger.”

“You mean… their purpose is to develop Gu Yue’er’s second ability?” Gong Kui was astonished; she had never considered this possibility.

Xia Yan nodded. “After Zhu En’s case, I investigated and found it’s a method to stimulate the mind and expand the brain’s potential. Zhu En and Gu Yue’er were both subjected to this, used to enhance their brain development.”

He sighed softly. “Yet I still don’t understand why they do this—what’s their aim? If it’s some experiment, why use an innocent human girl? Or perhaps something else, but I just can’t figure it out!”

He shook his head, dispelling the confusion in his eyes. “All I can do is overcome the obstacles before me and rescue Gu Yue’er. As for their purpose, I don’t care. If they die, their purpose dies with them.”

“Seeing you have the courage to pursue this, I’m relieved,” Gong Kui said, exhaling. “Xia Yan, the trial in three days will include the director, all the mentors, and ten management members. Institute members can also attend. I expect everyone will be there.”

“I know. They can’t do anything to me. Just a few demons’ words—what can they do?” Xia Yan was unconcerned.

“Xia Yan…” Gong Kui’s tone grew more serious, her gaze strange. What she was about to say was her real purpose for coming.

Even Gong Kui had worries and doubts.

This was important—very important. But she couldn’t see through it all, couldn’t trust everything Xia Yan said.

It was clear her body was trembling. Even the institute’s top-ranked member felt fear.

Xia Yan nodded, watching Gong Kui, waiting for her words.

After a long silence, Gong Kui sighed deeply. “Xia Yan, I need to ask you something. It’s extremely important. Whatever happens, you must answer me honestly!”

“Alright.” Xia Yan nodded.

“Xia Yan… you…” Gong Kui shook her head, clearing the confusion from her eyes. “Xia Yan, are you… really… human?”

This was the question Gong Kui cared about most. She couldn’t help someone who wasn’t even human.

If Xia Yan truly was an alien, then giving him her all would be a mistake. In the future, they could end up enemies on the battlefield.

Her tone quickened, her voice carried a force as if she wanted to pierce his soul. “Xia Yan, answer me—don’t think, just respond with your first instinct.”

“At least, for now, I am.” Xia Yan replied simply, without much hesitation.

“Really?” Gong Kui’s gaze turned gentle, incongruous with her identity. A faint glimmer of tears shone in her eyes, like a girl longing for a lover’s sincere answer.

Xia Yan nodded.

“Alright, I’ll trust you this time. At least for now, humanity will stand by your side. If you deceive me…” Gong Kui smiled softly, “so be it. I’ll just consider myself too naive.”

“Is that a dark joke?” Xia Yan gave a bitter smile.

“Let’s call it that.” Gong Kui smiled quietly, then turned to leave. Her fist remained tightly clenched. If she was wrong, she would never be able to hold her head high again.

Xia Yan, don’t deceive me. If you are one of us, never betray me.

Those were Gong Kui’s unspoken words.