Chapter Thirty-Five: A Routine Slap in the Face, The End is a New Beginning (Finale—Double Chapter)

“Is there something you two need?” the young guard looked at them with thinly veiled displeasure.

“To redeem a prisoner,” Xia Yan replied.

“Oh?” The guard sneered, eyeing the teenager before him—plainly dressed, wearing cheap clothes, clearly nothing but a pauper. Redeem a prisoner? Was this some kind of joke?

“You can, but first we’ll need to verify your identity. State your Federation citizen identification number.” The young guard nodded, not just skeptical that the boy could produce two million credits, but certain he couldn’t.

He had no choice, though. As a staff member, he was bound to follow protocol and couldn’t simply throw people out.

Xia Yan recited his ID number.

The guard entered it into the light-brain terminal, but after a moment, sensed something was off. The data here wasn’t updated in real-time, so Xia Yan’s file was from more than half a year ago, last updated when he left the Criminal Prison.

“You’re a convict?” The young guard’s ridicule deepened. “Kid, are you messing with me? A convict, here to redeem someone? Never mind whether you’ve got the money—even if you did, save it. A few dozen credits won’t help you; maybe learn some math first.”

It wasn’t just this guard who looked down on convicts—truth be told, all of humanity did. He was no exception.

He was a hair away from telling them to get lost.

Miya Kui, watching quietly from the side, suddenly pressed her lips together and burst out laughing. She was thoroughly entertained—it had been ages since she’d witnessed such a comedic scene. This guard, she thought, should be performing in a comedy sketch; he’d be a hit.

“I’m here to redeem a prisoner,” Xia Yan said again, frowning.

“Don’t pretend if you can’t pay. Get lost.” The young guard waved him away with disgust. “You? Redeem a prisoner? If you can put together ten thousand credits, I’ll stand on my head for a day. Take a good look at yourself!”

Xia Yan’s expression turned grim. Truth be told, those with abilities rarely argued with ordinary people, but when the other’s words were too much, no one could keep their temper.

“Go on, get lost,” the guard continued, “You’re covered in cheap junk. All your clothes together aren’t worth a hundred credits. Listen up, convict—this is not a place for paupers like you. People should know their own worth. Someone like you should be moving bricks on a construction site.”

Miya Kui laughed even harder. From start to finish, she was in stitches; her eyes narrowed with mirth, and she seemed to take a genuine liking to this ‘young guard’. She hadn’t laughed this much in a whole year.

She had to admit, the guard had real talent. He was wasted here—he should at least be a celebrity with a million fans.

“Go on, shoo! Don’t stand in front of me.” The guard barked as Xia Yan still didn’t move.

“Excuse me…” Miya Kui doubled over, clutching her stomach, yet still managed to speak, “We’re here to redeem a prisoner. There’s no need to worry about the money. Could you… please help us with the procedures?”

She was shaking with laughter, barely able to finish her sentence.

“Oh?” Only then did the guard look at Miya Kui. This was a stunning beauty—young, with exquisite features and a pure, ethereal temperament, outshining most entertainers.

This made the guard furious. How could such a beautiful woman be with a convict less than a pig? He rolled up his sleeves, ready to teach Xia Yan a lesson.

But he was pragmatic. He’d try to talk her out of it first.

“Miss, how could you be fooled by this pauper? He’s a convict—a defective gene type. Even if you wanted to keep someone, you should pick me, not this loser. What use is he? Utter trash.”

Before Xia Yan could speak, Miya Kui squatted down, still clutching her stomach, silver-bell laughter ringing out, unstoppable.

Seeing her so unrestrained, Xia Yan could only sigh. As annoying as the guard was, if he could make Miya Kui laugh like this, he had some merit.

Eventually, Miya Kui wiped her eyes, straightened up, and waved her hand, still smiling, “Alright, enough. Just process the paperwork.”

“Very well.” The guard threw Xia Yan another contemptuous look, utterly baffled that such a beauty would take a liking to this freeloader. With a sigh, he sneered once more at Xia Yan before turning to arrange the necessary procedures.

“My stomach hurts from laughing,” Miya Kui giggled. “Don’t worry, Xia Yan. I’ve already contacted the prison director. Even if this guard drags his feet, things will be sorted out before nightfall.”

“He really is… something else,” Xia Yan shook his head. “Not recognizing me is one thing, but he doesn’t even know you’re the top-ranked member of the organization.”

“I think it’s rather endearing,” Miya Kui chuckled. “Honestly, I wish he’d insult you some more—it’s hilarious! Xia Yan, how can someone be so funny?”

She broke into laughter again. For someone as beautiful and prominent as her to laugh so unreservedly was truly a rare sight.

After a while, the guard returned. “The procedure can go ahead—who’s paying?”

“I am,” Miya Kui answered promptly.

The guard glanced at Xia Yan with disdain. “I have no respect for freeloaders. If it weren’t for this lady, I wouldn’t even bother. How did you get so lucky?”

Miya Kui couldn’t help but laugh again. She quickly handed over a credit card. “Alright, enough. Get on with it—don’t waste any more time.”

“Uh, miss, there’s a processing fee,” the guard said, giving her a knowing wink.

“Just deduct it from the card,” Miya Kui replied seriously.

“That… won’t do,” the guard stammered, growing anxious. “Miss, we… have to follow procedure…”

But then he glanced down at the card and froze. Was he seeing things? Was he dreaming? He rubbed his eyes, and looked again. And again.

No, he wasn’t hallucinating—this was no ordinary Federation Bank card, but one exclusive to the First Human District Headquarters, and only accessible to those with special abilities from the First District.

At that moment, a portly man approached briskly from a distance, his large belly leading the way. One look, and he knew there’d been a conflict between the two distinguished guests and the guard.

Without hesitation, he slapped the young guard hard across the face, leaving five vivid red fingerprints.

The guard was stunned, barely feeling the blow—what terrified him was a single word from the lady could cost him his life.

“W-warden…” he stammered, wanting to kneel and beg for mercy, but afraid that groveling would only make things worse.

“My sincerest apologies,” the fat warden said, bowing deeply. “I’m truly sorry that my subordinate has insulted you. I’ll dismiss him immediately—or even throw him into the Criminal Prison if you wish.”

“Warden, please spare me!” the young guard cried, crawling over on his knees. “Please, sirs, I didn’t mean any harm. I was wrong, I truly was.”

“I think putting him in the Criminal Prison is fitting,” Xia Yan said coldly. “A few missions and he’ll be much wiser. Who knows, maybe he’ll win the Convict Tournament and turn his life around!”

“Please, have mercy!” the guard sobbed.

“That’s enough, Xia Yan. It’s a small matter,” Miya Kui intervened on his behalf. After all, the guard had amused her greatly, and she’d developed quite a fondness for him. “Let it go. He’s not bad—he’s wasted here, really.”

“Very well,” Xia Yan conceded. He wasn’t about to argue with Miya Kui over this.

“Thank you, thank you!” The guard wept with gratitude, nearly bowing his head to the ground.

“And by the way,” Miya Kui added with a smile, “the man beside me isn’t just any freeloader—he’s a member of the organization’s management. You really shouldn’t have provoked him; he has quite a body count.”

At the mention of the organization’s management, the guard was utterly petrified. Not just an ability user, but a boss among them. He didn’t dare meet Xia Yan’s eyes, terrified his head would part from his shoulders at any moment.

Seeing him tremble, Miya Kui broke into laughter again, even pinching Xia Yan playfully—a rare display of girlishness from the organization’s top member.

“Get out of here! I’ll handle these distinguished guests myself.” The fat warden glared at the young guard, who slunk away, thoroughly cowed.

The warden led Xia Yan and Miya Kui to an office to wait, then personally went to check on Ding Li’s status. The Criminal Prison comprised several facilities, so finding one person took some time.

After about an hour, the warden returned with two guards.

“Well?” Xia Yan asked, tense because Ding Li had not appeared.

“Well…” The warden hesitated, regretful. “Mr. Xia Yan, the convict Ding Li died about a month ago.”

“What… how could that happen?” Xia Yan’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“How did he die?” Xia Yan demanded coldly. “He’d lost a hand—did you still send him on dangerous missions?”

“No, sir,” the tall guard replied quickly. “Ding Li was killed by someone.”

“What!” Xia Yan’s fury was palpable, burning toward the tall guard.

“We were both present,” the shorter guard added. “After returning to the prison, Ding Li was spared dangerous work due to his missing hand. He managed to get by.”

“But he had a conflict with another convict named Ke Quan. Despite his injury, Ding Li was strong and had many supporters, so Ke Quan was severely beaten.”

Xia Yan listened, suppressing his rage. The one responsible for Ding Li’s death would not be forgiven.

“But none of us expected that, a month ago, a powerful figure from the Avian Clan of District Four would arrive,” the tall guard continued.

“A powerful figure?” Xia Yan’s face twisted with anger.

“Yes, and some convicts are not as ordinary as they seem,” explained the tall guard. “Ke Quan was one of these cases—lost from his family as a child, branded a convict due to a genetic flaw. Still, his family had been searching for him, and with today’s information networks, it’s only a matter of time.”

“Ke Quan turned out to be a member of the Avian Clan’s ‘Welber Family’. A major figure from the family came and had him released.”

“So why did Ding Li die?” Xia Yan demanded through gritted teeth.

The tall guard, trembling, answered, “Ke Quan bore a grudge against Ding Li and told the visiting dignitary. So Ding Li was killed, almost as an afterthought.”

The two guards looked helpless. It was a violation of protocol, but as ordinary men, they dared not defy such a powerful figure.

The warden only smiled bitterly. He had seen much tragedy in his time, but this was particularly hard to witness.

After a long silence, Xia Yan sighed, accepting the truth. “Where is Ding Li buried? I want to visit his grave.”

Hatred burned within him. This debt of blood must be repaid—no matter where Ke Quan hid, no matter how powerful the Welber Family, they would face his wrath. The perpetrator would die.

The warden quickly offered to lead the way.

“Xia Yan, let me come with you,” Miya Kui said, worried.

“It’s alright, Miss Miya. I’d like to speak to Ding Li alone,” Xia Yan replied with a bitter smile, then followed the warden out.

—

Xia Yan knelt before Ding Li’s grave, grief etched into his features. He basked in the silence, eyes misted with tears.

Men are taught not to weep, but sometimes, when no one is watching, it’s permissible to cry in silence.

He lingered there as dusk fell, finally speaking softly.

“Ding Li, brother… This is my fault. If only I’d come two months earlier, things might be different.”

He wiped his eyes, his smile more painful than tears. “You were so strong, Ding Li, yet you couldn’t make it through these last few months.”

“I… I don’t know whether to blame myself or you.”

“I still remember your smile, clear as day. I wish I could see it again—why can’t I have even that small wish?”

He sighed deeply. “You were my best friend—the one who lost a hand just to fulfill our plan. I knew then, my truest brother was Ding Li.”

“When you slapped me just to make me keep going, I understood what kind of man you were.”

“I’m sorry, truly sorry. If only I hadn’t wasted time.”

He murmured, “Ding Li, there’s so much I want to tell you, so much…”

Word by word, Xia Yan recounted his journey since leaving the prison: meeting Gu Yue’er, meeting Tao Lu, and all the events that followed.

“Ding Li, can you believe someone like me became a hero in her eyes?”

“I really did it. Everyone cheered for me.”

“Sometimes, seeing my friends anxious, I can’t help but smile to myself.”

“Tao Lu left me too. She must be scared—how will she manage?”

“But you, you’ll never see any of it.”

He lingered long at the grave, whispering his heart to Ding Li. The hatred he felt, he buried deep inside. His strength was not enough now to avenge Ding Li, but he would never forget.

Never, ever.

In his heart, Xia Yan swore a silent oath.

—

Fuxiang City, Tao family villa.

“Papa…” Tao Lu sat on a wooden bench, the scene around her like a forest. She bent her head, idly passing the time.

She was waiting, waiting for her bloodline to awaken.

Mr. Tao came over and handed her a backpack, sighing, “Lu, you didn’t want to see that boy, so he asked me to give you these things.”

Tao Lu opened the backpack. Inside were many belongings she hadn’t managed to take—her C102 Fanatic, D203 Frenzy, the D-grade Dagger ‘Allure’, and some more personal items.

“That guy…” Tao Lu smiled at the familiar objects, memories surfacing.

From the bottom of the bag, she pulled out a letter—from Xia Yan.

She smiled again, her sweet face betraying no sadness. In this day and age, who still writes letters? How corny. Was it a love letter? Why wasn’t there a giant heart on it?

She grumbled as she opened it, revealing Xia Yan’s handwriting.

Tao Lu, are you doing well? After my fight with Lai Wen, you disappeared. I haven’t been able to find you since.

Are you about to awaken your alien bloodline? Are you afraid things will change between us?

I understand—after all, we’re the most in-tune partners.

Becoming your partner made me so happy. If you’d refused me back then, I don’t know where I’d be—maybe dead already.

By the way, you left your things behind, so I brought them to you. It wasn’t easy to find your house, and I was turned away at the door.

I know you don’t want to see me now, so I wrote this letter. It’s cheesy, but please don’t laugh.

Please believe me…

Tao Lu!

No matter how hard or rough the future, I will always, always stand by your side. I will never betray you—I swear it on my life!

The letter ended there, signed by Xia Yan. His handwriting was not especially beautiful, but Tao Lu read each word carefully, not missing a single one.

Her eyes grew wet, and she whispered, “Xia Yan, no matter what the future holds, you’ll always stand by me, never betray me…”

“But…” she puzzled, “even if I wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t betray me? Swearing on your life—does that mean this?”

She wiped her tears, smiling bitterly. “But Xia Yan isn’t that kind of person, and I don’t like him… No, I almost did. Just a little more…”

“Don’t worry, Xia Yan. I’ll try hard too—I’ll have my own ambitions. One day, I’ll stand at the peak of this world. When I have my own strength, I’ll never betray you either. Tao Lu is your ally—she swears it on her life.”

She handed the D203 handgun to her father. “Dad, could you give this to Xia Yan? Tell him, keeping this gun by his side is like having me there—he must never forget me.”

Mr. Tao took the gun, and though Tao Lu’s expression was sad, there was also a clarity in her eyes.

Looking at the envelope, she seemed to see Xia Yan himself, and softly murmured, “Xia Yan, you almost captured my heart—just a little more and I’d have fallen for you. But a Tao Lu without ambition wouldn’t be herself. You’re dangerous, but it’s alright—just a little more, and nothing would have stopped me.”

At that moment, Tao Lu felt a clarity within, a sense of comfort as if bathed in light. In that instant, her alien bloodline finally awakened.