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Strapped
Alvin picked up his phone, his fingers hovering over the number he had on speed dial. The screen lit his face, stark and pale. Memories of the past two days flashed before his eyes. The grainy footage, the coat, the betrayal that might not be. He groaned, lowering the phone onto the table like it weighed a hundred pounds. He rested his head on the desk and began to knock his forehead against it, continually, a dull, rhythmic thud. Frustration wasn’t half as bad as shame. Having to call his suspected enemy to come watch the child was taking a toll on him, grinding him down bone by bone. Pride had a taste, and it was bitter. Aurelio made a little sound from the swinging basket where Alvin had placed him in the study as he paced. He stood up and pocketed his phone, then grabbed the child, tucking him against his chest like a shield. After locking the study securely…three bolts, two wards…he made his way to his room, each step heavier than the last. “Should we call that stupid Icema
No good choice
The workload was enormous, and Alvin was hunched over his desk all day, checking and rechecking facts until the numbers blurred and the words bled into one another. His eyes burned, dry and gritty, but he didn’t dare blink for too long. Blinking meant missing something. Missing something meant dying. “Master, new sets of humans were sent to a mutant lab in Mayga,” the system’s voice cut through the quiet, clipped and urgent. “And some strange weapons were moved in, which were used to fortify transportation portals. Do you want to take a look?” Alvin stared at the information on his screen for three whole minutes. The satellite feed painted the scene in cold, merciless detail. Another stronghold, though not as tightly protected as their Dark Owl fortress base since it was just a transit point; a throat in the network, not the heart. More than a dozen teenagers were moved inside, shoved into warehouses and dungeons like cattle, their faces blank with shock, awaiting their bitter f
PERFECTIONIST
Murong Wuque stayed wide awake. His body didn’t need sleep to function. Cultivation had long since burned that mortal weakness from his bones, but he’d made it a habit because of Alvin. He couldn’t understand the reason Alvin kept blowing hot and cold, yanking him from scorching hope to arctic doubt until he questioned the very shape of his own heart. Unable to find rest, he stood, rolled the tension from his shoulders until his neck gave a low, brittle pop, and pulled his laptop from the workstation. An enormous backlog of commitments waited for him like a line of kneeling supplicants, and he began to deal with them one by one. After coming to Earth, he’d established businesses that grew like wildfire, becoming one of the most feared underground powers in less than a decade. He manufactured elixirs that could knit a shattered dantian overnight, miracle drugs that dragged the dying back by their collars, and clothes woven with defensive arrays so fine they could shrug off a snip
Aftermath
Ghost island, evil organization’s tier 1 base. The room was pitch black, with corpse soldiers dressed in black cloaks standing as sentinels. In the middle was a huge fiery pit, resembling a volcanic lake. A huge blood-red iron floated above the fiery crater, flaming, like it could devour the world with its heat. Despite the high temperature in the room caused by the unnatural volcanic pit, one couldn't help but feel a spine-deep shiver course through their bodies the moment they entered the room. From the volcanic pit, agonizing growls could be heard coming. A shadow cast beneath the volcanic lake. From under it, a creature clawed upwards, howling. The creature finally became visible. It was a man, but it looked nothing like one. Its body had been entirely mutated. Only the now useless organ dangling between its thigh was the indicator he used to be a man. Its skin was split apart, skin like red clay, cracks visible on it like parched ground. Its hair was nearly nonexistent, n
Seed of discord
Alvin stayed for a few more minutes to get a hold on his mind. Another few minutes were spent examining the secret compartment again for possible discrepancies. Finding none, he made his way outside to the bathroom. This time, the communication devices were locked in a computerized cabinet inside the hidden compartment. Then he made his way to the bathroom to clean up. Another thirty minutes was spent soaking in a tub of warm herbal water. The soothing herbs did nothing to calm the confusion and guilt in his heart. Confused because he couldn't determine if Murong Wuque was truly the enemy working against him. Guilty because doubting someone who had been nothing but good to you was despicable and traitorous. He groaned and slipped under the water, hoping the lack of air would finally shock his body into getting his shit together. Inside the room, Aurelio finally dozed off. Murong Wuque exhaled and set him down in his baby cot placed beside the adults’ bed. Layers of protective
Ally or enemy?
Back to the present. (Villa number seven) Alvin couldn't wrap his head around it. Murong Wuque was the one who loved him the most. Why would he betray him? What need did he see to stab him in the back? His love for Alvin was sincere, that much was visible, even to the blind. If the love wasn't sincere and strong enough, the soul tie wouldn't have formed between them. The soul tie aside, Murong Wuque had risked his own safety numerous times to help him out, save his life. If he really wanted to sabotage him, why not let the evil organization do it themselves? Lord Ning alone from the dark owl fortress would have been enough to deal with him. Why would Murong Wuque do everything to bring the dead him back to life, only to stab him in the back by going to his safe to steal info? “Could this be a misunderstanding?” His eyes went to Murong Wuque, who was smiling at Aurelio and playing with him, eyes relaxed and bright with joy. Alvin shook his head. Murong Wuque's shade of silv
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