Chapter 38: So It Was All a Lie?

After meeting with Lu Zhanxing, Shao Ye came back a wreck—no soul, no fire, just a hollow shell of a man stumbling through the motions like the walking dead.

His sister, Shao Lan, was smart enough to keep her mouth shut on the way home. She stuck to his side, gently supporting him, until they made it back to his place.

The second the door clicked shut, he crumpled onto the bed like his strings had been cut. His dead eyes brimmed with unshed tears, his voice a low, ragged whisper drenched in exhaustion and grief.

“Just leave,” he croaked. “I need to be alone for a while.”

Shao Lan leaned in close, all tender smiles and soft whispers. She tucked the blanket snugly around him like the caring sister she pretended to be. “Don’t be too sad, big brother. You still have me. It’ll all be okay.”

No response.

She lingered, her voice dripping with pity and suppressed tears, but the second she turned her back, her mask dropped. That sweet, sisterly face twisted into something dark—devilish even. Her lips curled in a wicked smirk as her thoughts turned sharp and cruel.

“Lovebirds, huh? What a joke,” she sneered silently. “Turns out my idiot brother’s just been living in his own pathetic little fantasy.”

Her inner monologue exploded with gleeful malice. “Ha! Ha ha ha! Now you’ll never leave me, dear brother. You’ll stay right here, right where you belong. With me. And only me!”

But the moment she shut the door behind her, the vibe in the room flipped.

Shao Ye shot upright, the hollow act gone in a flash. He strode straight to his desk, grabbed his laptop, and got to work like a man on a mission. With a few quick clicks, the security feed for his front door popped up on the screen. He watched until he was sure Shao Lan was long gone, then moved to the window and swung it open.

Outside, a small garden stretched out below, quiet and unassuming. A tiny figure zipped into view—a hummingbird, no bigger than a butterfly, flitting in without a sound. It landed gently in his palm, and up close, its true nature became clear. This wasn’t any ordinary bird—it was a mechanical marvel, precision-crafted and utterly silent.

The little bot’s body glimmered faintly before projecting an image: Ye Li, sharp and professional as always.

“Good evening, sir,” Ye Li said with a small bow. “It’s been a while.”

Shao Ye didn’t bother with pleasantries. He was still raw, his emotions ripped open by Lu Zhanxing’s earlier words. His tone was sharp, bordering on fury.

“Where the hell is Lu Zhanxing?! Didn’t he call me out just to meet? What was all that for? Just to rip me apart with those damn words?!”

Ye Li, unflappable as ever, jumped in to explain. “You’ve got it all wrong, sir.”

“The Alliance Committee initially refused to let Commander Lu represent the military at these negotiations. They claimed his injuries—and your connection to him as his Omega—made him unfit for duty. But Commander Lu wouldn’t accept that. He signed an oath of military liability, pushing through despite his recovery being incomplete. He fought to come to the Eighth Star. For you.”

Shao Ye felt a sharp jolt in his chest.

His voice trembled slightly, laced with worry as he pressed,

“Lu Zhanxing’s injuries… still not healed? And that damned military pledge… What exactly did he promise?”

Ye Li answered calmly, almost detached, “The Alliance promised no reparations, no territorial concessions. Instead, they’re demanding the Rebels compensate all damages in the Eighth Galaxy, take full responsibility for rebuilding, and withdraw entirely once the reconstruction is done. Oh, and they’re forcing them to disclose their biochemical experiment data and the formula for their enhanced poison gas.”

The moment Shao Ye heard this, rage bubbled up so fiercely he wanted to curse out loud.

This? This wasn’t a negotiation.

This was a damn wish list straight out of some cosmic fairy tale.

Even the most ancient turtle sitting at the bottom of a wishing well wouldn’t dare to dream this big.

What the hell did they take Lu Zhanxing for?

Some kind of omnipotent god who could grant any damn miracle on demand?

Without him, the Alliance Committee wouldn’t even have the nerve to dream of such terms. Hell, if the Rebels decided to demand the Eighth Galaxy, the Alliance might’ve thrown in the Seventh Galaxy as a bonus—gift-wrapped with a bow.

And now? Now they had the gall to shove a man who’d barely clawed his way back from the gates of hell into this mess, to face someone like Shao Lan, the Rebel’s legendary enigma. Then they dared to tack on these ludicrous terms on top?

If it weren’t for Shao Ye and Shao Lan using their return as leverage to quietly push Shao Ye’s sister to withdraw her forces, the Rebels would’ve already stormed the capital star, the last sanctuary of the aristocracy.

The Rebels retreat voluntarily, and suddenly the Alliance Committee starts strutting around like victors? They knew damn well how outrageous their demands were.

Cowards.

They didn’t have the guts to face the Rebels themselves, so they shoved Lu Zhanxing into the fire.

“Motherfuckers. A bunch of gutless bastards!” Shao Ye snarled, the words escaping in an unfiltered outburst of fury.

He turned to Ye Li, eyes sharp. “Lu Zhanxing didn’t agree to this bullshit, did he?”

Ye Li’s response came steady, but it hit like a hammer. “Commander Lu agreed. That’s why he’s here in the Eighth Galaxy to see you.”

Shao Ye froze.

For a moment, all he could do was laugh bitterly, the corners of his mouth twitching in disbelief. One word drifted to the forefront of his mind.

Heroes always fall for their damn Achilles' heel.

But no way in hell would Shao Ye admit he was anyone’s so-called ‘Achilles' heel.’

He let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle, lowering his gaze as he muttered, “Idiot…”

Ye Li, sensing the turbulence beneath Shaoye’s calm surface, tried to offer some solace. “Commander Lu’s words in the meeting room were for Commander Shao and the Alliance Committee’s ears. It was to lower Commander Shao’s guard and show that his personal life doesn’t interfere with his political decisions.”

“I know…” Shaoye whispered. “But when he said those things… he didn’t even have the guts to look me in the eye. I’ve never seen him so fucking spineless before.”

And yet…

Even knowing it was all an act, every cold, calculated word still left a dull ache stabbing at Shao Ye’s chest. Love had never burned him before, but now he’d tasted it—raw and bitter.

He tried convincing himself it wasn’t a big deal, forcing his mind to steer away from the storm raging inside. But it was no use. That idiot had already gotten under his skin.

Ye Li’s voice came slow and deliberate, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Sir... you know, what Commander Lu said back there? Those words damn near killed him."

"And don’t forget—he’s still wearing your wedding ring. Every sting you felt? He felt it too."

"When he left, he had to inject a sedative straight into his veins just to steady his heart rate."

Shao Ye’s head snapped up, shock scrawled all over his face.

Lu Zhanxing knew every twist and turn of his emotions. The rage. The sorrow. The raw vulnerability Shao Ye thought he’d hidden so well in that conference room—Lu Zhanxing felt it all. And yet, he turned away, his voice as cold as steel, throwing those brutal words right at him.

Why? To hide his own damn face.

Because loving someone enough to wound them just so they’d hold it together? That took a kind of courage Shao Ye wasn’t sure he’d ever understand.

His gaze drifted down to the ring still wrapped around his finger, the weight of it suddenly unbearable. "Is he okay?" he asked, voice cracking under the strain.

"He’s out of danger," Ye Li assured him.

Relief came crashing down, but it didn’t last long. Worry surged in its wake as Shao Ye muttered, "But now Ah Lan’s doubled security, tracking my every move. Even messages have to go old-school—pen, paper, and luck. When this negotiation wraps up... I don’t think I’ll get another chance to see him."

Ye Li’s expression didn’t falter. "Sir, that’s why I’m here."

Without another word, the mechanical bird perched beside them began to shift. Pieces snapped apart, clicked back together, rearranging themselves with almost eerie precision. A small circular frame emerged, barely large enough to hold an adult.

"This," Ye Li said, gesturing toward the contraption, "is a prototype teleportation device. Developed using the Alliance’s latest wormhole-grade materials."

Shao Ye’s jaw dropped. "A teleporter? You mean the kind from sci-fi magazines? You’re saying it’s real?"

He’d read all about the theories years ago—half-finished concepts and speculative blueprints.

But to see one? To use one? And not just for packages or data streams—this was human transport. Flesh and blood. This wasn’t just cutting-edge; it was rewriting the damn rules of physics.

Ye Li continued, "Yes, sir. But it’s still in the testing phase. Out of the trials we’ve run, it’s only hit a 60% success rate. And there’s a risk of interference—cosmic ions could knock you off course. You sure you want to gamble on this?"

Shao Ye’s hand clenched around his ring. Lu Zhanxing had risked everything to see him—hell, probably his career and his life. And now it was his turn to make the call.

He didn’t hesitate. "I’ll do it."

"Step into the ring," Ye Li instructed, his tone calm but firm. "Stand straight. Close your eyes. One minute, no movement."

Shao Ye followed the directions to the letter, his heartbeat pounding like war drums in his ears. Every muscle tensed as he stood inside the glowing circle, chest rising and falling with shallow, measured breaths.

"Loading teleportation program," Ye Li announced.

"Plotting destination coordinates..."

"System ready for activation."

"Ten. Nine. Eight..."

The countdown echoed like a death knell, each second stretching into an eternity. The light beneath his feet pulsed, growing brighter and warmer, lifting him off the ground.

And then, with a flash that seemed to cut through time and space itself, the ring began to rise.

Wherever the glowing circle passed, it erased reality, piece by piece, like a magic effect ripped straight from a Western fantasy film.

Starting from his heels, the light crawled upward until Shao Ye vanished completely, leaving nothing behind but empty air.

He silently counted in his head, each second dragging like a year. At 60, the minute Ye Li had promised ticked by, and Shao Ye hesitantly cracked his eyes open, heart pounding.

But instead of the familiar of Lu Zhanxing’s room, but a decrepit, abandoned factory stared back at him, cold and empty.

His stomach dropped like a stone in deep water.

Of course. Luck was never going to stick around for him, not in this lifetime.

Ye Li had warned him. The damn teleporter was still experimental, prone to misfires and wild deviations. Guess what? That misfire just became his reality.

Still, it could’ve been worse. Much worse.

A failed teleport wasn’t just a bad day—it was a death sentence. You’d either get shredded in the rift, scattered across dimensions as unrecognizable chunks, or dumped into some godforsaken corner of space, doomed to float as cosmic trash for eternity.

At least he landed whole. No missing limbs. No new holes in his body. He’d take it. Hell, he’d thank fate for the scraps if it kept him breathing.

And bonus—no witnesses. The last thing he needed was some idiot screaming about a man materializing out of thin air. That was the kind of attention that got you dissected in a lab.

He called out for Ye Li.

Silence.

Figures. Either the AI didn’t make it through, or there wasn’t a single piece of tech in this dump for it to hook into.

Fine. He knew the drill. Get to a place with cameras. Ye Li would find him. Lu Zhanxing would track him down. He just had to stay alive in the meantime.

Shao Ye slipped out of the factory, his steps slow, deliberate. The eerie silence gave way to distant chatter, and he followed the sound like a lifeline.

Hours later, his feet blistered and his patience worn thin, he stumbled into a run-down commercial street.

This wasn’t the Dust District. It wasn’t Imperial Star either. Hell, this place didn’t even look like it belonged under Alliance jurisdiction.

The air reeked of poverty. The street was a mess, lined with grimy storefronts selling everything from firearms to sex toys, with shady casinos and sleazy nightclubs squeezed in between.

Yeah, no mistaking it—this was a haven for outlaws and degenerates.

Asking for directions? Not a chance.

Strangers here didn’t give a damn about being helpful. Best-case scenario, they’d fleece him for all he had.

Worst-case? They’d strip him down for parts—literally.

Omegas got sold into brothels; Betas became walking organ donors. No one cared about consent or survival in a place like this.

Shao Ye clenched his fists, his pulse pounding in his ears. He couldn’t afford a single misstep. Not here. Not now.

Desperation clawed at him, but he swallowed it down. Time to play it smart, or this shithole might be the last place he’d ever see.

———TN: Shao Lan is downright terrifying—this woman didn’t just pull off a murder; she masterminded it with the kind of cunning that turns the impossible into child’s play.