Chapter 79 – The Truth is Revealed

After setting the six-month deadline with Shi Chan, Xi Ming began accelerating his plans to bring down the Empire.

For now, Xi Ming couldn’t yet use his power to “counterattack” all the slander directed at him, but Shi Chan truly wanted these people to pay the price…

Soon, news about Xi Ming’s omega, Shi Chan, began spreading across the StarNet. Various rumors and speculations arose—although there were no photos, many managed to confirm the existence of “Shi Chan” through different channels.

For instance, Shi Chan had voluntarily followed Xi Ming when he left Capital Star. He had constantly been seen with an omega during his time with the space pirates. Some investigators even speculated that this omega, spotted deep within the stellar zone, was possibly connected to radiation healing…

Any news related to Xi Ming had always topped StarNet trends, and this time was no different. Most of the attention soon shifted to Shi Chan.

Many of Shi Chan’s “former” friends/classmates/neighbors from Capital Star came forward to share memories: that Shi Chan had liked Xi Ming since childhood, that he once attended a certain school, that he had cut ties with his family, that the Shi family had gone bankrupt amid Capital Star’s unrest, and that a certain alpha once fell madly in love with him but was harshly rejected…

Of course, along with the valid ones, there were rumors even Shi Chan found unfamiliar and laughable—like claims that he had an arrogant, rude personality, that he’d juggled multiple alphas and manipulated their feelings, or that he’d toyed with the emotions of his omega classmates and was socially ostracized at school…

When Shi Chan saw people slandering Xi Ming on StarNet, he got angry. But when it came to false rumors about himself, he felt nothing—some of them even struck him as hilarious.

As the online chatter surrounding Shi Chan escalated, the Stellar Group released a video showing Wu Lidu, the sixth imperial prince, being completely crushed in a battle with the space pirates—losing the majority of his fleet and resources in the process.

The royal family had invested a lot in promoting Wu Lidu—shaping him into the image of a “battle-hardened prince” and attributing many military victories to him.

To support this image, they needed to boast about some real achievements. This elite fleet of his had been touted as proof of his “outstanding combat skills” and “undefeated record.”

After Xi Ming’s downfall, Wu Lidu had basked in glory. A wealth of resources was poured into upgrading and maintaining the fleet under his personal command—weekly maintenance, monthly upgrades—no other force in the Empire was as privileged.

When war between the Empire and Federation broke out, Wu Lidu rarely engaged in direct combat, but the Empire’s citizens believed their beloved Sixth Prince was “locked in bitter warfare with the Zerg,” “fighting for all of humanity.”

This battle between Wu Lidu and Stellar was no secret. News of it had spread among noble families and even leaked online after Wu Lidu’s deployment. The entire Empire had been eagerly waiting for news.

By now, Wu Lidu had already slunk back from the border in disgrace. His embarrassing defeat had long been whispered among the upper class, but ordinary citizens still believed he was heroically outsmarting Xi Ming.

Wu Lidu had been on edge for days. Back when he’d framed Xi Ming and seen him crippled by radiation with useless legs, he’d thought Xi Ming was finished for good. Only then had he dared grow bolder—but never imagined Xi Ming would rise again!

“Damn it! Damn it!” Wu Lidu paced in agitation, clawing at his hair before squatting down in frustration—still clueless as to what to do.

“Get up. Look at yourself—what a pathetic sight.” Lan Wantian stood silhouetted in the doorway, fuming at the sight. How had she ended up with such a useless son? It was one thing to lack ability—but to also be spineless, indecisive? If not for her health preventing another pregnancy, she would never have placed her hopes on this fool.

After dismissing the attendants, Lan Wantian looked at Wu Lidu and lowered her voice, “Are you sure there’s no remaining evidence from back then?”

“It’s gone—definitely gone. Otherwise, why would Xi Ming have stayed quiet all these years? The people who knew anything were all dealt with.” Wu Lidu still remembered everything clearly and quickly reassured her, “Even their families met with accidents over the years.”

Lan Wantian frowned at Wu Lidu’s panicked expression. She didn’t trust his competence blindly—but those cover-ups had been her handiwork. She had made sure everything was “clean.”

Massaging her slender fingers, Lan Wantian sneered, “That Xi Ming sure is lucky. After all that, he still came through—he even survived cosmic radiation.”

“No idea how he got that kind of shitty luck!” Wu Lidu fumed.

Lan Wantian rubbed her temples. “Xi Ming released the footage of you getting your ass handed to you by the space pirates. The public is already buzzing about it.”

Wu Lidu hadn’t heard about this yet. He was instantly enraged, shouting, “When did this happen?! Why didn’t anyone tell me?! Take the video down immediately!”

“This happened this morning. You drove everyone out—who would dare to come and tell you? I only came to find you because I saw the news,” Lan Wantian spoke before Wu Lidu could open his mouth. “We’ve already started restricting the video’s circulation, but it spread too fast. There are definitely people who downloaded it before it got taken down. And don’t even think about disabling your public profile—after using your image in so much positive propaganda, shutting it down now will only draw more attention.”

It was just like those celebrities on the star network with old black marks on their accounts. Everyone might already know about it, but they still don’t dare delete it. As public figures, every move they make is scrutinized. The moment they delete a post, the entire network gets notified, drawing even more eyes. It’s better to play dead—some die-hard fans won’t believe any accusation against their idol and won’t go digging for the truth anyway.

The empire’s star network was now in a similar state. Those who believed in Wu Lidu and those who doubted him were in a massive shouting match. The whole platform was a mess.

“People are already beginning to question what really happened during 823. What were you thinking? Even if you can’t beat Xi Ming, you shouldn’t have openly threatened him!” Lan Wantian scolded, clearly irritated by Wu Lidu’s stupidity. “If he really doesn’t have evidence, then there’s no need to worry too much. People online are fickle. When the video buzz dies down, and we have the Empire pin a crime on him the next time he fails, no one will believe a word he says.”

“This period of unrest isn’t a bad thing either,” a ruthless glint flashed in Lan Wantian’s eyes. “When we settle accounts later, these people will be made examples of. Once it’s over, the royal family’s authority will be even stronger.”

“But what about the war? What if the Empire loses to the Federation?” Wu Lidu asked, still anxious. The Empire had clearly been on the losing side lately.

Lan Wantian remained indifferent. “The Empire and Federation have fought countless times, winning and losing back and forth. This time will be no different.”

Worst case, if they surrendered, they could just offer up a few “Empire criminals” and shift public anger onto them. The royal family would always remain in control.

The mother and son had their plans, but their greatest mistake was overconfidence.

Because Xi Ming actually did have evidence from 823.

. . .

On a forum on the Star Network:

[No idea why, but I’ve been insanely unlucky lately. Missed passing the xx exam by just 0.01 points—the other guy passed, and I didn’t. Got a great deal on a star tour around Ring Ten, even paid the deposit, but the agency suddenly went bankrupt! Ordered a gourmet food pack online, several items were spoiled, and customer service said I didn’t buy insurance, so the risk was mine. I’m so frustrated!]

[Ah… I should be offering comfort, but I’m also having a rough time. Still lying in the hospital right now.]

[Wait, my friend’s been super unlucky too lately. If you guys weren’t talking about totally different things, I’d think my friend wrote this post.]

[…To be honest, me too… and a lot of people around me have started experiencing bad luck around the same time. So I asked them, and also talked to a few lucky ones who avoided disaster. And I found—]

[Found what? Spit it out! Don’t leave us hanging!]

[Sorry, I slipped and fell before finishing the message. Just got back from getting treated. Sad face.jpg. Anyway, here’s what I discovered: I asked 13 people. 11 of them had cursed Shi Chan online. The other 2 hadn’t—and they were the ones who didn’t get unlucky. That’s all I’m saying. I’m out. Fist salute.jpg]

[???!!!]

[What do you mean by that???]

[WTH, I’ve been cursed with bad luck too—and I did curse him online!]

[!!!!]

[Come back and explain properly!]

[Can’t you tell from the comments? It’s obvious—everyone getting unlucky has insulted that person.]

[Huh?? It has to be a coincidence!!! No way!!!]

The post was originally made in a small niche forum, but that theory got picked up and spread across the star network, shooting straight to the top 3 of trending discussions. More and more people began paying attention—and confirming the pattern.

#ThoseWhoCurseShiChanWillBeCursedBack quickly took the #1 spot on the Empire’s trending list and even spread to the Federation. Some people there who had also insulted Shi Chan suddenly realized the reason for their recent streak of bad luck.

Just like Shi Chan said—he merely returned the malice directed at him. And it was only a portion. Whatever misfortune befell those people was simply what they deserved.

But this topic didn’t stay at #1 for long—because Xi Ming revealed the truth about what had happened back then.

Before people could even react, Xi Ming released damning evidence of the royal family’s shady dealings over the years—especially about Wu Lidu. Incompetent and vicious, he had murdered 7 individuals and their families to cover up his framing of Xi Ming. The only surviving witness, Luo Liang, had now reappeared in public.

At the end of the evidence drop, the Stellar Organization declared they were willing to offer protection to Xi Ming’s former subordinates and their families. They also invited all the talented individuals who had been suppressed or silenced to join them. If any of them were suffering from radiation exposure, they would receive priority treatment.