@NightintheGale Thank You for the Ko-fi. Here is a bonus chapter for you. Hope you enjoy it. ( $ _ $ )

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Chapter 91 Terminal Monitoring

It had been half a month since the Empire announced its fall. In those two weeks, the newly founded Steller Nation had gone from confusion, to chaos, and finally to a fragile order. Everyone was so busy that they barely had a moment to breathe.

Domestically, Xi Ming had chosen to entrust most of the administration to the main brain, assigning the majority of manpower to law enforcement—punishing criminals and tracking down fugitives.

Externally, facing the Federation, which still showed no signs of giving up its aggression, Xi Ming personally stationed himself at the front line with his forces, buying precious time for the fledgling nation to stabilize.

But while the country was gradually finding its footing, the exchanges between Xi Ming and Shi Chan grew fewer with each passing day.

Shi Chan had no interest in government affairs, nor did he care for power. Once Xi Ming became occupied with his responsibilities, the only thing left for Shi Chan to do was quietly remain by his side.

Still, life wasn’t as dull as he had expected. Shortly after they arrived at the border, Yi Fei returned in high spirits after successfully wiping out the star pirates’ base—a great achievement. Seeing Shi Chan with nothing to do, Yi Fei rounded up seven or eight omegas with A-grade physiques and declared he was forming an omega mecha squad. From then on, he pestered Shi Chan daily to join their training.

Shi Chan did have some talent for mecha piloting, but when it came to pure technique, he was no match for a natural prodigy like Yi Fei.

At first, he had been enthusiastic, but the excitement soon wore off. It became clear to him that compared to sitting in a cockpit, he much preferred the cultivation world’s way of wielding spiritual tools—such as standing atop the mecha so he could leap off at any time.

Back when he had sparred with Yi Fei, he had unconsciously used both spiritual power and divine sense, which was the only reason he won. But ever since then, in Yi Fei’s eyes, he was branded a “low-key omega mecha genius.”

Unable to shake Yi Fei off, Shi Chan eventually gave in. Each day, he spent a few hours at the training grounds, watching the group of omegas repeat their basic maneuvers over and over.

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That afternoon.

A piercing screech of metal rang out, followed by chaos erupting in the special training ground designated for omegas.

“Gods, someone help!!”

“What happened? Why did that mecha suddenly attack? Weren’t we only practicing the basics?!”

“Forget that—save him first! That’s Fang Lian’s mecha—he’s still inside! Hurry, get him out!”

“And Shi Chan He was right there—under the mecha! Quick, call for a med-pod!!”

Coughing lightly from the dust stirred up by the crash, Shi Chan waved his hand.
“I’m fine. Go check on Fang Lian first.”

The others frantically pried open the cockpit. Once they confirmed the pilot was still conscious, they pulled him out and laid him on the ground.

Fortunately, Fang Lian’s injuries were not severe.

“It’s fine. I checked—it was just an accidental trigger of semi-automatic mode. Accidents and injuries are part of mecha training. Fang Lian, you can use my med-pod later. My brother modified it—it’s even better than the infirmary’s.” Yi Fei, the one most familiar with training among them, quickly identified the cause.

“Everyone, let’s wrap it up for today. We’ll continue tomorrow. I’ll take Fang Lian for treatment.” After settling the shaken omegas, Yi Fei helped Fang Lian up, then turned to Shi Chan.
“Chanchan, are you alright? Want to come with us?”

Shi Chan shook his head. “Go on ahead. I’ll head back on my own.” He wasn’t going in the same direction as them anyway—he still planned to meet up with Xi Ming.

“Alright then. Be careful on your way, Shishi. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

After saying their goodbyes, the omegas left together.

Shi Chan let out a long breath and rubbed his forehead in frustration.

He really had grown complacent. His reflexes had dulled. With the speed of that mecha, he should have easily dodged. But distracted, and unable to sense any killing intent, he had been struck on the arm.

Thankfully, his spiritual power had shielded him. HeYi Feiwasn’t hurt—but the terminal on his wrist seemed to have taken the hit and broken.

Looking up at the large display showing the time, he noted it was only three in the afternoon. Xi Ming wouldn’t finish his work for several more hours.

---

At a small repair shop near the Steller military headquarters, the shabby-looking shop owner turned the wrist terminal over several times in his hands.

“Sir, looks like the dented casing damaged the internal parts. I’ll need to take it apart to see if I’ve got compatible replacements.”

“This doesn’t look like a standard model. If I don’t have the parts, I’ll reassemble it for you. But if you still want it fixed, you may need to find the manufacturer—though with so many companies going bankrupt during the war, it might not exist anymore. My shop carries one of the most complete stockpiles. If I don’t have the part, it’ll be hard to fix anywhere else.”

The terminal’s owner—Shi Chan—nodded casually.
“Go ahead. If you can fix it, just tell me when to pick it up.”

“Alright, if I’ve got the parts, it won’t take long. Don’t worry, I’ll open it now.” The shop owner spoke as he used his tools to carefully dismantle the casing, peering at the delicate structures inside.

Halfway through, his expression froze.

“What is it?” Shi Chan, having no background in such technology, couldn’t understand the components. Seeing the man’s strange look, he assumed it was simply a matter of lacking parts.
“If it can’t be fixed, forget it.”

The repairman glanced up at the young man before him and hesitated.
“This terminal… has it ever been repaired before?”

Shi Chan shook his head.

Hearing that, the man looked even more puzzled.
“Then… where did you get it? The hardware has been tampered with—someone added a moni—”

Before he could finish, the shop’s front door shattered. A fully armed squad burst inside, while the street outside had fallen unnaturally silent.

“Canchan.”

A voice Shi Chan knew better than any other—one he heard every single day—rang out.

Shi Chan lifted his head in surprise, his eyes lighting up. His voice unconsciously grew lighter.
“You’re here?”

But as soon as he spoke, he noticed Xi Ming’s gaze had already fallen on the dismantled terminal lying on the workbench.

Knowing how closely Xi Ming paid attention to his movements, Shi Chan gave a helpless explanation.
“I accidentally broke it today. I thought I’d get it repaired.”

He had assumed it was only a minor issue—something that could be fixed before Xi Ming finished work, so he could be back in time.

While Shi Chan was speaking, the shop owner behind the counter slowly widened his eyes. The man who had just burst into the shop… why did he look so familiar? That face—wasn’t it the one splashed across the star network news every day? The rebel leader… no, no, the head of the newly founded nation, Xi Ming?!

How could he possibly be here?

His gaze shifted to the half-disassembled terminal on the table. Remembering the hidden monitoring device he had just discovered inside, cold sweat instantly soaked his back. His mind whirled with all the bloody rumors about Xi Ming, his heart pounding so hard it felt ready to burst, dizziness rising with his fear.

Had he… just uncovered some secret of the rebel leader’s organization?!

“M-My Lord, I didn’t know it was you who installed the monitor—” The shopkeeper’s legs gave out. He nearly dropped to his knees, his words spilling out before he could stop them. The moment he heard himself, he collapsed completely, trembling with regret and terror.

Why hadn’t he thought before speaking?!!

Shi Chan, who had just started to feel relieved, froze blankly when the words registered.

“A… monitoring device?” he echoed softly, blinking.

The tall man beside him stiffened. He reached out to grip Shi Chan’s arm tightly, tension flashing in his eyes.
“Canchan, let’s go back.”

Shi Chan’s gaze drifted to the dismantled terminal—the one that belonged to him. Then to Xi Ming, whose expression had shifted the moment those words were spoken.

Even if he was slow, the meaning was clear.

The monitor… was tied to Xi Ming.

In that instant, the joy Shi Chan had felt upon seeing him plummeted into an icy abyss. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

A monitor.

Xi Ming had installed a monitoring device in the bracelet he’d given him?

That single thought consumed his mind, repeating again and again—

Xi Ming had installed a monitoring device in his bracelet…

“Canchan!” Xi Ming called urgently when Shi Chan remained silent. Ignoring everyone around them, he tried to meet his eyes. “Listen to me—”

Shi Chan said nothing, but the faint tremor of his lashes betrayed the storm within.

Five years…

Xi Ming’s grip tightened, his usually calm voice raw with desperation.
“Canchan, I’m sorry. Please—give me some time, let me explain…”

Shi Chan stared straight at him, his usually gentle gaze now clouded with grievance.
“I only want to know—have you been using that monitor to watch me?”

Xi Ming froze.

Seeing his reaction, Shi Chan’s eyes instantly reddened, tears brimming and refusing to be held back.

How could this be…?

They had been together for five years. In those five years, Shi Chan had laid everything bare before him—without hiding a single thing. And yet… even so, he still hadn’t earned his trust?

His thoughts were a chaotic storm. Scenes of their years together flickered in his mind. The shopkeeper’s words echoed on repeat. The image and voice of the man before him blurred.

His heart, only now registering the shock, throbbed with a mix of bitterness, suffocation, ache, and tearing pain—emotions fermenting and spreading, solidifying into a single urge: to escape.

Tears slid down his face, but he felt nothing. He told himself it must be the pheromones, the temporary mark, the dependence an omega couldn’t help but feel toward his alpha.

It didn’t matter.

He had long been used to distrust. Long been used to being used by those close to him.

He should have known.

Head lowered, Shi Chan pulled his hand free, taking a step back—whether in avoidance or fear, even he couldn’t tell.

Because Xi Ming knew Shi Chan so well—knew the strange qualities of the young man—he panicked even more when Shi Chan slipped from his grasp.

He lunged forward, wrapping both arms tightly around him, all composure gone. His eyes were frantic, his voice unsteady, stripped bare of pride as he begged,
“Canchan! Don’t be sad! It’s my fault—please, just let me explain, don’t leave me!”

Though his voice wasn’t loud, the silence in the shop made every word ring clearly. None of the soldiers Xi Ming had brought, nor the terrified shopkeeper who had spoken out of turn, dared to make a sound.

Since the war’s outbreak, Xi Ming had swept through half of the habitable stars with unstoppable force. Coupled with his legendary past, most associated his name with vengeance, ruthlessness, and rivers of blood.

Everyone knew there was an omega by his side, one who had accompanied him since the days of hardship. But because of the interstellar prejudice against omegas, people thought little of it. At best, they assumed the omega was someone Xi Ming controlled and used—few believed a vengeful man like him would truly care.

Even within the ever-expanding Steller organization, Shi Chan’s quiet existence—never meddling in power, only mingling idly with other omegas—“proved” those assumptions. To most, he might be important, but not nearly as important as Xi Ming’s ambition.

Even now, when Xi Ming abandoned his base mid-duty and rushed here, even after being caught over the hidden monitor, his subordinates merely thought: As expected, he trusts no one—not even the omega who has stood beside him all these years.

But then Xi Ming spoke. His words carried pleading, panic, fragility—laid bare for all to hear.

And in that moment, the onlookers fell utterly silent, shaken.

Who could have imagined—the legendary Xi Ming, before his omega, would reveal this side of himself?

None of them dared dwell on it, for fear that simply knowing might get them silenced.

But Xi Ming had forgotten them all. His eyes held only Shi Chan. The only thing he knew was this: he could not let him leave.

Yet when his hands closed over Shi Chan’s again, Shi Chan hesitated, then firmly pushed them away.

Xi Ming’s eyes darkened with despair. He stared, like a man on death row awaiting his sentence.

“I’m not leaving.” Shi Chan’s voice was weary, but resolute. “Just give me a space alone. I need time to calm down.” He turned his head aside, tired. “When I come out, then I’ll hear your explanation about the monitor. Can you do that?”

His heart was a tangled mess. On one hand, he couldn’t accept this betrayal. On the other, he kept searching for reasons to excuse Xi Ming.

He no longer knew what were truly his thoughts, and what were the pheromones’ influence.

Xi Ming’s breath grew ragged, his gaze a storm of madness and struggle. With great difficulty, he forced out,
“Alright.”

But in his heart, he knew—no matter what, he could never accept letting Shi Chan go.