Chapter 16 High-Risk Experimental Subject  

Jing Rong reached out, gently pressing against his waist as he held him, his fingertips running through his hair.  

He gazed deeply into Jue’s eyes, where lay a frozen blue lake that had solidified over time.  

Jing Rong answered a question that hadn’t been asked: “In one world, I once encountered a kind of wolf with red fur.”  

Jue lay quietly in his arms.  

Jing Rong continued, “They were beautiful wolves—perhaps the most beautiful creatures in the world. And they were gentle by nature, very close to humans. Many people used all kinds of methods to capture them for their pelts, locking them up. But they remained docile, never biting anyone, only tearing at their cages and their own fur until their blood ran dry.”  

Jue’s fingertips slipped beneath his collar as he asked softly, “Did you keep one?”  

Jing Rong allowed his fingers to press against his chest, smiling faintly. “I have one now. And I don’t plan to give it a cage.”  

He hadn’t intended to go all the way—Jue’s body hadn’t fully recovered, and his mind was unsettled.  

The room was silent. Jue lay in his arms, wrapped in his coat.  

The two were as close as they could be.  

Jue kissed his neck, restrained, like a wounded little animal burrowing desperately into someone’s embrace.  

Jing Rong lifted his calm eyes. “You can bite harder.”  

Jue’s voice trembled. “Brother, you’ll get hurt.”  

Jing Rong said, “Bite.”  

A knife could cut one’s hand. He had raised the most beautiful and dangerous person in the world—he didn’t care what it cost.  

A sharp pain soon pierced Jing Rong’s neck.  

Jue bit down silently but fiercely, even as his trembling grew more and more violent.  

The air grew tense with the fluctuations of Mental Power.  

626 suddenly appeared. “Sorry to interrupt, but his Mental Power is spiking violently! He’s like a nuclear bomb about to go off! Please be extremely careful!!”  

Jing Rong replied, “Understood.”  

But he didn’t move. He let Jue sink his teeth into his neck.  

Until blood welled up.  

Tasting the metallic tang, Jue slowly exhaled, the haze in his eyes fading slightly as he leaned in to lick away the blood.  

Throughout it all, Jing Rong remained completely relaxed, his fingertips still lightly tracing Jue’s bare back.  

He heard Jue murmur, “Brother, living is painful.”  

Jing Rong met his gaze. “Yes, living is painful. Cry if you need to.”  

Jue couldn’t cry. He was used to facing everything—his emotions, his pain—with cold composure, because being SSS-Rank meant carrying the hopes of many. Including his own.  

Later, those people all died. Scattered.  

Jue collapsed, drained of strength, as Jing Rong pressed him down onto the pillow, his breath hitching or halting with Jing Rong’s movements.  

Jing Rong’s expression was calm, but his actions completely controlled Jue. When Jue could bear it no longer, he gently pulled him into an embrace, watching as a single tear finally fell from those blue eyes.  

Jue soon regained his composure.  

He lay beside Jing Rong, sharing the same cigarette.  

“I once thought, since I’m SSS-Rank, I could kill all the Ork soldiers.”  

Jing Rong listened quietly.

“Later, I realized this only triggered even more extreme and brutal wars. The Olke Empire developed increasingly more High-Risk Weapons targeting our Mental Power. The death toll kept rising.”

“I’m not an outstanding leader. I stayed in the empire for a long time, but the longer I remained, the more I understood this wasn’t a war we could win.”

“Our nation fell, our homes were destroyed. The Auerke People pursued militarism relentlessly, with only hatred growing stronger.”

“I tried to convince myself to let go of the hatred, but sometimes…”

Jue began coughing violently at this point.

Jing Rong took the cigarette from his fingers and continued, “Sometimes you just can’t.”

Jing Rong’s voice soothed every restless strand of Mental Power in the air: “You are a great, far-sighted leader. Because of you, the suffering of every person on this land won’t be buried in obscurity. The people of the Isle of Blazing Fire have fiery temperaments—if the fighting continues, they’ll be wiped out completely.”

He had fought in many wars. In distant memories, he had once battled ceaselessly through the night until every bone in his body turned to ash.

But that was all he remembered. Which war it was, who he fought alongside—all of it forgotten.

Jue didn’t need any more reasoning. He had simply accumulated too much pain over time, and this world had no one who could ease his suffering.

As the cigarette burned out, Jue rasped, “Brother.”

“Have you ever hated anyone?”

Jing Rong shook his head. “No.”

Ever since he could remember, this had been his nature—unchanged, just like his severe prosopagnosia.

He quietly gazed at the eyelashes of the man before him, that tranquil blue like the depths of an icy plain. He felt his own affection and excitement surging as wildly as a blizzard across the tundra.

Hearing his name called in this world, his voice was calm and natural.

“Jue, I hate what you hate.”

*

When the violent commotion erupted downstairs, Jue had Jing Rong pinned against the headboard, kissing him fiercely.

Jing Rong lay beneath him, utterly compliant and at ease, every fingertip relaxed.

Jue heard the noise and said, “We should go down and check.”

But he didn’t move, still staring at Jing Rong.

The black-haired, black-eyed youth before him seemed to possess an irresistibly bewitching magic, offering him a joy and solace he had never known in his life.

If gods existed in this world, they must look like this.

Jue murmured, “If I were a king, I’d lock you away in a palace, never to see the light of day again.”

His eyes were clear and sharp, as though this were a perfectly rational plan.

At this bold, almost wild wish, Jing Rong chuckled. “Alright, I’ll wait.”

They dressed and went downstairs, only to find a frail, wounded Auerke soldier pinning the shopkeeper against a pillar.

“We fight on the front lines, and you lowly scum injure my leg, nearly killing us in the snow. And now you dare serve me this swill even dogs wouldn’t eat?”

The wounded soldier leaned on his crutch, shouting furiously, his face flushed red.

The shopkeeper, much taller but silent, pressed against the wall. A fresh slap mark reddened his cheek, his dirty red hair hanging limp, as lifeless and numb as the man himself.

“I’m sorry, sir. Supplies are scarce this year. This is the best we have.”

“Liar! I just saw a gold coin in your pocket—hand it over!”

The shopkeeper finally moved, his action was to protect his pocket, but he still spoke meekly, “Sir, my daughter is in the capital’s laboratory. This is the living expenses I need to send her…”

“Daughter? You have a daughter?”

The soldier suddenly turned red-eyed and roared, “My brothers and sisters were all killed by your people, you bastard! How dare you mention that?”

“I’ll kill all of you, you scum worse than pigs and dogs…”

As the soldier cursed, he pulled out his Mental Gun. Just as the barrel was about to press against the shopkeeper’s forehead, a hand steadily gripped his wrist, forcing it back inch by inch.

Jing Rong, holding Jue’s freshly smoked cigarette between his teeth, said, “Excuse me, but that gold coin was paid by me to the shopkeeper. Please stop.”

Furious, the soldier struggled wildly, but he soon realized with terror that his wrist wouldn’t budge at all.

The black-haired, black-eyed young man before him seemed ordinary and refined, yet carried an aura that made one desperately want to flee. Those who had been on the battlefield recognized this presence all too well—it was the primal fear of a predator.

“What do you want? You’re one of the Auerke People, yet you side with these bastards? You—”

“Apologies, but please calm down.”

Jing Rong met his gaze. Due to his face blindness, he couldn’t quite focus his vision, so he softened his voice as much as possible.

By now, people from both sides had gathered. All the red-haired individuals turned to look, while the patrolling Auerke soldiers were about to arrive.

A violent conflict was on the verge of erupting.

“No one here can harm you. You’ve fought for your duty, but here are also people who’ve lost family to the war. You shouldn’t treat them unjustly.”

His voice was calm and soothing, and the earlier tension gradually dissipated under its influence.

Jing Rong’s dark eyes held only serenity. “You’ve left the battlefield. There won’t be any more scars like this.”

Under that gaze, the soldier seemed to lose all composure. He trembled violently and began to sob.

Still holding the soldier’s wrist, Jing Rong nodded to the shopkeeper. “I deeply apologize for the injustice you’ve suffered. Would you allow me to hand this man over to their guards for handling? Rest assured, you won’t face any repercussions.”

The shopkeeper stared at him blankly, dazed.

Jue, who had followed Jing Rong downstairs, lifted his hood, revealing his red hair. Though also momentarily stunned, he stepped forward and took the shopkeeper’s hand. “You can trust him.”

With everyone’s silent consent, Jing Rong guided the soldier toward the patrolling guards.

The guards were momentarily stunned, staring at him in disbelief.

They had prepared for an outbreak of conflict—such incidents had become all too common over the years. People from the prisoner town had killed their comrades, and their own soldiers had hurled abuse and plundered the town’s residents. Clashes happened daily.

No one wanted to be stationed here as guards because the Sin Island People fought like demons on the battlefield. Facing them as enemies was pure agony.

But they had never heard words like these before.

626 said, “If you hadn’t stepped in, there would’ve been bloodshed today.”

Jing Rong addressed the guards. “Post-traumatic stress disorder. Few recover from it. Take good care of him.”

“O-okay, sir. But you…” The guard hesitated, “Just who exactly are you?”

Jing Rong took a drag from his cigarette, his expression casual yet earnest. “Who I am doesn’t matter.”

He continued, his tone resolute: “I’m here to end this war.”