The subordinate quickly scurried out.

Jiang Yu stared at the one-way video call request on his communication device, his expression unreadable. With a cold gaze, he lowered his eyes and tapped the “Accept” button.

To ensure privacy and convenience for operatives, the communication device had two video call modes: one-way and two-way video. Li Po had mistakenly triggered the one-way video option.

As soon as the call connected, a holographic projection of Li Po appeared on the screen. Jiang Yu’s hand paused for a moment.

In the projection, the Omega seemed completely unaware, carefully wiping his communication device with a tissue.

All of Li Po’s bangs had been pushed back, revealing his smooth, bright forehead, making his facial features appear even more vivid and striking. Jiang Yu had always known Li Po was good-looking and well-behaved, but he had never closely examined his features. Now, with the hologram magnifying the details, he was forced to observe them up close.

Unexpectedly, with Li Po’s hair swept back, all traces of his docility and fragility vanished, replaced by an undeniable sharpness and brilliance. The usual characteristics of an Omega seemed to evaporate, leaving only a stunning impression of beauty and presence.

Li Po had just showered, and his face was still damp. His black hair was dripping, and clear water droplets slid down the prominent bridge of his nose, eventually landing on his full lips. His lips, usually pale, had turned a soft red from the heat of the shower.

At that moment, a droplet of water fell between his lips, which he lightly pressed together, wiping it away. His slightly upturned fox-like eyes showed no awareness of the situation, remaining focused on the communication device in his hand. It was as if he were cradling something precious, his expression inexplicably tender and absorbed, even though he was only cleaning a device.

Even though Jiang Yu knew Li Po wasn’t looking at him, a restless feeling stirred in his chest. His brows furrowed as he looked away, but his gaze abruptly froze when it drifted lower.

After a long pause, he closed his eyes and said in a resigned tone, “Put on some clothes.”

…

Li Po thought he was hearing things.

There wasn’t anyone else in the room, and the communication device seemed perfectly normal, so where had that voice come from? And… as much as he didn’t want to admit it, the voice sounded a lot like Jiang Yu.

No, it wasn’t just similar. It was exactly the same.

As he stopped what he was doing, confusion clouded his eyes. Then, another voice came from nowhere:

“What do you want?”

Hearing this, Li Po glanced down at his communication device and finally noticed a small, inconspicuous symbol in the upper-left corner of the screen. He knew what it meant—it indicated [In Video Call].

“…”

The corners of Li Po’s mouth twitched stiffly. He glanced at the communication device, then looked down at himself.

Great, his expression stiffened even more.

But as the saying goes, the first time’s awkward, the second time’s easy. By now, Li Po wasn’t panicking anymore. Calmly, he put down the communication device, climbed out of bed, walked over to the wardrobe, grabbed a random shirt, and rushed to the bathroom to change.

Five long, agonizing minutes later.

While rolling up the sleeves of the oversized shirt, Li Po sat far away from the communication device on the edge of the bed. After clearing his throat, he spoke steadily, “Commander, are you still there?”

A few seconds later, he heard a cold “Mm.”

At this point, there was no avoiding the situation. Li Po, feeling a bit numb, said, “Commander, I pressed the wrong button earlier. I apologize.”

As he spoke, his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, as if trying to ease the awkwardness he felt. But as he tugged, he suddenly realized something was off.

Why is this shirt so long?

Instantly, he froze, his body going rigid.

Wait… could he have grabbed the wrong shirt again?

“It’s fine.” The other side didn’t seem surprised at all. Then there was a sound of fabric brushing against the table, as if Jiang Yu was about to end the video call.

“Wait.” Suddenly, Li Po thought of something and quickly changed his mind.

The rustling sound from the communication device stopped.

“Commander, I just uploaded the details of the C-level mission. Have you reviewed it?”

Jiang Yu responded quickly, “No.”

“Then please take a look now.”

After a while, Jiang Yu’s voice returned, but this time it was much colder, “Are you sure it’s correct?”

Li Po nodded. He hesitated before cautiously asking, “Commander, what does the black hourglass mean?”

This time, Jiang Yu remained silent for a long while. Just when Li Po thought the call had been disconnected, Jiang Yu spoke again, “It’s a very dangerous organization. You’d better stay away from it.”

“…” Li Po had expected that answer.

Just as Li Po was about to press further, another voice came from the communication device, “Commander, there’s new intel from Wu Sha Hui. Please take a look.”

Realizing Jiang Yu was busy, Li Po sensibly didn’t press further. After the communication device disconnected, he sat at the edge of the bed for a long time, lost in thought.

After this mission, Li Po had about half a week of downtime. Apart from training at the training grounds, he spent most of his time hanging around the White Tower. However, Bian Lu didn’t assign him any tasks, so most of the time he was just idling around.

He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but it seemed like there were more injured people in the White Tower than before. The scent of blood on the third floor used to be faint, but now, the moment he stepped off the light lift, the stench was so strong it made him take a step back, choking on its intensity.

How much blood must that be…

The main reason Li Po kept frequenting the White Tower wasn’t just to see Bian Lu. He was still very curious about the “Experiment Approval for Basement Level Two of White Tower.” He wanted to know what S District was doing with those bodies.

Were they conducting experiments?

And if so, what kind of experiments? Using human bodies for research wasn’t unheard of, but what kind of large-scale experiment required the entire basement level two of White Tower?

The thought alone sent chills down his spine.

On the nth day of Li Po’s persistent visits to the White Tower, Bian Lu, who had been running around frantically, suddenly stopped him, “Li Po, are you afraid of blood?”

Li Po paused, unsure of his intentions. “No, why?”

“Good, then come help me out,” Bian Lu replied, handing him a sterile protective suit and leading him into another room.

Bian Lu quickly showed him how to stop bleeding, disinfect wounds, and sterilize properly. After giving Li Po a pat on the shoulder, he said, “There’s going to be a batch of injured patients coming in. You and the other assistant just need to stop the bleeding. We’re short-staffed right now, so we’ll wait until the operating rooms are free before performing surgery.”

Li Po nodded in understanding.

Sure enough, after a while, an injured patient was brought in. The patient had a gunshot wound in his chest and abdomen, with a deep gash on his arm, bleeding profusely. Li Po didn’t know how to remove the bullet, so he focused on stopping the bleeding on the arm, as Bian Lu had taught him, while Bian Lu’s assistant expertly handled the bullet wound.

The bleeding was soon under control, but the patient’s injuries were severe, and he had already lost consciousness. His eyes were tightly shut, his eyeballs moving restlessly beneath the lids—a clear sign of distress. Meanwhile, his lips moved faintly, murmuring, “Feed… experiment… Wu Sha…”

The moment Li Po heard those words, his eyes narrowed.

Wu Sha? Could it be Wu Sha Hui?

But what did “feed” and “experiment” mean?

Clang—

The assistant finally removed the bullet with a pair of tweezers, dropping it into a metal tray with a crisp sound. The patient’s body twitched violently from the pain before slipping into unconsciousness.

The situation of the other injured patients was even worse. Some had their stomachs torn open by pollutants, others had their lower bodies blown off, and still others had been injected with neurotoxins by pollutants, leaving them in a comatose state.

The more Li Po saw, the more shocking it became.

As dusk settled, the number of injured finally began to decrease, and Li Po no longer needed to assist with wound treatment.

He made his way to the break room, feeling thirsty. After filling a cup with warm water, he lifted it to his lips. Only after spilling a few drops did he realize his hand was shaking.

Why was he trembling? He didn’t understand—it’s not like he was scared.

Forcing himself to finish the water, Li Po sat down on the sofa, staring at the ground in silence.

There was no way pollutants could use guns, let alone fire bullets into someone’s chest. Only humans could do that. Based on what the patient had murmured, the attack must have come from Wu Sha Hui.

Jin Mu had revealed quite a bit about Wu Sha Hui. From the few details, Li Po could sense how fanatical and deranged the organization was—like some kind of cult.

With how frequently the name had been popping up lately, it was clear the group was trying to make a comeback. And since Wu Sha Hui had always conducted secret research on pollutants, could the recent surge in pollutants also be connected to them?

Suddenly, a chilling thought crossed Li Po’s mind, freezing him in place.

If Wu Sha Hui were reviving, would they continue experimenting on humans? And if…

A sudden realization sent a cold shiver down Li Po’s spine. He didn’t dare continue down that train of thought, so he quickly lifted his cup, trying to take another sip to calm himself down.

Unfortunately, he’d forgotten—the cup was empty.

Damn it!

At that moment, he finally understood why his hands were shaking—it wasn’t fear; it was anger.

…

After that day, Li Po began visiting the training grounds more frequently, training regularly like the other Alphas.

Every time the Alphas saw him, they smirked with a layer of mockery on their faces, as if ridiculing the fact that a weakling was trying to pretend to be tough.

But Li Po paid them no mind. He simply dove into the holographic simulation pods, randomly selecting training modules, practicing everything except pheromone training. Of course, the reason he avoided pheromone training was simple—that was for Alphas, and he was an Omega.

This body had always been weak, panting after a few steps, unable to lift or carry much. Even Li Po found it frustrating. But with his persistence, he managed to build up some lean muscle, even developing a faint layer of abs on his previously flat stomach. Though it wasn’t much compared to the other operatives in S District, Li Po was satisfied with his progress.

During this time, he took on a few more system-assigned missions. They were all simple, with low difficulty levels. The best part for Li Po was that his assigned teammates were strangers he had never met before. Although they were still displeased with him being an Omega and looked down on him, they didn’t bother him too much, and they all worked separately without interfering with each other.

He had also tried contacting Jiang Yu a few times. But for some reason, Jiang Yu was always away from S District and never available. The only person Li Po could reach was Jing Lun, but they weren’t close, and there was no need to meet up.

He even tried asking Bian Lu indirectly, but Bian Lu’s reaction was unexpected. Instead of brushing him off or evading the question, Bian Lu sighed repeatedly, his brows furrowed tightly.

“If you can, try to persuade him not to take on so many missions,” Bian Lu said, shaking his head with a bitter smile. “Then again, no one can get through to him. He won’t listen to anyone.”

Li Po was baffled, testing the waters by asking, “But isn’t the Commander really strong? Wouldn’t frequent missions affect him?”

Bian Lu stared at Li Po for a long time, finally offering a cryptic response, “There’s no such thing as a perpetual motion machine.”

“…”

He thought he was being subtle, but Li Po understood.

Recalling the conversation he had overheard outside the consultation room, Li Po lowered his lashes and didn’t ask further.

Indeed, if even machines can’t run forever, how could people?

…

After leaving the consultation room, Li Po headed to the light lift to go downstairs. But just as he took a few steps, he heard a commotion from the direction of the operating room.

The disturbance was loud, and from a distance, Li Po could see a crowd gathered around. Curiosity piqued, he decided to check it out.

As he listened to the murmured conversations around him, he pieced together what had happened.

Apparently, an Alpha had been severely injured during a mission and was rushed back to the White Tower for emergency treatment due to massive blood loss. However, because the White Tower was overwhelmed with patients, by the time it was his turn for surgery, it was too late. Despite the medical team’s best efforts, the Alpha died from excessive blood loss.

The Alpha’s friend, who had been anxiously waiting outside, was devastated when he found out he had lost his friend. In a fit of rage, he started causing a scene outside the operating room.

“…”

Li Po had always thought of the White Tower as S District’s hospital, but he never expected to witness something like a medical dispute happening here.

The friend, tears streaming down his face, wrestled the corpse away from the medical staff, clutching it tightly in his arms. He cried out in despair, screaming at the medics:

“You killed him! He still had a chance when he got here—he wasn’t bleeding this much, and he could still talk to me… Why didn’t you take him in for surgery right away? Why did you delay the treatment, costing him his life?!”

“Aren’t we human too? We’ve risked our lives for S District, fought on the frontlines, braved bullets and bombs… Why? Why did it come to this?! We’d have been better off dying at the hands of the pollutants, better off dead!”

“Lin Sai, wake up. Please, I beg you, wake up… I swear I’ll never make you mad again, okay? I’ll listen to everything you say, I won’t tease you anymore… I shouldn’t have joked about looking for an Omega, and I shouldn’t have lied about being a straight Alpha. I’m sorry… Can you please wake up…?”

As those words left his mouth, the surrounding crowd fell into stunned silence.

Wait, could it be…

Even Li Po was taken aback. He glanced at the Alpha kneeling in front of the operating room door, crying his heart out, and felt a strange sense of familiarity.

His memory was sharp, and it only took a moment for him to remember where he had seen them before—

It was them.

Back in Training Ground No. 2, before Hong Mao had provoked him for a fight, the person training on the field was the very “Lin Sai” now cradled in the arms of the Alpha.

What left an impression on Li Po wasn’t the incident with Hong Mao getting possessed by pollutants, but the two Alphas themselves.

He still remembered the dense black mist, remembered the determined figure within it. Despite being on the verge of collapse, that person had stubbornly refused to give in, even though his body was covered in wounds.

Now, seeing them again, it was a tragic reunion, with one lying lifeless in the other’s arms.

And as for the other Alpha…

Li Po recalled him because, unlike the others, he hadn’t been cold or indifferent. He had been the one who, in a fit of desperation, had shaken the chains and shouted, “He can’t take it anymore! Stop it!”

At the time, Li Po had been surprised by the outburst, but now it all made sense. They were in that kind of relationship…

The Alpha kneeling on the ground seemed oblivious to everything around him. He clutched the cold corpse in his arms, desperately hoping for a response. But no matter how much he pleaded, the body remained silent, offering no sign of life.

Seeing this, the Alpha’s hope shattered. He lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot and filled with despair. As he wept, he let out a bitter laugh:

“You S District dogs, can’t you see it?! We’re no better than dogs, just sacrifices for others to feast on! Hahaha… One day, you’ll know what it feels like to have your heart torn apart!!!”

As he cried and laughed, a group of people suddenly approached. The leader shot the Alpha a look of disgust before barking orders, “Restrain him! Take him to the interrogation room for discipline!”

“Haha, you really think I’m just going to let you do as you please?” The Alpha chuckled, still holding the corpse close. “You think you’re something special? You’re just lackeys, barking orders. Watch out, karma’s coming for you!”

With that, his expression darkened, and before anyone could react, he pulled a dagger from his boot and plunged it into his own heart!

In an instant, the fabric around his chest darkened as blood gushed from the wound. The crimson liquid splattered over the Alpha’s face and further stained the already bloodied body in his arms.

Blood flowed freely, the sight almost blinding.

The Alpha had stabbed himself so deeply that no one had time to intervene. His body convulsed from the pain, shuddering uncontrollably. But he paid no mind to it, simply lowering his head to gently stroke the face of the person in his arms, “I’m sorry… I got you dirty again…”

Finally, he tightened his hold on the body and quietly stopped breathing.

After a long, heavy silence.

“What… what do we do?”

“What do you think? Take the bodies to basement level two of the White Tower!”

“Both of them together?”

“Separate! …Wait, no, better keep them together.”

Gradually, the crowd dispersed. The two bodies were covered with white sheets and swiftly carried away. A large pool of blood remained on the spotless floor, glaringly bright and red. Li Po turned his head away, unable to look any longer.

His heart felt heavy and bitter. After thinking for a long time, he finally pulled out his communication device and quickly typed a message:

[Commander, I feel really upset.]

He didn’t expect a response. After all, ever since he had added Jiang Yu’s contact, his messages had always disappeared into the void, never once receiving a reply. And Jiang Yu wasn’t in S District right now, making the chances of him replying even slimmer.

With that thought, Li Po casually turned off the communication device and prepared to stuff it back into his pocket. But just as he was about to put it away, he noticed the screen light up from the corner of his eye.

Startled, Li Po’s eyes brightened as he quickly opened the device.

There, in the chatbox, was a single, cold reply:

[Why?]