Chapter 99.2: Teacher Ying’s Speech
In the dungeon, a black shadow flowed out of the wall, coalescing into the form of a tall, slender man. He loosened his uniform collar and silently approached the still-unconscious Liu Shen.
Without hesitation, the sole of his boot pressed down on Liu Shen’s cheek. After crushing it a few times, Liu Shen woke, his head throbbing with pain.
In the dim room, the man’s indifferent face made Liu Shen laugh. He reached up to grab Mo Xie’s calf, straining to push it away—but Mo Xie didn’t even flinch.
Liu Shen’s mouth foamed slightly as he slurred, “Good… hurry… let go… step me to death… don’t… hold back…”
Mo Xie chuckled. Lifting his leg, he kicked Liu Shen’s already-wounded abdomen before Liu Shen could even get up. Liu Shen screamed and was sent flying, crashing heavily to the floor.
Mo Xie was two levels higher than Liu Ning; compared to him, Liu Ning’s few kicks were like mere tickles.
Liu Shen was on the verge of vomiting his own insides.
“Wood type, a symbiont… dying just like that, I do feel a bit sorry,” Mo Xie said, grabbing a chair casually and sitting down, legs crossed.
The dungeon was filled only with Liu Shen’s pained gasps. He leaned against the wall. “Just playing… really, just playing. Those kids are still small; I’m just training them.”
“Training them is Wu Dian’s responsibility. What does it have to do with you?” Mo Xie said calmly. “If you scare someone to death, how am I supposed to explain that to Wu Dian?”
“That old stickler Wu Dian wouldn’t even punish me if you killed me! At most, he’d lecture me on the Eight Honors and Eight Shames,” Liu Shen scoffed. The rotting flesh on half of his ruined face trembled, his eyes staring a little blankly. “But that plant symbiont… I really want it.”
“Forget it. That’s the guy Wu Dian’s grooming for the big leagues.” Mo Xie produced a cigarette from somewhere, lit it, and leaned back in his chair, the smoke obscuring his face.
“Then… that big bug! Give it to me! Give it to me!” Liu Shen knelt on the floor, his eyes gleaming.
Mo Xie found it amusing. “You know it nearly drained all the energy from the Cube, right?”
“I didn’t know that.” The Cube was stolen from Mo Xie, so Liu Shen had no idea how much of Mo Xie’s energy was inside—and frankly, he didn’t care.
“Fine. Those two are out. But the water-type, the fire-type, and that little girl—whatever her ability is—I’ll take those three.”
Mo Xie still shook his head. “Wu Dian already claimed them.”
“Mo Xie, you really have zero say in this? Letting Jingzhou scoop up everything? What are we in Kuhuang supposed to eat and drink? Don’t make me end up feasting alone while you starve me three times a day! F*cking followed you for a day and I’m already starving!” Liu Shen clutched his stomach as he stood up, cursing loudly.
“How did someone like you even become a real estate chairman? You’re softer than tofu and more obedient than a dog! What time is it now? If you’d just been ruthless, you’d have surpassed Nansu and Beisu long ago. Taking the capital’s seat would be within reach!” Liu Shen pointed at the sky.
Mo Xie exhaled a puff of smoke. “When Wu Dian returns to base tonight, I’ll have him deal with you. Those kids aren’t under my jurisdiction.”
“No!” Liu Shen lunged toward Mo Xie.
Shadows closed in from behind, seizing his limbs and dragging him backward. He slammed against the wall, pinned in place.
“I’ll kill myself!” Liu Shen screamed. “Hand me over to Wu Dian, and I’ll end it.”
“You don’t meet Wu Dian’s criteria for execution. Rest assured.” Mo Xie rose, shrouded in swirling shadows. A deep black disc materialized before him. His slender fingers tapped the cigarette twice, sending ash flakes falling.
“Liu Shen, you’re always like this. Even if you don’t take your own life, you won’t live much longer. Given your current usefulness, I hope you’ll live a little longer.”
Liu Shen clenched his jaw, several places on his body still bleeding. He let out a feral grin.
“F*ck—if you want me to be your ox, your horse, to lick your damn boots, just say it! Quit pretending you’re some big shot!”
His coarse shouting slowly faded into the distance.
Mo Xie stepped into the lounge, where the three people inside were all slumped over the couch, fast asleep.
He paused for a moment. Liu Ning was the first to sense him; she immediately set aside her book and stood up. She had just opened her mouth to speak when Mo Xie lifted a finger to his lips, signaling her to keep quiet.
“Let them rest for half an hour. They’re probably exhausted.”
Mo Xie took off his coat and gloves, brushed the dirt off his pant legs, and casually asked,
“What happened today?”
Liu Ning sighed. “That damned b*stard Liu Shen—someone really ought to beat him half to death. Only if he’s beaten thoroughly will he stop causing trouble all the time.”
Mo Xie lathered his hands with soap. “The two thousand people in Shisanhe—he’s single-handedly kept them alive until now. Don’t talk about him like that.”
“But look at the people in Shisanhe—they’re all like starving ghosts. And those ability users don’t treat ordinary people like humans at all…”
“Then do you think having no Liu Shen is better,” Mo Xie asked, “or is there someone better available?”
Liu Ning opened her mouth but couldn’t find an answer.
Mo Xie finished washing his hands, then slowly wiped the water from his fingers with a towel.
He said calmly, “Don’t expect a small-time thug to become a flawless administrator. What you can do is put him where he belongs and give him responsibilities that match who he is.”
“What do you plan to do then?” Liu Ning asked.
“He’ll make an excellent enforcer.”
That was true, Liu Ning thought.
Behind her, a timid figure appeared. Just as Mo Xie was hanging the towel back up, he noticed the person and smiled.
“Awake?”
—
Without waking Wu Heng or Lin Mengzhi, Ying Liuquan followed Mo Xie and Liu Ning into a much larger office stacked full of documents.
Liu Ning did not sit, but stood behind Mo Xie.
The guards, instead of hiding within the walls, stood openly behind her.
Ying Liuquan glanced behind himself; there were guards standing there as well.
Mo Xie pushed a glass of water toward the young man and said bluntly, “Sorry, I don’t particularly trust you.”
Ying Liuquan needed to hold onto something to ease his nerves. He picked up the glass and clasped it in his hands, not daring to look directly at Mo Xie. Someone like this—someone he had only ever seen in magazines or on the news—was now sitting right in front of him.
“I—I’m a teacher,” Ying Liuquan introduced himself. “A high school g-geography teacher… but I’m still in my internship period, n-not officially hired yet.”
Mo Xie asked, “So you and those kids are in a teacher–student relationship? Hard to tell from looking.”
Ying Liuquan thought the man was saying he didn’t look like a teacher. His face instantly flushed a deep purple.
“I think… it would be better if you didn’t judge people by appearance.”
“All right.” Mo Xie nodded. “Then please tell me what happened earlier. I hope you can be objective—don’t let personal feelings color it.”
“Of course.”
Ying Liuquan set the glass down and placed both hands flat on his knees. His palms were drenched with sweat. The faint pressure radiating from across the desk made it worse. Even though the office was cool, sweat kept streaming down his face and neck.
“It happened like this,” he began. “While my students were working for the Kuhuang Base under the ‘work first, get paid later’ arrangement—in other words, contributing labor with no immediate compensation—they were provoked, humiliated, insulted, and beaten by three fellow underage survivors. Before this incident, those same three underage male survivors, who were service recipients, had repeatedly insulted other powerless survivors—and even their own parents.”
Mo Xie’s brows tightened slightly. He leaned forward to pour himself a glass of water.
“Please continue, Teacher.”
“My student could no longer bear the humiliation, so he lightly tapped one of them on the cheek as a reminder.”
“You all know—my student is an ability user. He’s powerful, yes, but he’s also a minor. And yet he kept suppressing his anger. He endured and endured until his dignity was nearly trampled into nothing before he finally defended himself. As his teacher, I admire the tolerance and restraint he showed toward the provocateurs, but it breaks my heart even more to see the humiliation he suffered in the process!”
Ying Liuquan spoke with righteous indignation, his eyes gradually reddening. Behind him, several guards were affected by his emotions as well, fists tightening.
“But they pushed their luck—they dared to subject my student to even more outrageous humiliation!!!” Ying Liuquan shot to his feet.
Mo Xie lifted a hand. “No rush. Speak slowly. Please calm yourself first.”
“They insulted my student, shoved him, kicked him, scratched him. When they attempted to gang up on him, my student suggested a fair and open match. It was supposed to be an educational sparring session.” Ying Liuquan sat again, speaking with helpless frustration.
“My student clearly didn’t expect that all three of them were ability users. He was terrified.”
“But he’s a man of his word. Even knowing he might suffer worse b*llying in this match, he still wanted to finish this educational activity properly.”
“It’s hard to imagine—one of those boys was an animal symbiont. He transformed into a massive black Tibetan mastiff the size of a house and lunged at my frail student. My student barely dodged, and even then, he only singed some fur that would grow back soon. He held back because he’s soft-hearted.”
“The second boy was a rare earth-type ability user. My student had never fought someone with that element before—no experience at all. He didn’t attack the ability user himself; he only defended against the clods of earth flying at him. He’s always been that kind.”
“And the third one—the unfortunate child who lost his life—”
Real sorrow flickered through Ying Liuquan’s eyes. It truly had been an accident, something no one wanted to see.
“We couldn’t tell what his ability was. All we knew was that he suddenly disappeared, and then my student was beaten. He had no choice but to ignite a ring of fire around himself to avoid getting hurt. He didn’t expect the opponent’s ability to be invisibility.”
“Invisibility?” Mo Xie raised his brows slightly. “That is indeed a pity.”
Ying Liuquan almost nodded, but he reacted quickly and shook his head hard.
“What’s pitiful isn’t the ability—it’s a young life. A young life lost to a misunderstanding.”
“If my student had known that fire would take his life, he would never have lit it.”
“And then?” Mo Xie asked.
“Then my student was going to be expelled for causing trouble. Soon after, a supposedly real ‘you’ and Assistant Liu appeared, and without warning, started attacking.”
“My students are as fragile as fledgling birds, innocent like children. They’ve barely begun to understand the world and have never fought such powerful ability users. Yet in order to protect their companions, they fought with everything they had.
They were beaten until they spat blood, knocked to the ground again and again, dec*pitated and forced to reattach their own heads while enduring unbearable pain. In them, I saw the true spirit of youth. I saw hope—the future of humanity. I—I am ashamed in comparison.”
Ying Liuquan’s hands tightened on his knees. Shadows formed beneath his eyes, as if he could barely hold himself together.
“But at that moment—where were the guards of Kuhuang? Where were the real you and Assistant Liu?”
“At the age when they should be studying and enjoying their youth, they’re instead running for their lives. I know—this has become the fate of every human these days. They are no exception. But now they’re in your base, under your authority—and therefore under your protection.”
“No one came to protect them. When my student was humiliated, even though they were almost the same age, he was the one forced to back down. Why? Just because those kids were wearing your base’s uniform and had your emblem on their hats?”
“Since my student is expected to protect those younger than himself, then why is it that you—older, higher-ranked, and far more powerful—are the ones using my still-immature students? Do these rules apply only to them? Or does your base have some special reason that forces you to do this?”
“I hope that no matter the era or the moment, humans can love and help one another—especially now, in this pitch-black, perilous age where death could come at any time. My students have clearly done this. What about everyone else?”
“If today my students had encountered an accident in your base—if the ones who died had been them—who would be sitting here giving this account now? The ones seated here are never the just side, but the victorious side.”
Ying Liuquan slowly lifted his gaze. Behind his glasses, a cold light flashed.
“And that… is the truth.”
“N-No… it’s not… Our base…” One of the guards behind him involuntarily stepped forward.
The person beside him was startled and quickly tugged him back.
“What are you doing?!”
“Was anything he said wrong?! The ones who appear here are the winners! My mother gave me the last bite of food—so she lost! And I won!”
Ying Liuquan turned his head.
“Even the last bite could’ve been shared between two people. If you hadn’t been so greedy—”
Meeting the young man’s shadowed eyes, the surrounding guards all stiffened, their minds thrown into upheaval.
“When you sleep at night,” Ying Liuquan looked toward the guard at the far end—the one who hadn’t dared raise his head—“you have nightmares, don’t you? After all, you pushed your friend into a zombie horde.”
The guard shuddered violently and snapped his head up.
“No! I didn’t! She had already been bitten—there was nothing I could do to save her!”
“It’s understandable—you just wanted to survive. You were afraid of getting infected. But you still have nightmares. Friendship is a precious thing. To support each other all the way to the edge of the base… that’s so rare. You loved her very much, I know you did—otherwise you wouldn’t be in this much pain. You even want to go accompany her, because without her, every bite of food you eat now tastes like nothing.”
Ying Liuquan opened his lips and spoke silently: “Go.”
Just as the short blade was raised halfway, Liu Ning finally realized something was wrong. She struck the blade out of the guard’s hand with a single palm and demanded harshly, “What are you doing?”
Ying Liuquan turned around. He took off his glasses and stared at the woman, sweeping his gaze over her from head to toe. Then he raised a brow. “Being born a man was too painful for you, wasn’t it? Even dressing yourself up as a woman can’t lessen that pain.”
Liu Ning’s face turned ashen.
Outside the door, at the doorframe, Lin Mengzhi’s expression was even worse than Liu Ning’s. He clutched Wu Heng’s arm in silent shock.
“How is Liu Ning a man?!”
Wu Heng: “So what if she’s a man?”
“I like women!!” Lin Mengzhi was emotionally devastated. At this moment, the image of Liu Ning’s earlier elegance replayed over and over in his mind.
“You’re free to like women.” Wu Heng leaned against the wall, perfectly calm.
“I like women like Liu Ning!”
“She’s a man.”
“I can’t do men!!” Lin Mengzhi squatted down, grabbing his hair in despair.
“Why not?” Wu Heng lowered his eyes, unnervingly calm.
Lin Mengzhi found communicating with his childhood friend utterly impossible.
“Can you, then?!”
“…I can.” Wu Heng rarely lies to Lin Mengzhi.