Li Ji stared intently until he recognized the characters. Only after confirming the sender repeatedly did he recover from the sensation of drowning. He hadn’t let the local garrison handle the transfer precisely because he feared an “accident,” yet he hadn’t avoided the outcome even by sending his own people.

He asked himself over and over: Where did the problem lie? And this message before him seemed to provide the answer. Li Ji’s fingertips hovered over the screen for a long time, his eyes cold. Someone had dug a pit for him to jump into; this matter would not end here.

A moment later, he placed the terminal back in the drawer and let Old Liu in. Old Liu hurried in with the ginseng tea he had prepared long ago. Li Ji took it and said in a deep voice, “Contact Zheng Kang’an.”

“Yes!”

When Zheng Kang’an received the communication, his heart skipped a beat. Realizing there was no avoiding it, he bit the bullet and answered. He was immediately berated by Li Ji for half an hour. Watching Li Ji go mad and throw things actually made Zheng Kang’an feel relieved. If he could only vent his anger, it meant Li Ji couldn’t do anything else to him. After all, it was the royal family that had sent their own people, resulting in an accident; at most, he held a tiny bit of collateral responsibility.

When Li Ji’s voice finally grew hoarse from yelling, Zheng Kang’an spoke up cautiously: “Your Majesty, please grieve sparingly. Nobody wanted this to happen.”

“An accident happened in your garrison area, and the person is gone! And you think one sentence can dismiss me?!” Li Ji was so angry that everything went black, and he staggered. Seeing this, Old Liu rushed over to support him: “Your Majesty, getting angry hurts your health.”

Li Ji brushed Old Liu away, slammed his hand on the table, and glared at Zheng Kang’an: “Find out the truth within three days! If you can’t determine the cause and effect of this incident, you can roll back to your hometown and raise pigs!”

Zheng Kang’an quickly agreed, bowing his head hard so Li Ji wouldn’t see the corners of his mouth curling up. As long as Li Xiao was blown to pieces, there were a thousand ways to fudge an investigation after the fact. After hanging up the video call, Zheng Kang’an sent a message to Meng Jian.

In the Meng family study, Meng Zai sat in a wheelchair, listening to the report from his subordinate, and couldn’t help but laugh out loud: “He really got blown up?”

Subordinate: “Truly. At that distance, he wouldn’t have been able to escape even if he grew ten pairs of wings.”

Meng Zai puffed on a cigarette, happily exhaling a cloud of white smoke: “As expected of a biological brother making a move. He could escape a fighter jet bombardment, yet he got blown up so easily—it doesn’t feel real at all.”

Subordinate: “They had a modified hovercar. It was fast, but no matter how fast, it’s still just a hovercar.”

Behind the desk, Meng Jian finished reading the message from Zheng Kang’an and looked at his assistant. “Proceed with the plan.”

“Yes!”

The moment the assistant left, there was a knock on the door, and a tall, dark-skinned middle-aged Alpha entered.

“Father, brother.” Meng Tu greeted the two in the study, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “What’s so happy?”

Meng Jian sat down and looked at his eldest son, Meng Tu: “Your brother has been forced into vacation. Some of his work will be transferred to you.”

Meng Tu nodded: “Understood.”

At the foot of an inconspicuous mountain in Sector 4, 07 transformed into an invisible tent. Although it wasn’t soft, it was enough to shield them from the swarming insects. They would have to make do here for the night.

Li Xiao and Song Jin reviewed the photos of the fighter pilots fed back by 07 and 09; they were all unfamiliar faces.

Song Jin: “The Zifu Seat has been under the control of the Zheng family for years. Does that mean the entire garrison is his people?”

Li Xiao shook his head: “They rotate every eight years. It’s impossible to replace everyone. Generally, only officers above the rank of Major have the qualifications to rotate with the managing General.”

“So we can’t be sure who sent the people we encountered?” Song Jin looked at the local news, where the screen was showing footage of the garrison exterminating insects. “The combat styles really are vastly different.” On the news screen, a reporter was interviewing an Alpha Captain in charge of coordination.

Li Xiao: “This man is from the Gao family. His family is conservative, and their combat strategy is also very conservative.”

The terminal vibrated, and Li Xiao swiped it open.

Li Ji: [Find a safe place to hide.]

He didn’t answer the question, didn’t show concern about whether he was injured, and didn’t tell him where was safe. As expected of his big brother—so certain that he would understand?

“Looking at it this way, it really wasn’t him,” Song Jin glanced at it. “It’s just hard to know if he has the capability to resolve it.”

Li Xiao didn’t reply and closed the terminal. “A group of people are going to be busy tonight.”

Song Jin: “We won’t be idle tonight either; it’s time to sleep.”

“You sleep first.” Li Xiao thought about what he saw in the abandoned base and didn’t have any desire to sleep. The Golden-Feather Sparrow shoulder badge flashed repeatedly in his mind. What had happened back then to make people so hateful toward the Bique tribe, to the point where, decades later, the same brutal methods of slaughter were still continuing?

Song Jin: “It’s cold lying here alone.”

Li Xiao: “There’s floor heating; how is it cold?”

The tent turned into by 07 had constant temperature regulation; other than being a bit hard, there were no problems.

Song Jin patted the spot next to him: “I’m still missing a pillow, or I won’t be able to sleep.”

Li Xiao: “…”

Song Jin threatened: “Hurry up, believe it or not, I’ll force a kiss on you?”

Li Xiao: “Are you a hooligan?”

“Marry a chicken, follow the chicken; marry a dog, follow the dog,” Song Jin blurted out, and by the time he realized, he couldn’t stop himself. “I’m really sorry for letting you marry a hooligan.”

Li Xiao chuckled. Despite the teasing, he obediently lay down and was immediately entangled by the arm thrown across him, unable to move. He patted Song Jin, who loosened his grip slightly. “Can’t breathe.”

Song Jin rolled on his side and pressed against Li Xiao’s neck, smiling triumphantly. “Release your pheromones; let me smell them.”

Li Xiao ruffled his soft hair: “Don’t ask for too much.”

“Disliking me?” Song Jin deliberately rubbed his stubble against Li Xiao’s face.

Li Xiao tilted his head to avoid it: “Are we sleeping or not?”

Not far away, seeing the two of them acting so lovey-dovey was truly unbearable. Qian Can sat down to review the base data backed up by 07 to see if he could find any useful clues. Jiang Hao sat leaning opposite him, sending a message to Jiang Chi. He had been afraid to contact his older brother in the palace for fear of exposure.

Jiang Chi: [I’ve truly never been to the Imperial Capital. Your brother is a space pirate; where would I get the guts to go? Isn’t that looking for death?]

Jiang Hao thought for a moment and replied: Then what about Zifu Seat Z152?

Jiang Chi: [Never even heard of it. I don’t have business there; should I go sightseeing?]

Jiang Hao thought about it and felt it made sense. They were just an ordinary space pirate family with an activity range restricted to the lawless border. If his brother dared to run around everywhere, the Jiang family might have ceased to exist long ago. Maybe it was an illusion that I felt the streets of the military district were familiar.

Late at night, only the sound of breathing remained in the tent. Li Xiao opened his eyes, took out the encapsulated shoulder badge from his pocket, and flipped it over in front of him. There were only a few possibilities for the garrison being able to ambush them outside that gap: First, there was a mole among the four of them who leaked their movements. Second, the anti-detection device in the base interfered with the armor’s judgment, and they had been under surveillance from the moment they entered. Third, entering the base was a trap, and ambushes were set at all exits.

The first possibility was too low, so Li Xiao ruled it out. As for the second and third, there were a bunch of questions. What value did an abandoned base have for monitoring? Whose footprints were those? If it was a trap, when did he walk into it? Was it the two boxes of misdelivered blood, or something even earlier? Or perhaps, he had simply blundered into someone else’s hunting ground?

The arm around his waist moved. His cheek felt a bit itchy from hair brushing against it. Li Xiao snapped back to reality and saw Song Jin burrowing into his arms. He grabbed the coat he had taken off to cover them, gently brushed aside the blonde hair blocking Song Jin’s eyes, and watched him steadily for a while. The crisp, clean scent of wine interrupted his train of thought, so Li Xiao stopped thinking and closed his eyes to rest.

From an angle Li Xiao couldn’t see, Song Jin silently raised the corners of his lips.

At three in the morning, the four got up to act. The matter of the abandoned base had been exposed, and they had no choice but to investigate the R&D center as soon as possible to prevent the other side from transferring it.

At the same time, the story of the Z152 garrison being killed by “reactionaries” somehow hit the headlines, and within a short time, the discussion volume exceeded ten billion.

“I’m in Sector 3. These people deliberately launched a terrorist attack during the insect swarm! If they’re caught, it must be the death penalty!”

“Are they space pirates? There’s a photo on the local news; it’s too terrifying!”

“Over a hundred garrison soldiers dead. How many families have been shattered because of them (tears).”

“I heard they escaped. Insect swarm, terrorists—is there any way to live?”

“Your news is too lagging, right? I heard they were blown up in the evening, and the warrant has been canceled.”

“Yes, yes, yes! The sudden explosion scared me to death!”

At around ten in the evening, a netizen located in Z152 posted an update: [The garrison is searching in the mountain area of Sector 4. The scene has been razed to the ground, and four terrorists died on the spot.] The update included videos and pictures—flaming images during the explosion and the garrison searching the scorched earth afterward. The comments were unanimous: “Justice served.”

#Z152TerroristsBlownUp surged to the top of the trending list at an incredible speed, and the screen recording of the local news was also posted online.

“Don’t you think this black sportswear looks familiar?”

“How is it so like Li Xiao?!”

“Don’t say it! I’ve been holding back and didn’t dare to say it!”

“No way, right? There were rumors before that Li Xiao was the Second Prince—how could he be a terrorist?!”

“It just looks a bit like him; it’s definitely not him!”

Not long after, many little essays about royal gossip popped up under related topics.

[Insider reveals that Li Xiao is indeed the Second Prince, but he doesn’t share the same Omega father as the Majesty; their relationship is very bad.]

[Heard the Second Prince is secretly forming cliques and plotting a coup.]

[No way, no way, you guys don’t know? The Second Prince is associated with many reactionary organizations; he himself has an extreme antisocial personality. Don’t be fooled by his appearance!]

Many netizens were Li Xiao’s “visual fans.” Seeing these slanderous essays, they popped up from bed in the middle of the night to debate the masses. Every update had many people arguing, wishing they could greet the other party’s ancestors to the eighteenth generation.

Around one in the morning, a video appeared under the related topics: [My home surveillance captured this by accident. Oh my god! Will I be silenced?!]

Li Xiao, wearing black sportswear, stood next to a car with a Beta Major. The Major suddenly drew his gun and fired. The scene spun wildly, a missile dropped from the sky, and instantly there was a sea of flames. The conversation between the two in the footage could be heard clearly.

Once the video was exposed, the entire internet was in an uproar. In the footage, Li Xiao was wearing the same set of clothes as in the news, hammering home his identity as a “terrorist.” Meanwhile, the Beta Major spoke of being under royal orders before immediately opening fire. Linking this to the previously circulated essays, people couldn’t help but associate it with a grudge between brothers.

#LiXiaoIsTheSecondPrince, #SecondPrinceIsATerrorist, #RoyalSecretlyExecutesSecondPrince, #GrievanceBetweenKingAndSecondPrince and a series of other hot words reached the top. Many media outlets filled their “writing from a picture” skill bar in a minute, staying up all night to write essays to harvest traffic.

Under the topics, netizens were fierce in their words.

“Impossible! Li Xiao is definitely not a terrorist; the video is fake!”

“Is this a joke? Even if Li Xiao committed a crime, he should face trial, not get shot at the first sign of disagreement!”

“Absurd, I just took a nap, how did the internet change?”

“This whole thing is just too eerie! (Crazy head scratching)”

“I just want to know, is Li Xiao really dead?! Why didn’t they give him a chance to stand trial?!”

“Can a King just kill whoever he wants? That’s your younger brother!”

…

Zifu Seat Z152, Sector 3.

At 3:00 AM, the main body of the insect swarm had almost reached Sector 5, next to Sector 3. The insect density near the Third Hospital had plummeted, and the main garrison force had also transferred. Li Xiao and the four others secretly infiltrated the R&D center, splitting into two groups to investigate.

An hour later, they met on the first floor, having found nothing. The R&D center wasn’t large, and the research was all on things unrelated to blood. It was almost visible at a glance; they flipped over every place they could store items, but they didn’t find a single drop of blood.

“Transferred?” Song Jin looked at Li Xiao.

Li Xiao: “Doesn’t look like it.”

The instruments in all the laboratories didn’t look like they had been placed there temporarily. Footsteps came from the end of the corridor, and Li Xiao signaled for them to withdraw first.

The battle armor transformed into a hovercar and streaked an arc through the night sky. Not long after they flew out, Li Xiao’s backup terminal vibrated. He swiped it open, and it was actually Wei Feng.

Wei Feng: [Big brother, how did you kick the bucket without a sound?]

Li Xiao: “…” Big brother?

Li Xiao: [Not dead.]

A moment later, Wei Feng sent a coordinate. Wei Feng: [Safe here.]

Li Xiao checked it—it was in Sector 2, not far from here. He signaled 09 to change the flight path.

“Holy beans.” In the back seat, Qian Can flipped through the online news. “Is this magic? Does nobody care about these crappy news stories on the Danse internet?”

Jiang Hao leaned over to look and immediately saw shocking words like “Royal brothers killing each other.”

The terminal vibrated; Jiang Chi had sent over a dozen messages in a row.

Jiang Chi: [Haohao, that noble young brother is the Second Prince?!]

Jiang Chi: [Haohao, is the little brother dead?!]

Jiang Chi: [He was killed by his brother?!!]

Jiang Chi: [If you can’t make it, just come back. It doesn’t matter if you clear your name or not; there will always be a meal for you at home, sob sob.]

Jiang Hao: “…” Once you’re on this boat, I’m afraid it won’t be that easy to get off, big brother. And he didn’t want to get off either.

“Going around in a circle, you ended up attracting fire onto your brother—an unexpected development,” Song Jin sat in the passenger seat, browsing the news with relish; unfortunately, he was missing a box of cookies.

Seeing words like “Li Ji is unworthy,” “Each royal generation is worse than the last, Danse will be finished sooner or later,” Li Xiao found it hard not to think of his previous life. In the previous life, the cursing had been even more intense, with protests everywhere demanding his brother step down. The Meng family’s consistent slander methods were already preparing for a future coup.

Qian Can browsed to the video of the Major firing his gun and couldn’t help but complain: “That Major was one of theirs, right? Exposing it so brutally without caring if he lived or died?”

“People are already dead; what is there to care about?” Song Jin laughed lazily. “If ‘Old Grandpa Li’ had been shot at the time, it wouldn’t have been this way of exposure.”

Li Xiao: “…” Old Grandpa Li?

Qian Can rubbed his chin and pondered: “Either way, they’re going to pin the blame on the royal family.”

Jiang Hao: “Won’t the royal family suppress the news?”

Although Danse also advocated freedom of speech, this matter hadn’t been investigated clearly, and the online reports were all hearsay. Two major members of the royal family were being demeaned and scolded across the internet; the royal departments concerned shouldn’t have no action at all.

Song Jin tilted his head toward Li Xiao, who remained silent, and chuckled: “If it wasn’t an order from ‘Monkey Boss,’ then it can only mean the enemy is inside.” But with this much commotion, they could clear out quite a few moles—it just depended on whether that person had the backbone.

The address Wei Feng gave was in a red-light district, full of neon lights, with quite a few drunks wandering the streets even at 3:00 AM. After 09 blocked the surveillance, they landed in an inconspicuous corner, turning back into an earring.

As soon as they walked out of the alley, they were handed flyers by a group of coquettish, muscular Beta men, who enthusiastically invited them to go into their shop for a drink. Li Xiao glanced at these delicate-featured grown men, felt his eyes sting, and hurriedly looked at Song Jin to “wash” his eyes.

Although Qian Can often followed his parents to nightclubs to mooch off food and drinks, he had never been hit on by such low-class “lady-boys” and retreated in fear behind Jiang Hao.

“Big brother, a drink at our shop is only ninety-nine, and we keep you company to chat and play,” a heavily made-up uncle pouted, winking at Song Jin.

Song Jin: “Only ninety-nine?”

The uncle nodded frantically.

“I might consider ninety-nine million, but ninety-nine is just not enough; I’m not used to drinking that.” After saying this, Song Jin pulled Li Xiao and walked away without looking back. Jiang Hao brought Qian Can along, and seeing the lady-boys looking on expectantly, he said obediently: “I only have nine-point-nine in my pocket.”

The lady-boys looked disappointed and dispersed on the spot.

Armed garrison patrols passed by the street from time to time; Li Xiao and the others picked up their pace and arrived at the end of the street. Song Jin looked up, and his expression fell immediately.

It was a couples hotel again!

“If it’s a heart-shaped bed this time, I’m tearing this place down,” Song Jin laughed fiercely.

Li Xiao: “It just means you and heart-shaped beds are destined for each other.”

Song Jin: “…”

Perhaps Wei Feng had arranged things; after they entered, the four were led by a waiter to a small three-story building behind the hotel. The interior was decorated in a low-key manner, completely different from the tawdry facade.

Qian Can and Jiang Hao were in one room; Li Xiao had 09 follow them just in case. Song Jin went to shower first, and seeing Li Xiao sitting by the window studying the recorded fighter jet public frequency, trying to find the person who had pulled the trigger, he wiped his hair as he walked over and jokingly teased: “Company to sleep for only ninety-nine, for tonight only.”

Li Xiao didn’t look up: “Only ninety-nine? I’m not used to sleeping for that.”

Song Jin: “…”

As they slept, a post with a video appeared under the trending topics:

[Even if I get scolded, I’ve decided to post this. The Second Prince is definitely not a terrorist! He saved many of us!]