Upon arriving at the coordinates transmitted by Yan Qing, they indeed found a transport aircraft hovering high in the upper atmosphere. One side of its lower cargo doors hung wide open, systematically receiving the rescue vehicles approaching from every conceivable direction.

The exact moment Song Jin maneuvered their vehicle into a parking slot, two medical rescue craft glided in right beside them. Jin Lin and his two assistants emerged from the cabins, their expressions noticeably darker than the bottom of a charred pot.

Noticing that the medical kit previously in Jin Lin’s possession was nowhere to be seen, Song Jin projected his thoughts to 07.

Song Jin: Is the asset secured?

07: Secured! Great-Grandpa and I are currently hovering near the outer hull of the aircraft.

Capable of intercepting 07’s transmission, Li Xiao smoothly cut in: Hand the kit over to 09. You return immediately to protect your master.

07: Understood!

09: Then what about me?

Li Xiao: Amuse yourself outside for a bit. Wait for my notice.

09: Are you throwing the dirty work onto me again?

Li Xiao: I am only assigning this to you because I trust your capabilities. You’ll get an extra ration when we return.

09: It’s a deal!

Song Jin cast a completely expressionless side-eye toward Li Xiao. This young man’s tongue was truly nothing but a vessel for sweet-talking deceit.

Sensing Song Jin’s gaze sweeping over, Li Xiao asked casually, “Do you want an extra ration too?”

Song Jin popped open the driver’s side door, stepping out without a single backward glance. “You wouldn’t give me what I actually want anyway.”

Li Xiao: ...

Assisted out of the vehicle by Jiang Hao, Yan Qing remarked nonchalantly, “Now that is where you are in the wrong. If there is something he wishes to eat, just give it to him.”

Fanning the flames from the sidelines, Qian Can chimed in with a cheeky grin, “Exactly! Once the Boss gets some delicious food into his system, his mood will instantly skyrocket. If he’s happy, you’re happy; if you’re happy, I’m happy—everybody wins!”

Li Xiao: ...

What that brat wants is nowhere near as simple as food.

The individuals occupying the rear cabin were all injured second-year cadets. Li Xiao and his group stepped in to assist them down, ensuring they were uniformly guided toward the medical sector under Yan Qing’s meticulous arrangements.

Not far away, Jin Lin cast a calculating glance toward their direction, a trace of bewilderment flickering across his features.

Noticing his superior pause, an assistant followed his line of sight. “Is there an issue with them, Doctor?”

Jin Lin offered no response, though deep suspicion was rapidly taking root in his mind. During his conversation with Xiang Hong earlier tonight, he had distinctly felt the presence of a third party. Shortly after his departure, the building had erupted into flames, and immediately following that, his medical kit had been forcefully plundered by a swarm of flying insects.

On the surface, none of these incidents appeared to bear any correlation to Li Xiao. But could things truly manifest with such flawless coincidence? The moment Li Xiao happened to be present in Temporary Medical Department Two, disasters broke out in seamless succession.

Across the deck, Li Xiao caught Jin Lin’s evaluating gaze but chose to completely ignore it. Waiting until the second-year cadets had been fully escorted away, he and the group made their way back to the residential cabins first.

Yan Qing’s injuries required immediate attention as well, but it was highly inconvenient for him to seek treatment at the public medical center.

The moment they stepped into the residential cabin, Li Xiao gestured for him to take a seat. Retrieving the standard medical kit stocked within the quarters, he walked over and knelt down to personally assist in removing Yan Qing’s boots.

“There’s no need. I can manage,” Yan Qing countered, unbuckling the metallic clasps of his military boots and rolling up his uniform pants. A sprawling, dark purple contusion was exposed across his lower leg.

This specific leg had been previously injured in a vehicular accident and hadn’t fully recovered; now, it had taken the brunt of Xiang Hong’s full-force kick.

Li Xiao gently hoisted his leg onto the couch, applying measured pressure around the perimeter of the bruising. Confirming that the underlying bone structure remained intact, he extracted a vial of topical ointment from the kit, preparing to apply it for him.

Realizing his intent, Yan Qing scrambled to intercept the vial. “I’ll do it myself.”

Li Xiao smoothly maneuvered past his hand. “Isn’t treating one’s own father an absolute given? Are you treating me as an outsider?”

Yan Qing: ...I didn’t mean it that way.

Leaning lazily against the side wall, Song Jin interjected dryly, “When you were demanding that we secure the top rank in the examinations, you certainly weren’t practicing this level of courtesy.”

Yan Qing: …

Li Xiao squeezed a measure of the ointment onto his palm, carefully smoothing it over the injury. “In the past, even if I wanted to help, I never possessed the opportunity,” he noted in a low voice.

Yan Qing’s hand, resting against his thigh, curled slightly. Hearing those words left a bitter, heavy sensation lingering in his chest.

Once the ointment was evenly distributed, Li Xiao positioned the therapeutic lamp over Yan Qing’s leg. “How is the injury on your torso? Your shirt—”

“No need,” Yan Qing interrupted swiftly.

Li Xiao froze mid-motion, an unmistakable trace of dejection washing over his features.

Even though the child had clearly grown into an exceptionally formidable Alpha, the sheer vulnerability he projected at this exact instant allowed Yan Qing to perceive his deep-seated scars with absolute clarity. A sudden pang of heartache gripped him.

After a fleeting moment of hesitation, Yan Qing shed his uniform jacket, pulling up his linen shirt to expose the trauma localized on his flank. As expected, the flesh there was completely battered into a dark, mottled purple.

“Go ahead,” Yan Qing muttered, throwing caution to the wind with a look of absolute resignation.

Li Xiao knitted his brows. “He laid hands on you with this much force.”

Yan Qing: “He always projected such a refined demeanor normally. Who knew he would turn this terrifyingly feral when he lost his mind.”

“Why were you tailing him?” Li Xiao asked, systematically smoothing the medication over the bruise.

Yan Qing fell silent for a moment, a starkly guarded expression surfacing in his eyes. “How did you two even know I was out there?”

Li Xiao: “Is reading the layout truly that difficult?”

Yan Qing let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “And here I thought my anti-reconnaissance techniques were quite sophisticated.”

“They are—against ordinary personnel,” Song Jin remarked flatly, his gaze pinned tightly onto Li Xiao’s hand as it applied the ointment. “You are Xiao’s biological kin; how could we not keep a tight lock on your coordinates? Had we not intervened, you wouldn’t even possess the opportunity to speak right now.”

Hearing this, the faint smile playing at the corners of Yan Qing’s lips vanished entirely. “Are you two… also investigating the matter of the blood?”

Li Xiao offered no denial. “What correlation does Xiang Hong share with the blood?”

This time, Yan Qing’s silence stretched out even longer. “Xiaoxiao, you have been away from the Imperial Palace for ten years. Who exactly prompted your return?”

Li Xiao was perplexed. “What bearing does that have on the question I just posed?”

“It has everything to do with it,” Yan Qing stated, locking his gaze tightly onto him. “Tell me honestly: has anyone ever whispered anything into your ear?”

Is he attempting to ascertain my faction alignment?

Li Xiao involuntarily recalled Yan Qing’s definitive declaration back inside the Yi family’s private clinic: “You are my biological child.”

Even while bearing the sordid stigma of being a homewrecker, did Yan Qing still intend to utilize their biological bond to tether him to his side of the board?

Li Xiao responded with absolute serenity, “I chose to return on my own accord. I have not established contact with any external party.”

Yan Qing: “Is that the absolute truth?”

Li Xiao countered, “I am merely a marginalized prince. In your estimation, who would even derive benefit from engineering my return?”

“Far too many to count,” Yan Qing noted, his tone heavily laced with irony. “You will never comprehend how many filthy, repulsive entities are concealed within that abyss. Once you are dragged into the vortex, you may never find a path out alive.”

Li Xiao: “Filthy entities? Such as?”

“Exercise extreme caution regarding the Meng family. Do not establish excessive contact with them; they are exceptionally dangerous,” Yan Qing warned, his expression turning deathly serious. “I am fully aware you will not place absolute faith in my words, but—”

“I believe you,” Li Xiao interrupted, looking directly into his eyes. “You are my father. If I don’t believe you, who else can I trust? It is you who refuses to trust me.”

Yan Qing’s eyes flickered erratically. He diverted his gaze, unable to maintain contact with Li Xiao’s unwavering stare. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you.” Speaking to this point, he hesitated for a fraction of a second. “I simply do not wish for you to become entangled in this quagmire.”

“You noted that the Meng family is dangerous,” Song Jin chimed in, steering the conversation back to the core track. “What exactly did they commit? Does it correlate directly with the blood?”

Yan Qing’s face darkened completely, his gaze turning ice-cold. “Within the span of this past century, they have systematically executed the total genocide of as many as sixty-three distinct clans. The Pique Race was merely one of their casualties.”

The expressions of both Li Xiao and Song Jin shifted violently. They had initially assumed they were merely pulling on a thread that would lead to information regarding the Modified Humans; they had never anticipated unearthing such a staggering, cataclysmic revelation.

“And that is merely the portion I have successfully uncovered. It is highly probable that certain races have already been entirely wiped from existence,” Yan Qing noted, lowering his eyes slightly to conceal the profound fury burning within them. “The Meng family possesses monumental, absolute authority. Attempting to harvest evidence while evading their omnipresent surveillance network is an exceptionally grueling and agonizingly slow process.”

Li Xiao: “Was the blood encountered this time also part of your investigation?”

Yan Qing nodded, turning his gaze back to Li Xiao. “They are highly likely utilizing the blood of the Pique people to conduct human experimentation. The successive accidents you encountered were undoubtedly orchestrated by their hands as well.”

“Who is Jin Heng?” Song Jin demanded.

Yan Qing: “The academy physician. He used to operate within the Imperial Palace during his youth.”

Song Jin: “Whose asset is he?”

Yan Qing: “Gao Wanxin’s.”

To think he is actually an asset of the Gao family. This revelation left Li Xiao somewhat startled. In his previous lifetime, Gao Wanxin had never breathed a word of these matters to him. Was it because the Meng family had already been soundly defeated by then, rendering the issue irrelevant, or was it because the evidence gathered remained critically incomplete?

Driven by this thought, Li Xiao asked Yan Qing, “Was your transfer to the military academy also engineered by Gao Wanxin?”

Yan Qing nodded. “Within the palace, I was strictly responsible for handling internal administrative affairs, leaving me with virtually zero external exposure. Moving over here ensured I remained completely beneath the radar.”

As they spoke, his terminal vibrated violently. Yan Qing swiped it open to find an urgent notice dispatched from the military command. With Xiang Hong officially registered as missing, the administrative responsibilities previously under his jurisdiction were being temporarily transferred to Yan Qing, requiring his immediate presence in the operational cabin.

Having been treated under the therapeutic lamp, although the injuries were far from fully healed, the agonizing pain had already been mitigated by more than half.

Yan Qing stood up, methodically adjusting his uniform. “I did not disclose these secrets to prompt you into taking action. Your sole responsibility is to guarantee your own absolute safety. Other entities will naturally handle the rest.” With that final note, he turned and departed.

Song Jin watched the residential cabin doors seal shut once more before asking in a low murmur, “What is the baseline credibility of his claims?”

Li Xiao: “Verifying them will not be difficult.”

Song Jin turned his head to look at Li Xiao. “What could possibly be the Meng family’s motive for slaughtering dozens of distinct clans? Pure, sadistic bloodlust?”

Li Xiao began packing the medical kit back together. “A century ago, the Meng family’s influence had not yet reached the zenith of absolute domination. They wouldn’t have been brazen enough to slaughter people across the galaxy purely for entertainment.”

The motive behind the killings remained a secondary concern; the critical puzzle lay in how they had managed to execute these purges without ever being detected. Eradicating an entire race was an undertaking far more complex than merely executing a family or two. The Meng family highly likely operated with the collusion of powerful accomplices.

“Then what could it be for?” Song Jin mused, lost in thought. “Do the various clans within your Danse Empire possess extraordinary, specialized biological traits?”

“How could that be possible?” Li Xiao snapped the lid of the medical kit shut. “If such traits truly existed, your Shengya Empire couldn’t possibly have remained completely in the dark.”

Song Jin conceded the point upon reflection. “Could it be for the plunder of specialized resources?”

Ordinary entities seldom execute high-risk operations unless substantial benefits are guaranteed. Since the Meng family dared to perpetrate such atrocities, it indicated that a monumental, astronomical volume of interest was anchored right behind the scenes.

Li Xiao returned the medical kit to its cabinet, walked back to Song Jin’s side, and leaned against the sofa backrest right alongside him.

“Taking the Pique Race as an example: if the Meng family simply required their blood, there was absolutely no operational necessity to slaughter so many individuals. They could easily have extracted a single genetic profile to manufacture synthetic cultures, establishing an endless, self-sustaining blood supply. Yet, they chose to execute a total purge anyway. There must be an entirely separate, deep-seated catalyst driving their actions.”

Let alone mass slaughter, if one simply desired to harvest a common tissue sample from an ordinary individual, the avenues of acquisition were virtually infinite; it required alerting absolutely no one. Furthermore, the conditions documented back at the abandoned facility on Planet Z152—the corpses impaled upon stone pillars and the text resembling ritualistic curses—all heavily indicated the Meng family harbored an intense, deep-seated animosity toward the Pique Race.

Song Jin: “Once we return, we must harvest the complete files on these sixty-three races from him and isolate the common denominators.”

Li Xiao: “Understood.”

The Ferryagent’s specialized tools and the unidentified solution were officially in their possession; the next step required transferring them back to Shengya and placing them directly into Shen Sinian’s hands. However, devising a viable execution method for that would have to wait until they returned to home base.

Noticing that Li Xiao was completely absorbed in his thoughts, Song Jin draped an arm over his shoulder, noting dryly, “Feigning vulnerability truly yields miraculous results. He even let you apply the ointment personally—I don’t even receive that caliber of treatment.”

Li Xiao snapped back to reality. “…Are you jealous?”

Song Jin: “Am I not allowed to be?”

Li Xiao pondered the matter for a moment. “How about a tub of ice cream?”

Song Jin let out a cold snort. “Are you dismissing a beggar?”

Li Xiao tested the waters further, “Paired with a box of cookies?”

Seeing that Song Jin’s expressions remained utterly unimpressed, Li Xiao pressed on, “How about two boxes?”

Song Jin knitted his brows, casting a deeply displeased look toward him. “Are you coddling a toddler?”

Li Xiao: “Three boxes?”

Song Jin: ...

Song Jin was thoroughly exasperated by the negotiation. “Thirty boxes. Every single month.”

Li Xiao: ...

Are you treating them as regular meals? If he keeps consuming sugar at that velocity, the little lion is going to balloon into a literal sphere.

Enduring Song Jin’s highly expectant gaze, Li Xiao replied with absolute nonchalance, “Deal. You can even utilize the cookies to barter for other assets.”

Song Jin’s curiosity was instantly piqued. “What can they be bartered for?”

Li Xiao: “Anything you can possibly conceive can be bartered.”

Song Jin: “Can I touch your abs?”

Li Xiao nodded smoothly. “Ten boxes of cookies per session.”

“…” Song Jin was thoroughly amused to the point of laughter. “What kind of black-market establishment are you running here?”

Li Xiao added unhurriedly, “You can touch them for as long as you desire. There is no time limit imposed.”

Song Jin: ...

Song Jin: “Then I will execute a transaction right this instant.”

Li Xiao: “Account balance is currently zero. Transaction denied.”

“…” Song Jin clamped his fingers firmly around Li Xiao’s collar, pulling him inward to deliver a fierce, bruising kiss. “You are my own spouse. If I desire to touch you, I will touch you whenever I please—regardless of whether your arbitrary balance allows it.”