“Find me the cause!” In the master control room, the lead omega slammed the console, furious. “Check for anomalies in system data! If anything is found, initiate a forced restore immediately.”

One virtual window showed a global view of the experimental sector. Every room was represented by a red grid cell, and the entire grid was shifting in an extremely complex pattern.

As he finished speaking, a red cell fractured and vanished from the display.

“Damn! Another explosion!” the beta nicknamed Old Three swore.

“This damned system—either no problems at all, or a catastrophe. Who can handle this?”

“Quit yapping and work!”

“Another AI just self-destructed!”

“What the hell—freaky!”

Cursing, they hunched over their stations, quickly inspecting Poseidon’s real-time AI telemetry.

In barely ten minutes, explosions kept coming, one room at a time, with no discernible pattern—nothing anyone could make sense of.

As the rooms shifted, AI sentries randomly self-destructed too.

The omega stared at the screens, face growing darker.

If this damage kept piling up, never mind the entire lab sector—the test subjects might be obliterated.

Inside a moving cell, Rong Shi brought the combat knife down hard, severing an AI sentry’s main chip line.

He sheathed the blade, stepped up on the wrecked chassis, and leapt—slipping into the adjoining cell before the hatch sealed. His knife morphed into a cannon; he waited for the next grid reconfiguration.

Constantly varying attack intensity disrupted the AI’s rhythm, overloaded its compute loop, and distributed counter-fire—creating advantage.

01: [Master, I’ve cracked both the AI sentry control and the sub-controller’s logic. Proceed to the core data center?]

The data core was on the seabed. With the logic in hand, he could ride the cell shifts to reach it.

Rong Shi: [Yes. Share control with 00. Trigger random AI self-destructs.]

01: [Awoo!]

In the master control room, a cluster of betas were still digging for the fault—

“Poseidon’s logic checks out!”

“Bull! If it’s fine, why can’t I predict the next room to explode?!”

“The AI control layer’s fine too.”

“Then what explains mass self-detonations?!”

“Damage in the lab sector just passed 5%!—10%! Poseidon is tearing it apart!”

“My head’s gonna explode!”

The omega’s terminal hadn’t stopped buzzing since the first alarm.

A young beta in a white coat burst in and shouted at the omega, “What are you doing?! My lab just blew up!”

Before the omega could answer, another omega rushed in: “Is this a breach or not?! If you can’t find attackers, at least stop leveling the base!”

Jaw tight, the lead omega said under his breath, “We’re running an emergency inspection. Please remain calm.”

“Easy to say when it’s not your lab!”

“What is this ‘efficiency’? You—”

As they bickered, three more cells detonated on the display.

It was worse than they’d thought.

“Chief, force a restore?” Old Three pressed.

“We haven’t seen a single intruder. Odds of system failure are over 99%.”

“Force a restore first—if that fails, we reassess.”

Under the team’s urging and other departments’ fire, the omega kept a stony face—but couldn’t decide.

He did have authority to force-restore. But that action would be logged and sent to Minister Lin—if he saw the base in shambles, then—

Rong Shi vaulted from the last moving cell into a transparent downward shaft.

Outside was pitch-black; by the glow of patrolling AI, he could just make out the constant migration of metal rooms.

Dim lights lined the shaft walls—enough to see the steps.

01: [We’ve hijacked Poseidon’s surveillance. We can hold it for about 30 minutes.]

“Mm.”

Rong Shi flicked a finger; 01 retracted from light-armor mode to the decorative clasp.

He stared outward, not rushing down.

Sometimes the sea heaved violently. Even through the shaft, with no sound, the battle’s force was palpable.

After three minutes, a metal room aligned with the shaft; its upper hatch opened.

A ripple cracked his calm gaze. He stepped forward, arms spreading into an embrace.

“Finally.”

As he spoke, a figure resolved into his empty arms.

After the sprint, Song Yu’s breathing was still unsteady. He planted a hard kiss on Rong Shi’s cheek and grinned. “Afraid I’d get lost?”

“Worried the AI would abduct you,” Rong Shi said.

“…Are you serious?”

Rong Shi let go, starting down the stairs. “Who doesn’t love a beauty?”

That instantly recalled their first meeting—and Rong Shi’s very punchable “I like your type—beautiful and shameless.”

“I used to think that line made you deserve a beating,” Song Yu said, drawing the sidearm from his back and spinning it idly. “Now I think it might have been the truth.”

Rong Shi glanced over.

Song Yu’s shoulders were straight, waist narrow, and long legs taut in the combat suit. His pale, slender fingers spun the pistol—languid, dangerous.

Rong Shi had no resistance to him like this.

“How so?” He dragged his eyes away.

A low chuckle. “Stick with a block of wood like you—if I’m not shameless, I’ll be a monk for life.”

“…”

They chatted loosely as they descended—bleeding off the tension.

A soft light glowed a hundred meters ahead; they quickened their pace.

The shaft ended at an egg-shaped structure, half a football field across.

Ten meters from the door, Rong Shi threw an arm out to stop him.

“What is it?” Song Yu asked.

Rong Shi had 01 switch to standard mode. The “empty” corridor snapped into view—alive with beams.

01: [Holy—dirty trick!]

Poseidon’s surveillance had been hijacked, but this zone ran on another system.

A line from the big cat flashed through Rong Shi’s mind.

V99’s undersea base has very high defense. To reach the organization’s core database, you must infiltrate. If the system detects the theft, it will trigger immediate self-destruction. Back then, I forced V99 and got in—but the data center already blew; everything was wiped.

In the last life, the big cat failed to obtain core data. Massive evidence was lost. Many people were punished off the books; more slipped through—hidden among the populace, perpetual risks, like bombs waiting to go off.

Seeing Rong Shi’s look, Song Yu enabled standard mode too.

“Want them to crack it—or jump it?”

“Can you?” Rong Shi asked.

Challenging him? Song Yu jerked his chin at the ten-meter gauntlet of beams and scoffed, “Make it ten times longer—think I care?”

Rong Shi’s mouth tipped faintly. He sprinted, dove into the beam field, rolled, twisted—threading every line—and landed clear.

He raised a hand. “Come. I’ll catch you.”

“You’ll ‘catch’ me?” Song Yu holstered the pistol, sprinted, rebound-stepped off the wall, and flipped through the field.

At the last meter, he hopped the final convergence point.

Before he touched down, Rong Shi had swept him up.

Outside the data center door, an iris sensor waited. 01 floated from Rong Shi’s clasp as a metal sphere and waddled toward it.

Mid-flight, 00 slipped from Song Yu’s clasp and bobbed after.

00: [Wait for me, brother.]

01: [Hurry. I’ll teach you.]

01’s shell reshaped into a human head: biomimetic skin over rigid frame—an exact match for the master control omega.

01: [Once you’ve hijacked the anti-scan layer, you can harvest tons of info. Like this—perfect use case.]

00: [Does it have to be this person?]

01: [No—this one’s just good-looking. Ehehe—]

00: [Awoo.]

Song Yu leaned close and whispered, laughing, “Just how much do you like people calling you ‘brother’?”

The low laugh made Rong Shi’s ears itch. “Only like it from you.”

Sweet-talking bunny.

Song Yu’s smile deepened. Before he could retort, Rong Shi added, “I also like it when you call me that… not properly.”

“…Damn.”

The damned rabbit could flirt back now.

The fake head cleared the iris scan; the center doors slid open.

Lights rose in the darkness—ranks of servers lining the hall. Even Rong Shi felt a flicker of surprise.

The scale was immense.

“Plan? Smash-and-grab?” Song Yu asked.

Rong Shi shook his head. “If detected, it triggers self-destruct.”

“How do you know all this?” Song Yu frowned.

Rong Shi’s gaze swept the towers. “You told me.”

“Me?”

This was the base’s data center: test-subject datasets, base operations, AI system logs, and more.

They couldn’t lift it all. They’d have to find the subject data and take full backups.

In under five minutes, 01 and 00 found the bank.

01: [Also found a strange dataset.]

“Strange?” They walked over.

Hovering by a rack, 01 streamed the data and opened the file.

A hovering window popped a file named J001.

There was a lot of content—but the photo on it pulled Rong Shi’s full attention.

“Ji Ling?!”

Song Yu’s voice snapped beside him.

Ice laced his tone instantly. “Why is his file here?!”

The omega in the photo was young—barely twenty—handsome but green, with fox-like eyes whose chill stripped the allure.

Song Yu couldn’t hide the disgust that rose.

Whatever had happened between the King and his dad, the wedge wasn’t only “a third party”—but this man directly broke the marriage, cost him his dad, and robbed him of a father’s love, leaving him essentially an orphan.

“He isn’t Ji Ling,” Rong Shi said. His fingertips went numb; a buzz filled his skull. “He’s my dad.”

Song Yu’s thoughts had already sprinted backwards into childhood—Rong Shi’s words yanked him back.

“Your dad?” He couldn’t believe it. “That man is my father’s consort—the current Queen, Ji Ling.”

“He isn’t.” Rong Shi’s hand clenched at his side. “The eyes are wrong. Ji Ling doesn’t look like that.”

“Eyes?” Song Yu stared. “Shouldn’t we start with the face?”

You don’t remember what your own dad looks like? How could you tell?

He swallowed the questions—because it was Rong Shi, he skipped them all.

Rong Shi would not mistake this.

Then—

Song Yu’s voice went dry and tight, a tremor hiding in it. “Your dad looks exactly like Ji Ling?”

Rong Shi was stunned too.

He’d braced himself—but seeing it was another thing.

His dad was a good man—how could he be connected to this organization?

Did he use pheromones to control the King?

The thought flashed; he shook his head.

Given what these test-subject men did—if his dad had controlled the King, the King wouldn’t have abandoned a promotion to Major General to go home as a garrison officer.

In his memory, the King rarely lost his temper; he was lax about small things, never sloppy with big ones—not the look of someone under control.

That thought calmed him.

“They look very alike. As for the relationship—I haven’t found it yet.”

“Alike to this degree?” Song Yu’s brow furrowed.

Rong Shi met his eyes, serious. “Do you trust me?”

They held each other’s gaze. After a moment, Song Yu unfolded Rong Shi’s too-tight fist and laced their fingers.

“Lie to me if you want,” he said with a crooked smile. “I’ll gladly be lied to.”

Rong Shi ruffled his hair and squeezed his hand, then sent 01 searching for “Ji Ling.”

“You’re sure your dad’s still back home?” Song Yu mused, chin in hand.

The implication was obvious.

Two faces this alike—either twins, or the same person.

An omega first becomes the King’s mistress and bears the Crown Prince, then marries an officer and has two more, and finally fakes illness to return as the King’s consort?

An insult, in Rong Shi’s mind.

But he knew Song Yu meant no such thing—only offering a line of thought.

“Positive,” he said quietly. “After I saw Ji Ling, I confirmed it—my dad’s been in a stasis pod and never woke.”

01: [Master, found nothing matching the name “Ji Ling” or this photo.]

“How is that possible?” Song Yu didn’t believe it.

If even Rong Shi’s dad tied to the organization, how could Ji Ling not?

01, aggrieved: [Really nothing.]

00, aggrieved: [Nothing.]

Time was short—no room for more thought.

Having 01 and 00 work in parallel cut the job in half.

00: [Backup at 97%—99%—]

Warning! System intrusion detected! Self-destruction will initiate after a five-second countdown—