Not sure what got into Jing Xi, but when Chi Yao woke up the next day, he found three beautiful photos waiting for him.

He carefully added little notes to each one and decided that Jing Xi had suddenly become this generous only because he, Chi Yao, was simply too charming—so charming he had dazzled the man out of his senses, body and soul.

If Jing Xi knew what he was thinking, he would probably give him one look and let him figure it out himself.

While Chi Yao was still lazing in bed, Jing Xi was called to the study by Bai Qi.

A document was handed to him.

It was the tissue analysis report of that thing from the cave.

Jing Xi’s heart gave a jolt, but he didn’t open it right away.

“Grandma, what is it exactly?”

“The situation is a bit complicated. In essence, it’s a type of mutated beast. I haven’t compared it to the mutant-beast gene bank yet, so I’m not sure of the exact species.”

Bai Qi’s voice was calm and unhurried, her expression steady. “But its gene sequence shows clear signs of being edited.”

Jing Xi’s eyes flashed as he opened the report.

He didn’t know much about genetics, but he could at least tell that human genes and mutated beast genes were very different.

By the time he reached the third page, his guess was confirmed.

“Human genes have been inserted?” Jing Xi asked.

Bai Qi nodded. “The law clearly prohibits arbitrary editing of gene sequences, let alone fusing human genes with mutated beast genes. If this kind of illegal research isn’t stamped out in time, it could cause huge chaos.”

It was already chaos.

Jing Xi’s face darkened. “I’ll have to trouble you for a few more days to help me identify the species.”

“That’s not a problem.” At this point, a hint of worry appeared in Bai Qi’s eyes. “Was this tissue taken from a living body?”

Jing Xi: “So it’s dead now?”

Bai Qi: “Meaning it was alive once?”

Jing Xi hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“On the outside, it looks like a beast, but it has a far higher intelligence than a beast.”

Bai Qi frowned. “With such a crude method of gene splicing, even if it survives, it will live in agony.”

Jing Xi’s heart lurched, and for a split second, Chi Yao’s face flashed before his eyes.

“You can tell just from the genes?”

Bai Qi nodded. “This should only be an early-stage test subject. Even if they insist on doing this kind of experiment, they are not allowed to give the subject life. It’s too cruel.”

Leaving the study, Jing Xi felt heavy-hearted yet also faintly relieved.

Those people weren’t just experimenting on humans; they were also going after mutated beasts.

But fortunately, this one was a beast.

It was not any stage Chi Yao would have to go through.

In the bedroom, while Chi Yao was admiring the pretty photos of his wife, his terminal suddenly vibrated.

He swiped it open. It was Li Yuan again.

“Boss, those Viper lunatics have lost it! They actually brought over ten battleships as tribute and said they can send more if it’s not enough!” Li Yuan was so frustrated he kept tugging at his hair—unfortunately, a buzz cut, so there was nothing to tug. “They’re like snot, can’t shake them off!”

Chi Yao: “…”

Li Yuan: “The guys downstairs come crying to me every day. What am I supposed to do?!”

As soon as Jing Xi entered the bedroom, he heard Li Yuan’s booming voice.

Crooking a finger at Jing Xi, Chi Yao said to Li Yuan, “First accept the battleships, have them inspected. Then tell them to wait.”

Li Yuan: “That’s not a long‑term solution either.”

“Let them come if they want.” Sitting down on the chair by the bed, Jing Xi said mildly, “There are plenty of desolate planets in the Cetus system. Just send them there for labor reform.”

Chi Yao couldn’t help laughing.

“They’re not like Extreme Shadow. Why would they be that obedient?”

Jing Xi looked at him. “Whether they obey or not depends entirely on you, doesn’t it?”

Chi Yao raised an eyebrow. “You have that much faith in me?”

Jing Xi’s expression stayed wooden. “You’re the hope of the whole village now.”

Chi Yao: “…”

A star pirate group is despised in any era.

But Extreme Shadow had managed to earn universal praise online and even get publicly commended by an imperial admiral. That kind of glory was one of a kind.

The star‑pirate world was like any other circle. The top organizations were filthy rich and felt no pressure to survive. The middle tier scraped by—one big job a year could feed them for the whole year. The bottom tier failed job after job, living on a knife’s edge, at constant risk of being wiped out.

Viper belonged to the first group. Never short on food or drink, they now longed more for social status and public respect than material goods.

But how could a star pirate earn respect that easily?

Once Extreme Shadow had done it, they came wagging their tails.

Chi Yao had no interest in managing other star‑pirate groups, but since Jing Xi had said so, he went along with it.

“Sign an agreement with them first. We’ll talk about follow‑up operations when I say so.”

Li Yuan looked at Jing Xi, then at his own boss. He wanted to say something, but in the end, said nothing and hung up.

Jing Xi pulled up a list and sent it to Chi Yao. “These are my assets in Cetus. Take your pick.”

Sending Viper to open up barren planets—if they could persist, great. If not, the development period would count as labor reform anyway. At least it would keep them from stirring up more trouble.

Chi Yao could see right through Jing Xi’s calculations.

Now it was just a question of whether Viper would jump into the pit.

“Does your head still hurt?” Jing Xi checked Chi Yao’s forehead; his temperature was normal.

“I’m fine.” Chi Yao lifted the quilt and got out of bed.

His head still throbbed faintly, his mood was on edge, and he couldn’t calm down at all.

“Anywhere you want to go today?” Jing Xi asked.

Their relationship couldn’t be made public for now, but at least they could go in and out freely.

“I want to visit Xingbang’s arms factory.”

Chi Yao took off his pajamas and pulled clothes from the closet. “That omega messaged me early this morning. He wants to meet about an arms order.”

“Talk business, or just wants to see you?” Jing Xi asked.

“Well, an alpha as charming as I am is rare,” Chi Yao turned and smiled at him. “You’d better keep a close eye on me, I could be snatched away any minute.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jing Xi said coolly. “I’ll just snatch you back.”

Leaning down to kiss his lips, Chi Yao laughed. “Xi‑Xi, you’re so handsome.”

Jing Xi: “…”

Show‑off.

After breakfast, Jing Xi reported to Pei Zhenyue and then went with Chi Yao to the civilian spaceport.

No arms company was allowed to have its factory on the Capital Star.

Xingbang had many arms factories scattered around; the closest one was near the Military-Industry Star.

When they arrived at the spaceport, Ruan Lingyun was already waiting.

He wore a silk shirt under a suit jacket, and with his soft, pretty features, he perfectly highlighted the beauty of a male omega.

Chi Yao gave him a glance and looked at Jing Xi beside him.

Both were dressed casually today.

Jing Xi had his long hair tied into a ponytail poking out the back of a baseball cap. A loose jacket over a T‑shirt, long pants exposing a small strip of pale, slender ankle—he looked nothing like the cold, fierce general he normally was, more like a freshly enrolled college student.

They were the type who would draw a crowd just walking down the street, so they had no choice but to wear masks.

Seeing Chi Yao, Ruan Lingyun’s eyes lit up, but he quickly noticed Jing Xi by his side.

“I didn’t expect you to come as well,” Ruan Lingyun said with a polite smile. “I thought once off the Capital Star, Mr. Chi would be free.”

It sounded courteous, but the thorns were there.

“In accordance with the rules, he has to accept round‑the‑clock supervision until he returns his temporary pass,” Jing Xi said in a steady tone. “If that causes trouble, consider this an apology in advance.”

Ruan Lingyun laughed and waved it off. “Not at all. I’ve long wanted to invite you to visit our factory. This is the perfect opportunity.”

Chi Yao folded his arms, face cold. “So are you giving me a tour, or giving him a tour?”

Ruan Lingyun stalled, then forced a smile. “You are both my honored guests.”

The whole empire knew that Chi Yao and Jing Xi got along terribly; calling them mortal enemies wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

Trying to do business with both at once meant a hellish love triangle was inevitable.

After a three‑hour flight, they reached the arms factory.

It was bigger than Chi Yao had imagined.

Perhaps to showcase their strength to clients, the showroom displayed a lot of new weapons from the past two years—even including mechs.

Seeing him look in that direction, Ruan Lingyun explained, “We obtained a mech production license last October and have already signed a purchase agreement with the military. To date, we’ve produced thirty thousand S6, S6S, and S7 mechs.”

“The military still needs you to supply mechs?” Chi Yao sneered. “Are the people on the Military-Industry Star about to lose their jobs?”

Maintaining his smile, Ruan Lingyun said, “We are indeed the first company to receive such approval.”

It sounded impressive, and the mechs were talked up to the sky, but after a quick look, Chi Yao couldn’t even bear to look again.

Even the standard mechs used by ordinary mech soldiers were better than these, let alone Jing Xi’s Feilong, which felt like it had leapt ahead two whole eras.

Although the empire hadn’t completely banned civilian production of arms, the restrictions were extremely strict. Many types of weapons, even if manufactured, could not be freely sold.

To make a profit, corporations always tried to upgrade their products, while the military kept issuing new regulations to suppress private firepower. And so the black market was born.

Without household registration, Chi Yao had never bought weapons through proper channels.

Today was his first time taking an upright, official tour of an arms factory.

One warehouse of junk, nothing stood out.

Even worse than the stuff Jing Xi could cobble together by hand.

After talking until his throat was dry, Ruan Lingyun looked up to find that Chi Yao wasn’t listening at all.

“I don’t know what interests Mr. Chi? Guns or fighters?”

Chi Yao withdrew his gaze and looked at Jing Xi. “You’ll have to ask the major general.”

Ruan Lingyun was confused. “Why does Extreme Shadow’s arms procurement have to ask Major General Jing?”

Under Jing Xi’s “watch your words” stare, Chi Yao smiled. “For the next few years, Extreme Shadow and the military will be working closely together. When it comes to arms for clearing mutated beasts and rescue operations, of course the major general understands better.”

Ruan Lingyun froze. “Extreme Shadow is going to cooperate with the military?”

“Of course,” Chi Yao said, looking down at him. “If it weren’t for the talks, would I risk so much just to come to the Capital Star?”

“This matter is only in the conceptual stage. The specifics depend on the higher‑ups’ decisions,” Jing Xi said coldly. “Please don’t spread it around.”

“Alright, alright, my lips are sealed.” Dragging out his words lazily, Chi Yao added, “But compared to the White Crane Legion’s gear, these weapons are really a far cry.”

Keeping on his polite smile, Ruan Lingyun said, “White Crane is a top‑tier legion using the most advanced weapons the military develops in‑house. However, their three current fighter models and twenty‑eight types of ammunition are all provided by us.”

He gestured for them to move on.

After spending the entire day touring the factory, they returned to the Capital Star. At the spaceport, Ruan Lingyun tried to invite Chi Yao to dinner.

“Forget it. With him tagging along, nothing tastes good,” Chi Yao said, glancing at Jing Xi, clearly displeased.

Ruan Lingyun glanced at Jing Xi’s icy face and said with a smile, “Then perhaps next time, when it’s convenient, I can invite you again?”

Chi Yao gently brushed the hair off Ruan Lingyun’s shoulder and said in a low voice, “How could I skip it when a beauty is buying me dinner?”

Jing Xi kept his face black the whole way and didn’t spare them a single look.

Back in the hovercar, Chi Yao pulled out some wet wipes and wiped his hands several times over.

“What a waste of effort, wiping it off,” Jing Xi said coolly as he started the car.

“I was forced to be ‘on the clock’, and you’re still scolding me?” Chi Yao protested.

Jing Xi: “…”

He drove out of the lot, set the car to autopilot, then pulled Chi Yao’s hand over to carefully wipe it himself.

“The way he looks at you makes me very uncomfortable.”

Xingbang had been working with the military for years. Almost every legion had orders with them, large or small, but Feilong alone had rejected them outright from the very beginning.

Knowing Feilong was a tough bone to gnaw, Ruan Lingyun had simply given up on them and wasn’t particularly warm to Jing Xi.

A conglomerate like that didn’t really need Extreme Shadow’s business, but Ruan Lingyun was far too enthusiastic toward Chi Yao. It looked like, compared to orders, he was more interested in Chi Yao himself.

“So what do we do? Have you cozy up to him instead?” Chi Yao squeezed his hand and laughed. “But I can’t bear the thought of you dealing with an omega.”

Before they even got home, Jing Xi let go of his hand.

“Today’s trip was just a test run.”

Those weapons looked good on the surface but were all too standard.

“But he’ll contact me again,” Chi Yao said, swiping his terminal and switching to a control interface. “Once Extreme Shadow’s market is open, it’s basically the whole star‑pirate circle. Of course they’ll be interested.”

Selling arms to star pirates in secret and supplying them with the military’s backing were two completely different things.

If the star‑pirate world and the military really formed a partnership, an entire ecosystem would spring up behind it. Whoever seized the initiative would be the winner.

From the device, a fragmented voice came through.

Jing Xi quickly recognized it as Ruan Lingyun’s.

“It seems Commander Pei has already shown an intention of recruiting Extreme Shadow, and Extreme Shadow is very interested… Pei is about to take office, he’ll definitely make this a highlight of his record… I’ve already given Chi Yao a tour, but with Jing Xi there, he didn’t look too interested… I’ll stay in touch with him…”

“When did you plant a bug on him?” Jing Xi thought back over the day. Chi Yao had kept his distance from Ruan Lingyun, only touching his hair once at the end.

“The bug was originally on Li Bo,” Chi Yao snorted. “After listening to them for a while, I just sent the monitor onto Ruan Lingyun instead.”

Jing Xi: “…It’s that small?”

Chi Yao nodded. “Very small. But it can only record audio and nothing else.”

Resting his hands on the steering wheel, Jing Xi mentally sorted through the recent events again.

“We’ll need to give Commander Pei another push.”

“By the fifteenth, everyone who ought to know about the cooperation must know,” Chi Yao said, looking ahead. “If the bait isn’t big enough, the big fish won’t bite.”

Back at the Jing house, the two elders were waiting eagerly for them to come home for dinner.

As he walked inside and took off his coat, Chi Yao muttered under his breath, “You really make people jealous.”

Taking his coat, Jing Xi hung it up. “This is your home too.”

A scene suddenly flashed before Chi Yao’s eyes.

A spacious living room filled with toys, middle‑aged Jing Rong working on a bone specimen, chibi three‑headed Jing Xi quietly reading a book, and the scent of gardenias drifting in on the wind.

So he really had been here.

After dinner, Jing Rong wanted a few rounds of chess.

“Professor Qiu contacted me. You two go to his lab tomorrow morning.”

Jing Xi: “The Central Research Institute?”

Jing Rong: “No, his private lab. It’s also his home.”

“Brother Rong, why do you trust him so much?” Chi Yao dropped a piece. “From what we know, he doesn’t seem like a good person.”

He wasn’t biased, but some medical fanatics had very different moral standards from ordinary people. They might not care whether they were “good” or “bad”—they only saw their research.

“He’s obsessed with medicine,” Jing Rong said, sipping his tea. “And he already has all the honors he could want.”

One look was all it took for Chi Yao to understand.

Jing Rong didn’t necessarily trust the man; he simply believed that someone who already had everything wouldn’t let themselves be used by any one side for power or status.

That night, after his shower, Jing Xi walked out of the bathroom toweling his hair.

The living room lights were off, leaving the room dim. Chi Yao sat alone on the floor‑level platform, a beer bottle in hand.

“Why drinking alone in the dark?” Jing Xi sat down beside him on the floor, opened a can of beer, clinked it against his, and took a long swig.

Chi Yao’s gaze swept over his long hair. “Why didn’t you blow your hair dry?”

Jing Xi: “Too much trouble.”

Putting his bottle down, Chi Yao took the towel and began drying his hair for him.

“It’s been a long time since I used your body. I kind of miss it.”

Lowering his head to make it easier for him, Jing Xi said, “Then try and see if you can trigger it. Let’s swap back.”

Chi Yao chuckled. “You think I’m a superhero? That I can just flip a switch and activate whatever power I want?”

Jing Xi’s voice was low. “Even beasts are mutating into something that powerful. I wouldn’t be surprised if humans developed any kind of ability.”

“Every species mutation begins with death and disaster,” Chi Yao said, laughing quietly. “You’re really optimistic.”

Survival of the fittest, natural selection.

Only when you’re living through it can you feel how brutal it is.

“Then forget the superpower,” Jing Xi said.

Chi Yao burst out laughing. “As if you get to choose?”

Looking up at him, Jing Xi said, “If I can’t cure you, I’ll make myself like you.”

The sudden seriousness stunned Chi Yao.

“What are you talking about?”

Jing Xi leaned closer, resting his forehead against his.

“No matter what happens, I’ll face it with you.”

Something inside Chi Yao—some softest place—felt as if it had been gently poked.

Thinking of what his grandmother had said that day, Jing Xi opened the scanned paper report.

“It’s the exact opposite of you.”

Chi Yao looked at the virtual screen, his brows knitting.

He wasn’t incapable of being tested—he was afraid.

If the truth were laid out in front of him, he didn’t know what excuse he’d use to keep running from the fate waiting for him.

“They implanted human genes into its genome,” Jing Xi said quietly. “It kept insisting it was human, probably because of that. But in essence, it was still a beast.”

“So it broke down,” Chi Yao said, his voice dry.

The gap between self‑knowledge and reality was too big. There was no environment in the world where it could belong.

The mistakes others made, it had to pay for.

Jing Xi held his hand, their fingers twining tightly.

“You’re human. You’re not its kind.”

That night, Chi Yao jolted awake in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat.

“Yao‑Yao?”

He stripped off his soaked clothes and headed for the bathroom. Hearing Jing Xi’s voice, he turned his head. “Did I wake you?”

Jing Xi switched on the bedside lamp and sat up. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Irritated, Chi Yao pushed his damp hair back, forcing his voice to stay even. “I’m fine. I’ll take a shower. Go back to sleep.”

Watching him enter the bathroom, Jing Xi frowned.

The smell of alcohol in the air was very faint, but it still set his nerves on edge.

He was no stranger to this aggressive pheromone—