Facts proved that even Chi Yao couldn’t predict everything.

When they returned from touring the battlefield, Chi Yao opened his terminal, wanting to see public opinion online about Ghost’s assassination attempt, only to discover his follower count had gone from 0 to over two hundred million.

The comments and likes under his only post were too numerous to count.

Jing Xi handed him a bottle of water and casually glanced at the screen.

“…”

The comment section was more fierce than he imagined—

“Is this the real person or a fake riding the hype?”

“Known fact: Chi Yao is unregistered. Unregistered people can’t create accounts, so this account is definitely fake.”

“Ahhhhh it’s him! It must be him! Are you two close enough to casually use each other’s accounts to like posts?”

“Oh, brothers joking about calling each other hubby and wifey, how interesting [dog head emoji]”

Chi Yao looked at Jing Xi in confusion: “Why is it different from what I thought?”

Jing Xi drained a bottle of water in one gulp, crushed it with one hand, and casually tossed it into the recycling robot, his voice cold: “How would I know?”

Chi Yao’s gaze fell on that water bottle: “…”

He had a feeling Xi Xi wanted to crush something else.

The External Relations head, who’d been lurkin,g saw them return and stood before Chi Yao with hands clasped together.

“Boss, to successfully suppress this matter, please don’t comment on it anymore for now.”

Chi Yao scrolled through comments with interest.

“Understood.”

External Relations head: “…”

You don’t look very understanding.

It was just that suddenly having his own account made Chi Yao feel somewhat novel.

As if he’d truly become a citizen of the empire.

In the evening, the dark department sent back all the modified humans’ information on schedule.

Chi Yao was eating dinner with Jing Xi in the rest cabin.

He opened the file and projected it in mid-air. To save time, he first looked at the summary report.

“These people never left 820. The farthest any went was the Western Continent.”

Jing Xi, sitting across from him, looked up.

“Then there must be a research base here.”

Although the Southern Continent was large, uninhabited beast zones occupied more than half, and since these people all lived in the same area, their activity intersection points were particularly dense.

Chi Yao quickly scrolled down, suddenly stopping when he saw a report.

“Hunting competition? What kind of event is this?”

“Some regions near beast zones hold these bounty competitions. No fewer than a thousand are registered with the military annually.”

As Jing Xi explained, he opened the military’s internal system and entered the hunting competition’s name.

Chi Yao came around the table to sit beside him.

“It’s registered?”

Jing Xi nodded and clicked on the details.

Registration records showed this event had existed for 50 years, continuing to the present, only for Southern Continent residents, with the strongest hunter receiving ten million star coins.

“The prize isn’t much.” Jing Xi commented flatly.

“…”

Chi Yao pinched his face: “Young master who knows nothing of common people’s hardships.”

A “crudely made” cockatiel could sell for over a hundred million for this young master. A mere ten million was indeed too little—not even pocket change.

“Besides the top three, they also established several excellence awards—” Jing Xi highlighted a few sentences in the details. “All winning contestants not only receive generous prizes but also have the opportunity to be recommended for jobs.”

“Winning equals getting a long-term meal ticket.” Chi Yao sneered. “Current 820 is at least two or three hundred years behind average second-tier planets, let alone 50 years ago. This reward could attract many people.”

Jing Xi looked thoughtful: “Don’t you think this format seems familiar?”

The smile faded from Chi Yao’s lips.

“The amusement park.”

As expected, it wasn’t his imagination.

Jing Xi frowned slightly.

Using competitions to select excellent personnel, then naturally gathering them under the guise of “job recommendations.”

Once those people went, they’d fall into that dark cycle with no escape until death.

“But—these people were modified yet released. Why is that?”

Jing Xi still couldn’t make sense of it. “So many people—aren’t they afraid of exposure?”

In previous encounters at so-called amusement parks, those failures were forced or voluntarily became the park’s enforcers.

Even if the modification failed, they couldn’t gain freedom.

Chi Yao reached out to smooth his furrowed brow: “Maybe it’s not that they were released, but that we came in?”

Jing Xi’s eyes flashed as he looked up at him.

“You think this place—”

“I’ve had this vague feeling since the first day we arrived.” Chi Yao’s eyes turned cold. “This entire Southern Continent probably has problems.”

“Wait.”

Jing Xi suddenly thought of something. “Following that organization’s logic, failed products are arranged as the lowest-level security or enforcers. Treating them as guards—if they were released, what are they guarding?”

The terminal suddenly rang, and Pei Zhenyue’s name appeared on the screen.

Jing Xi casually swiped it open.

“Marshal.”

Pei Zhenyue leaned against the smoking area window, exhaling white smoke, looking exhausted.

“You two are coming out without even giving me a heads up?”

Jing Xi: “…”

“Joking.” Pei Zhenyue stubbed out the cigarette after only two puffs, his expression grave. “Be sure to stay safe over there. The situation on Capital Star is unstable—I can’t look after you.”

Although he’d risen to power, all parties’ authority needed to be consolidated. Any power retrieval involved massive interests and couldn’t be transferred in a day or two.

This process was very dangerous.

“Just take care of yourself.” Chi Yao sneered, not giving face at all. “Withdrawing from the marshal competition made the old man faint in the bathroom several times. Don’t let his efforts go to waste.”

For the dark department, the biggest benefit of Pei Zhenyue’s rise was not needing to expose files to others.

As long as Pei Zhenyue remained in office, others couldn’t access the files.

Pei Zhenyue: “I’ve been drinking health soups lately, trying to live a few more days.”

Chi Yao draped his arm over Jing Xi’s shoulder, smiling: “Old Lü’s chickens are good, very nourishing. Next time, have Xi Xi bring you a truckload.”

Pei Zhenyue: “…”

“Convenient to talk?” Jing Xi asked.

Pei Zhenyue glanced off-screen: “Break time’s almost over. You can report battle conditions.”

So it wasn’t convenient.

Jing Xi: “Currently progressing smoothly. The captured Ghost members have entered the investigation phase. Will report any developments immediately.”

Pei Zhenyue straightened and walked out, passing two other officers entering midway.

“Ghost has never been compliant. Don’t rush the robbery matter. Properly soothe refugee emotions and prioritize handling the beast tide.”

Jing Xi discreetly glanced at the two major generals appearing on screen.

“Yes, we’ve strengthened airspace patrols. Won’t let them infiltrate again.”

Pei Zhenyue pushed open the door: “I’m assured with you handling things. Watch Chi Yao, have him properly reform, and I’ll consider reducing his sentence.”

After he left, the two major generals smoking together exchanged glances.

Hanging up the video call, Jing Xi frowned.

“The military situation may be more serious than when we left.”

Chi Yao: “Not surprising.”

Originally, all parties were mutually restraining each other, but Pei Zhenyue’s rise broke the original balance.

Some people would definitely take action to change the status quo.

“By the way, have you decided where to settle this batch of refugees?” Chi Yao asked.

Who knew how many modified humans were among those refugees outside? Releasing this batch back wasn’t quite appropriate.

“Already selected a new settlement location.” Jing Xi looked at him. “We need to first confirm whether this competition is an ‘amusement park.’ If so, we just need to screen everyone who participated.”

Chi Yao leaned against him: “Time’s so tight. Investigating from scratch is too difficult.”

Jing Xi: “And we can’t let them detect us.”

The Ghost capture couldn’t be hidden from that organization, but they currently only said they caught a batch without revealing they discovered Ghost came from among the refugees.

Once detected, Ghost members among refugees would likely take action. Then, with the enemy in darkness and them in light, they’d lose initiative.

Chi Yao thought for a moment: “Let’s stick with the current method.”

Transfer to the warship, manually screen, then compare these people’s information.

“As for what they’re guarding—since there are failed products, there must be real Ghost members. As long as their goal isn’t achieved, they’ll show up sooner or later.”

Chi Yao chuckled lightly. “We might as well continue waiting for them to come to us.”

Jing Xi was silent for a moment: “That’s all we can do.”

Online, the External Relations department posted several battlefield updates, diverting considerable attention. Moreover, Chi Yao’s account hadn’t responded since posting that update, so by evening the heat had died down.

The External Relations head lay sprawled on the console, his brain throbbing.

“Director, here, have some chicken soup. Heard the commander had the mess hall specially prepare it for all units.” A soldier brought the soup over.

The External Relations head took the bowl, eyes gleaming.

“The commander really thinks of us whenever there’s anything good.”

Straightforward soldier: “Then let’s raise more and fatter chickens to repay the commander!”

External Relations head: “Sure, I’m good at raising chickens.”

Just as he took a sip of chicken soup, before tasting it, a subordinate over there shouted loudly, cursing in excitement.

“Holy shit! The marshal followed Boss Chi. How the hell do we handle this?!”

“Pffft—”

The External Relations head spat out his mouthful of chicken soup.

He quickly opened the social network page.

Sure enough, “Marshal follows Chi Yao” was trending.

“OMG, Chi Yao’s account might be knockoff, but the marshal’s eye-catching red verification can’t be fake, right?”

“Chi Yao himself confirmed.”

“My god, my husband has citizenship! Can register for marriage now!”

“Ahhhhh, asking if good brothers would call each other ‘wife’?”

“Why do I feel Chi Yao’s like had a bit of insulting meaning? Two mortal enemies—no way they’d get together.”

“Being so open about it makes me feel it’s fake instead.”

External Relations head: “…”

Who’ll save him?!

Late at night, Chi Yao was studying maps.

Full-system projections filled the huge living room. Chi Yao walked while watching, occasionally making marks.

All the captured failed products were already marked on the map.

“Boss—”

Tie Xiong rubbed his eyes, sleepily emerging from the room, walking crookedly as if he’d fall at any moment.

Chi Yao ignored him. Soon after, an attachment appeared on his left leg.

He looked down. The child had hugged his leg and fallen asleep again.

“…”

When Jing Xi returned, he saw Tie Xiong hanging on Chi Yao’s leg as he walked back and forth nonchalantly.

“…”

“Can you sleep like this?” Jing Xi went over and carefully pried the child off to hold in his arms.

Tie Xiong seemed already accustomed to Jing Xi’s scent, finding a comfortable position in his embrace and sleeping soundly.

“Already treating you as mom.” Chi Yao hugged both person and child together, kissing Jing Xi’s hair.

Jing Xi didn’t have many real opportunities to interact with Tie Xiong, but Tie Xiong’s display of such trust was probably related to him and Chi Yao previously swapping bodies.

Jing Xi turned his head, biting his lips: “Isn’t mom you?”

Chi Yao’s tongue traced his lip corner, leaving butterfly kisses.

“Your posture holding children is more professional than mine. Definitely, you’re the mom.”

Jing Xi: “Sophistry.”

As the two were kissing intensely, Ying Wei also ran out from the room, looking half-asleep, searching everywhere under the table and sofa.

“Ao wu ao wu?”

Chi Yao sneered: “Stop fighting. The real mom is here looking for her child.”

Jing Xi: “…”

Since Jing Xi had returned, Chi Yao decisively closed the map.

The other already showed signs of workaholism. If left alone, he’d probably enter work mode again.

Chi Yao picked up the child and placed him on the Ying Wei’s back, pulling Jing Xi toward the bedroom.

“Let’s sleep.”

Jing Xi: “I still have some documents to review—”

“Tomorrow.” Chi Yao’s attitude was resolute. “My ‘Jing Xi body temperature deficiency syndrome’ is acting up. Need you to treat me.”

Jing Xi’s eyes flashed, some discomfort appearing in their depths.

Water sounds came from the shower. Jing Xi stood outside washing up.

To divert attention, he made conversation: “The marshal’s move is probably revenge on us.”

“That old kid is too childish.”

Chi Yao rinsed the foam off his body, sneering. “Comparable to the old man.”

Jing Xi: “Everyone online is spreading that we came out publicly. Tomorrow have Xiao Han handle it.”

“No need.”

Chi Yao turned off the water, grabbed a towel and walked out dripping wet. “Even coming out publicly, no one believes it.”

Jing Xi: “…”

Hearing the door open, he instinctively turned his head. His gaze stuck to Chi Yao’s body, unconsciously swallowing.

He hadn’t used Chi Yao’s body in a long time. Suddenly seeing it, the visual impact was considerable.

Chi Yao dried his hair, casually looking up, just catching him hurriedly turning away.

“Xi Xi.” Chi Yao walked behind him and wrapped around him, smirking mischievously. “Were you just looking at me with lustful eyes?”

Jing Xi kept a straight face: “…No.”

Chi Yao: “Didn’t look, or didn’t look lustfully?”

Jing Xi: “…Didn’t look lustfully.”

Chi Yao laughed lowly: “Liar. I saw you wipe your drool.”

Jing Xi instinctively licked his lip corner: “…”

He’d swallowed it all down. How could it flow out?

Chi Yao brushed aside his long hair, kissing from the nape up to near his gland.

“Don’t be shy. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

In the dim bedroom, the dog and child occupied half the bed. They were forced to squeeze together, creating a peculiar warmth.

Jing Xi was held tightly like a body pillow.

Chi Yao nuzzled him, looking completely satisfied: “The best sleeping temperature, bar none.”

Jing Xi: “…”

Chi Yao: “This is an exclusive benefit for you. Touched?”

Jing Xi: “…Touched.” Like hell.

What was he even expecting?