Si Ming snapped his fingers, and light instantly bathed the entire lawn.
He could now see the terror in Green Hair’s eyes with perfect clarity, while Green Hair got a good look at the Demon Face Mask. His glasses were an alchemy device in their own right, designed to peer beneath the mask, but all they revealed was a hazy blur. Why?
“My mask is also an alchemy artifact,” Si Ming said, as if reading his thoughts. He offered the explanation in a flat tone.
Green Hair couldn’t help wondering if Si Ming possessed Mind Reading. According to all available records, Si Ming had wielded more than a dozen abilities—no one knew his true power. That uncertainty was the root of the fear.
And that wasn’t all. Si Ming had ventured into the Abyss and returned unscathed. As a member of the [Abyss Walkers], Green Hair understood the Abyss better than most, which only made his dread all the more profound.
“I… I have something to tell you,” Green Hair said, his words laced with unaccustomed respect.
Si Ming said nothing. He simply stared at Green Hair in silence.
“The Alchemy Matrix in this Alliance prison is supposed to seal the ability users’ powers for better control,” Green Hair began. “But in truth, it siphons their energy at an excruciatingly slow rate, funneling it up to some bigwig at the top.”
Si Ming remained silent.
“And that’s not the half of it. This place is riddled with shadows. Plenty of ability user criminals have been quietly transferred out—told they’re going to other facilities. In reality, they’re handed over to the Alliance’s experimental division for tests on their powers. Most come back—if they come back at all—broken beyond recognition, neither human nor ghost. I have solid intel and proof.”
Si Ming stayed quiet, his gaze utterly detached.
“Maybe back when you were still with the Alliance, it was an organization dedicated to protecting the public. But after you retired—after you personally ended the Catastrophes—their greed began to grow without bounds. They’re not the Alliance they used to be, so…”
“This isn’t a reason to set them free,” Lin Cheng finally interjected.
Lin Cheng turned toward the prisoners huddled inside the jail, watching from afar. “Some of them, I dragged in here myself back in the day. Their crimes are unforgivable—downright heinous. I’m aware of some of what you’ve said, but it has nothing to do with them. You can’t pardon their sins.”
Green Hair listened quietly to Si Ming’s words. He pushed up his glasses and asked softly, “So, should we leave it to the Alliance to decide who’s guilty and who’s not?”
“That’s just shifting the goalposts,” Lin Cheng replied evenly. “Letting them go means more blood will be spilled.”
“There’s already endless blood being spilled in this world!”
Lin Cheng shook his head. “I’m not speaking for the Alliance. I’m speaking for myself. And I say no.”
“You’re right,” Green Hair said. He lowered his head with a helpless laugh and looked back at Si Ming. “So, can I leave now?”
“Even if I killed you, your memories would simply respawn in a freshly cultured alchemy vessel. Killing you would be pointless.”
Green Hair’s deepest secret lay exposed. He stared into Si Ming’s icy eyes and, for the first time in years, felt a chill seep into his very soul.
“You should know I never liked killing,” Si Ming murmured with the faintest of sighs. “Go back. Give my regards to your leader. Tell her I’m doing fine. And while you’re at it, pass along some advice: Don’t peer into the Abyss. Don’t try to borrow its power. And don’t… harm the innocent.”
Green Hair wiped the cold sweat from his brow and nodded softly. “Understood.”
His hand brushed the tattoo on his left shoulder again, producing a vial of Green Potion. “This can heal Ming Si’s wounds. You know I wouldn’t dare lie to you.”
Si Ming took the vial, then turned and walked over to Ming Si, who was seated on the lawn. He sat down beside him and handed over the potion. Ming Si accepted it and glanced at Green Hair, who was already hurrying away from the prison.
“Why not grab him?” Ming Si asked slowly.
“That’s not his real body. He’s stored his memories elsewhere. This one’s just a vessel. Kill it, and the memories respawn in the next alchemy body. No point.”
“Alchemy tech can do that? The guy’s a genius.”
“As long as his memory core can’t be destroyed, he’s effectively immortal. A real pain to deal with.” Lin Cheng’s tone was casual, almost indifferent. He glanced at Ming Si. “You heard what he said earlier, right?”
Ming Si uncorked the Green Potion and downed it. His wounds began healing at a startling speed. Moments later, he let out a soft sigh. “I’m getting old.”
“Being old isn’t an excuse to run from this, old man. That’s not the you I knew,” Si Ming said, turning to meet his eyes with earnest intensity.
Ming Si fell silent for several seconds. “I knew the Alchemy Matrix in this prison siphons their energy for Alliance research projects. But I had no idea the transferred prisoners… were being sent off for experiments.”
They had been sentenced to death. They were irredeemable scum. And yet, this crossed a line— a moral bottom that even they couldn’t ignore.
Ming Si held Si Ming’s gaze, his expression deadly serious. “Tomorrow, I’ll go see him in person.”
With his seniority, he had every right to an audience with the Alliance’s current leader.
Lin Cheng tilted his head to gaze at the moon overhead but said nothing.
After a long pause, Ming Si spoke again, his voice low and thoughtful. “The Alliance has plenty of grassroots forces wary of it. Plenty more itching to tear it down and take its place. Back when the Catastrophes raged, everyone was too busy surviving to fight among themselves—they had to band together. But now that the Catastrophes are nearly over, the board is being reshuffled.”
“Hm?” Lin Cheng turned, regarding Ming Si with gentle patience, waiting for more.
“So the Alliance is desperate for power. Power and authority go hand in hand. Only with power can they intimidate the rogue factions. Only with power can they enforce order and keep the world stable. People with special abilities won’t settle for ordinary lives forever, but the Alliance’s resources are finite. That’s why they favor established organizations—it’s human nature, deep in the bones.”
“His goal is to bring every ability user under Alliance control. His ambitions are vast, but his power falls short, so he resorts to any means necessary. Back then, you left those ten vials of Evolution Blood behind, didn’t you? Because you believed the world needed a stabilizing force like the Alliance.”
“I know you’re an idealist. I was too, when I was young. But reality forced compromises on me—I lacked the power to enforce my justice. You, though… you have that power. With your authority back then, you could have seized control of the entire Alliance and imposed your vision of justice. You didn’t. Isn’t that because… you weren’t even sure what the right path was?”
“He’s walking his road, even if it’s not the flawless one. Trial and error is how we find better ways. I hope… you can understand him a little.”
Lin Cheng fell silent for several seconds before letting out a quiet sigh. “Do you know why I left those ten vials of Evolution Blood with the Alliance?”
“Not for the reasons I thought?” Ming Si blinked in surprise.
“In a way, it was. Back then, he was willing to die for humanity’s sake, so I trusted his sense of justice. But these days, the things he’s doing… they’re getting stranger.”
“He’s in charge now, but he can’t oversee every little detail at the bottom. There are countless people filtering his vision, and mistakes creep in. His ideas get twisted, misunderstood. But I believe his intentions are good.”
“Who knows if the dragon-slaying hero might one day become the dragon itself?”
Lin Cheng had always shown that figure remarkable tolerance. He could have ended these probes far more easily. In his memories, that person had once been someone who would sacrifice anything for justice. But the bullet that grazed his head that day had been a wake-up call.
The youth endured countless trials and tribulations to finally slay the evil dragon. Surveying the piles of glittering gold and jewels, he noticed iridescent scales sprouting across his own skin.
“Will you turn into that dragon someday?” Ming Si asked suddenly, his eyes fixed on Lin Cheng.
In the light, the mask on Si Ming’s face seemed to twist between a smile and a sob. He let out a helpless sigh.
Was that figure afraid Si Ming might one day become a greedy, tyrannical dragon?
“No,” Lin Cheng replied firmly. “I don’t know what the future holds, but right now, I’m certain: I won’t become a dragon covered in scales. All I want is to live as an ordinary person, to experience the easy life I missed out on—the one that should have been mine.”
“Good,” Ming Si sighed softly. “Tomorrow, I’ll have a real talk with him.”
Si Ming rose to his feet. He spotted Big Bear emerging from the prison in the distance, heading their way. Si Ming gave his shoulder a light pat. “It’s all good now. No need to worry.”
“You’re leaving?” Big Bear asked.
“Yeah. Catch you later if the chance comes up,” Si Ming replied softly. He walked off into the distant darkness. Behind him, Ming Si called out, “Thanks for this time… I owe you.”
“Just a small favor.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Si Ming’s figure vanished into the shadows.
The Alchemy Matrix had been reset to its original state, and calm returned to the prison.
Lin Cheng slept soundly alone until the next morning, when he saw Solar Corona again. Solar Corona entered his cell and took a seat. “Good news first: Paperwork’s almost done. You’ll be out soon.”
Lin Cheng gave him a faint smile and closed the book in his hands. “Appreciate it.”
Solar Corona’s eyes bored into him intently. “Did you see Si Ming last night?”
Lin Cheng shook his head, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his face. “Si Ming?”
