Jiang Yunzhao refused. “This Zerg Attack is a B-class strike directed by a High-Tier Zerg Commander. The Third Army is assembling a defense line; my Task Force is responsible for clearing any Zerg that breach it.”
“You’re a second-year cadet with no Exoskeleton, planning to search a war zone alone for someone. Do you want to die?”
Sang Ling: “That’s exactly why I’m borrowing your Tang Dao.”
The Eldest Miss frowned, eyeing Sang Ling with suspicion, as if searching her memory.
Jiang Yunzhao: “I remember now. Lin Jinxu is your sister’s Omega. You’re going to find her?”
“She’s just an Omega. She doesn’t even count as a proper citizen. You were ready to sell her to pay your debts—what makes her worth risking your life?”
An Omega was only an object. You might pay a steep price for an object, but no one risked their life for an object.
Sang Ling felt, once again, the world’s grotesque inequality through Jiang Yunzhao’s words, and a wave of irritation rose in her.
Face set, she repeated, “The Tang Dao. Lend it to me.”
Her expression was so grim, her tone so grave, that even Jiang Yunzhao dimly sensed how much this Omega mattered to her.
She said nothing more. She unstrapped the Tang Dao and handed it over. “Her name is Cloud Piercer. Don’t you dare lose her.”
Sang Ling nodded, took the Tang Dao, and opened her Wristwatch Light Brain.
As Lin Jinxu’s legal owner under current law, she naturally held standing permission to track the location of Lin Jinxu’s Light Brain. A red dot lit up on the screen, moving slowly, three or four kilometers away.
She nodded to her client of the day. “Sorry. The commission ends here.”
Having informed the Beta, she turned and left without another word, following the Light Brain’s map toward Lin Jinxu.
Behind her, Su Qingyue’s mouth opened, words rising and dying, until at last she only watched in silence as that white-uniformed figure receded into the distance.
She could no longer see the Alpha’s silver-white hair, yet still she stared fixedly in the direction she had gone.
She didn’t know whether she was watching Chu Zhou, or watching Sang Ling.
A lazy, grating voice spoke up.
“Stop pretending. You’ve almost fooled yourself into believing it.”
Jiang Yunzhao came to stand beside Su Qingyue, following her gaze, and said carelessly,
“Picking on some bottom-rung little Alpha who doesn’t know President Su from Adam, and conning her while you’re at it? Only a young Alpha with a bad family background would be soft-hearted enough to take money and playact love with a Beta.”
Su Qingyue withdrew her gaze, and facing Jiang Yunzhao, her eyes went cold in an instant. “I hired her to portray a virtual character I like. A monetary transaction, payment rendered, service delivered—perfectly legal. Whether I’m pretending is none of your concern.”
“And you? The ever-haughty Major Jiang, caring this much about one random Alpha? Is your Task Force short on bodies to send to their deaths again?”
Jiang Yunzhao and Su Qingyue were both heirs of great houses; they’d known each other’s names since childhood and had despised each other on sight ever since. Jiang Yunzhao loathed Su Qingyue’s hypocrisy; Su Qingyue loathed the chauvinist Alpha arrogance radiating off Jiang Yunzhao.
Jiang Yunzhao said, with mock kindness, “You’d best really be just playing dress-up. Don’t go falling in earnest. In case you’ve forgotten—Alphas can’t possibly love a Beta.”
Su Qingyue thought: of course she wouldn’t fall in earnest. What she loved was still Chu Zhou. A virtual AI was so convenient—never flawed, never aging.
This Sang Ling had merely borrowed the glow of playing Chu Zhou to earn a second glance.
But she couldn’t be bothered to explain herself to Jiang Yunzhao. Her lips curved. “Thank you for the reminder, Major Jiang. I’ll be sure to remember it.”
Hah, hah.
Sang Ling sprinted the whole way, wind roaring past her ears, the taste of iron clinging to her mouth.
“Warning. Warning. You are in a Class-2 injury state. Please proceed to the nearest hospital at once.”
“Warning. Warning. User is moving at high speed. Please stop moving immediately, rest in place, and call an ambulance.”
“Warning. Warning……”
The Light Brain’s nagging alarms grated on her. Sang Ling ran on, her gait going uneven, deep and shallow, already unsteady.
“Turn left.”
The navigation voice sounded. Sang Ling cut left, vaulting over a stretch of ruins—but a wave of weakness crashed over her, and her balance shattered in an instant.
Thud.
She crashed heavily to the ground, her forehead striking a protruding steel rebar in the rubble, tearing open a gash of blood.
Sang Ling lay collapsed beside a half-toppled wall. Darkness swam before her eyes, and the reek of blood erupted from her chest, clouding her mind.
“Detected: user heart rate abnormal. User blood pressure abnormal.”
“Detected: user suffering internal bleeding.”
“Analyzing blood.”
A thin black needle extended from the Wristwatch Light Brain—short, barely half a centimeter—and pricked Sang Ling’s wrist, drawing two drops of blood for analysis.
“Running blood analysis. Detected: user blood oxygen below threshold. Detected: adrenaline exceeding safe levels……”
After the string of alarms, the Light Brain finally said,
“Activating built-in Military Light Brain Medical AI.”
A moment later, a cool female voice came from the Light Brain, utterly without inflection.
“Citizen Sang Ling, hello. You require treatment.”
Sang Ling rolled her eyes with all her strength. Useless AI—of course she needed treatment.
“I have reviewed your movement path, trajectory, and heart rate over the past thirty minutes, and found that you continued high-speed running after sustaining severe injury.”
“Alpha citizen Sang Ling, you were not conscripted for this battle. You have no mission. Please proceed to the nearest hospital for treatment.”
Sang Ling ignored the AI and tried to push herself up against the wall behind her, to go find Lin Jinxu.
But the Light Brain on her left wrist suddenly flashed violet-blue electricity.
“Yowch!”
Sang Ling couldn’t help crying out, clutching her left wrist with her right hand, cursing, “What’s wrong with you? Why did you shock me?”
The Medical AI’s voice was steady. “By calculation, your current physical condition can no longer sustain your safety within the war zone.”
“Every Alpha’s body is a vital asset of the Federation, an asset that must be able to deliver value on the battlefield. No one—including the Alpha herself—may endanger an Alpha’s life on a battlefield.”
Got it. Alphas were self-propelled precious weapons, and self-destruction outside of combat was forbidden. Wonderful.
The Medical AI repeated itself. “You have no combat mission and no grounds to be moving through a war zone. Please proceed to the nearest hospital for treatment immediately.”
Sang Ling: “And if I insist on going?”
Medical AI: “Please present the legitimacy of your course of action. Otherwise I will administer electric shocks per system directives.”
Sang Ling tried once more to force herself upright. Violet-blue light flashed; she cursed roundly through the pain and slumped back against the wall.
“Fine. Here’s your reason.”
Her forehead was drenched in sweat. “There’s an Omega I know in danger. I’m going to save her.”
Medical AI: “The Omega sex is a second-class citizenry of the Federation, without full human rights. The Federation prohibits an Alpha from endangering her own safety to rescue an Omega.”
Sang Ling said quickly, “Wait, wait—I’m not saving her for her own sake. She was my sister’s spouse. I’m doing it for my sister.”
“Connecting to population database. Querying relatives of citizen Sang Ling.”
“Citizen Sang Chi: sister of citizen Sang Ling, sex Alpha, formerly Captain of the Third Army, killed in action during classified mission A657. Her estate includes the Omega Lin Jinxu, now inherited by citizen Sang Ling.”
“Calculating plausibility.”
“Calculation complete. Our apologies, citizen Sang Ling—your justification does not hold. Database records indicate citizen Sang Chi’s relationship with you was hostile, and citizen Sang Chi is deceased. Risking your life for her sake does not meet requirements.”
The AI’s voice was merciless to the extreme. “Please state your reason honestly. You may trust me.”
Sang Ling: “You can’t just heal my injuries, but you insist on interrogating me about why. Are you a therapist AI or something?”
Medical AI, politely: “A therapist is also a doctor. I am here to provide you sincere psychological support.”
“So you really won’t let me go?”
“Not until you present sufficient justification.”
Sang Ling drew a deep breath; the motion stabbed fire through her chest. She exhaled long and slow. “Fine.”
“To be honest, I don’t know why I want to save her either. Especially since I’m in genuine pain right now.”
Forced to examine her own heart, she said hesitantly, “Could it be… because I saved her once, so I’ve already filed her under my territory and started being protective?”
The Medical AI, like a true therapist: “Nesting Instinct, heroism, territoriality—these are indeed common Alpha mindsets. But they do not appear sufficient to motivate you to act at the risk of your life.”
Sang Ling’s heart hurt so badly it felt close to bursting. She laughed bitterly. “You really are playing therapist now.”
“Can’t I just be a pushover with an overactive moral compass? I just can’t stand by and watch someone I know die for no reason.”
Medical AI: “Scanning the people you have recently contacted. Matches found: Jiang Yunzhao, Su Qingyue. If you learned those two were caught in the Zerg Attack, would you risk your life and cross a battlefield to save them?”
Sang Ling answered without a beat’s hesitation. “No.”
Medical AI: “Then the justification of excessive moral scruple does not hold. Citizen Sang Ling: do you like the Omega Lin Jinxu?”
Sang Ling coughed up a mouthful of blood and choked on it, hacking for a long while before she could speak, horrified. “What did you say? Why would I like her?”
Medical AI: “Detection confirms you are indeed not lying. However, you are an Alpha, and an Alpha liking an Omega is only natural and right.”
Sang Ling: “I’m a straight woman, thanks. Never mind—you don’t even know what ‘straight woman’ means.”
The wall at her back was cold. Sang Ling’s head thudded lightly against it, and unbidden, she thought of herself before the transmigration.
She had been an orphan. Unlike the miserable orphan life most people imagined, hers had been a lucky one. The orphanage’s Dean had helped her; the teachers she met at school had made allowances for her circumstances. Most of all, she had ridden the state’s every policy, applied for every subsidy, and tested her way into a top university.
Raised in that environment, she understood the meaning of kindness better than anyone, and carried a fierce desire to help others.
But she was no fool either. Just as the Medical AI had asked—she would never have crossed an entire battlefield to save Jiang Yunzhao or Su Qingyue.
So what was special about Lin Jinxu? Sang Ling couldn’t think of a single thing.
Why was she pushing through the pain, braving the danger, to save Lin Jinxu?
Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. The world darkened before her eyes until she could barely see anything at all.
Her consciousness still struggled faintly toward wakefulness—but the Medical AI’s voice abruptly softened, curling around her ear.
“Then we won’t save her. All right?”
Three kilometers from Sang Ling, Lin Jinxu crouched behind the door of an abandoned warehouse, cradling her Light Brain, staring down at her message page with Sang Ling.
The page still showed the two messages she had sent. No reply.
“Good afternoon.”
From the stillness of the cluttered storeroom, a hoarse voice sounded—neither male nor female, impossible to place.
Lin Jinxu looked up. A thin figure appeared abruptly, looking in the darkness like the shape of a person, except that its waist was unnaturally, eerily slender.
The figure greeted her, waving a hand gently—except that it was no hand at all, but the foreleg of a Mantis.
