Oh my God!
There was actually a wound on his neck!
And it was a very obvious puncture mark from some sharp object piercing the skin!
That meant everything from last night had really happened. He had truly climbed up to the Heavenly Pavilion in the Heavenly Key, encountered the Blood Race’s True Ancestor, and even fallen from such a great height!
If everything from last night was real, then it proved he didn’t have the ability to return from death.
Sigh, what a letdown. After all that, it seemed like he was just all brawn and no brains, with no golden finger to speak of.
“Wah~ I’m such a loser~”
Aisha Hodhua stared at the young man with the look one might give a pile of trash. After a long moment, she let out a deep sigh and said, “I don’t know if you’re a loser… but you’re definitely off.”
“Hmph!”
Sang paid no mind to the Pink-Haired Little Lolita’s jab. He was still tangled up in other worries.
So why was he still alive?
As Sang pondered this, an unbelievable thought suddenly flashed through his mind the next second—though there had been an element of gambling on his part, could that person have actually stepped in to save him?
In that instant, the solitary figure who had endured ten thousand years of loneliness flickered once more in Sang’s thoughts.
Did he think a single act like that would change Sang’s view of the True Ancestor?
No, no, no!
She was the one who had made him jump in the first place. Saving him was just doing the bare minimum. Making him faint from fright was still a grudge, and rounding it all up, she remained the enemy.
To put it crudely, if someone stabs you then heals the wound, would you hate them or not!?
After last night’s encounter, Sang was mostly convinced: the True Ancestor was truly an embodiment of extreme evil. The bloody aura radiating from her body suggested she had slain countless innocents over endless ages. And she was a sadistic psychopath who enjoyed tormenting others.
Sang wasn’t so naive that a slap followed by a sweet date would have him fawning and calling her his benefactor. He decided to keep lurking in the Heavenly Key, drawing closer to the Blood Race’s True Ancestor. On one hand, he’d strive to survive; on the other, he’d gather intelligence for the Hunting Organization.
Truth be told.
Sang wished he could claim he was doing all this for the greater good of the Human Race, but he lacked that kind of noble spirit. It was purely for self-preservation. Every bit of intel meant one more chance at survival.
Yet when Sang recalled plummeting from the sky last night, cold sweat still broke out all over him. Compared to the split-second agony of being hit by a car in his original world, the terror of free-falling from such heights was far worse.
Death itself wasn’t frightening. What was scary was the struggle before it.
It had terrified him to death.
Even thinking back on it now made him shiver.
The mere thought of facing the True Ancestor again filled Sang with both anger and fear…
“That damn bastard. One day, I’ll tear you apart!” the young man growled through gritted teeth.
Since she had intervened to save him last night, it didn’t explain much, but it confirmed one thing at least: he had caught the True Ancestor’s attention to some degree. For now, she didn’t want him dead.
This wasn’t the time to back down. He had to press the advantage.
That same night.
Sang slipped out of his room once more under cover of darkness, just like the night before. He evaded everyone, as mentioned earlier—within the Heavenly Key, only the Pink-Haired Little Lolita was responsible for him. The other Blood Race members ignored Sang entirely, treating him like just another piece of the True Ancestor’s wardrobe. They wouldn’t even spare him a word.
If anything happened to Sang, or if he caused trouble, the Pink-Haired Little Lolita would bear the brunt.
The other Blood Race folk didn’t like the Mix-Blood Aisha Hodhua much. In secret, some even relished the thought of her suffering, or even dying.
This also meant that if Sang sneaked off on his own and stirred up problems, Aisha Hodhua would be the one dragged down.
He felt a twinge of guilt toward the little lolita, but he still headed up to the Heavenly Pavilion.
The Heavenly Key was a nearly fully enclosed structure. The Earthly Pavilion was vast, like several football fields merged into a small town, housing just over twenty maids. Its color scheme was white and red, airtight with not a single window; the Heavenly Pavilion was tiny by comparison—essentially just one room, a cylindrical protrusion perched nearly a thousand meters in the air. Its tones were red and black, featuring a balcony with a commanding view of the entire Central Hub.
The Earthly Pavilion had lights, likely from this world’s technological civilization; the Heavenly Pavilion relied on natural light—sunlight by day, moonlight by night.
Sang hadn’t known the weather tonight at first. Only upon reaching the Heavenly Pavilion and peering out through its sole balcony did he confirm it: another clear night, bright with stars and a full moon.
“You again, Little Bug.”
The voice belonged without question to the world’s most wicked, brutal, and heartless being—the immortal True Ancestor. Just like last time, the black silhouette sat alone on the balcony edge. A pair of delicate, dainty feet dangled in the air, swinging idly. Her hands rested on the balcony’s rim, a white cloth draped over her to cover the essentials. As the evening breeze stirred, the cloth billowed, teasing glimpses of her form.
Every gesture, every smile, was bewitchingly alluring.
As she spoke.
A pair of dark eyes fixed on Sang, her peerlessly beautiful face bearing a faint, elusive smile.
It was clear—this “Little Bug” was said in earnest.
She truly saw Sang as nothing more than a little bug. Though she smiled, there was no jest in it.
“Demoness…” Sang griped inwardly.
Drawing once more on his acting chops, Sang filled his face with adoration and said, “I’m no little bug… Ever since I glimpsed your divine beauty last night, my worship has only grown. I couldn’t wait to see you again.”
Sigh.
No helping it.
In his current straits, Sang had no choice but to play the simp. If he could please the True Ancestor enough, maybe he’d find a way out.
Of course, he couldn’t overdo the doggishness. He needed to retain some youthful charm—and luckily, whether in his eighteen-year-old past life or his current fourteen-year-old one, Sang was still a young man, and a rather docile one at that. It was basically playing his true self.
His mental age hadn’t truly leaped forward, after all. Mental maturity wasn’t simple arithmetic; eighteen plus fourteen didn’t equal thirty-two. Did going through high school twice make you college-ready?
“Heh… And now that you’ve seen me, what do you want? To lick my toes?”
“Ah…”
That surprised exclamation wasn’t revulsion—it carried a strange thrill. Sang wasn’t a foot fetishist; it was pure biology. By the standards of modern society or this otherworld, the True Ancestor was a once-in-a-millennium beauty. No man would turn down the chance to lick her feet.
Sang was about to nod eagerly when she chuckled and said, “Never mind. Letting a bug touch my skin would be disgusting.”
Tch!
Lame!
Sang felt a pang of regret and remarked, “What a shame…”
Moments later.
The dark silhouette averted her gaze from Sang. She lifted one leg in a rather unladylike fashion, propping it on the balcony edge. Her arms hugged that leg, her head resting on her knee. Her pose was graceful yet casual as she gazed down indifferently at the land below.
Sang said nothing. He simply stepped out onto the balcony and stood there quietly, making his presence felt.
Sang lingered by the True Ancestor’s side for a long while. She didn’t change her position once, her face holding that faint smile as she gazed silently below, like a goddess statue meticulously carved by the divine hand.
Only.
For some reason, that profile seemed so melancholic.
“Do you always just stay here like this?” Sang couldn’t help but ask.
