In the days that followed, Sang sneaked up to the Heavenly Pavilion almost every night, deliberately drawing close to the True Ancestor. She spent nearly every day perched on the edge of the kilometer-long balcony, gazing down at the scenery below.
Though she occasionally shifted her posture, her attire remained the same—a white cloth wrapped around her three times—and so did the melancholic look in her eyes.
Her long black hair, nearly trailing to the floor, billowed in the wind, especially her bangs. Even now, Sang couldn’t quite make out what kind of hairstyle it was; it simply exuded a wild, untamed beauty.
Whenever she spotted Sang, her first words were always the same.
“Hey, Little Bug, you’re back again… How do you plan to entertain me today?”
Even as a transmigrator, Sang wasn’t particularly talented. He simply sang her some catchy, easy-to-remember tunes from his world or recounted stories from anime, comics, and games.
The True Ancestor seemed to find it amusing. She remarked, “I’ve lost track of how many springs and autumns this battered body has endured… But this is the first time I’ve heard so many novel tales from a human. Floating castle-cities in the skies, palaces buried in the ocean depths, and invisible beings among the stars… Heh, intriguing.”
Though it seemed he’d grown closer to her, Sang still didn’t dare overstep. He remained a lowly creature scraping by in the cracks between survival and doom.
He couldn’t give his true heart to this person, couldn’t be sincere with an immortal being who treated human lives like weeds, ruthless and unyielding.
After all, he knew one undeniable fact—the True Ancestor didn’t like humans. She despised them. Her moods swung wildly; one moment she might chat amiably with you, the next she’d end your life without hesitation.
Truth be told, Sang hated her too. He longed to kill her. Facing someone he despised day after day, fawning desperately just to survive—it gnawed at him. Sometimes it even bred a deep self-loathing.
But… there was no other way.
This was his only path to staying alive.
Survival, it seemed, was a profoundly difficult proposition.
Still, now and then, Sang ventured a bolder question. “True Ancestor, aren’t you the ruler of the world? Why do you stay cooped up in the Heavenly Key like this?”
As for her title…
First, Sang had no idea what the True Ancestor’s name was. No blood race member did—or perhaps she had never possessed one.
Second, as mentioned before, Sang did want to play the devoted simp, but he had to keep it boyish and fresh. The pinnacle of simping was subtle persuasion, like a gentle rain nourishing the earth. Calling her “Great True Ancestor” every day would only create distance; he had to boldly make his moves to draw closer.
At that, the True Ancestor turned to glance at him. Her phoenix eyes, regal as an emperor’s, narrowed slightly, and she flashed a wicked smile. “The world below is too noisy. Up here, alone, I can finally have some peace and quiet.”
“I don’t get it…”
“Never mind. That’s not something a Little Bug like you could understand.”
“I told you, I’m not a Little Bug.” By now, Sang somewhat understood how Aisha Hodhua felt, getting called “Pink-Haired Little Lolita” by him all the time.
Sigh. Karma had come calling.
Fortunately, Sang was even more shameless than that noble lady Aisha Hodhua. He didn’t care much about her nicknames. Coming from a world full of online trash talk, where netizens cursed your entire family daily, who would bat an eye at being called a Little Bug?
The True Ancestor chuckled. “Earthworm, then?”
“Ew… I hate earthworms the most. Slimy, wriggling, disgusting.”
That was Sang speaking from the heart. He loathed those smooth, sticky, footless creatures. Just looking at them gave him goosebumps all over.
“Hahaha.” The True Ancestor burst into laughter, and it was as if the stars themselves brightened.
He hated her so much, hated her enough to want her dead. Yet seeing her lonely silhouette stirred an indescribable emotion in him. And when she smiled, he felt utterly captivated, lost in a daze.
Truly a bewitching beauty that ensnared the masses.
The True Ancestor was still wicked, though. Every day, she saw the boy off by tossing him from a thousand meters in the air. Each time, he brushed shoulders with death.
…
Oh.
He’d almost forgotten one crucial detail.
With no sense of time inside the Heavenly Key, Sang had lost track of how long he’d been imprisoned. A month? Two?
He still had one thing on his mind—the deal he’d struck with the Hunting Organization. While surviving at the True Ancestor’s side, he’d been gathering intel and had indeed taken action. But where were the organization’s contacts?
He didn’t want to end up like those jokes from his original world: five whole years gone by, and he was on the verge of becoming the villain boss himself, still waiting for a response from the organization!
Though the Heavenly Key was mostly cut off from the outside world, Duke Cape periodically sent people in with supplies—blood for the blood race, daily necessities for Sang, and the like.
Finally, one day at lunch, Sang bit into a long loaf of bread and found a slip of paper and a small glass vial inside. The paper read: Drink this! Caged Bird.
If your memory served, you’d recall that Caged Bird was the operation codename Hyacinth had mentioned back then.
No need to guess who had sent the note and vial.
Sang eyed the little glass bottle. Good grief—a purple, viscous liquid. Poisonous, no doubt.
Though his heart raced with unease, he downed the contents resolutely. Soon after, he was vomiting and suffering diarrhea, his whole body burning with fever. Before long, he passed out cold.
When Sang opened his eyes again, he found himself back in his original room, feeling much better. He had no idea how much time had passed, but two human women stood before him.
They wore matching white outfits—doctor’s garb, without question.
One of them looked vaguely familiar: around twenty years old, about five foot seven, with the world’s most common brown hair like flowing chocolate. Yet her strikingly beautiful face made her stand out as a rare beauty.
“Hyacinth…!?”
Before Sang could finish, Hyacinth cut him off. “Honored True Ancestor Blood Servant, I’m your physician’s assistant, here to tend to you… This is the physician, Liyou.”
Hearing that, Sang first glanced at the prim and proper Hyacinth, then at the Pink-Haired Little Lolita behind her. Realization dawned, and he promptly shut his mouth, shifting his gaze to the so-called “physician.”
She was a stunning woman with vibrant green, shoulder-length bobbed hair, around eighteen years old. Dressed in her white angel-of-mercy uniform, she evoked the Nightingale from another world, radiating pure healing comfort.
“Hello… It seems you contracted the Kulom Virus on the journey from the Eastern Region to Central… It’s been killing a lot of people lately…”
Her voice was incredibly soothing, sweet and healing.
She was probably the most infectious, restorative presence Sang had encountered in this world. Every smile and gesture brimmed with gentleness.
As their eyes met, Sang locked gazes with Liyou. In that instant, a terrifying thing happened—a voice invaded his mind. It matched her tone perfectly, speaking simultaneously.
“Sang… No need to panic. This is my superpower—Mind Sound. As long as our eyes meet, I can send my thoughts directly into your head. I’m a member of the Hunting Organization, Hyacinth’s superior. I’m thrilled to have your assistance. With your help, humanity will crush the blood race in no time… Now, please relay everything you know. Oh, and no need to speak aloud—think it, and it’ll happen.”
