ABST Chapter 23

Two more days passed.

 

Rat Ridge City.

 

After a long sleep, Lan Xia finally slowly opened his eyes.

 

His vision blurred for a moment, gradually clearing. Morning sunlight passed through the half-open window, falling on the bedside. The air faintly carried the sweet fragrance of food.

 

A tranquil scene.

 

Lan Xia had run a high fever repeatedly for a long time. Upon waking, he only felt his limbs weak, somewhat unable to exert strength. However, his body felt refreshed.

 

He coughed dully several times, reached for his glasses by the bedside and put them on, propping himself up to sit.

 

Hearing movement at the door, Lan Xia tilted his head slightly, lips curving, voice somewhat hoarse: “Daike.”

 

“Teacher!”

 

Jin Daike was stunned for an instant, eyes suddenly brightening.

 

Originally she’d only wanted to carefully push open the door to peek, not expecting to coincidentally catch teacher waking.

 

Hurriedly pushing open the door, Jin Daike carefully examined Lan Xia’s complexion, poured him a glass of water at just the right temperature, still somewhat worried: “Teacher, first drink a bit to moisten your throat. Is there anywhere else uncomfortable? These past days really scared us.”

 

“That day, if Ice brother and the others hadn’t been not far from you, who knows what would have happened! Also, also, didn’t you pick up a child? Yesterday Ice brother also picked up someone—no hands or feet, really strange. When you have time, you should go take a look…”

 

The young girl’s lively, crisp voice injected vitality and energy into the quiet room.

 

All trivial daily matters, sounding very much filled with the warmth of life.

 

Lan Xia listened attentively, drinking a few sips of water before setting the glass aside.

 

His gaze unconsciously drifted toward the windowsill.

 

There were still two flower pots there—one bursting with vitality, one completely bare.

 

“…How many days was I unconscious?” he suddenly asked.

 

Jin Daike froze: “Four or five days.”

 

Lan Xia’s expression changed slightly. He threw back the thin blanket, even forgetting to put on shoes, striding quickly toward the windowsill. But his whole body lacked strength—he nearly fell, fortunately catching himself on the table.

 

Jin Daike cried out in alarm.

 

“What’s wrong?!”

 

The just-closed door was pushed open again.

 

Hearing the commotion, Algiers and Shou Bing hurried in, the latter still wearing a Q-version apron.

 

Right behind was Lian Yao, forcing himself through the doorway crack. The three of them, big and small, squeezed together quite comically. Together with Jin Daike, they looked toward the windowsill.

 

Before they could feel joy, they all fell silent, hearts involuntarily lifting.

 

The young man standing by the window hadn’t tied his hair up. Long black hair hung somewhat disheveled over his shoulders. His face carried the pallor of recent recovery, brow slightly furrowed as he carefully inspected the bare flower pot on the windowsill.

 

Lan Xia reached out, pressing the soil around the seed, feeling the moisture. Discovering it was just right, he breathed a slight sigh of relief.

 

Algiers and the other three exchanged knowing glances, then stepped forward, saying softly: “Teacher, rest assured. During these days you were unconscious, we took turns caring for this seed.”

 

“That’s good.” Lan Xia still felt somewhat guilty, fingertips gently tapping the soil beside the seed.

 

Not knowing what he thought, his just-relaxed brow gradually furrowed again. He said in a low voice: “Fortunately you were here. Otherwise, during these days I was unconscious, if it had rained outside or a strong wind had blown…”

 

Lan Xia pressed his lips together.

 

“Nothing will happen,” Algiers looked at him, saying seriously. “Teacher has cared for it very well.”

 

Actually, after violet extinction, information about its cultivation methods, flowering periods, etc. had gradually disappeared. Perhaps some seeds remained, but no one had seen what the flowers looked like when blooming.

 

Algiers now only felt grateful they’d listened to Shou Bing’s advice. After teacher showed improvement, they’d put that seed back in the pot and carefully tended it. Otherwise, this morning probably wouldn’t have passed so peacefully and quietly.

 

“Let’s, let’s eat first,” Shou Bing coughed. “Teacher, you woke at just the right time. I just made breakfast—there are sweets.”

 

Lian Yao said quietly: “Right, let’s eat first.”

 

These past days he’d been freeloading meals at Dawn quite comfortably. Unexpectedly, this Suto runaway young master was quite skilled at cooking.

 

Lan Xia’s gaze fell on him, eyes narrowing slightly: “You are…?”

 

“The child you protected that day. I let him stay,” Algiers said.

 

Those golden eyes hidden behind lenses, after regaining consciousness, no longer held that day’s out-of-control gentleness and forceful protection. Gentle and clear, like a translucent mirror.

 

Lian Yao had an illusion of being seen through. He shivered slightly, pretending timidity and hiding behind Shou Bing.

 

“…Thank you, sir, for saving me. Just call me Little Yao.”

 

He muttered inwardly—his performance in that alley that day was a bit off, but this person was nearly delirious with fever then. Could he possibly still remember?

 

Lan Xia: “You’re welcome.”

 

He smiled: “You all go out first. I’ll tidy up.”

 

“Alright.”

 

As everyone turned, Lan Xia’s lenses flashed with cold light. He lightly tugged Algiers’ sleeve, leaning slightly to whisper quickly in his ear: “Seal Dawn. Keep watch on that child.”

 

Algiers met teacher’s gaze, pupils contracting slightly, then imperceptibly nodded.

 

…

 

Nowadays Shou Bing had taken charge of their meals. The others’ portions didn’t matter much, but Mr. Lan Xia’s portion—he always made separately.

 

Using safe, easily digestible ingredients as priority.

 

Including the freeloading Lian Yao, several people sat around the table. Before each person was a sumptuous breakfast—meat and vegetables balanced, pleasing to the eye.

 

Lan Xia looked around the circle, then lowered his head to look at his own meal.

 

Before him sat only a solitary bowl.

 

Silent for a while, he said: “What is this?”

 

Shou Bing introduced: “A bowl of porridge.”

 

Lan Xia: “…”

 

Algiers couldn’t suppress a curve of his lips, coughing lightly, receiving a glare from his sister.

 

This bowl of porridge was pitch black, composition unknown. Texture smooth and uniform, nothing requiring chewing. Like supplementary food for toothless infants.

 

Lan Xia struggled valiantly: “Didn’t you say you made sweets?”

 

Shou Bing: “The porridge is sweet.”

 

Lan Xia: “…”

 

He looked toward the remaining sweets on the dessert cart beside them. Shou Bing calmly blocked them with his body. He looked toward Jin Daike and the others. Everyone busily lowered their heads to eat, coincidentally finishing their sweets first.

 

“…”

 

Lan Xia looked at others, then down at his own bowl. Repeating this several times.

 

He tried to make Shou Bing understand his meaning, emphasizing: “I only have one bowl of porridge.”

 

Shou Bing said: “After finishing, there’s a second bowl.”

 

*Pfft.*

 

Lian Yao nearly choked, hurriedly drinking water to cover it up.

 

“If sir doesn’t want to use a spoon, there’s also a straw.” Shou Bing had all utensils prepared.

 

Silent for a while, Lan Xia said: “I’ll use the spoon.”

 

The person in charge of cooking held the most authority at the table. Those only responsible for eating had no qualification to be picky.

 

Seeing him eat, Shou Bing finally breathed a sigh of relief. Just now he’d nearly failed to hold out… If sir had said one more word, he probably couldn’t have resisted softening and serving him a bit more.

 

Breakfast proceeded peacefully. The suspicious Lian Yao gradually relaxed, lowering his head to eat happily.

 

After finishing his meal, Lan Xia wiped his mouth, exchanging a one-second glance with Algiers. The latter nodded extremely subtly at him.

 

…

 

When Lian Yao opened his eyes again, he discovered himself tightly bound to a chair.

 

Lan Xia, Algiers, Jin Daike, and Shou Bing sat opposite him, presenting the appearance of a three-judge tribunal.

 

“…”

 

There was something in that breakfast!

 

Lian Yao broke out in cold sweat. Even the dumbest person should have realized—he was now ninety percent likely discovered as suspicious. He just didn’t know how much these people had figured out.

 

He hadn’t harbored any intention to harm anyone.

 

But on the surface he still maintained a confused appearance: “…What’s wrong?”

 

Lan Xia looked up, speaking directly: “Don’t pretend. Though I had a high fever that day, I still have memories. Looking back on the details now, I remember quite clearly. Those vagrants bullying you—they weren’t real people, were they?”

 

“However, I heard from Algiers that during these days at Dawn, you’ve been very well-behaved. So I’m guessing you don’t have any intention to harm us either.”

 

After all, right now the entire Northwest Sector was secretly searching for him. If someone deliberately leaked news of him being at Dawn, Dawn absolutely couldn’t be this peaceful now.

 

Algiers: “Moreover, though Dawn is now an iron fortress, it’s still difficult to guarantee no whisper leaks out. Yet despite this, the entire Northwest Sector can’t find any trace of teacher. Gray River’s intelligence network is most sensitive, yet hasn’t released any leads on teacher. You—”

 

“What’s your relationship with Gray River?”

 

His current calm, composed appearance strongly resembled Lan Xia. The youth’s wings were gradually growing. In the growth process, he unconsciously emulated his elder, handling matters more maturely and skillfully.

 

Lan Xia smiled, handing the main stage to Algiers while occasionally reminding him.

 

In less than half a day’s work, Lian Yao’s identity was stripped down to just his underwear, refusing to say more even under threat of death. Since the facade had been torn away, he didn’t need to pretend anymore.

 

“I didn’t intend to harm you. Gray River does have some connection with me. Otherwise, do you think news of an S-level evolver being here could be concealed for long? Do you know how much effort I expended?”

 

Lan Xia pondered: “Your purpose?”

 

Lian Yao: “You.”

 

He paused, saying vaguely: “Of course, the three people beside you—their abilities are also quite decent.”

 

Algiers’ brow furrowed, saying in a low voice: “Teacher, this person…”

 

Lan Xia shook his head. “Release him.”

 

Jin Daike: “Teacher?”

 

Shou Bing: “Sir!”

 

“Though I don’t know what you want to gain from me, I can sense you have no malice. We also don’t want to antagonize you,” Lan Xia said. “Releasing you—you can leave if you wish. However, if you stay, you need to show sincerity. Freeloading, Dawn can’t afford to support.”

 

Lian Yao’s eyes flickered slightly.

 

“Algiers, the rest—you discuss with him.”

 

“Alright, teacher. You go rest.” Algiers nodded.

 

Lan Xia: “Shou Bing, come out with me a moment.”

 

Shou Bing followed him out, closing the door. The conversation sounds inside were cut off. “Sir?”

 

Lan Xia smiled: “Come, take me to see those three rings brought back. This time the harvest isn’t small. Dawn’s armory should also be prepared.”

 

Three rings—who knew how much munitions were inside.

 

With munitions came people, money, and basic capital for speaking in the Northwest Sector.

 

——

 

First Army.

 

Small light orb: “Nie Liang’s work efficiency is really high.”

 

“Much faster than Kang Quan,” Gong Du smiled. “However, Kang Quan was better at training troops. That wasn’t his strong suit.”

 

Nie Liang…

 

Calculating it, actually his and Elansno’s real interaction was only that one time ten years ago, exchanging just a few brief words.

 

Humans were truly a very miraculous existence. The generation of emotions was also wonderful. Gong Du couldn’t fathom it, but it didn’t prevent him from utilizing it with ease.

 

·

 

Medical room.

 

“…I’m begging you, stop asking, alright? Adjutant Nie Liang, don’t you have anything else to do?”

 

Dr. Kane looked with extreme annoyance at the newly appointed adjutant who’d practically taken up residence in the medical room these past two days.

 

The cause of this matter—two days ago, the Admiral had just returned from the Tribunal. Blood traces were discovered in his ear canals. Examination revealed the mental zone had suffered mild shock, five senses temporarily damaged. A few days’ rest would restore him.

 

He’d sighed at the time: Not a big deal. After all, the Admiral’s previous injuries were much more serious than this. This time at most counted as minor skirmishes.

 

Then he turned to face the new adjutant’s eyes shining so brightly they sent chills down his spine.

 

Then he’d been pestered for two whole days. While eating, sleeping, using the bathroom—he could hear a ghost-like, elegantly refined voice coming from who knows where:

 

“Are there more stories about the Admiral?”

 

Even the gentlest temperament would develop an edge after this grinding.

 

Nie Liang: “First Army affairs are far less than when I was at the Administrative Office. Finished processing long ago. Do you have any other matters about the Admiral? I want to hear.”

 

Dr. Kane took a deep breath: “…You came half an hour ago.”

 

Is something wrong with you?! Is there or isn’t there?! If there is, let him treat it!

 

Even robots telling stories need to recharge, right?!

 

He waved his hand irritably: “No time! I still have research projects to do!”

 

Nie Liang: “I want to hear.”

 

“There’s nothing left! I’m old, alright? Can’t remember!”

 

“I want to hear.”

 

“Can’t remember, can’t remember!”

 

“I want to hear.”

 

“Really can’t remember!”

 

A flying blade soundlessly pressed against Kane’s neck. Nie Liang said humbly: “Please. I want to hear.”

 

Dr. Kane: “…Of course, of course.”

 

Nie Liang said courteously: “No rush. Think carefully. Matters about the Admiral—you have to think carefully to remember them. I need to write these things down, publish them in a book later, bind them into volumes, and pass them down generation after generation.”

 

Dr. Kane: “…………”

 

This is definitely a mental illness, right?

 

·

 

Half an hour later, Nie Liang left the medical room with great satisfaction.

 

It seemed Dr. Kane’s stories had indeed been thoroughly drained by him. His brain, hyped up for two days, finally managed to cool down and calm.

 

Nie Liang vaguely remembered Lan Zhouhe seemed to have sent him something.

 

He glanced toward the Admiral’s office, hesitated, but still returned to his own quarters and opened the backup light brain’s inbox.

 

One photo, one audio clip.

 

Nie Liang recognized people entirely through beast-like instinct. Vision sometimes deceived, but intuition didn’t.

 

What Lan Zhouhe and machines couldn’t recognize, he could.

 

So when he looked at that extremely blurry photo, he froze.

 

Immediately after, that three-second audio clip auto-played. The tender, agonized voice abruptly transformed into a blade stabbing into his ears.

 

The curve at the corners of Nie Liang’s mouth slowly flattened.

 

No expression showed on his refined face, shrouded in an indescribable, terrifying gloom. He didn’t move for a long while, silent as a stone statue.

 

Extremely slowly, red bloodshot veins climbed into his eyes.

 

**

 

 

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