Chapter 166

166

Despite exchanging contact information, they rarely spoke in the same time window—a combination of time zones and Lu Yan’s own habits.

Tang Xun’an would send messages about the moon he saw that night, about pollutants encountered on missions, about trivial daily occurrences, about newly bought flowers.

Anyone reading the chat logs might have shed a sympathetic tear, struggling to accept that Tang Xun’an—the legendary S-Class—could chatter away like a lovestruck high school boy, tirelessly seeking the attention of the one he held dear.

Lu Yan had never owned a phone until adulthood. He’d spent far more time with books than in conversation.

Because of Tang Xun’an, he’d reluctantly developed a habit of checking his messages regularly.

Lu Cheng was deeply suspicious of this new behavior, but he carried an inexplicable wariness toward his son. He tried to sound casual. “You’ve been using your phone a lot lately.”

A faint curve touched Lu Yan’s lips. “I’m keeping an electronic pet.”

---

Another mission.

Tang Xun’an and Michael arrived at the Cromwell Estate.

The intel this time came from the Pontiff of the Crescent Divine Kingdom, who claimed to have seen Uriel here.

Uriel was a Chosen from the same generation as Michael, missing for over a decade.

Possessing the fifth-ranked talent, Judgment, he had been a key figure cultivated by headquarters.

The Cromwell Estate was a documented B-Class pollution zone. With one A-Class and one S-Class, the two of them were more than enough to handle it.

Uriel was indeed there.

They just hadn’t expected to find his corpse.

The pollutants within the estate were more bizarre and terrifying than anticipated. The worst moment came after they finally killed the “wife,” thinking it was over—only for a grotesque fetus to tear its way out of her womb.

Its first wail shattered Tang Xun’an’s eardrums, blood streaming down his neck. Pain split his skull.

The infant-sized monster’s index fingers were like blades. It leaped onto Michael’s back, savagely ripping away half of one wing, silver eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

Michael used his talent, Bestowal, hurling a shield of holy light around Tang Xun’an. He gripped the creature’s throat, voice a raw scrape. “Go! Get the intel back.”

Not just the news of an S-Class pollutant here, but the truth of the Divine Kingdom’s betrayal.

The marks of the Deep Sea Society were everywhere. Uriel’s death clearly had the Crescent Divine Kingdom’s fingerprints all over it. Most damning of all—no backup had arrived. Someone had sealed the area.

Tang Xun’an didn’t go.

He fought the newborn monster. The battle left him grievously wounded, the only consolation being that he hadn’t lost.

His Tang sword pinned the twitching, broken thing to the ground. Tang Xun’an knelt in the muck, unable to rise for a long time.

Golden blood seeped from his wounds, mingling with the filthy water. His injuries were severe, surpassing his regeneration. Parasitic fish, drawn by the scent, wriggled desperately toward the open gashes, only to be vaporized by blood that burned like magma.

Not far away, half of Michael’s face was submerged. He showed no signs of life.

Hands trembling, Tang Xun’an dragged Michael from the water. He pressed fingers to the man’s neck. No pulse. No breath.

He’d known Michael for over forty years. Countless missions together. A friend. A comrade. Someone he could trust with his back.

Now Michael was dead. Because of some absurd, grotesque conspiracy.

The screen of Tang Xun’an’s waterlogged phone flickered faintly.

[Where are you?]

The message was from Lu Yan.

Tang Xun’an didn’t reply. He leaned against a broken pillar and lit a cigarette. Then another. The nicotine steadied his nerves, dulled the pain, finally stilling the tremors in his hands.

Near dawn, his phone rang—a number he didn’t recognize.

Tang Xun’an answered.

Lu Yan’s voice came through. “Are you alright?”

A long silence stretched. Tang Xun’an finally spoke, the words grating. “Michael’s dead. Headquarters will demand answers from the Divine Kingdom. I won’t let Lu Cheng or Jiang Yue walk away from this.”

Speaking coated his tongue with the taste of iron. His voice was sandpaper-raw.

“We should stop contacting each other.”

A beat of quiet hung between them.

Then Lu Yan’s reply, calm and final.

“Alright.”

---

Lu Yan ended the call. He tossed the phone aside like a piece of trash.

There was only one road leading to the Cromwell Estate. He stood in the middle of it.

“Divine Seat…”

The four figures before him wore troubled expressions.

They were the cleaners of the Divine Kingdom. The Pontiff’s apostles. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, hidden in shadow.

Despite the grandiose title, the Horsemen were merely combat-class Chosen raised from childhood, tools for the Church’s less savory tasks.

Each of these dead-men-walking possessed a spiritual power threshold exceeding nine thousand. Anywhere in the world, they were a force to be reckoned with.

“This is the Pontiff’s decree.”

If the pollutant within Cromwell Estate could kill Tang Xun’an, they wouldn’t need to act. Everything could be written off as an accident.

“With Tang Xun’an gone, the First District’s strength would be crippled. The Divine Kingdom would become the most powerful survivor zone.” The lead Horseman, astride a headless pale horse, explained slowly. “More importantly, he has uncovered the Kingdom’s secrets. Divine Seat, the Pontiff does this for your sake.”

The Pontiff of the Crescent Divine Kingdom was Jiang Yue. Lu Yan’s mother.

Since childhood, Lu Yan had heard her speak countless times of the hardship in raising him, the great cost she’d paid to nurture the King Fish to maturity, making them his nourishment.

To the outside world, she was majesty incarnate. To Lu Yan, she was always gentle, always kind.

A child should love their mother.

Pity, then, that Lu Yan did not love her.

No readable emotion showed on Lu Yan’s face.

He didn’t move aside. He simply stated, calm and flat, “Your logic is sound. But I disagree.”

Lu Yan had no wings, yet his feet left the ground. He rose into the air.

In the next instant, the bow he drew was aimed at the lead Horseman’s forehead. “Die, or turn back.”

The pressure of a superior being erupted from him, absolute and crushing. The dawn-lit sky plunged into instant darkness. Above, a blood-red moon bloomed against the black.

The lead Horseman dismounted and knelt.

The assassination attempt ended before it began.

That same month, Tang Xun’an returned to headquarters, bearing the bodies of Michael and Uriel.

That same year, the Pollution Disease worsened. The First District severed all diplomatic ties with the Crescent Divine Kingdom.