Nonsense

 

Bai Ling lowered his eyelids slightly, deliberately slowing his fingers to let him hear the crisp click of a bullet loading, asking as if casually:

 

“Where did you get those bone-ash bullets from?”

 

Clutching his bleeding neck, Kaide looked like an octopus thrown onto the ground when a seafood stall closed, answering half-dead:

 

“Those aren’t my bullets; they belong to the Swordfish Duke.”

 

The Swordfish Duke—excellent, another entry added to the execution list, Bai Ling calculated internally.

 

Kaide swiveled his eyes: “If you release that demon, you will definitely regret it.”

 

Bai Ling lifted his eyes, the depths of his pupils holding not a single ripple.

 

He was on the verge of death, yet was still attempting to drive a wedge between him and Yu Chen? What a pity—it held zero effect on him.

Seeing that Bai Ling remained unconvinced, Kaide continued to dish out heavy accusations. “The merfolk are indeed a long-lived species, but even they cannot remain eternally youthful. Do you know why he can stay forever young?”

 

He let out an eerie, sinister laugh: “Because that demon slaughtered every pureblood merfolk of his own clan one by one, consuming their hearts and drinking their blood just to enhance the strength of his blood and amplify his psychic power, all to satisfy his wild ambition of controlling the world! But he lost control! He couldn’t manage such immense power, harming himself in the process, turning into an old blind man huddled miserably in his nest like a crippled insect.”

 

“Even so, he occasionally uses glib, sweet words to dupe people inside, using their brains as vent containers. He is a parasite feeding off the brainwaves of countless individuals, burrowing into people’s minds to manipulate you, break you, and subject you to terrifying nightmares night after night until you turn into an outright lunatic afflicted with a mental disorder!”

 

“He thrives on doing such things! That is precisely why he never takes a wife, never accepts concubines, and harbors zero interest in real-world copulation—because he is just such a monster, deriving pleasure from thoroughly ruining human brains!”

 

Bai Ling pursed his pale lips, his fingertips inexplicably touched by an invasive coldness. “Nonsense.”

 

“Nonsense?” Kaide looked as though he had heard the most hilarious joke. He pointed to his own eyes, expressing a mixture of triumph and conflicted fear: “To tell you the truth, I witnessed all of this with my own eyes.”

 

“Once he completely fails to suppress his beastly blood, he will degenerate into a grey-skinned monster, tearing apart raw flesh to feast ravenously.”

 

“If you don’t believe me, let’s wait and see.”

 

Sava listened up to this point, still feeling somewhat lost in the clouds, utterly failing to grasp who the “demon” in their mouths actually was. In contrast, North stood off to the side with a thoughtful expression.

 

The hand with which Bai Ling held the gun broke into an imperceptible sweat, yet his face remained exceptionally calm, even manifesting a trace of mockery:

 

“I have interrogated numerous convicts, and you people all share a common trait—you will stop at nothing to frame others, while keeping your own transgressions strictly unmentioned.”

 

Seeing him completely immune to persuasion, Kaide shrieked: “You understand nothing at all! There is a prophecy among the Merfolk clan—that demon is fated to lead the Empire straight into destruction. Following him will lead you to nothing but a dead end!”

 

“That’s perfect, then.” Bai Ling braced himself against the back of the chair, slowly rising to his feet.

 

“What?”

 

Lifting his tightly contoured jawline, Bai Ling noted airily: “If he represents the collapsing tower, then I shall be the force that turns the tide.”

 

Kaide stared at him in sheer shock, unable to believe such words issued from the mouth of such a young soldier. That fierce bravery, unyielding pride, and rebellious defiance when confronting the crushing weight of fate were qualities he, as a sovereign, had struggled and failed to attain for a long time.

 

“As for you,” Bai Ling slowly swiveled his grey eyes, his lips curling into a chilling smile out of nowhere. “You’d best personally go kowtow and beg forgiveness from the entire nation.”

---

 

Bai Ling beat the octopus back into his original form, stuffed him inside a 2-liter mineral water bottle, and carried him away directly.

 

After a while, the Honey Buzzard lying on the floor slowly sat up, letting out series of painful hisses from his mouth. Touching his broken wrist, he scrambled to his feet and walked outside.

 

Arriving at the guard corps breakroom, he sank his rear into a chair, fished out the remaining half-bag of snacks, and began madly stuffing them into his mouth while still shaken.

 

It scared him to death.

 

It scared him so much that his anxiety disorder relapsed.

 

A teammate pushed the door open and walked in, noticing his delicate expression as he noisily chewed on honey popcorn, asking curiously: “Honey Buzzard, weren’t you supposed to quit sugar? Why are you eating sweets again?”

 

They were the Sovereign’s Raptor Guard Corps; every member within the team belonged to the absolute elite hawks, falcons, and owls of the military branch.

 

However, the Honey Buzzard might be the sole exception.

 

His exterior was indeed more imposing than other hawks, but in reality, he was merely a sweet-tooth slacker with zero combat ability—unable to beat an eagle-owl with punches or a peregrine falcon with kicks. The only skill he excelled at was slacking off.

 

“Just moments ago, His Majesty was kidnapped,” the Honey Buzzard stated in all earnestness.

 

“Ah?! Then why didn’t you report it?!” The teammate found it utterly mind-boggling.

 

“Cell phones aren’t allowed during work hours! I didn’t bring my terminal, so I had to run all the way back to tell you.”

 

The teammate swore under his breath, immediately rushing out to notify superiors. A moment later, urgent alarm sirens exploded beside their ears, instantly resounding through the entire Royal Palace tower.

 

Whoa, so thrilling.

 

Poking the popcorn bag, the Honey Buzzard couldn’t help but recall scenes from their onboarding training.

 

The Golden Eagle Captain had instructed them with grave severity: “You must realize that the Raptor Squad shoulders the monumental responsibility of guarding the Royal Palace and the Sovereign. Furthermore, our history is long-standing, dating back as early as the former Soviet era on Ancient Earth.”

 

Once upon a time, the roof of the Kremlin was perpetually occupied by pigeons and crows. Those crows not only carried stones to smash the ancient dome, but also swaggeringly built nests everywhere, raining down poop storms on suit-clad personnel.

 

To drive away these avian bullies, the government specially trained a “Raptor Special Forces Unit,” comprising peregrine falcons, eagle-owls, snowy owls, red-tailed hawks… all of them peak power-and-speed heavyweights in the raptor world.

 

This tradition had continued all the way to the present day.

 

It was worth mentioning that the Sovereign’s Guard Captain was actually an honorary title. If the Sovereign had an Empress, the Empress would assume the role. If the Sovereign was single, then his honorary primary protector was His Excellency the Marshal.

 

The Honey Buzzard stole a glance at the time. The current Imperial Marshal, His Excellency the Golden Eagle, ought to already be on his way back from the victorious campaign.

---

Author’s Note:

Regarding the Old Man’s Wardrobe:

The old man’s wardrobe is colossal in scale, but in reality, it also hides a few off-the-rack mass-market items. Rummaging carefully, one can even dig out discounted items from the Zara Men’s section.

 

That kind of white robe with faint wrinkles looks like a rag, yet once worn by that old rascal, it carries its own innate Greek mythology style.

 

Little Bird: The quality is so good… (in that tone) (Eyes glued to weird spots) (Like the male model’s chest)

Little Bird pointed and asked: How much is this? Price Tag: 13.99 credits.

Little Bird: 15 credits—sell me the model inside as well.

 

And so, the Old Merman was sold on the marriage market for a bargain price of 1.01 credits.

 

Little Bird: Is this number bad? I think it’s very lucky. Winner winner, chicken dinner.

Mommy hen: (Hesitating to speak) You won’t wish to have chicken to eat every day.

Little Bird: ?!