At 8:05 PM, Bai Ling was escorted out of the detention center’s back door.

Heinz had removed his restriction ring and tossed him a new one. They were planning to find a death-row convict to pull off a bait-and-switch, hanging the decoy in his stead.

Bai Ling put on the new restriction ring. The characters lit up, displaying his new identity, the name reading:

[Bai Ling]

His mind wandered for a split second, shifting his gaze toward Heinz. The other man noted dismissively, “There are plenty of birds with duplicate names in the Empire. One more makes no difference, one less changes nothing.”

Heinz held immense political sway; restoring a piece of data was entirely trivial for him.

Not only that, but he had considerately copied over a set of old data into the device. When Bai Ling logged in with the new terminal, his old military group chats, past memos, and chess match records with Mr. D automatically popped up. It truly forced one to admire just how meticulous this beta was when handling matters.

But Bai Ling understood perfectly clearly that Heinz would absolutely never hand out favors without reason. His eyes narrowed, just about to demand clarification, when Heinz melted into the shadows with a faint smirk.

Simultaneously, another voice blasted out from behind him:

“Smelly bird!”

Before Bai Ling could even turn around, he was hooked away by an elbow. The person was exceptionally tall, panting heavily with a wave of indignation, the hood over his head slipping to his shoulders to expose an upright, handsome face.

It was Sava!

Bai Ling’s pupils contracted slightly, by no means expecting to see him here. But a reflection flashed through his mind, and he rapidly realized something; when he glanced back at the shadows, Heinz had already quietly departed.

“Did you beg Heinz to bring you here?” Bai Ling asked urgently. “Did he force you to do anything?”

Sava’s gaze dodged, speaking evasively: “No… he’s just a beta, he can’t even mark me anyway… In any case, I didn’t lose out.”

Bai Ling sneered: “Heh. Love-brain.”

Sava: “…I am absolutely not in love! That was a freezing transaction where each took what they needed! A transaction!”

No matter how frantically he explained, Bai Ling forcefully dragged him straight into a pharmacy, gesturing ice-coldly to the clerk:

“I want oral egg-prevention pills. The strongest formula available, the kind for mother hens.”

Amidst Sava’s furious clucking sounds, the clerk produced a box of pink pills, smiling smoothly: “This kind is quite excellent. A mandatory home-stock medicine for omegas; the side effects are minimal, and one box out-performs six regular ones.”

Bai Ling made the executive decision and paid: “We’ll take this box.”

Clerk: “Very well. Please present your guardian’s authorization.”

Authorization? The two birds stared at each other, then simultaneously looked toward the notice posted on the wall, only then noticing the stark black-and-white text written upon it:

[According to the relevant policies of the Egg-Laying and Embryo Committee, any unmarried omega over the age of 18 purchasing family planning supplies must be accompanied by a guardian, or present their guardian’s identity code for verification.]

The whole point of buying the egg-prevention pills was to eliminate the jellyfish essence; they naturally couldn’t contact Heinz.

Expressionless, Bai Ling steeled his heart, extending his terminal: “Scan my guardian.”

Just then, a news bulletin popped up in the terminal’s notification bar, obscuring Yu Chen’s identity page like a dark cloud blotting out the moon. Bai Ling thought nothing of it, preparing to swipe the pop-up away, but his fingers froze instantly as he caught clear sight of the headline.

Dismantling the sculpture.

Bai Ling instantly felt his heart tighten, the blood throughout his entire frame failing to circulate smoothly.

The clerk commented, “What a pity. They’re going to tear down the sculpture; that happens to be a memory from my childhood.”

Bai Ling fell silent for a moment, asking, “Is it only a pity?”

“Mmn, the news states they are merely altering its location, not destroying it outright, so it shouldn’t make a difference, right?” The clerk shrugged carelessly.

People were always willing to compromise. If you informed them that you intended to destroy the sculpture, they might react with immense fury. But as long as you altered the phrasing, claiming you merely intended to relocate it, they would become highly accommodating. Afterward, a major issue would dissolve into a minor one, and once the public’s memory grew blurry, no one would recall what had originally stood in the center of the plaza.

Compared to outright destruction, the public’s forgetfulness was vastly more disheartening.

Bai Ling took the medicine box and walked out without uttering a syllable. The freezing wind swept through the empty streets as the snow gathered into a muddy slush of ice across the ground that crunched beneath his steps—sounding exactly like fracturing bones.

Lifting his head, his vision pierced through the swirling wind and snow to reach the sculpture towering in the distance.

Sava stood beside him with his hands tucked into his pockets, chewing a tablet between his teeth as he noted unhappily, “People say they’d rather be shattered jade than intact clay. If the Old Emperor knew his sculpture was being tossed into a junkyard, he’d probably wish it had rotted inside the factory back then.”

Confronting the freezing gale, Bai Ling offered a dazed smile: “It’s truly his temperament.”

“What?” Sava failed to react for a moment.

Bai Ling turned his head, his expression holding a smile while a trace of absolute resolve pooled within his eyes: “Midnight Mommy Hen, do you want to execute an act of immense villainy that will echo across the interstellar network?”

Sava: “?!”

That was bound to be a yes.

---

The sculpture cast to commemorate Izu Paraiso had appeared multiple times on the covers of geographic magazines, piercing through the cloud layers in spectacular grandeur. Even his bitterest enemies who hated the Old Emperor to the core had to acknowledge its magnificence, halting their steps to look up in awe.

It had accompanied the birth of a generation of titans in the previous century, witnessing the Empire’s peak prosperity and its decaying collapse. The prosperity of the past was long gone, never to return, and it had gradually been neglected by the populace, transforming into a dwelling for the homeless and a roosting spot for pigeons and wild birds.

Right now, the two birds neatly slipped into its shadow, evading the increasingly dense military presence as they soundlessly scaled the thorn fence to crawl inside the sculpture’s hollow frame.

An internal staircase lay within, narrow enough to accommodate only one person at a time. Every ten steps upward brought a sharp turn, curving in a deep, sweeping helix that rivaled a fortress tower.

They climbed for roughly ten minutes, pushing open a damp, rotting wooden hatch, only to catch a severe fright. Someone was smoking outside.

Bai Ling poked his head out to examine the figure. It turns out it was the old caretaker.

The caretaker’s aged features registered blank astonishment for a fraction of a second before turning stern: “Haven’t you two watched the news? This place is about to be demolished. Get down immediately; I have no desire to watch you lose your little lives.”

Bai Ling noted softly, “We came to evacuate the area, wanting to confirm no one was left at the top. We didn’t expect to run into you.”

“You arrived at just the right moment,” the old caretaker murmured, clamping the cigarette between his lips as he gestured for them to approach. “I just discovered another set of residents here. Hurry up and take them down.”

Sava looked left and right, entirely failing to spot anyone: “Where?”

The caretaker pointed the glowing red tip of his cigarette toward the sculpture’s ear canal. “Right there, inside that alcove is a bird’s nest. I don’t know what kind of foolish bird would lay eggs in the dead of winter, but there are three nestlings inside crying out to be fed—pitiable little things. I checked just now, and the adult bird isn’t around; it probably heard the military’s megaphones below and flew off to save its own skin long ago.”

Bai Ling extracted the nestlings one by one, carefully tucking them into the hood of Sava’s massive down jacket.

Following that, the old caretaker led them to the sculpture’s right shoulder, where a tiny platform stood—just large enough to afford standing room for three people—offering an effortless panoramic view of the entire capital city.

The feathers at the crown of Sava’s head were whipped into a chaotic mess by the gale as he grunted, “The scenery here is spectacular, it’s just that the wind is a bit excessive.”

The old caretaker marveled, “Consider yourselves fortunate. The last person to ascend to this spot was Izu Paraiso himself.”

As if to validate his words, he used his frost-reddened palm to wipe down a section of the sculpture’s neck, brushing away a layer of snow and a smear of soot to finally expose a trace of fine, white handwritten text.

Bai Ling’s heart skipped a beat, leaning closer to read it word by word:

[To become the most efficient machine of state in this world.]

The old caretaker noted, “That was the vision he left behind on the day the sculpture was completed. He stood exactly where you are standing right now—”

He pointed directly at the spot beneath Bai Ling’s feet, causing every muscle across the younger man’s frame to tighten.

“I still recall how the gale at this high altitude whipped his golden hair, and how his voice pierced through the wind to reach my ears. He said: ‘The Empire is not great because of me; it is great solely because of its people. I am merely a machine on the assembly line, packing boxes for them.’”

Bai Ling’s heart began to beat violently.

The old caretaker walked to the edge of the barrier, gazing down: “Back then, beneath the feet of this sculpture lay rows upon rows of shelters. The largest shelter network across the stars, the warmest structures. The unemployed, those who couldn’t afford heating, children without parents—everyone could pass a secure winter there. Many individuals remain unaware that this funding was paid entirely out of Izu Paraiso’s personal pocket.”

Bai Ling uncontrollably averted his gaze, the rims of his eyes turning slightly hot. He was one of the countless children “reared” by Izu Paraiso.

“But look at what remains below now,” the old caretaker scoffed. “What shelters? They dissolved into vapor long ago, transformed into high-end restaurants and luxury hotels. The upper classes indulge in song and dance inside night after night; a single evening’s expenses equal two years of an ordinary family’s livelihood. Ordinary citizens don’t even possess the qualifications to step inside.”

Sava possessed exceptional vision; looking down from his vantage point, he could discern the arched ceilings and crystal-glass rooftops of the hotel complexes, housing indoor pools that felt like eternal spring. Outside lay a freezing environment of minus twenty degrees, yet the power-holding elites within were sweating from the heat. They played and frolicked uninhibitedly within the pools, enjoying premium chefs and expensive imported delicacies during a period of severe material scarcity.

Looking slightly closer, squadrons of engineering vehicles bared their mechanical claws, systematically slicing through the sculpture’s feet. They gathered beneath the sculpture’s bronze robes, yet they came not to seek shelter, but to inflict harm upon it.

Bai Ling bunched his fingers tightly, making his knuckles turn pale from the force. Closing his eyes, he exhaled a heavy breath and asked, “Sava, is the equipment fully prepared?”

Sava checked his terminal screen and nodded: “My mecha has already hauled the assets over from home: 10 nuclear detonator cords, capable of blasting through any metal compound.”

A gentle breeze swept past, the floating snowflakes settled on the sculpture’s shoulder—so light, yet so heavy.

Standing on the shoulder of the sculpture, Bai Ling felt as if he were standing on the shoulder of a giant of that era. In a trance, he felt as though the sculpture had turned its face, casting a gentle, fleeting glance back at him.

His vision blurred and his lean frame trembled in the wind. Amidst the violent heaving of his chest, he suddenly felt as if the sculpture was nodding to him.

The other party seemed to be saying: Fly, little bird.

Bai Ling reached out, gently caressing that white signature. It had braved decades of wind and rain, the handwriting turning faint and incomplete, yet it condensed a fragment of Izu Paraiso’s time and life.

Bai Ling had never been part of that era, but he could always discern the immense weight within it from these tiny details. Back then, everyone was flourishing, looking forward to a beautiful tomorrow.

Bai Ling’s chest felt as if it were blocked by a heavy object. Slowly biting his lower lip, he used his finger to write on the snow-dusted section beside the signature:

[Home, sweet home]

Sava had just knocked the stubborn old caretaker unconscious, preparing to toss him inside the mecha together once it arrived. Turning his head, he caught sight of the smelly little bird deliriously pressing his face against the freezing sculpture.

Sava gasped, hurriedly kicking him: “Get your face off that! Your skin is going to freeze and stick to it! What kind of madness has possessed you?”

The bird stood up, his slender hair drifting with the wind, as he softly said, “I want to say goodbye to it.”

Right at that moment, a subtle vibration traveled up from the base of the sculpture. Like an earthquake, the tremor grew violently amplified by the time it reached the upper tiers.

“They’ve nearly severed the ankles; we need to accelerate our movements!” Sava gripped the railing with one hand and the bird with the other, issuing an urgent, emergency page to Ptolemy in the distance.

Bai Ling made a split-second decision: “You take the caretaker gentleman up. I’ll plant the detonators.”

“Damn it, playing the lone hero again, are we? What happened to doing an act of immense villainy together?!”

Bai Ling caught the package hurled down by Ptolemy, pulled out the detonator cords, and ripped away the safety mechanisms. Casting a flat glance back, he noted:

“I am responsible for doing the bad things; you are responsible for catching me. It’s a deal.”

Having spoken, he stomped his toes against the surface, nimbly leaping onto the crown of the sculpture’s head to rapidly initiate the installation.

“Smelly bird!” Sava swore, yet he had to admit that this brand of task could only be executed by a peregrine falcon with SSS agility.

Activating the mecha’s cloaking device, he meticulously avoided the searchlights sweeping from below, hovering within the shadow at the back of the sculpture. Clamping a stopwatch in his hand, he intently tracked the athletic silhouette scaling the monument.

The moment the three minutes concluded, the bird shifted his shoulders, twisting his torso mid-air to land lightly upon the mecha’s front shield.

Bai Ling crawled inside Ptolemy, sliding into the co-pilot seat. Sava swiveled the steering lever, prompting the mecha to depart from the scene at maximum velocity.

Two pairs of eyes locked simultaneously onto the timestamp at the bottom right corner of the screen:

20:59

21:00

Boom! A sky-shattering roar accompanied an unyielding shockwave, erupting with the sculpture as the epicenter and the plaza as the radius, billowing outward in all directions.

The colossal head plunged down with a force of ten thousand tons, slamming ruthlessly onto those engineering armored vehicles, instantly flattening them into two-dimensional scrap metal.

The lifted sword in its hand fell, bouncing off the ground as it crashed through the glass structures of the luxury hotel. The water inside the pools erupted in a violent spray, and the elites screamed as they scattered to flee in all directions.

Next came the lantern in its left hand, then the right arm, and finally, the chest fractured. The entire sculpture collapsed forward into the earth, returning to the embrace of the dust.

At that exact fraction of a second, the inhabitants across the entire artificial continent felt the surface of the ground vibrate.

Halting whatever they were doing, they rushed to their windows, witnessing the dust floating in the air. It took a long while before they realized that it wasn’t the smoke and ash from the Old Empire’s remains; it was merely the drifting flakes of snow.

The populace stared blankly into the distance.

Once, that sculpture had been a symbol upon which they projected their solace and emotions; now, it drew to a close with a spectacular, magnificent destruction, vanishing from their sight forever.

Now, the dust of its collapse drifted into the alleyways, settling upon the windowsills of thousands of households. It dissolved into billions of microscopic particles, becoming ubiquitous, becoming truly unerasable.

For many years to come, whenever they passed by the plaza again, even if the space remained completely vacant, a sculpture would forever stand erect within their hearts. It was a scar that would never truly heal.

As it turns out, Izu Paraiso’s era had truly gone far away.

They were like children who had been excessively shielded by their mother; only upon witnessing the tombstone collapse with a roar did they suddenly awaken to the realization—

They were already standing at the absolute edge of a precipice, with nowhere left to retreat.

That night, a sorrowful sound of weeping echoed across the dreams of the entire Capital Planet. They wept not for the sculpture, but for their own destinies.

Author’s Note:

I’m here! It’s a bit late, boohoo, I’m sorry. I’ve been writing non-stop.

In the next chapter, we can finally go back to see the Old Merman and engage in some heavy intimacy (strikes a match to light a cigarette).