“You are remarkably bold. Aren’t you afraid at all?”

“He knows how to wish me ‘a safe journey.'”

This single sentence successfully drew cold sweat from Kaide’s forehead. Given Izu Paraiso’s usual mind games Kaide couldn’t help but speculate about the deeper meaning hidden within—

A safe journey? What does that mean? Is he reprimanding him for bringing a crisis to the Empire, or is he settling old scores, calculating a ledger for his previous attempt to force a palace coup?

…But it wasn’t entirely his fault!

Who told Izu Paraiso to withhold the scepter from him? Without that scepter, which symbolized the highest power of the Empire, even sitting upon the throne made him look thoroughly illegitimate. Whenever others spared him a few extra glances, he would neurotically suspect whether they were questioning the legality of his sovereignty. Without the scepter, he, the Emperor, would be looked down upon by his subordinates.

Why couldn’t Izu Paraiso understand such a simple matter? Even when Kaide tore off his mask of civility and ordered the royal guard to pilot mechas and carve a hole into the merman’s sleeping quarters to force him out, the other party had remained completely unmoved.

The more Kaide thought about it, the more aggrieved and enraged he became. Looking back at the past ten years, Izu Paraiso had never treated him as one of his own; he was merely a chess piece in the man’s political machinations, a total tool.

How tragic!

Kaide slipped into his ultra-luxurious private lounge and, along with his eight tentacles, slid straight into a custom-made, giant black crystal vase. Octopuses love narrow, dark spaces; so staying inside a jar brought him a sense of security.

Wriggling in the dark within the vessel, Kaide forcefully summoned his courage and attempted to issue a final ultimatum: “…Izu Paraiso, in my capacity as the sole legitimate Emperor of the New Empire, I command you to hand over the scepter immediately, or else—”

Before he could finish, Izu Paraiso cut him off in one breath: “You have consistently failed to grasp a single truth.”

“What?”

“The scepter only represents ‘power’ when it is in my hands. If it changes owners, it returns to being nothing more than a stick.”

Those words sounded entirely unrippled on the surface, yet a trace of historical weight could be discerned between the lines. Bai Ling’s breath hitched. For a moment, he couldn’t help but look up to gaze at the man’s face.

Perhaps because his gaze was laced with too many conflicting emotions, the merman suddenly flexed his abdominal muscles, catching him by the shoulders to push him back in a timely manner.

Bai Ling instantly parted his lips to gasp, taking massive drafts of air. Like a bird that had nearly drowned, flapping its thoroughly soaked wings, droplets of fluid he hadn’t time to swallow fell from his beak; damp, disheveled, and pitiable.

Yu Chen cast a sidelong glance, pressing his thumb against Bai Ling’s lips to wipe them down.

Following that brief soothing gesture, he gave the bird no room to rest. Blocking the terminal’s microphone with his hand, he leaned against his ear, his voice carrying a subtle hoarseness:

“Let’s switch to your legs. I wouldn’t want you to be unable to speak tomorrow morning.”

Bai Ling’s heart shuddered, nearly wanting to join the Tyrant in the communicator to curse out in shared indignation. But looking down, he quickly understood the reason. A knot…

He had begged the merman to “inspect the merchandise,” and this was precisely the thing he was verifying. Right now, he felt like a person who had accidentally summoned a demon from its cave; if he didn’t offer a sweet incentive, the demon wouldn’t retract its head.

“Old bastard…” he swore softly, his voice light and trembling, carrying a trace of unfamiliar panic. Clearly, such a scene was also completely unfamiliar to him.

Bai Ling lowered his head, bringing his thighs tight together. His fingers bunched the soft blanket, nearly sinking into the fabric. From his view, he could discern a smattering of fine, immaculate scales. The metallic iridescence held a toxic-like, spectral blue sheen, as if a single lick would infuse one with deadly venom, causing him to decay within the man’s embrace.

Bai Ling couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke the scales.

The merman’s waist and abdomen instantly stiffed, like a venomous snake having its inverted scale brushed, or a wild beast having its fangs grasped. Yet by examining closely under the dim light, one could see the merman’s neck slightly contract, comfortably exposing his throat.

The beast was enjoying it.

Even so, it didn’t disrupt Yu Chen’s elegant composure as he spoke to Kaide: “Authority is something earned by oneself, not some alms to be begged from others. I hope this is the final lesson I have to teach you, Christopher.”

Hearing this, Kaide wanted to indignantly add something more, but Izu Paraiso cut off his communication authority directly: “Your two minutes are up.”

The call disconnected instantly.

The terminal was casually tossed aside, colliding against the tent before tumbling deep into the plush blanket. The hand tightly gripping the blanket was seized; with a brief scuffle, the top-and-bottom order reversed in an instant, leaving that regal, magnificent face suspended directly above him.

By a rough estimate, it was barely ten centimeters from Bai Ling’s hot, swollen lips.

Yu Chen lowered his voice, delivering a soft threat: “Still want to bite me?”

The corners of Bai Ling’s lips lifted slightly, catching his own defiant reflection within those green eyes. “It seems to me you’re enjoying it quite thoroughly.”

“Feel like you’ve lost out?”

“Lost what?” Bai Ling reached out idly again, pulling at him to toy with him. “You inspected me, and I’m inspecting you. It’s mutual understanding.”

He was a person who spent his years piloting mechas and conducting mechanical maintenance; his palms and fingers were well-calloused, and his grip lacked a precise gauge of gentleness. Thus, he maintained this “understanding” while casting sidelong glances at the old alpha’s disrupted breathing.

Yu Chen scrutinized him for a moment, remarking with visible interest: “You are remarkably bold. Aren’t you afraid at all?”

“Afraid of what?”

Yu Chen cradled the younger’s lower abdomen in his palm, tracking the fine, warm tremors inch by inch. Using a seductive, possessive tone, he informed him slowly:

“An omega’s womb is typically only the size of a pear; its capacity is highly limited. Your uterus will be forced open under intense pressure, crowding the neighboring internal organs. You will experience a bursting ache, nausea, and the illusion that your stomach is being slammed into.”

Under the merman’s caresses, Bai Ling gradually found it difficult to breathe. He couldn’t help but map the object in his hands against the dimensions of his womb, visualizing an intimate entanglement. Perhaps because the description had been too realistic, his stomach suddenly contracted, a blazing fire shooting up his spine as he yanked his hand back in reflex.

Excessive damage. Those words branded themselves into his mind as his cheeks grew scalding hot.

“I heard that this sort of thing is supposed to be done step-by-step,” he murmured, lowering his eyelids as he weighed his words carefully.

“Mgh.” Yu Chen answered somewhat absentmindedly, because the bird had lifted his knee, executing a bit of mischief.

“Next time… you have to properly teach me how to adapt, inside and out.” Bai Ling arched his waist slightly, lifting just enough to brush against the merman’s ear, murmuring close and intimate: “Mr. D, use your signature Richter-Rauzer Attack to play a long castling game with me.”

The warm moisture inside the tent condensed into water droplets. The long, lingering kiss made one fear breathing too heavily.

The small robot made several trips back and forth through the greenhouse, wordlessly placing milk, cheesecake, and two sustained-release tablets on a silver platter before the tent. When unable to consume high-concentration mental supplements, these tablets served as a temporary substitute. The efficacy was weak, but better than nothing.

Following a long, patient tactile indulgence, its Master had clearly attained a satisfying release. The AI rotated its camera, its infrared tracker following its Master’s silhouette.

Master’s golden hair spilled across his shoulders as he leaned down lazily, scooping up the Mechanical Little Bird. The merman curled his lips, soliciting input: “Next time, let’s skip the tent and go directly under the trees, alright? Which tree do you prefer?”

Bai Ling wrapped his legs around the man’s waist, an unusual wave of exhaustion crashing over him. Dazed and feverish, he instinctively rested his head against the man’s shoulder, murmuring with an uncharacteristic display of good temper:

“I’m fine with anything.”