Not on the Same Path

This was going to be troublesome, and the risks would rise sharply as well.

But he simply couldn’t bear to see the word “cost” appear beside the names of his subordinates.

It was a small, pointless stubbornness he held—not as Black Tortoise, but as Chen Guan.

[Oh? Brother Coffin is finally making a move? Who’s he going to smash?]

[A mission from the Origin Return Group? Somehow, I get the feeling it’s nothing good. Are they going to sabotage something?]

[The bleeding-heart upstairs can get lost. If a villain organization isn’t causing trouble, are they supposed to help old ladies cross the street? I just want to see Brother Coffin lay waste to everything in his path.]

[Easy for you to say. What if innocent people get hurt?]

[They’re just background characters. Who cares as long as it looks cool? I’m waiting for Yunlan City to run red with blood.]

Chen Guan’s gaze swept over the scrolling barrage of comments. The more he read those words from people practically begging for chaos, the uglier his expression became.

Without a change in expression, he raised a hand and swiped across the screen, tapping Block.

At once, the entire world became quiet.

“Meow.”

A soft, milky cry came from beside his feet.

Chen Guan lowered his head and saw that Baobao had somehow wandered over to him. The little creature was gazing up at him with its tiny head tilted back.

It seemed to have sensed that its master was in a bad mood.

So it tried very hard to organize its thoughts before asking in a childish yet utterly serious voice:

“Chen Guan, not happy?”

Chen Guan couldn’t help smiling. He reached down and rubbed Baobao’s tiny head, its fur soft and silky beneath his palm.

“No. I’m fine.”

He softened his voice, though he wasn’t sure whether he was saying it to Baobao or to himself.

Chen Guan rose and rummaged through his storage space, pulling out a strip of jerky that gave off an enticing aroma.

He tore it into small pieces and fed them to Baobao. He hadn’t forgotten that Baobao had said it was hungry earlier.

“Meow!”

Baobao let out a happy cry.

Watching it eat with such enthusiasm, Chen Guan finally felt the nameless irritation in his chest subside a little.

He walked over to the window and drew back the curtains. He remained awake throughout the night, until the sky began to brighten.

…

The next day, during the theory lecture, the professor’s hypnotic voice washed over the classroom, but Chen Guan didn’t absorb a single word.

He propped up his chin with one hand, looking as though he were about to fall asleep. His mind was filled with ways to keep the destruction caused by the mission within the boundaries he had set.

“Chen Guan, you didn’t sleep well last night.”

A gentle voice sounded beside him.

Chen Guan turned his head and saw An Changqing looking at him with concern.

Su Yuehe was absent again today. The chairwoman had requested an extended leave of absence for her.

“Mm.”

Chen Guan answered vaguely and sat up straighter.

“You look terrible.” An Changqing’s powers of observation were remarkably sharp. He had noticed the fatigue beneath Chen Guan’s eyes, as well as the heaviness that occasionally flickered through them. “Cultivation requires a balance between work and rest too. If you keep the string pulled too tight, it’ll snap.”

Chen Guan paused.

That sounded strangely familiar.

He looked into An Changqing’s sincere eyes. The other man’s goodwill was too pure—so pure that it made Chen Guan uncomfortable.

“I understand.”

In the end, all he could do was nod.

Seeing that Chen Guan had taken his words to heart, An Changqing smiled. He patted Chen Guan on the shoulder, his tone gentle yet firm.

“Anyway, if you need help with anything, just ask.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we? So you don’t need to stand on ceremony.”

Friends.

The word was like a small stone tossed into the lake of Chen Guan’s heart.

He looked at An Changqing, at this man who radiated the light of the righteous path and was destined to become one of humanity’s pillars.

A thought surfaced in his mind, beyond his control.

If you knew that I was about to go to a human city and stir up chaos there under the identity of a villain…

Would you still call me a friend then?

Would you still offer your help without reservation?

He could almost see the scene: An Changqing drawing his sword and turning it against him.

It seemed that the bond-and-friendship punch really was about to land squarely in his face.

Chen Guan’s lips moved, but in the end, he merely pulled them into a stiff smile.

“Okay.”

The professor at the podium seemed to notice the small exchange. A glance swept over from behind his glasses.

An Changqing immediately sat up straight and put on an attentive expression.

Chen Guan also turned his gaze back to the front, pretending that nothing had happened.

At that moment, the phone in his pocket vibrated softly.

A message appeared on the screen without a sound. The sender was White Tiger.

Chen Guan asked for permission and stepped out of the classroom to check it.

The contents were simple.

[Location: Yunlan City]

[Mission: Three days from now, incite a riot at Eternal Plaza in the city center and draw the Great Wall’s attention.]

White Tiger had shown some conscience, at least. All they wanted was for him to attract attention.

After reading the message, Chen Guan deleted it and slipped his phone back into his pocket before returning to the classroom.

The sunlight outside was warm and bright, streaming through the glass and spilling across his face.

But his heart felt as though a chunk of it had frozen solid, and no matter what he did, it would not melt.

He looked at An Changqing once more.

The other man was focused on taking notes, the lines of his profile softened by the sunlight.

As Chen Guan watched him, one thought became utterly clear.

We aren’t the same kind of person at all.

The end-of-class bell sounded like a pardon. At last, the professor’s endless lecture came to an end.

Chen Guan felt the tension in his nerves ease a little, but drowsiness immediately surged over him.

He rubbed the space between his brows, shaking off some of his fatigue.

“Let’s go. Time to eat.”

A massive figure blocked the light from the windows. It was Wang Hanyue, whose booming voice was as imposing as his build.

Beside him stood Long Ao with his arms folded, silent as ever. But his gaze was clearly directed toward Chen Guan, making his meaning obvious:

Together.

Chen Guan had just been about to stand when a furry little head poked out from his collar and gave a dainty yawn.

It was Baobao, who had slept to its heart’s content. At the moment, it was maintaining its harmless kitten form, its dark-purple fur gleaming like satin beneath the classroom lights.

“Holy crap.”

Wang Hanyue’s eyes instantly went wide.

On his honest, good-natured face appeared an expression so tender and doting that it seemed completely at odds with his enormous build.

“Chen Guan, when did you start raising a cat behind our backs? Damn, that color is gorgeous.”

As he spoke, he reached out with a huge palm, intending to rub Baobao’s head.

Clearly, even he couldn’t resist the temptation of an adorable kitty.

Before his hand could get close, the little creature perched on Chen Guan’s shoulder lazily raised its eyelids. Its golden slit pupils were filled with disdain.

With an effortless twist of its head, it turned the back of its head toward Wang Hanyue’s finger—which was thicker than its own head. The tip of its tail flicked impatiently, every inch of it radiating the noble air of someone saying, “Don’t touch me.”

Wang Hanyue’s enormous hand froze halfway there, and the expression on his face became a little awkward.

“Heh heh. You’ve got quite the temper.”

Chen Guan sighed inwardly.

He knew this would happen.

Baobao usually looked silly and harmless, but aside from Chen Guan and familiar faces like An Changqing, it rarely allowed anyone to touch it.

Slowly, Chen Guan took a small piece of jerky from his pocket. He had made it specially as a snack.