Xiao Xi, listening intently, couldn't help but speak up. He spread his hands and echoed A Jun's concern. It was a valid question—and one that troubled the strategist and the president alike. Xiao Xi was right: why label someone who did good as a suspect? The warrant felt unjust, and the whole situation left a bitter taste.
The strategist took another sip of tea to steady himself, then sighed and resumed his measured commentary. In his view, the foreign races of history were mostly righteous and respected. They quietly supported humanity, assisted the guardians, and some even became members of the City Hero Alliance. Of course, as the ruling power of the UN's leading nation, the royal family's actions weren't entirely incomprehensible—but their methods were certainly extreme, making the balance of pros and cons quite delicate.
The root cause likely traced back to the great war fifteen years ago, when villains from various territories were found to have ties to the foreign races. Although the conspiracy failed and the foreign races actively helped suppress the rebellion, the hard evidence still implicated them. Since then, the once-acceptable term "foreign race" faded from history, replaced by "outsiders"—in short, those who didn't belong here.
"Ugh, so complicated—can't they just arrest the bad ones, lock them up, kick them out? Why lump the good ones in too? The royals are really something!"
Xiao Xi, ever warm-hearted and outspoken, couldn't hold back. His sense of justice flared, and he interrupted the strategist, eyes wide as he blurted out his frustration.
A Jun felt the same, his emotions stirred. But he had better self-control than Xiao Xi and didn't shout—besides, Xiao Xi had already voiced what he wanted to ask. Getting too worked up didn't seem appropriate, especially since the strategist wasn't the one responsible.
"Shh—"
The strategist quickly hushed Xiao Xi, glancing around nervously. He leaned in and whispered, "Keep it down. This is a sensitive topic!"
"Uncle, I've noticed that books describe these things vaguely. Is there more to the story—the other half?"
Xiao Xi still looked unconcerned, but A Jun had caught the strategist's expression. Walls have ears. He gently tapped his younger brother's shoulder, leaned closer, and quietly offered his insight: "—Maybe there's another reason?"
"So you noticed too, huh? You've always had sharp instincts!"
The strategist didn't mind the boys' curiosity or impulsiveness. He chuckled at A Jun's caution—after all, he had only told half the story.
A Jun's guess was only partial. He hadn't yet confirmed all the details, so he couldn't make a definitive judgment. But the data so far was enough to support his reasoning.
A Jun and the strategist exchanged knowing smiles, nodding silently. Xiao Xi, confused, kept asking questions until he lowered his voice and finally learned the truth.
As A Jun suspected, the royal family's true fear wasn't the villains or their remnants—it was the entire race itself. Despite generations of coexistence and high levels of human-like behavior, their appearance still differed from humans…
Unless during specific events, they rarely showed their faces. Xiao Xi understood this well—as an anime fan, he often dressed extravagantly for conventions and expos.
In fact, they were a branch of the beastkin lineage, with formidable abilities. This reminded A Jun of the birdfolk he'd encountered, further confirming his theory. The royal family's anxiety was understandable—and not just because of that…
Just as the strategist reached this point, Xiao Xi suddenly blurted out a surprisingly accurate answer—even the strategist was stunned. Where did this kid get his intel?
When Xiao Xi said it came from a storyteller, the strategist finally understood. The boy had often snuck off to the teahouse in the western part of town to listen to tales—sometimes even skipping class. Many of his stories and gossip came from there. He'd been scolded countless times by his mother, but never changed.
That storyteller was no ordinary man. He liked Xiao Xi and they became friends. Through him, Xiao Xi often heard all kinds of insider news.
In truth, beyond all these concerns, the royal family was also troubled by the increasing number of abnormal evolutions across the lands—echoes of the past war still stirred unease among those in power. To address this, the current prime minister established a special bureau of investigation, hoping to find new evidence and solutions. Relying on the Beastkin Management Bureau was unlikely to succeed.
This made life even harder for outsiders—distant relatives of the lich clans. Some were forced to leave their homes, some vanished into the forests, and others endured oppressive lives just to preserve their family's ideals.
Take Yao, for example—the top-tier talent A Jun had met. A multi-time champion of the Wulin Tournament, once a shining star of the City Hero Alliance, with countless achievements. He had even personally captured traitors during the war. The royal family had no choice but to award him the Ring of Honor. He was admired by all…
But now, he lived like a prisoner—monitored, restricted, and isolated.
Because of his background, Yao's life had become that of a pariah. Status and glory were cast aside. Thankfully, the president and strategist helped shield him, allowing him a relatively stable life. There were many outsiders like him.
Some stayed in the City Hero Alliance, enduring humiliation. Others hid in their homelands, living in solitude. The royal family valued talent—this era needed it. They welcomed allegiance and offered status… but only if one accepted the humiliation and inner torment first.
"Hasn't anyone spoken up for them?" Xiao Xi, stirred by the story, voiced the question he and A Jun both held.
"There were… but the royal family's grip is hard to shake."
The strategist sighed, then told the boys, "Three righteous figures did speak up for the Hu clan. But they couldn't match the royal family's power. One was even dismissed. The other two…"
"—What happened?"
"Nothing major. The royals only pick easy targets. But the relationships soured."
The strategist sipped his tea, carefully explaining history and worldview to the two boys. When it came to sensitive topics, he was skilled—always subtle, using gestures and even lip-reading. But A Jun still felt uneasy.
"Uncle, you've said so much—things not even found in books. Could this be risky? Is this place safe enough?" A Jun whispered, worried for the strategist.
"Stay calm!"
The strategist chuckled heartily, patted A Jun's head, and calmly reassured him: "Don't worry. This suite is actually one of our secret bases—fully renovated and very secure!"
—Really!
The two boys lit up, exchanged glances, and gave a thumbs-up in admiration. Uncle truly lived up to his zodiac—like the clever rabbit with three burrows!
"Then—those people must still have ways to eavesdrop, right?"
Here, A Jun referred to the spies from the Inspection Bureau, the ones the strategist had warned about.
"Oh… them?"
Seeing the innocent kids, the strategist couldn't help but laugh. He composed himself and whispered with confidence, half-joking: "Let them listen. These are facts the higher-ups mostly know anyway. No harm if they hear—besides, with their intelligence…"
As he spoke, the strategist recalled the bald, short gardener they'd seen on the street earlier—looked normal, but clearly had a hidden identity.
The two kids didn't quite get it, but followed suit and laughed along. Chatting with the strategist was relaxed and joyful. A Jun felt like he was back home. But time flew—it was already bedtime. The girls had gone to sleep.
The strategist checked his watch and firmly said goodnight. Early to bed, early to rise—this was a Sacred Healer Clan principle. The boys obediently began their nighttime routine. Of course, Xiao Xi squeezed in a few rounds of gaming before falling into a satisfied sleep.
A Jun, however, lay awake, stirred by all the new information. He stared out the window. Tonight's moon was a faint crescent—not very bright, but quietly beautiful.
Just as he was admiring the moon, something suddenly thumped against the glass, snapping him out of his thoughts. Xiao Xi merely rolled over and mumbled in his sleep.
—What was that?
A Jun was startled, then curious. Could it be a message from his unseen friend? He threw off the covers, grabbed his coat, and opened the window—yes, it was! A pair of tiny wings flapped in, carrying a letter. A Jun was delighted, but something felt off.
—Oh, poor thing.
This time, the feather-mail looked battered—flying weakly, missing many feathers, and its envelope was crumpled. Maybe it had hit the glass too hard?
A Jun quickly took the letter, tapped the stamp to calm the fluttering wings, letting it rest. He smoothed the wrinkled envelope and finally opened it. It was indeed from his friend—asking about his training journey, filled with warmth and encouragement, hoping for good news after his trial.
A Jun read the letter again and again, until his heart softened. He tucked it close to his chest and drifted into a peaceful sleep.
That night was sweet—he hadn't felt this at-home in a long time.
He only woke when Xiao Jiuwuo's voice called out and the door knocked. It was morning. The Saintess had brought the now-energized cat to wake the boys for breakfast.
Since leaving Xuanwu County, Xiao Jiuwuo hadn't been herself. A Jun had been worried—maybe she missed home too. She'd been listless and sleeping early.
While everyone enjoyed the hotel's buffet breakfast, the strategist rushed in, flustered. A Jun had mentioned they'd depart this morning, so the elder was anxious. But it was still early—why the rush?
This wasn't like him. Something was up.
Turns out, the president had asked him to drop everything and come. Since A Jun was Yi's relative, the president wanted to treat the kids to lunch. He was clearing his schedule to make time.
Hearing this, and seeing the strategist's hopeful expression, A Jun decided to change plans.
Xiao Xi and Xiao Jiuwuo immediately agreed. Even the Saintess had no objections. A Jun was happy too. Seeing the kids so cheerful, the strategist stroked his beard with a smile and led them on a stroll through Wulin Town—a place that felt like home.
The town, as Xiao Xi had guessed, wasn't large—just three main zones. But it was special. Each area had its own architectural style, all mixed together. There was a vintage residential district, a tech-heavy hotel cluster, sleek modern office towers, and an industrial-mecha-style tournament arena. Between them were lush green spaces—oxygen overload was common here.
To outsiders, the design might seem chaotic. But A Jun noticed the brilliance: the transitions between zones were masterfully done, harmonizing everything into a unified whole.
Maybe it was because people here came from all over. The town's inclusiveness gave it a unique beauty—like the diverse and distinctive food in the cafeteria.
A Jun had always had a keen eye for aesthetics, with his own insights and sensibilities. But back home, he'd been criticized—maybe due to bias, or maybe he was just too unconventional.
But Uncle once said: "Walk your own path and let others talk."
A Jun agreed. Say what you want—it's your freedom. But I am who I am. Thanks.
Still, he'd never compromise his principles.
Bitter medicine heals best.
The strategist led the kids on a tour. A Jun and the cat admired and praised the sights. The Saintess walked quietly behind—none of this stirred her interest. She strolled gracefully, eyes ahead.
Xiao Xi, meanwhile, used the excuse of "nothing to see" to stay by the girl's side, cracking jokes. Of course, his intentions weren't entirely pure. But the Saintess didn't mind anymore. She seemed calm, listening while focusing on her own thoughts.
After spending time with everyone, she had gradually relaxed. Maybe it was the familiarity—they were all kids around the same age, after all.
Soon, the group arrived at the same place they'd dined yesterday—Tongfu Cafeteria. The president was already waiting at the entrance with his aides. The sharp-eyed strategist quickly stepped forward to greet him, and the children followed.
The president gave a rare smile—directed at A Jun. It was a genuine emotion from the heart. The strategist, seeing the moment, thought it was a good time to report on work, but the president gently declined, gesturing toward the children. Clearly, he still didn't fully trust others.
But the strategist's impulse wasn't baseless. Everyone present was trustworthy—A Jun and the cat, of course; Xiao Xi was a descendant of the ancient Duanmu clan, with the Qilin County chief as his master. No need to worry there. As for Ning'er, the strategist had learned last night that she was the Saintess of the Nangong clan—hardly someone to be concerned about.
So, the strategist calmly leaned in and whispered a brief explanation. The meticulous president's expression softened into pride and ease. He quickly greeted the Saintess with a respectful bow—after all, in front of a clan leader, even a president ranked like a city lord couldn't afford to be rude.
The strategist didn't care for such formalities. He kept smiling foolishly at the kids, which earned him a gentle scolding from the president. To the strategist, A Jun and the others were just children—like his own. He didn't bother with rules and didn't like them anyway. Too much hassle.
During the meal, once the president relaxed and warmed up to everyone, he began to speak at length. Unlike Xiao Xi's casual chatter, his words were logical, structured, and precise. He spoke of his brotherhood with Yi, praised the strategist's arrival and abilities…
The president was eloquent, but his busy schedule rarely allowed him to express himself. This time, he spoke a lot—almost like a teacher giving a lecture.
The Saintess sat gracefully, patiently listening to the elder's stories out of courtesy. Xiao Xi and Xiao Jiuwuo, meanwhile, seemed attentive but were actually focused on devouring their food. They marveled at the chef's skill—how seemingly unrelated ingredients were blended into delicious dishes, just like Xiao Xi's father used to do.
As for A Jun, though the topic should've interested him, his head began to feel heavy. His old problem returned—he couldn't handle long-winded talk. After a while, he'd feel uneasy, then dizzy and sleepy. It was the same in school, which was why he preferred self-study.
The strategist, who had watched A Jun grow up, knew this well. He remembered when A Jun first started school—during theory class, he'd always look drowsy halfway through. The teacher didn't understand and often threw chalk to wake him up.
The teacher had a strong arm—chalk hits hurt. This came from a poor kid at the desk next to A Jun, Orange Shao. The teacher, whether due to poor eyesight or bad aim, often missed and hit Orange Shao instead.
Orange Shao was nearly injured several times, but his loyal desk mate always shielded him. Eventually, the teacher couldn't take it anymore and dragged A Jun into the hallway for a public scolding.
"Even if your grades are top, your attitude is unacceptable…"
A Jun tried to explain, but the teacher didn't listen and called his parents.
That day, A Jun's family was busy, so the strategist stepped in, pretending to be his godfather. At first, the teacher mistook him for A Jun's uncle—but after a patient and accurate explanation, A Jun was finally understood. From then on, the teacher became one of the good ones—helping explain A Jun's condition to other teachers. Of course, the chalk throwing didn't stop. It was the teacher's signature move. And with one bad example in class, others would copy—so discipline was needed. But those kids weren't as lucky as A Jun—they got hit every time.
Seeing A Jun's poor state, the strategist decided to interrupt the president again. He gathered his courage and quietly reported the latest updates. This aligned perfectly with the president's interests—he immediately stopped talking and listened carefully.
Turns out, Yao had successfully captured the outsider.
But Xiao Xi, still enjoying his meal, voiced his displeasure. Thankfully, A Jun, now recovering, quickly covered his brother's mouth. The Saintess and the cat also reminded him to be careful.
This time, the elders smiled knowingly. They appreciated A Jun's alertness. No need for the kids to be so tense—though A Jun couldn't help but wonder: was this place also a secret base?
The strategist chuckled and gave a subtle signal. The kids looked around—and sure enough, two suspicious figures stood out. They were likely the Inspection Bureau's spies.
One was the cafeteria auntie who'd served their food. She kept polishing her prized ladle—it was already shiny enough to be a mirror, yet she kept wiping. Her ears strained to listen, but she seemed to struggle.
Then, the president's bodyguard glanced her way. A faint blue light from his eyes reflected off the ladle—drawing attention.
The auntie immediately dropped the act, whistled, and began twirling the ladle. Who said ladles couldn't be stylish? Aha—she danced with a ladle, not a sword.
Nearby, a male diner had finished his meal but kept eating—now grain by grain. The seats around him were empty, yet he lingered.
—Truly, "every grain hard-earned."
As everyone watched him curiously, a mother and daughter entered the scene. They discussed what to eat. The little girl glanced at the man and giggled at his eating style. The spy was annoyed and glared at her.
The child burst into tears. Her mother, seeing this, rolled up her sleeves—ready to demand an apology.
But as a royal agent, the man wouldn't yield. He glared again, trying to scare them off.
At that tense moment, the president's bodyguard acted. With a flick of his finger, the man's face slammed into his tray—making the girl laugh through her tears.
A Jun barely saw it—the bodyguard had turned air into force, striking the spy's head like a slap, pressing it into the table. It looked like an apology.
—Apologize? Impossible!
The spy's face was greasy and bitter, but he seemed used to it. He didn't search for the attacker—just swallowed his anger, glared at the girl again, muttered something rude, and tried to leave.
As he passed the mother and daughter, the woman couldn't hold back and confronted him. The spy, arrogant and proud, prepared to retaliate with one hand.
The mother, desperate to protect her child, froze. But then—familiar scene—the man's legs buckled, and he knelt before them.
—Well… knowing your mistake and changing is good enough.
It was the bodyguard again. With just two fingers, he flipped the scene. The girl was stunned, but her mother, seeing the sincerity, softened and took her daughter to get food.
As for the spy—mouth unwilling, actions submissive—he realized things had gone wrong. Silently, shamefully, he slipped away.