Who understands? The aloof female ruler always flirts without even realizing it.

Locke stood in the center of the study, unusually refusing to take orders. He simply lowered his head slightly, his thick, golden eyelashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks, remaining silent.

Shen Yan's words that night were like a poisoned wedge, relentlessly hammering at the loyalty he had upheld for so many years.

For the first time in his life, his deeply ingrained obedience stagnated deep within his soul. He could feel something solid cracking, fine fissures starting from his heart and spreading to his limbs and bones.

"If you understand, then go and prepare."

The patriarch's voice came from above, tinged with obvious impatience.

Don't waste your time here.

The tone was casual, and Locke turned around as instructed, his military boots making no sound on the thick Persian carpet.

Portraits of past clan leaders hung on both sides of the corridor, their dignified gazes now seeming to carry a mocking air.

His body, on the verge of mental collapse, finally protested at the corner of the stairs. A wave of dizziness washed over him, forcing him to lean against the cold marble wall, using its chill to keep him awake.

Sweat trickled down his forehead, dripping along his jawline onto the crisp collar of his military uniform. He tried to calm his erratic breathing, but unexpectedly overheard a broken conversation coming from the slightly ajar door of the study.

"Should we send additional insects to supervise Locke's mission this time? After all, his health seems to be..."

"No need," Kayefa said, his voice tinged with indifference.

"After all, he's willing to do anything, even give away his virginity easily, so what else can't he do? You and I both know that after years of training, he's much more obedient than his female father."

The air froze instantly.

Locke held his breath, every cell screaming for escape, but his feet seemed nailed to the spot.

"While the Jersey Prince possesses superior genes, he is indeed... far too dull and rigid," the elder's voice laced with a fawning sigh.

"Selling it to the Viscount back then was a good way to make the best use of it."

A short, cold laugh rang out, like a viper flicking its tongue: "To gain the support of a nobleman with an object you've grown tired of, is quite a bargain."

"It's a pity he couldn't withstand the strain and passed away after only a few days. We told the public that it was a relapse of his old illness, which at least preserved some semblance of dignity for him."

Each word was like a poisoned icicle, pinning Locke to the spot. He suddenly felt grateful that he hadn't left, otherwise he wouldn't have known such a bloody truth.

He had just joined the army and was still young. He returned from the battlefield full of joy, only to be told that his female father had passed away and he had not even seen him one last time.

All the insects told him that Jersey was already frail and sickly, and that he died young because of overwork from years of dedicated research.

The female father who would gently stroke his hair and always smelled of laboratory disinfectant, the female father who would explain star charts to him late at night and whose voice was always as soft as moonlight...

The truth about the death is so unbearable.

Intense pain exploded from my heart, instantly engulfing my entire body.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white from the force, and his nails dug deep into his palms, leaving crescent-shaped blood marks. The taste of rust filled his mouth.

It took almost all his strength to suppress the roar that was about to burst from his throat back into his chest.

With all his might, he leaned against the wall to straighten up. After a few deep breaths, self-control regained control of his body, which was on the verge of collapse.

When the storm of emotions subsided, those gilded eyes, which always held a perfectly detached smile, turned into a desolate, lifeless silence.

……

Back in the side hall, the heavy, carved wooden door closed behind me, the sound of the lock clicking shut crisply and decisively.

He didn't turn on the lights, letting the moonlight stream through the high window, cutting out patches of light and shadow on the floor.

revenge--

I must take revenge!

The screen glowed with a ghostly blue light in the darkness, illuminating the expressionless profile. Long, slender fingers flew across the virtual keyboard, bringing up the family's financial records for the past twenty years.

These advanced privileges, which the successor had never used before, have now become the most useful tools for revenge.

The unusual flow of funds was identified first.

Three huge sums of money were transferred in installments to the alien account of a distant relative of a member of the royal family, labeled as "art transactions" but without any corresponding collection records.

The encrypted notes only contain the brief phrase "Mining rights for Zone Z-73 approved".

The first piece of evidence.

As they continued to dig deeper, their pupils contracted slightly in the reflection of the screen.

The scrapping records of a batch of Starship engines that the military phased out last year perfectly matched the time when a new product was put into storage by a subsidiary of the family.

Three months later, this batch of "scrapped" equipment appeared intact on an armed smuggling ship in the border star system, with the transaction records cleverly hidden among layers of shell companies.

The second piece of evidence.

The specially marked folder contained dozens of medical examination reports for female insects with high mental strength. The name of the female father, Jersey, was prominently listed, with the date indicating it was decades ago, before Locke was even born.

Each report is accompanied by a brief assessment: "Excellent genes, healthy reproductive system, suitable for intensive breeding."

The third piece of evidence.

The moonlight shifted imperceptibly, casting his shadow long and distorted on the smooth floor.

Anomalies in financial statements, fragmented information from encrypted communications, and hidden markings in medical records.

That's not all. There were also shady accounts of tax evasion, records of illegal experiments, and even several cleverly concealed "accidental deaths."

As the last piece of evidence was filed and encrypted, Locke leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and focused intently. In the darkness, he could clearly hear his own steady heartbeat.

The body's warning signs continue.

The buzzing caused by excessive mental energy depletion echoed in my skull, and I felt throbbing pain in my temples.

This body, this once perfectly functioning machine, is now protesting from every part.

His gaze swept over the name "Jersey" on the screen again.

That name is no longer just a symbol of tragedy; it has become a mirror, reflecting the possible end Locke himself might face after being thoroughly "used up."

They disappeared without a trace, and then, in the official narrative, they were embellished into something else entirely.

His family not only stole his past and distorted his present, but also attempted to define his future.

A cold, almost indifferent calm replaced the initial overwhelming hatred.

Anger is fuel, but it cannot be the rudder.

This revenge is not only to appease the father, but also to reclaim full ownership of one's own life.

The sacrifices of the past, the current state of disfigurement, and the road ahead. He will make his family pay the price for their greed and ruthlessness.

These incriminating facts were enough to bring ruin to the entire family, but he was waiting for the perfect moment, the moment when he could cause the greatest damage, to personally ignite the fuse.

In that inevitable collapse, one must ensure that one can emerge unscathed.

He turned off the light screen, got up and walked to the window. The imperial star was still brightly lit in the dead of night, and those lights flickered in his eyes.