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

The already precarious barrier within his spiritual sea of ​​consciousness cracked under the intense impact, a sharp buzzing echoing within his skull.

The female insect couldn't help but kneel on the ground, groaning in pain.

But this is just the beginning.

As the video spread, the media controlled by the Locke family began to get involved.

A series of seemingly objective reports, but in reality full of leading questions, were published, confirming the fact that he was disciplined by his family for his dissolute behavior, that he repaid kindness with enmity, and that his mental state was unstable.

The online trolls manipulated public opinion, and in no time, vicious labels such as "slut," "military prostitute," and "ungrateful wretch" flooded Locke like snowflakes.

I tried to contact my military colleagues who had previously expressed sympathy, but most of the communications were unreachable. When they did manage to get through, they sounded awkward and hung up quickly.

He became a complete plague god.

Even his temporary hiding place was now under increased scrutiny.

The family is telling him this in a way:

You have nowhere to escape.

The legal proceedings indeed stalled.

The court postponed the hearing indefinitely, citing the need for further verification of the authenticity of the evidence and the sensitive nature of the matter requiring careful handling.

The weighty evidence he submitted seemed to have become a pile of worthless paper in the face of overwhelming stigma.

In just two days, Seewo Locke went from a highly decorated lieutenant general to a laughingstock and a dissolute man despised by everyone in the empire.

He was completely isolated, deprived of his voice, his image distorted, and his path forward blocked.

Sitting on the cold floor of the room, with her back against the wall, her silver hair fell loosely over her shoulders.

Outside the window, the ever-burning neon lights of the capital city reflected on his pale, paper-like face.

Her pale gold eyes had lost all their luster, leaving only a desolate emptiness and an unfathomable weariness.

Physical scars can heal, but this systematic torture of the soul and reputation nearly destroyed his last shred of will.

The gentle, sorrowful face of the female father appeared before his eyes, intertwining with the distorted images of himself on the screen, creating a suffocating sense of absurdity.

revenge?

In such a situation, he was almost denied his own existence, so how could he talk about revenge?

An unprecedented sense of powerlessness, like the cold, deep sea, enveloped him tightly, dragging him into the dark abyss.

Just as his consciousness was about to be completely swallowed by this despairing coldness, his fingertips unconsciously curled up and touched the cold edge of his personal terminal.

A name, a figure, stubbornly flashed in the chaos of my mind.

Shen Yan.

That seemingly cold and aloof being, yet different from those noble male insects who indulge in desire.

And then there's Calandall, the female insect who, too, was once mired in the mire but broke free from the shackles of fate.

This is the last chance, the last possible glimmer of hope.

With the last of his strength, he raised his trembling hand and typed those three words on the communicator—words that embodied all his humiliation, despair, and resentment, words that were almost humble:

"Help."

The instant the message is sent.

He seemed to have all his bones removed, collapsing and curling up on the cold ground, his long, silvery hair like lifeless vines covering his slightly trembling body.

I closed my eyes and awaited the final verdict.

Either you succumb to complete darkness.

Alternatively, grasp this one and only thread, a spider's thread that might bring salvation, yet is incredibly thin.