With three superpowers at his fingertips, he could dominate the 1970s.

The next morning, Koichi Kurokawa was awakened by his wife Miho's startled cry.

Shota's tatami mat was empty. The blanket was half-lifted, the small pillow was askew to the side, and building blocks were scattered all over the floor.

Misaki was the first to react, and ran outside barefoot. Koichi followed closely behind, and the two practically rushed all the way to Kurokawa Haruko's residence.

Haruko was washing up, the water in the copper basin reflecting her haggard face. Hearing hurried footsteps, she looked up and saw her son and daughter-in-law rushing in with panicked expressions.

"Mom! Shota is missing!" Misaki's voice trembled. "We brought him home last night, he was fine when we got back, but now he's gone!"

The handkerchief in Haruko's hand fell into the basin of water.

She froze for three seconds, then her expression changed, and she turned and ran outside.

Hengyi and Meixiu exchanged a glance and hurriedly followed.

The dungeon corridor was still the same corridor, damp and cold, with water droplets seeping from the stone walls. The oil lamp had gone out, and the morning light shone in from the end of the passage, barely illuminating the way ahead.

The three of them stopped in their tracks as they entered the dungeon.

The cell was empty.

The man who sat in the corner for thirty years is gone. The chain hangs on the ground, the lock securely fastened, without any signs of prying or breakage.

Shota also disappeared along with them.

Haruko rushed over, squatted down next to the chain, and grabbed it to examine it closely. The chain was cold, the clasp was tightly closed, and there were a few dried scabs on the chain, which were from Xu Yunzi's wrists.

The person is gone. The chain is still there.

"Impossible..." she murmured, her fingers gripping the chains tightly. "He can't even stand properly, how could he—"

She suddenly looked up, her eyes red-rimmed: "Wasn't his death enough? Did he have to take Shota with him? He took Shota with him before he died? What secret method did he use?"

Hengyi stood at the door, without saying a word.

Haruko slammed the chains to the ground, her voice sharp and distorted: "This man! He's still so heartless! Thirty years, and he hasn't left the Yin-Yang Bureau with a shred of hope! He must have known he was finished, and in the end, he used all his remaining strength to take the child away. He was afraid! Afraid that we would raise this child!"

Her voice echoed in the empty dungeon, sharp and piercing, like a knife slicing through a stone wall.

Even a tiger wouldn't eat its own cubs!

The news spread very quickly.

In less than half an hour, several elders of the Yin-Yang Clan arrived at the dungeon.

Standing in the empty cell, looking at the intact chains on the ground and the deserted stone walls, a chill ran down their spines.

"A last-ditch effort, like a lamp burning out..." an elder murmured. "Did the dying man use a secret sacrificial ritual? He took away the most spiritual child."

"He's afraid. He's afraid that if this child's talent fills the gap in magic, the Yin-Yang Bureau will no longer need its lineage."

Another elder chimed in, his tone somber, "They wouldn't even leave us a way out, even in death."

"Nonsense! Ridiculous!"

The eldest clan elder whirled around, pointing a trembling finger at Kurokawa Haruko: "Look at the mess you've made! Thirty years! Thirty years and you still can't even handle one man! What face do you have to be the young lady of the Onmyōryō?!"

Haruko stood there, her mind blank.

The two people she relied on most were gone. One was the man she had imprisoned, hated, and longed for for thirty years; the other was her only hope, the most spiritual child in the Yin-Yang Bureau.

Did he hesitate even for a moment when he took Shota away? Probably not. In his eyes, she and Kouichi meant nothing. The woman who had forced him for thirty years, the son who was not acknowledged—in his heart, they were probably always a source of shame.

He would rather use his last breath to take Shota away than leave the Yin-Yang Bureau a way out.

Haruko suddenly sat down on the ground, tilted her head back, and burst into laughter.

Thirty years... thirty years...

The laughter was sharp and dry, like the sound of something shattering.

"I always felt he would change his mind... I always felt... but his heart is so hard... he just took Shota away..."

The laughter grew louder and shriller, eventually turning into a bizarre mix of crying and laughter that echoed through the dungeon, sending chills down everyone's spine.

The elders were so angry that their faces turned red and their necks bulged. They flicked their sleeves and left without looking back.

-

The dungeon fell silent.

Only three people remained.

Hengyi stood by the wall, silently watching his mother sitting on the ground, laughing hysterically. Meixiu stood beside him, her face streaked with tears, her lips bitten until they turned white.

The morning light streamed into the dungeon from the end of the passageway, falling on Haruko. She sat on the ground, her hair disheveled, her clothes rumpled, laughing so hard she trembled, like a puppet whose soul had been ripped away.

Misaki cautiously tugged at Kouichi's sleeve, her voice barely audible: "Kouichi... Shota, is he really gone?"

Hengyi's heart ached.

He regretted it. He regretted bringing Shota into this world, regretted creating an emotional bond between the child and his wife, and to have that bond torn apart was ten times more painful than never having had it at all.

Shota's laughter, Shota's voice, the focused look in his eyes when he was stacking blocks... all gone. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and ripped a piece of my heart out.

He reached out and pulled Meixiu into his arms, holding her tightly.

Looking at his mother, who was lying on the ground in a frenzy, Hengyi suddenly felt that his whole life was a joke.

He was born through the most despicable means by his mother, living in a place where his identity was awkward, and his mother's situation was also awkward. Yet he still fantasized about having a normal family—a gentle wife, a lovely son, and a future where he wouldn't have to live under the strange gaze of others.

But their son is gone. The family is broken.

"Beautiful show,"

His voice was low, each word seeming to be squeezed from his heart:

"Go. Leave this place, find someone else, and start a new life. Following me will only lead to disaster."

Meixiu suddenly looked up at him.

"I am a disaster in myself," he said.

Haruko, slumped on the floor, froze upon hearing these words. She slowly raised her head, a sudden, instinctive urgency welling up in her cloudy eyes: "You're not...you're not a disaster, you're Mom's precious son! Look at your face, it looks so much like his..."

"That's enough!"

Koichi Kurokawa had never spoken to his mother in that voice before.

The laughter in the dungeon stopped abruptly.

"I hate this face."

His voice trembled, but he emphasized each word, "Because every time you see this face, you don't see me—you see him."

Haruko opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

"Don't you know how awkward my existence is because of your despicable methods?"

Hengyi's eyes were red, but he didn't shed a tear.

"I've had enough of this place, I've had enough."

Meixiu grabbed his sleeve, her voice panicked:

"Shota is gone, please don't let anything happen to you, okay? Let's... let's have another child, a child who looks like Shota, okay?"

Hengyi shook his head.

"Mi-soo, I'm tired."

He released her hand and took a step back.

"I don't want to hold you back anymore. I want to go somewhere where nobody knows me and live out this broken life. You should find a normal man and live a normal life."

After saying that, he turned and walked out, like a walking corpse, his steps mechanical and heavy.

Meixiu stared at his retreating figure, tears streaming down her face, but she did not chase after him.

She knew that chasing after him now would be useless—his soul had already been taken away, along with Shota.

She stood there for a long time, until her legs went numb, before dragging her weary figure out of the dungeon, step by step.

Only one woman remained in the dungeon.

Haruko Kurokawa sat on the cold stone ground, a smile still on her face, though her tears had dried. The morning light shone on her, illuminating her gray hair and the wrinkles on her face.

Thirty years.

She spent thirty years trapping a man, but in the end, she was the one who trapped herself.