Apocalypse: The Primordial Pearl Recognizes Its Master, Starting with Infinite Space

He spared no effort in investigating the traitor, checking the powerful families, his former subordinates, and every possible loophole that might leak information.

After much investigation, the answer was right before their eyes—the two guards had lied.

And he, too, deceived himself.

It's not that we can't find it.

They simply didn't want to investigate.

He was unwilling to admit that his trusted confidant, whom he had nurtured, would so readily betray him for something that hadn't even happened yet.

She was unwilling to admit that her tacit approval of her son's absurdity had become the deepest knife stabbing into her back.

Chang Chengye leaned against the wall and slowly bent down.

There was no anger.

Anger is hot; it still has the strength to punch fate.

But all he felt at that moment was cold.

The cold seeped out from between my bones.

He didn't lose to Lin Chen.

He lost to his own arrogance.

It's ridiculous.

Hurried footsteps came from the end of the corridor.

The two guards immediately fell silent, lowered their heads and eyes, and retreated to the wall.

Chang Hao turned the corner, saw the guard, and waved impatiently: "Get down."

The guards, feeling as if they had been granted a pardon, quickly left.

Chang Hao turned around—"Dad?"

He froze in place.

In the corridor, the man he had called "Dad" for twenty-three years was leaning against the wall, slowly straightening his back.

Chang Hao opened his mouth, but for a moment he forgot what he was going to say.

"...Your hair." He heard his own voice flutter, as if through a layer of water.

Chang Chengye looked up: "My hair? What happened to my hair?"

"You..." Chang Hao's Adam's apple bobbed as he squeezed out the words with difficulty, "Completely white."

Chang Chengye was taken aback.

He looked down at his hands.

His veins were bulging and his skin was loose and sagging, like withered tree bark.

—Is this his hand?

"A mirror," he said, his voice dry and rough like sandpaper. "Give me a mirror."

Chang Hao hurriedly took out his phone, opened the front camera, and handed it over.

The screen showed an unfamiliar face.

His hair was completely white, like frost and snow.

With sunken eyes and prominent cheekbones, the face that was once well-maintained and looked no more than forty years old now appears as aged as an old woman in her seventies.

Chang Chengye stared at the screen for a very long time.

Then he chuckled softly.

"I see."

He handed the phone back to Chang Hao, his voice eerily calm.

"He wasn't trying to kill me," he said. "He was trying to torture me."

"First, my escape was blocked, then the traitor couldn't be found, and then today—on the morning of the decisive battle, I found myself in this state."

He paused.

"This is not revenge."

"This is... execution."

He didn't know why Lin Chen was treating him this way.

He will never know.

In another timeline, Chang Hao, relying on his family's power, ordered his men to hunt down Lin Chen for two whole months.

He faced countless perilous situations, was seriously injured and on the verge of death several times, and was repeatedly driven to the brink of despair.

Lin Chen is not a gentleman.

He doesn't play the "martial arts demeanor" card.

He simply felt that letting Chang Hao watch his powerful backer fall was more interesting than killing this spoiled brat with a single blow.

Chang Chengye slowly raised his hand and tidied the messy white hair at his temples.

He fastened the last button on his collar.

Then he walked past Chang Hao, step by step, toward the gate.

He took each step very steadily.

Chang Hao stood there, watching his father's thin figure grow smaller and smaller as it receded into the distance.

He wanted to catch up with them.

He wanted to say, "Dad, we can surrender."

But he couldn't utter a single word.

That figure reminded him of his childhood.

When his mother was still alive, his father would occasionally take him to the park. At that time, his father would hold his hand and walk in front of him, his back broad and strong, like a mountain.

He thought that mountain would never fall...

-----------------------

When the father and son finally arrived at the gate of the shelter after passing through layers of guard posts, the pale winter morning light made Chang Chengye squint.

On the rooftop of the abandoned high-rise building across the street, a black figure stood silently in the wind.

Her clothes fluttered and rustled.

"He's here," Chang Chengye murmured.

Behind him stood a dense crowd of over 13,000 people with supernatural abilities. This was the last remaining asset of the official shelter in Guangzhou—at least on paper.

Leng Zhijie stood at the front of the line, his expression unchanged, his empty eyes revealing no emotion.

After several days of treatment by a healing-type ability user, he has fully recovered.

At this moment, Chang Chengye also realized that Lin Chen had not lied—he had indeed held back his strength in that kick.

It's not kindness.

It is an insult.

Zhang Zicheng appeared on the flank with a fully-equipped special police team.

Eighty percent of the heavy firepower transferred by the military is now in their hands.

The gun barrels were lowered, pointing at the ground. The dark, gaping nozzles stood silent, like a group of soldiers awaiting orders but unsure of whom they were fighting for.

Chang Chengye hadn't even had a chance to speak.

In the distance, the low rumble of snowmobile engines rolled across the streets like muffled thunder.

Li Ya and her convoy also arrived.

Following closely behind was the outer city army led by Zhou Tiannian and Huang An, their convoy stretching as far as the eye could see.

They did not approach, but rather spread out in an arc along the distant edge, silently and calmly encircling the entire frontal defense line of the Guangzhou official shelter into an impenetrable fortress.

A faint buzzing sound came from above.

Chang Chengye looked up.

In the sky, countless drones, like flocks of migratory birds, hover, locate, and lock onto the ground below, bringing every inch of land under the watchful eye of electronic surveillance.

He suddenly smiled.

It wasn't a bitter smile.

It's a relieved smile that comes from finally recognizing how insignificant you are.

-

Lin Chen darted down from the rooftop.

He didn't head straight for the gate, but instead met up with Li Ya and the others first.

Li Ya, Su Yun, Liu Feifei, Jiang Yingyue, and Jiang Yingxue. Five figures landed half a step behind him, followed by Li Ya and Liu Feifei's team.

Zhou Tiannian, along with Huang An and the others, followed at a distance that was neither too close nor too far, neither trying to steal the spotlight nor retreating to avoid it.

He was very clear about his role—he wasn't the main character today. He was just there to make an appearance and watch the show.

In the group, Zhang Hui saw Lin Chen approaching and almost reflexively went to greet him.

He didn't even glance back at his colleagues behind him, whose expressions were a mixture of astonishment and complex.

He opened the iron gate of the shelter directly and bowed slightly.

"Mr. Lin, you've arrived."

His tone was calm and natural, as if he were Lin Chen's man.

Chang Hao's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"Dad!" he shrieked, pointing at Zhang Hui. "Did you see that?! It's him! Zhang Hui is the traitor! He betrayed us!"

Chang Chengye did not turn back.

He didn't even glance at Zhang Hui.

He simply watched Lin Chen, watching the young man walk calmly into the shelter's gate, as if he were walking into his own backyard.

"Hmm, not bad." Lin Chen nodded slightly to Zhang Hui.

Chang Hao was still screaming.

Chang Chengye gently closed his eyes.

It's too late to know now.

-

Lin Chen was followed only by Li Ya and Liu Feifei's team.

More than 100 people.

There were tens of thousands of people on the other side.

But at this moment, the hundred or so people standing in the square inside the shelter's gates had an imposing presence that surpassed the ten thousand-strong contingent opposite them.