Chapter 34: My Brother Said You Dumped Me

Chapter 34: My Brother Says You Dumped Me

In the afternoon, when Shu Hanqing emerged from the alloy hatch of the machine, his body no longer felt the same crushing heaviness as before, like he was falling into a bottomless pit.

There was only a soft, boneless weakness after the exhaustion.

Shu Hanqing slumped into the nearby chair, his mind blank, tilting his head back slightly, staring at the ceiling for a while, his thoughts completely empty.

Just as he was about to brace his hands on his knees and stand up, Yi Ran suddenly called out from not far away: "Brother Shu, Professor Yan is looking for you in his office."

Shu Hanqing grunted in acknowledgment, then rose and walked toward the office at the end of the corridor.

Pushing open the door, the room was so quiet that only the rustling of paper turning could be heard.

Yan Shenyun was seated upright behind the wide desk, as precise and aloof as ever.

His thin gold-rimmed glasses rested on his high-bridged nose, perfectly accentuating his refined, aloof air.

Yan Shenyun didn't look up, getting straight to the point: "When do you want to completely purge the lightning ability from your body?"

Shu Hanqing's face hardened.

Of course he wanted it done as soon as possible.

The lightning energy that Lei Zheng had forcibly infused into his body in his past life was like an iron lock, choking off the core of his superpower that should have been running smoothly. Not only had it kept his level from rising for ages, but it even showed signs of slipping backward instead of forward.

The humiliation of being forcibly marked and suppressed by someone else—he couldn't take it for another second.

Yan Shenyun straightened up and slid a document stamped with the military's top-secret seal across the desk toward him.

It was an exclusive, month-long training camp for superpowered individuals, personally planned and led by senior military officials.

Yan Shenyun said: "Everyone who gets into this place is a top-tier genius handpicked from across the entire base. They're also the primary candidates for my enhancement serum this time."

Shu Hanqing looked at Yan Shenyun, confused, unable to figure out what this had to do with him.

"Your mental fortitude has improved a lot these past few days, but this is already the ceiling for what external methods can achieve."

Yan Shenyun reached out and tapped the document: "I can only fully remove three-quarters of the lightning ability from your body. As for the last remaining portion, it's already too deeply intertwined with your mental power—forcibly removing it externally would only damage your core. You have to rely on your own innate superpower to hunt it down and force it out. Fighting is the fastest way."

The logic behind this wasn't hard to follow.

One's own superpower naturally repels and destroys outside intruders, much like the body's immune system furiously attacks and kills viruses—an instinct that never lets up.

Previously, Shu Hanqing's own superpower had been suppressed and compressed into a tight knot, and the best way to fully unleash one's potential was indeed through real combat.

Having your mental power forcibly invaded and occupied by someone else's superpower was inherently extremely dangerous.

If the person controlling that lightning ability had bad intentions, even leaving behind a single psychic suggestion when they withdrew could drive the host completely insane, turning them into a mentally shattered wreck.

Yan Shenyun asked, his tone flat: "Want to go?"

Shu Hanqing didn't hesitate for a second. He met Yan Shenyun's gaze and nodded, his expression resolute.

"Then let's finish what needs to be done today first."

Yan Shenyun placed the document into a drawer, then said, "Follow me."

Shu Hanqing stepped in behind him and realized they were heading back to the lounge.

Once they were inside, Yan Shenyun turned and nodded toward the bed: "Go sit over there. I'll remove the ability that can be extracted."

The sensation of having your mental power invaded was, frankly, unpleasant—and shameful, like being violated. Calling it a psychic union wouldn't be an exaggeration, because opening your mental power to someone else's invasion was something only people who were extremely close did.

The light in the room was filtered through the curtains, casting a pale, grayish-white glow on the wooden floor.

Shu Hanqing's gaze traced the baseboards, swept past the closed window, and finally landed on the sofa: "...Professor Yan, I could sit on the sofa, you know."

Yan Shenyun didn't respond. He raised his hand, took off his gold-rimmed glasses by the temples, and set them neatly on the nightstand, perfectly aligned. The man was obsessive about order.

"The sofa's not big enough for two people to lie down on."

Shu Hanqing: "...Can't we do this somewhere else?"

Lying on the bed felt a little too intimate.

Yan Shenyun looked at him. "...Whatever you're thinking, stop. You'll probably pass out, so the bed's the better option."

Shu Hanqing said "oh" and obediently lay down—back straight, hands folded over his stomach, posture picture-perfect.

After a moment, Yan Shenyun lay down too. Shu Hanqing watched him for a few seconds, feeling awkward, even though Yan Shenyun deliberately kept a fist's width of space between them.

"Give me your hand."

Shu Hanqing turned his head and caught a faint, clean scent, mixed with the warmth of body heat—exactly the same smell as the bedsheets.

He reached out, and the moment his fingertips touched Yan Shenyun's palm, they were seized—fast and firm, his knuckles going white from the grip. He shifted, following the pull: "Professor Yan, is this going to hurt badly?"

"Yes." Yan Shenyun's voice came from above him. "But I'm here."

Those four words settled in his ears and, inexplicably, put him at ease.

But Shu Hanqing soon realized he'd been too quick to relax. As his mental power was invaded, a tingling sensation crawled up from the base of his spine, like countless tiny currents slithering under his skin.

His breathing shifted from steady to heavy, his gaze went hazy, and a damp heat welled up in his eyes.

The lightning ability that usually coiled around his mental power was like a dormant snake. Now, sensing an intruder, it erupted, thrashing wildly inside him.

But against Yan Shenyun's mental power, the frenzied lightning serpent was nothing but a cornered beast. It hissed, thrashed, and slammed around, but was steadily encircled and crushed inch by inch.

Shu Hanqing was yanked out of the numbing pain, only to be thrown into an ice pit, then pulled out and tossed into a fire—back and forth, over and over.

Pain—pain seeping from the marrow of his bones, every nerve shrieking.

At first, he could grit his teeth and bear it, his jaw clenched like stone. Later, he couldn't hold on anymore, biting through his own lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

A finger pressed against his lips, prying his clenched teeth apart, pressing down on his tongue to keep him from hurting himself.

At the same time, something was slowly being drawn out from the depths of his mind. Like a boulder being lifted off his chest, space suddenly opened in his lungs, and he could breathe more freely than ever before.

But this was the second time, and the pain was no less than the first.

In his haze, Shu Hanqing clung to something, unaware of what he was saying, only repeating the same words over and over in a low, hoarse voice: "It hurts, it hurts."

Yan Shenyun let him lie on top of him, one hand resting on his back, patting his back gently without a word.

But the name Shu Hanqing called out in his delirium made Yan Shenyun's brow knit slightly.

Yan Shenyun did not respond, nor did he correct him aloud. He only paused briefly in his patting, then continued, one pat, then another, until Shu Hanqing, finally exhausted, fell into a deep, steady sleep.

Yan Shenyun looked down at him, a hint of tenderness and a hint of helplessness mingled in his gaze. Had anyone else walked in at that moment, they might have thought their eyes were playing tricks on them.

Though the Lightning Ability that had coiled within him was largely stripped away, the black Thunder Marks that clung to Shu Hanqing's skin had not fully dissipated. Their color had shifted from the earlier purple-black to a faint blue-gray, like a layer of ink that had been washed out—still eerily striking.

Shu Hanqing was asleep.

Yan Shenyun wrung out a damp towel and carefully wiped his face clean, his movements unhurried and meticulous. Then he changed his clothes. He turned the man over, pulled the sleeve back, and the Thunder Marks on his back lay spread before his eyes. The patterns sprawled across his back from his spine, their color faded but seemingly carved in—impossible to rub away, impossible to wash off.

Yan Shenyun's brow furrowed slightly.

Looking at those patterns, a thought surfaced in his mind: they were like a stray dog that just won't go away. Just like the one who left this mark.

He didn't dwell on it further. He straightened the clothes and laid him back down.

When Shu Hanqing was asleep, he seemed like a different person from when he was awake. The usual wariness, the stubborn edge—all of it dissolved away. His features lay still, brows relaxed, looking innocent and guileless, like someone who had never been through anything at all.

Yan Shenyun sat by the bed, watching him for a while.

He couldn't say how long he sat there, but at some point, he reached out, and his fingertips touched his face.

It was warm. Alive.

Yan Shenyun quietly felt the warmth seep through his fingertips.

The next day, the sun rose.

Sunlight slanted in through the window, falling directly on Shu Hanqing's profile as he lay in bed, casting a faint warm glow over his features. Up close, the fine down on his face caught the light, shimmering faintly, as still as a painting.

When Shu Hanqing woke, the first thing he felt was thirst.

Yan Shenyun really had called it perfectly—he had indeed passed out.

His tongue instinctively licked the corner of his lips, and a faint sting came from the spot. Shu Hanqing snapped back to reality—the spot he'd bitten yesterday hadn't healed yet.

He sat up. His body felt like it had been taken apart and reassembled, every bone feeling heavy, sore, and sluggish. He looked down—his clothes had been changed, not the ones he'd worn yesterday. He froze for a moment, glanced around, and found he was still in Yan Shenyun's room.

The next moment, the door opened.

Yan Shenyun walked in carrying food, swept his gaze over him, and said in a casual tone, "Get up and eat."

Shu Hanqing got out of bed, his legs giving way beneath him, nearly sending him to his knees. He grabbed the bedframe to steady himself, then walked over to the chair. Yan Shenyun had already set the things down; he turned and took him by the arm, guiding him into the seat.

Shu Hanqing kept his eyes lowered, tugging at his clothes, and spoke up: "Professor Yan, did you change my clothes?"

"Would you rather have Yi Ran come and change you?"

Shu Hanqing quickly shook his head, then looked up at him again. "I was unconscious the whole night?"

Yan Shenyun said yes.

Shu Hanqing was hungry. He lowered his head, picked up the glass of milk, and drank half of it first, then took a bite of bread, his cheeks puffed out as he mumbled, "Thanks for putting me up for the night, Professor Yan. This is really good."

Shu Hanqing had been starving all night, so anything that reached his stomach felt soothing. As he ate, he idly thought to himself: Yan Shenyun was rigid and strict, yes, but at the end of the day, this was nothing more than a transaction between them—and yet the man had taken such good care of him. He'd changed his clothes, brought him food, and even when he'd been writhing in pain yesterday, the man hadn't shown the slightest sign of disgust.

Just as he was thinking this, Yan Shenyun's gaze landed on the corner of his mouth.

There was a spot of milk there—white, a faint trace of it.

Yan Shenyun's fingers slipped into his pocket, almost unconsciously. He averted his gaze, and the fragment of yesterday's memory that surfaced in his mind left him feeling troubled.

But his expression remained as calm as ever, revealing nothing of the restraint he was exercising over something he himself felt he shouldn't be feeling.

Ultimately, Shu Hanqing was the kind of person who, without even realizing it, did things that were impossible to ignore. Yan Shenyun composed himself and spoke: "You passed out yesterday. We'll continue today."

Shu Hanqing paused, the bread in his hand.

He was thoroughly miserable, his dejection written plainly across his face with no attempt to hide it.

Yan Shenyun looked at him. "If it's unpleasant, then remember not to let anyone have the chance to leave a mark on you."

Shu Hanqing thought to himself, he'd been as good as dead at the time—how was he supposed to stop it?

He didn't say that out loud. He just silently finished the rest of the milk.

Shu Hanqing had passed out twice at Yan Shenyun's place before he was finally allowed to leave.

Shu Hanqing counted the days in his head, calculating that Mu Ye should be back around now, so he asked Yan Shenyun for permission to return home.

Yan Shenyun didn't make things difficult. He agreed readily enough, but coldly noted before Shu Hanqing left that a dedicated car would come to pick him up in the afternoon.

Shu Hanqing said okay. But when he finally made it back to his residence, the place was still cold and empty—Mu Ye hadn't returned.

So Shu Hanqing left a message for Mu Ye, writing out clearly where he was going next and what he was going to do, and at the end, half-jokingly added a line telling him to wait for him obediently at home.

At two in the afternoon, the car came to pick him up—and it turned out to be Yan Shenyun's car.

The driver was up front, and Yan Shenyun sat beside him, eyes closed, resting. Then, without warning, he spoke calmly, telling Shu Hanqing that for the coming month, he would also be stationed at the camp, and if Shu Hanqing felt any discomfort during that time, he could come find him anytime.

Shu Hanqing turned his head, watching the buildings recede rapidly outside the window, and said a quiet okay.

In truth, Shu Hanqing was feeling great right now. Even if he hadn't fully recovered to his peak, he was back to about eighty percent.

The vehicle came to a stop before a heavily guarded iron-mesh gate. The moment he stepped out, a scorching, dry gale hit him in the face. Shu Hanqing instinctively raised a hand to shield his eyes from the fine, gritty sand.

The military officer accompanying them shouted an explanation over the sound of the wind, saying this area was a dry zone and the sandstorms were always a bit fierce.

They followed the main road deeper into the camp. All around, soldiers in camouflage, rifles in hand, patrolled with cold, stern looks.

Yan Shenyun, arriving as the specially invited chief expert, passed through without any obstruction the whole way, and Shu Hanqing trailed along at a short distance as they toured the base.

When they reached the open-air sniper range, the dense crack of gunfire pierced through the sandstorm in the distance. Yan Shenyun noticed his interest and told him to go take a look.

Shu Hanqing nodded, pushed open the heavy iron-mesh door, and stepped inside. At the firing position ahead, a figure in black combat gear was firing round after round at a distant target—rapid, ruthless, without a moment's hesitation.

Shu Hanqing found the straight-backed silhouette strangely familiar. He couldn't help but stop in his tracks and take a second look.

As if sensing the gaze behind him, the black-clad figure abruptly lowered his weapon and turned around.

And it really was an old acquaintance.

Rong Hua.

No wonder he looked so familiar.

Rong Hua's once-flashy hair had been cut extremely short, and the two rebellious dyed strands that used to hang over his forehead were long gone, revealing a clean, sharp face. His brutal shooting style clashed completely with that exquisitely stunning face, radiating a deeply contradictory air of violence.

Rong Hua spotted Shu Hanqing too, his gaze locking onto him. He casually pulled off his noise-canceling earmuffs, flung them aside, then unhurriedly raised the pistol in his hand.

The dark muzzle aimed arrogantly, dead straight, at Shu Hanqing's head.

He didn't pull the trigger. Instead, he narrowed his eyes in challenge, and across the space between them, traced Shu Hanqing's outline with the cold barrel—across his forehead, down his nose, all the way down.

The next second, Rong Hua braced one hand on the hard alloy railing and vaulted over it with light, agile grace.

He strode up to Shu Hanqing in long steps, standing tall and striking, like a piece of brilliant, compelling jade, his gaze boring into Shu Hanqing as he spoke: "My brother told me you dumped me?"