Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Yor leaned into Seraphiel, feeling him shaking hard.

"Are you afraid?" Yor's voice came out a little hoarse. He looked up at Seraphiel's downcast eyes, "Actually, I'm scared too..."

Thinking back to how pathetic he'd looked after the last contamination, he felt a little disgusted with himself. But Leonius was right—he had to stay alive. Only alive could he find a way to fix things.

Yor gently patted Seraphiel's arm. "Just hold on a little longer."

His voice was rough, like he was saying it as much for Seraphiel as for himself.

"Seraphiel" snapped out of it and shook his head, signaling he was okay.

If the main consciousness wanted to suffer, fine. He'd been hurting for years—only fair the other one got a taste of it too!

Sure, most of the pain this time came from the Broodmother's consciousness fragments, and it might genuinely be too much to survive... but Seraphiel had made his choice. Was he supposed to beg and cry to keep suffering?

The waves battering his mental sea felt like being seasick on a big ship—his whole consciousness swayed, dizzy and disoriented.

As the mental energy kept pouring in, Yor's hands and feet went weak, and he just leaned all his weight against Seraphiel.

"Seraphiel" turned his gaze back to Yor in his arms. Yor looked pale. The male insect frowned. "That leftover consciousness of Daniel's from earlier—let me help you sort through it."

Yor nodded vaguely. His head was too full, and having the domain bug sort things out would bring some relief.

"Seraphiel" reached into Yor's mental sea and gently pulled out the negative consciousness fragments belonging to Daniel. Just as he was about to crush them, a scene flashed past—Yor, or rather... Ling Yue, being captured on Blue Star.

Daniel's vision was limited, so he couldn't see Ling Yue's face, only hearing the insects around him talking fast.

Daniel couldn't understand the insect language, but Amon could clearly pick out Zane's voice. "A dying life form, strong will to survive, mental fluctuations higher than others of its kind. Take this one too."

The subordinate insect hesitated. "My lord, the cryopod slots are full."

Zane seemed to lean in for a closer look. "Leg muscles and nerves are necrotic, can't be repaired, no regeneration. Just cut off the lower half—that should make room."

"Pfft..." The sound of cryogenic fluid spraying, then a "crack." Yor, now only half a person, was hastily stuffed into a cryopod.

In those black eyes, fear and confusion sent his pupils darting wildly. Zane frowned. "On the verge of breaking down. Wipe the memories."

A spray of mist, and Yor slowly closed his eyes...

Through Daniel's memories, Amon studied the experimental subjects in the cryopods—basically... all of them were at death's door.

Suddenly he remembered what Zane had said two days ago when he'd let the experimental subjects go: "Even if you release them, they won't survive." So that was it...

These subjects only survived because of the Broodmother's genes and pheromones. Only a small fraction with strong natural healing could pull through the brink of death via the Broodmother experiments and slowly recover.

And Yor clearly wasn't one of them.

Without proper care for his gestation sac, he'd die.

But remembering how much Yor hated laying eggs... Amon quietly filed this memory away.

Yor didn't know what Seraphiel had seen. His head was spinning, and he wanted to chat to take his mind off it.

He suddenly remembered—how was Amon doing? Though the two domain bugs were essentially one being, Amon was the one who took on most of the negative emotions. With all that pain from so many mental bodies...

"Can Amon... handle it?"

"Mother, don't worry about him." Seraphiel's voice came from above, with a strange hint of lightness. "This time, the main one bearing it is Ser... is me."

Yor was caught off guard for a second, then nodded vaguely. Maybe Amon really couldn't handle it after all...

Amon lowered his head, rubbing his chin against Yor's hair. He might not be a good bug, but he wasn't about to steal Seraphiel's credit at a time like this.

"Mother." Seraphiel's voice suddenly dropped. "Will you forgive Amon and let him come back to serve you?"

Yor was silent for a moment.

He was grateful Amon had helped bear the mental bodies' pain this time. But what he'd done before—disguising himself as Leonius to trick him—was too much. That bug was dangerous.

Yor shook his head honestly. "Seeing him once in a while is fine, but I don't think I'd want him around me again."

Seraphiel lowered his eyes and said nothing, but Yor could still feel the dejection welling up from the depths of his consciousness.

After all, Amon was part of Seraphiel. Yor felt a little bad and added, "Seraphiel, you did something wrong before too, but... you didn't mean to hurt me. I know you're two sides of the same being, but you're different individuals in terms of consciousness. What Amon did, I won't hold against you."

Ah... a mother who's so clear about rewards and punishments, so reasonable...

How envious...

"Seraphiel" raised his eyes and looked at Yor for a long moment, then slowly softened his expression. "Mm. Whatever Mother says, I'll do," he said softly. "I'll be just as obedient as Leonius."

Yor paused. That sounded weird...

But then he thought—this was Seraphiel. A bit slow sometimes, but he'd never had any ill intentions. Yor shook his head and didn't think more about it.

The assault on his mental sea kept going.

As the mental contamination intensified, Yor felt like he was back in that moment when he'd first escaped from the Purification Department lab—lower back aching, stomach hurting, gut cramping.

Painful memories were resurfacing. Yor let out a long sigh and closed his eyes, exhausted.

He copied the memories of the group mental sorting he'd done for the miner war bugs and transferred them all to Seraphiel: "Last time I did this, my contamination went away. But doing it again would be too hard..."

He remembered the firelight in the mine that night, the war bugs shifting into their original forms and filling the whole cave, the frequency of their elytra vibrations reaching deep into his mental sea—warm, clumsy, unreserved resonance. You couldn't expect a once-in-a-lifetime thing like that to happen every time...

"Why would it be hard?" "Seraphiel" looked at him oddly. "You don't have to do anything. Just wait for the right moment—like when a Lord-level insect egg is born in the War Department, link all the bugs and tell them the good news."

Yor was doubtful. "At most they'd just be happy. What kind of resonance would that create?"

"Knowing the Broodmother has reappeared, all bugs will naturally offer their loyalty and blessings to their mother," Seraphiel said with matter-of-fact certainty. "Knowing a Lord-level insect egg has been born will push their emotions to a peak. They'll pray for your health and safety. At that point, mental contamination becomes a minor issue."

While Yor was deep in thought, he secretly leaned down and kissed Mother's forehead, then continued naturally, "When that time comes, Ser... I'll be your anchor, linking the entire clan. The problem will be solved quickly."

Yor didn't notice his slight pause, still mulling it over—a full-clan mental link... what about the guard clan?

Seeing Yor still didn't seem interested, Seraphiel even used Leonius as an example: "Rest easy! If there were really a problem, Leonius wouldn't have taken the initiative to let you absorb all this mental energy."

Yor gave a bitter smile. That wasn't all he was worried about.

As the Broodmother's mental energy surged in wildly, that familiar feeling came back—gestation sac burning, glands aching and swollen...

Every breath felt like fanning the flames. The gestation sac was being reignited, radiating scorching heat from within.

It had only just been taken care of not long ago, and now it was happening again. And of all times, Leonius was...

As the last mass of mental bodies surged in, Yor felt like he'd been violently filled to the brim.

He sat in Seraphiel's arms, looking up dazedly, the pheromones in the air could no longer fool any bug.

The sweet, cloying scent spread from the Broodmother's body, like a flower that had been building up for who knows how long, suddenly bursting into bloom.

The Broodmother was ripe once more.

Yor's eyes welled up with tears. "Can you help me?"

Help...? Of course...

Amon held Yor, his body shaking violently.

Yor lowered his head. "Seraphiel... help me..."

Amon froze. So that's it... Seraphiel... Mother wanted Seraphiel... He closed his eyes. Seraphiel's consciousness on the other side had already slipped into a half-dreaming, half-dead state—not having endured such intense pain in a long time, his main consciousness couldn't hold on.

Though if he actually called out, Seraphiel would probably drag himself here even at the cost of death, but... why should he?

Why should he get to come and go as he pleased?

Amon leaned in close to Yor's ear. "Mother, everything I have belongs to you..."

Seraphiel had made countless preparations for this day.

"Seraphiel" tore open his outer garment, revealing a moon-white sheer robe trimmed with gold.

His cold, pale skin showed faintly through the fabric, clean and soft against the gold accents.

The male bug stepped back two paces, then turned sideways, posing himself in a completely non-aggressive stance.

The back of the sheer robe had another secret—a deep slit starting at the neck. As he moved, the fabric parted, revealing a delicate little lock hanging right between his shoulder blades. The lock held several silver chains that traced his body's lines, running down to his chest before disappearing into the sheer fabric... leaving only the brilliant red gemstones and sparkling diamonds on the chains visible, shimmering together.

Yor's gaze was caught by that expanse of cold pale skin for a moment. Before he could look away, Seraphiel removed one of his earrings. "Please... unlock me..."

Seeing Yor instinctively take the golden dagger-shaped key, Seraphiel prostrated himself on the ground, waiting only for the hand holding the key to unlock the secret realm.

The sheer robe spread wider as he submitted, revealing a golden waist chain. It sat rather low and a bit tight, digging into the line of his obliques and leaving red marks on his pale skin.

A circle of golden bells around his slender waist chimed softly as the male bug trembled uncontrollably.

The gold was almost blinding against his fair skin, and Yor instinctively looked away.

But his mind started wandering again... War bugs had hard bronze muscles, but domain bugs were totally different—they looked almost like cream... ahem...

Wait... Did Seraphiel wear that waist chain every day? He'd never heard a sound when he walked—were his hips really that steady?

The pheromones were probably too much. Yor couldn't help fanning himself with his hand, but it did nothing for the heat on his face.

He lowered his hand, feeling awkward. "No... Seraphiel, I mean, just give me some pheromones..."

Yor covered his face. There was no way he could actually... He really didn't want to go through laying eggs again.

Though given his feelings for Seraphiel, he probably wouldn't conceive a Lord-level insect egg right away, but what if he did?

Hearing the Broodmother's refusal, Amon held himself back with all his might—he couldn't... he couldn't defy Mother's will.

But in the end, he just couldn't accept it.

He knelt on the ground, back arching down like a scolded dog that still yearned to get closer.

The next second, with a "whoosh," moon-white wings spread behind him, edged with flowing gold. Fine golden powder floated in the air from the wing surfaces, like a quiet, delicate dream.

The wings' shape and texture were somewhat similar to the pair Zhuoluo had made for him.

Unable to focus, his mind wandering, Yor couldn't help but think.

With his wings fully extended, the sheer robe fell to the ground.

The male bug had risen to his feet at some point, his cold pale soles stepping carelessly on the golden fabric. Amon lowered his gaze, hiding the surging emotions within: "Mother, I told you—whatever you ask, I'll do... I'll be good."

His slender fingers cupped Yor's face, forcing those wandering eyes to meet his. His fingers then trailed downward, settling on the gestation sac. The male bug's pheromones soothed the burning heat there.

"I'll serve you. I know what you're worried about. I promise..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I promise I won't make you pregnant..."

The gestation sac, having already produced once, was extremely sensitive. Just the touch of pheromones made it start contracting on its own.

Yor closed his eyes in embarrassment.

But the male bug's fingers grew bolder, his voice turning seductive: "I've done a lot of research. You're my only examiner... Give me a chance to prove myself, I beg you..."

His fingers were already coated with thick pheromones. He raised his hand to examine them closely, then lowered his head to kiss Yor's eyelids, forcing his eyes open.

When Yor's tear-misted gaze met his, he brought the pheromone-coated fingers to his mouth one by one, murmuring vaguely in praise: "Mother... so beautiful..."

Yor felt like he was on fire. This wasn't right... He wanted to step back, but behind him... was Leonius's cocoon.

The cold cocoon wall pressed against his back but did nothing to ease the heat. Yor turned his head away, feeling his willpower was so strong he could easily quit drugs.

"Jingle jingle~"

Amon produced another thin golden chain from somewhere, offering it to Yor: "Mother, if you're really worried, tie him up. Tie him up, and you'll be safe."

...Was that really so?

Yor's muddled mind struggled to think. If he was tied up, then he really wouldn't get pregnant... would he?

Yor hesitated, reaching out. Just as his fingertips were about to touch the chain, something materialized silently in the air above the male bug.

A black, round object with flames licking its edges exploded without warning.

"BOOM—!!!"

Damn you, Zane!!!

The Broodmother was still here, and he dared to use this kind of weapon!

Amon's pupils contracted sharply. He knew the lethality of this new weapon—he'd just experienced it firsthand.

He didn't dodge. His moon-white wings swept down like a canopy, wrapping Yor completely underneath.

The toxic mist exploded outward. The wing surfaces were scorched with hole after hole, edges charred black, golden powder raining down.

Amon clenched his jaw, his body trembling slightly, but he never let go, never dared to move, terrified that even a wisp of toxic mist might seep through his wings.

He endured until the mist dissipated, then, fighting through the searing pain, carried Yor out of the area. His wings were tattered, edges still smoking.

But no sooner had they steadied themselves than a bug's silhouette flashed before them.

Layer upon layer of new-style weapons unfolded around them, forming an impenetrable encirclement.

Zane stood at a height, staring unblinkingly at Yor: "Now, Mother... you're mine."