“So that’s how it is… other than that, I have no interest in you.”
Ji Zhaohe’s bored eyes slitted lazily like a coiled python. One leg crossed over the other, he even yawned out of sheer disinterest.
Zuo Shihuan could tell he was deliberately making things difficult. Since that was the case, there was no point continuing the conversation. He had only approached this meeting with cautious optimism anyway.
After all, even the largest corporations and the Federal Government had failed to recruit Dr. Ji. If not for the genetic optimization agent he’d developed a few years ago—one that increased the chance of evolving into a higher-grade Alpha or Omega—no one would have paid him this much attention.
Before that, Ji Zhaohe had been one of the most controversial scientists in existence. Though he achieved results, he was fiercely criticized for his extreme views—comparing rational, intelligent humans to the feral Zerg, and openly scorning lower-rank Alphas as trash.
Some even accused him publicly of being a sociopathic madman wearing the mask of a genius scientist.
Ji Zhaohe, however, never cared. He kept mocking, provoking, and fanning the flames—until everyone’s hatred reached its peak.
Yet when he finally created the genetic optimization agent—at the moment everyone expected him to flaunt it arrogantly, using it to humiliate those who scorned him—he instead vanished without a trace.
Silent, unlike the Ji Zhaohe they knew.
Those who had crossed him trembled, fearing he was a time bomb waiting to explode. But to everyone’s shock, Ji Zhaohe was the first to publicly release a hospital report certifying that his mental state was normal.
He still wore his usual scowl, cursing at the rumors, insisting he was a perfectly sane, self-controlled adult, free to do anything permitted under federal law—and telling those meddling children’s welfare organizations to get lost.
Now, looking back, Zuo Shihuan’s eyes flickered with thought. Remembering the flash of light-gold hair from earlier—the little girl—and calculating the timing of Ji Zhaohe’s sudden change in behavior years ago, the pieces fit.
It seemed Dr. Ji truly cared for that little girl. At the very least, someone like that couldn’t be all bad.
Zuo Shihuan’s expression softened slightly. Then, serious once again, he said, “Dr. Ji, I understand your refusal, and I won’t insist. However…”
Ji Zhaohe gave a cold laugh. Usually, at this point, people who coveted what he had would turn to threats when bribery failed. He was curious to see what tricks this Alpha from Blue Eagle Group would try next.
But what Zuo Shihuan said next froze the smile on Ji Zhaohe’s face.
Zuo Shihuan’s gaze was serious, his tone disapproving. “As a responsible parent, Dr. Ji, you shouldn’t set a bad example for your child—especially by trying to flirt with an Alpha you’ve only known for a few minutes.”
Ji Zhaohe was caught off guard. He wanted to argue, but for once, he didn’t know how to refute it. Mouth half open, he was rendered speechless—politely, but completely shut down for the first time in his life.
Finally, anger flushed his face. Through clenched teeth, he snapped, “You’re even more meddlesome than a kindergarten teacher!”
Zuo Shihuan replied calmly, even taking a moment to smooth the wrinkle in his sleeve before speaking. “Dr. Ji, you’re technically my elder. I’m only offering some kind advice as a junior.”
It wasn’t provocation, but those words—disguised as a polite reminder—infuriated Ji Zhaohe more than an open insult.
For some reason, it brought to mind those meddlesome social workers from the child protection agencies years ago—the same ones who had nearly made him lose custody of Ji Sener.
All because he’d been doing experiments, hadn’t personally taken Sener to school, and had gotten snappish when the staff showed up unannounced mid-experiment. As always, his temper flared, and he started arguing.
The social workers concluded that Ji Zhaohe lacked patience, suspected he had anger issues, and repeatedly refused to cooperate. They decided he was unfit to raise a young child and filed to have his parental rights revoked.
Ji Zhaohe had been completely blindsided.
Even as an Empire fugitive who’d escaped to the Federation under a new identity, he still found himself blackmailed and exploited by unseen rats working in the shadows.
Once Ji Zhaohe achieved his goals, he started brushing those rats off carelessly.
He knew perfectly well that what he had done could get him executed countless times in both the Federation and the Empire—but he didn’t care. He had never regretted any of it.
Yet he had never imagined he would stumble because of a child protection agency.
In a way, the outside world had been right.
Ji Zhaohe really did lack humanity. He had been raised by the Zerg.
When the Zerg invaded, the commoners couldn’t escape. Entire planets fell and became Zerg nests. Only the rich and powerful fled in the newest warships and shuttles, while the people below could only watch as they vanished into the sky—right before the endless swarm descended upon them.
Ji Zhaohe’s mother had been a Beta prostitute from the lowest social class. When she found herself pregnant, she’d planned to abort the child—but Ji Zhaohe’s life was stubborn.
The day she went to the back-alley clinic for the abortion happened to be the day the Zerg attacked.
The underground doctor holding the forceps had his head bitten off by a Zerg bursting through the wall. Ji Zhaohe’s mother screamed and tried to run, but she didn’t make it far before being caught and torn apart.
Her body, along with countless others, was dragged to the Zerg nest—made into a pulpy heap of flesh and hair to feed the newly forming eggs.
When the larvae absorbed enough nutrients, they would grow rapidly into another wave of adult Zerg soldiers.
But somehow, a newborn fetus—umbilical cord still attached—survived.
Covered in filth, the infant was thrown into one of the eggs. Driven by pure instinct—the will to live, the hunger for oxygen and sustenance—he opened his mouth and, with underdeveloped teeth, began biting and devouring the embryonic Zerg within.
To survive, he had to fight and kill inside that egg before ever opening his eyes.
The one who lived and broke through the shell was the victor.
That survivor was Ji Zhaohe.
From the moment he broke out of the egg, he carried the scent of the Zerg. The swarm raised him as one of their own. He lived as they did—crawling on all fours, unclothed, feeding, shrieking, speaking in the harsh clicks of their tongue.
He even joined them in attacking the two-legged humans.
He lived as nothing more than another Zerg.
The young Ji Zhenwen (his original name then) only knew that the two-legged humans were enemies—food for the swarm. What did he know of humanity?
Then one day, the Zerg were defeated by the Empire’s army and forced to retreat in a panic.
Ji Zhenwen, still wingless and earthbound, was left behind. He thought he would die—until Empire’s soldiers stumbled upon him, stunned.
—The Zerg nest still had a human child alive.
Even now, Ji Zhaohe found it laughable.
A human child? Him?
He was neither human nor Zerg—he had eaten both, a creature that didn’t belong anywhere.
And the irony didn’t stop there.
A genetic test revealed that his biological father was none other than the Imperial General Ji, the man leading the campaign against the Zerg.
Years ago, General Ji had visited the planet once and left behind his bloodline—Ji Zhaohe. Soon after, urgent wars elsewhere forced him to leave, and not long after, the Zerg invasion began.
Naturally, Ji Zhaohe was brought back to the Ji family—but his father never accepted him.
General Ji would often stare into his son’s cold, emotionless dark-green eyes with deep wariness, as if watching a feral Zerg that could strike at any moment.
And he was right.
Ji Zhaohe truly was a creature he couldn’t tame.
Forced to walk upright—he bit anyone who made him.
Tutors were assigned to teach him to speak—he refused to listen, and when irritated, attacked them too.
General Ji was at his wit’s end. Still, the boy was his blood, and the thought of him surviving among the Zerg stirred some vestige of pity.
But freshly freed from the nest, the boy remained feral—suspicious, unresponsive to commands or scolding, unable to utter a single human word.
Whenever he saw General Ji, he’d bristle, bare his teeth, and hiss.
If not for medical testing that confirmed his vocal cords were intact—and that despite being raised among the Zerg, his intelligence far exceeded normal human levels—he might have been written off as a beast.
In fact, Ji Zhaohe was exceptionally bright. In cognitive tests, he could solve complex mathematical problems at incredible speed, and even if he couldn’t speak, he could point to the correct answer without hesitation.
He could truly be called a genius.
The only conclusion was that Ji Zhaohe chose not to speak, not to learn the human language—he willingly decided to remain as one of the Zerg.
So furious was General Ji that he nearly picked up a stick to beat that stubborn little bug.
He even spat out harsh words, saying if Ji Zhaohe still refused to accept that he was a human child, he’d break his legs—since he couldn’t be a Zerg anymore, he might as well crawl in the wilderness and die!
However—
What he got in return was Ji Zhaohe’s eyes lighting up, and without hesitation, the boy ran straight out the door, without a trace of reluctance.
Of course, Ji Zhaohe didn’t get far.
The Ji family mansion’s defense system wasn’t something a pseudo-Zerg newly arrived in human society could break through. In the end, exhausted from running in circles, Ji Zhaohe climbed up a tree in the woods, curled up in discomfort, and fell asleep.
And there, he met the Omega who would change his life.
“Why are you sleeping up here?”
A curious, gentle female voice sounded.
The young Ji Zhaohe opened his eyes in alarm and saw a human female Omega sitting beside him—though he had deliberately hidden himself atop a tree ten meters off the ground.
That strange Omega had climbed all the way up, and with those soft, clear, tender green eyes, she smiled at him without a shred of caution.
The child immediately bristled, his vertical pupils narrowing warily as he hissed threateningly at the stranger.
But unexpectedly, this oddly wired Omega wasn’t frightened in the least. She even reached out toward him, her gentle green eyes full of concern, saying softly: “Hahaha—sorry, I must’ve woken you up. How about I take you down for a meal? You can’t find food just sitting up here, you know.”
The wary Ji Zhaohe’s response was to sink his teeth fiercely into her hand.
When the taste of blood reached his mouth, Ji Zhaohe was certain this Omega was just like all the other deceitful humans—she’d definitely get angry, maybe hit him, and drive him away.
That way, he wouldn’t have to stay in this disgusting place that reeked of humans.
But the result caught him off guard.
The Omega didn’t get angry. She just stared blankly for a moment at her bleeding hand, then lifted those tender green eyes to him and said seriously: “Sorry, I thought about it—and being eaten by you doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
“???” Ji Zhaohe’s eyes widened—utterly confused for the first time in his life.
The Omega simply laughed brightly, sitting high up in the tree. The breeze lifted her skirt, sunlight poured down on her, and her soft green eyes curved with warmth and kindness. Even her hair seemed to glow. She extended a hand to him and said: “How about we go down together and eat real human food instead?”
For once, the boy who had never listened to anyone, as if bewitched, took her outstretched hand.
After that day, Ji Zhaohe began learning to be human. He learned the human language, forced his legs—used to crawling on all fours—straight with wooden braces, learned to walk upright like a person, to eat with chopsticks and spoons, to go to school like an ordinary child.
He didn’t stay in school long, though—he skipped grades quickly.
And that peculiar Omega cried her eyes red and puffy at every one of his graduation ceremonies, weeping so hard she made a spectacle of herself. When people took photos of her and Ji Zhaohe together, she’d always be smiling and crying at once, her joy unrestrained.
Afterward, she often complained that it was hard for him to make real friends when he kept skipping grades, urging him to find a good friend—or maybe someone he liked.
To this, Ji Zhaohe would always give a perfunctory “sure,” but never actually took it to heart.
He wasn’t interested in any human—except that peculiar Omega.
Because she was the one who kept pulling him toward the world of normal humans, the one who wanted him to learn to be human. Ji Zhaohe only ever pretended to be normal for her sake.
He had always been perfectly clear on what kind of existence he was.
Only a foolish Omega like her could accept a misfit like him. Even when he made mistakes, even when he hurt her, she would just look at him with those gentle, sorrowful green eyes—sad, yet steadfast.
She never gave up on him. Always, always stayed by his side…
At least, that’s how it should have been.
One day, Ji Zhaohe came home, intending to tell her that he’d become the youngest professor ever, expecting her to beam and twirl around him like before.
Instead, he was greeted by an empty house.
His biological father called him in a panic—saying the Omega had suddenly collapsed and been rushed to the hospital, asking Ji Zhaohe to watch his young nephew.
Ji Zhaohe’s face went pale in an instant. Forget the nephew—he dropped everything and ran to the hospital.
Standing outside the emergency room, for the first time in his life, the unbelieving Ji Zhaohe began to pray—to any god who would listen—just to let her live.
When the doctors finally came out, he hadn’t yet breathed his sigh of relief before he saw the pale, pained Omega on the bed. The doctor’s words struck like thunder: she had an extremely rare genetic defect—incurable by medical science.
Even if she survived this time, next time she might not be so lucky.
Ji Zhaohe’s mind went completely blank. He stared at the medical report, line after line of dangerous test results.
All his years of brilliance, all his learning—useless. None of it could save the one human he wanted to save most.
Day by day, he watched the Omega grow weaker. Yet she still gently held his hand, reassuring him that she would keep fighting.
Her once-golden hair had turned dull and gray; early aging had etched wrinkles and spots into the face of a once-beautiful Omega.
And Ji Zhaohe—quietly let go of her hand, turning away to find a way to save her.
He searched frantically— obsessively diving into biomedical science, genetics, pathology—anything that could help. After endless study, Ji Zhaohe finally found traces of a possible cure.
But what awaited him was news of her death.
His human Omega had hidden her condition from him, silently enduring years of pain, and in the end, chose euthanasia.
He had already found clues—just a little longer, and he could have saved her. Why… why…
Ji Zhaohe stared blankly at the pale, lifeless Omega lying on the hospital bed, surrounded by family. Her face was withered, her hair snow-white, her thin hands motionless—gone was the warmth that used to smile back at him.
Her soft, serene expression resembled the sleeping beauty of a fairytale— and yet, the man who thought himself heartless found tears falling numbly down his face.
While she was alive, he could still search for a way to save her. But once she was dead… how was he supposed to save her then?
“Mother left a recording for you,” Ji Zhaoji said, his eyes wet as he patted Ji Zhaohe’s shoulder in comfort. He was the Alpha son born later to General Ji—the Omega’s own child. “She knew everything you’d done for her, but she was too tired. We tried to persuade her, but in the end, we respected her decision. She wanted to see you before she died, but she knew you wouldn’t accept it, and she didn’t want you to suffer too much…”
Despair turned into something darker. A trace of hatred rose in Ji Zhaohe’s eyes— hatred toward the Omega lying there, who had left him without a word.
She must have been afraid. Afraid that he wouldn’t let her go.
And she was right.
A wild smile twisted Ji Zhaohe’s lips. His deep green eyes shone with madness—hatred tangled with unbearable grief.
“I didn’t want her to go,” he murmured. “I won’t let her just go like that!”
“She wanted me to live as a normal human, so I kept pretending. But if being human can’t even save her—what’s the point of being one at all?!”
In the end, he had no choice left. Even if he had to become a demon, he would drag her back from h*ll.
And— he succeeded.
Ji Zhaohe gazed coldly at the glass container holding a new body. He had thought it another failed experiment, but when her eyes opened— those familiar, soft green eyes—
Ji Zhaohe smiled.
He knew she was back.
***
But with the rebirth of Ji Sener came countless complications waiting for Ji Zhaohe to handle.
After her death, his mental state had grown unstable—mad, even. In his obsession to bring her back, he had done many things that crossed every line and stirred up enormous trouble.
One wrong move, and both he and Ji Sener could have been destroyed together.
To protect her, Ji Zhaohe forced himself to behave for a while. But trouble always found him—whether it was from cowardly rats in hiding or the meddlesome Child Protection Bureau.
He had never imagined that such an agency could drag him to court—or almost strip him of custody over Ji Sener.
Humiliated but desperate to keep her, the ill-tempered Ji Zhaohe swallowed his pride. He even went through a full psychiatric evaluation to prove he was mentally fit to raise a human child.
After that, he endured even more humiliation—sending Ji Sener away to attend kindergarten and receive mandatory education, far from his protective reach.
All he wanted was a peaceful, undisturbed life with her in the Federation. He’d swallowed his temper so many times that he felt like a kicked dog—even the kindergarten teachers dared show him attitude.
All because of those idiotic craft assignments!
Fine, he’d do them himself!
But then some Alpha from Blue Eagle Group had the nerve to criticize him— him, Ji Zhaohe!—as if he were just some kindergarten parent to be lectured. Did they really think someone like that could intimidate him?
Irritation flashed in Ji Zhaohe’s eyes as he sneered at Zuo Shihuan. “What’s your name? What’s your position in Blue Eagle Group?”
Zuo Shihuan met his glare calmly and said, “New vice president of Blue Eagle Group—Zuo Shihuan.”
Ji Zhaohe had been ready with a biting retort, but instead, he froze. His gaze sharpened, studying Zuo Shihuan carefully, finally settling on those steady, light brown eyes.
An Alpha?
Suddenly, he remembered—an Alpha from the Zuo family, newly assigned to Blue Eagle Group. The age matched. The same Alpha who had once puzzled him after a failed surgery.
A smirk curved Ji Zhaohe’s lips. “Long time no see.”
Zuo Shihuan frowned. “When have we met?”
Ji Zhaohe feigned hesitation, his dark green eyes glinting with meaning. “I remember a Beta named Yu Cha—your mother, isn’t she? You’ve got her eyes.”
Zuo Shihuan’s face changed instantly, his expression turning cold. “You’ve met her? What’s your relationship with her?”
A dozen guesses flickered through his mind—each one denied in turn.
Ji Zhaohe deliberately provoked him, lips curling. “Who knows? You can guess. Let’s see if I’ll tell you.”
Zuo Shihuan suppressed his anger—knowing Ji Zhaohe wouldn’t give him an answer—and turned to leave.
But as soon as he stepped outside, he frowned deeply, pulled out his communicator, and dialed a number.
“Assistant Zhong, investigate everything about Ji Zhaohe—especially before I returned to the Zuo family.”
***
Inside the room, sudden laughter erupted—
“Hahahahahahahahahahaha——!”
Seeing the gloomy expression on Zuo Shihuan’s face as he left, Ji Zhaohe was thoroughly satisfied. Holding his stomach, he laughed wildly—amused that such a young Alpha actually dared to provoke him.
The nearby staff member, sweating nervously, finally asked in a trembling voice, “S-sir, how would you like your auction item transported?”
Ji Zhaohe raised a brow and said, “Either way is fine. I’m the one who offended him, not you—what are you afraid of?”
The staff member kept wiping his sweat, stammering, “But that’s the new big shot of the Blue Eagle Group—possibly the Alpha young master who’ll inherit the entire Zuo family. Sir, offending him might not be a good idea…”
Ji Zhaohe froze for a moment—thinking about it, that was probably true.
But he’d already offended more than one or two people; one more debt didn’t make a difference.
He walked up to the caged Zerg and studied it closely, then reached out to touch the fierce, bloodthirsty creature.
The staff member jumped in fright. “Sir, please stop! The Zerg will hurt you!”
Before he could finish speaking, the Zerg’s corrosive saliva dripped onto Ji Zhaohe’s glove. The glove quickly dissolved, and Ji Zhaohe took it off, revealing a palm covered in hideous scars.
If Zuo Shihuan were still there, he might have recognized that the black-market doctor who once performed surgery on him was none other than Ji Zhaohe.
But all of that was in the past now.
Even Ji Zhaohe no longer did those things—he’d already obtained the one person he wanted most: his human.
Ji Zhaohe smiled faintly, stroking the Zerg’s head.
The creature that was once vicious now behaved meekly before him, as docile as a dog. It crouched submissively, as if bowing before a superior Zerg, obedient and still.
Ji Zhaohe’s rough hand moved over its head, not gently at all; even its antennae were nearly rubbed bald. The Zerg’s enormous vertical pupils blinked, staring curiously at this higher being whose aura was both strange and familiar.
Ji Zhaohe narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.
—Now, all that was left was to deal with the people standing in his way.
