When Ye Cheng collapsed last night, she had just finished thirty laps—covered in dust, sweat, and despair. So when she opened her eyes around five in the morning, perfectly clean and dressed in pajamas, her first reaction was sheer alarm.
Her clothes had changed.
Which meant someone had changed them.
Yang Yu was sleeping by her bedside, head resting on his arm. Suo‑Luo was nowhere to be seen, but when Ye Cheng checked her dimensional ring, it showed him in the kitchen.
She closed the display and stared down at Yang Yu suspiciously as a thousand thoughts churned in her head.
Possibility One: Yang Yu changed her clothes.
Conclusion: Beat him up.
Possibility Two: Suo‑Luo changed her clothes.
Conclusion: She couldn't bring herself to hit him—but Yang Yu probably ordered it, so Yang Yu still gets the beating.
Possibility Three: The kids changed her clothes.
Conclusion: Impossible. Those two little ones could sleep through an artillery strike.
Possibility Four: She sleep‑bathed and changed herself.
Conclusion: That would no longer be science fiction—it'd be a ghost story.
After logical deduction, "blame Yang Yu and punch him" seemed the most realistic outcome. She ground her teeth and was just about to pounce when a gentle knock came at the door.
Yang Yu immediately woke up, walked over, and opened it. Suo‑Luo was standing there with a glass of lemon juice.
The children were still asleep, so Ye Cheng drank quietly, then tiptoed off to wash and dress before heading to breakfast. Suo‑Luo and Yang Yu had already prepared everything. Yang Yu even pulled out a chair for her.
Being served breakfast by a handsome man and a beautiful one didn't sound so bad, and her mood lifted a little—but she had questions. Clearing her throat, she asked,
"Who changed my clothes?"
Since Suo‑Luo rarely spoke in front of her, she looked at Yang Yu for the answer.
To her shock, he replied calmly,
"Instructor Su Tie did. She asked that you contact her when you woke."
Su Tie had been here—again?!
It was already past six; Su Tie would definitely be awake. Ye Cheng didn't dare delay. She connected immediately, food untouched. The call opened at once.
Seeing Ye Cheng's hesitance, Su Tie spoke first, curt as always.
"Ye Cheng, have you forgotten basic courtesy after lying in bed for a day and a half?"
Ye Cheng straightened instinctively and saluted.
"Good morning, Instructor!"
Then her eyes widened.
"A day and a half?!"
"Yes," Su Tie said coldly. "You are the first official Special Class cadet in history to fall sick immediately after enrollment."
Ye Cheng's cheeks flushed crimson. She glanced guiltily at Yang Yu, who simply nodded. She had been out for a full day and a half.
That grueling schedule of over‑exertion had crushed her untrained body—but it had also triggered change. For ordinary humans, the energy from high‑grade Astral juice was limited; the surplus stored in the body would dissipate unless the body itself hit a breaking point. Reaching that threshold allowed the energy to repair and strengthen muscles and nerves.
Yang Yu knew this well. He had quietly been feeding her those expensive juices, even knowing most of it might go to waste. He'd rather she improved slowly than suffer torture-level exhaustion.
Su Tie had no such mercy. She'd thrown Ye Cheng into full military intensity from day one—training alongside veterans who'd been drilling for years. Collapse was inevitable.
During her recovery, Yang Yu had fed her the remaining bottles little by little, helping those stored energies rebuild her stamina.
Ye Cheng, of course, knew none of that. The words "a day and a half" echoed miserably in her head. How many classes and drills did I miss?!
Su Tie crossed her arms, reading her face like an open book.
"You should be grateful. The new assignment was to produce one hundred top‑grade Night‑tier components — built by yourselves. Your two slaves recovered your swords from the testing ground and dug your parts out of the workshop ruins piece by piece. I inspected them. They pass. You're free until seven tomorrow morning."
Ye Cheng's eyes lit up instantly. Had Su Tie not been watching, she would've grabbed Suo‑Luo's hand and shaken it in delight.
For a split second, Su Tie's stonelike expression almost softened—perhaps the ghost of a smile—before she snapped back to business.
"Half an hour. Freshen up. I'll be there shortly."
"Yes, ma'am!" Ye Cheng closed the call and bolted down her breakfast, wondering why the instructor wanted to see her again.
Exactly thirty minutes later, Su Tie arrived, on time as ever. Her gaze briefly swept Suo‑Luo before locking on Ye Cheng.
Meeting her instructor at home felt more unnerving than any training yard.
Their eyes met. Then Su Tie spoke bluntly—words that nearly stopped Ye Cheng's heart:
"Ye Cheng, I want you to join us. Because Ye Zhiqiu was one of us."
Ye Cheng tensed. Her father's hidden identity had always been one of her deepest questions. Of course Su Tie's claim set her guard on high.
Su Tie raised a hand, and a soft crimson mist swirled, condensing into a mark — a perfect circle encasing two wave‑like lines, abstract wings.
"You should have seen this symbol near Ye Zhiqiu as well. It's ours."
Ye Cheng's eyes narrowed. She recognized it.
She remembered clearly how Shennong had warned her about this symbol: whoever bore it was either an ally — or one who might kill her.
The symbol faded as Su Tie lowered her hand.
"You know the two ruling forces in the universe—the First Human Empire and the Neo‑Human Federation. But in truth…" She turned to Yang Yu. "You should already know a bit."
Yang Yu remained still, silent as stone.
Su Tie didn't press.
"There is a third power—one led mostly by hybrids—the Zero Domain Free Alliance. We are the children abandoned by both Empires, the hybrid offspring cast away. But we accept all races who seek unity and freedom. 'Zero Domain' means no borders. Our core goal is to abolish slavery. Equality and coexistence are our final dream. Whether you're a Firstborn, a Neo‑Human, or a hybrid born in chains, you are welcome among us."
Both Ye Cheng and her companions stared in stunned silence.
Su Tie focused on Yang Yu.
"I know you were the last student of Professor Yang Jin. His research notes mention his contact with 'a third force'—that was us. He helped the Alliance greatly in his final years. And if you wish to know the truth behind the attack on his son, Yang Qian… join us first. Because the pirates who attacked him were hired by members of our own Alliance."
Yang Yu's eyes flashed cold.
"Who?!"
"Every faction has its voices, its radicals and moderates," Su Tie said quietly. "I cannot reveal more. Once I leave this house, I will deny this meeting ever happened. If you want answers, you'll have to seek them as one of us."
Leaving Yang Yu frozen in rage, she turned to Suo‑Luo.
"And you—do you wish to change your fate?"
Suo‑Luo said nothing. Not a word. Not even a glance.
After a moment, Su Tie looked away, back to Ye Cheng. Confusion and doubt flickered in the young woman's eyes—but not fear.
"Whether you choose to join or not," Su Tie said, "remember this: you are not alone. Your people stand behind you."
That was her true purpose today—to reveal her side and extend the invitation.
Before leaving, her cold eyes lingered on Suo‑Luo.
"A slave who has knelt for decades will find standing painful. Change takes time. Go slowly."
She saluted Ye Cheng and departed.
Ironically, that final sentence shocked Ye Cheng more than anything about the Alliance.
As soon as Su Tie was gone, Ye Cheng spun on her heels, rushed to Suo‑Luo, and pushed him onto the sofa. She knelt before him, palms on his knees, voice choked with guilt.
All this time, she had been too busy studying and training to notice him. With Yang Yu handling everything at home, she had naively ignored Suo‑Luo and the children — without realizing her "kindness" had become his first torment.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered, blinking furiously to hold back tears. "I'm so sorry, Suo‑Luo…"
He was no machine, merely a man crushed by years of conditioning to endure everything silently. He had always knelt quietly, his beauty empty of life — but he could still feel pain.
Ye Cheng's neglect was unforgivable, yet blaming Yang Yu was pointless. He'd been punished enough, and in his eyes, standing instead of kneeling was no great privilege.
Compared to what they'd endured, her own "struggles" were almost luxury.
A light touch on her head made her freeze. Suo‑Luo was patting her hair—awkwardly, gently. He had changed so much since that silent, lifeless day they first met.
Still, the tears kept flowing. She buried her face against his leg, soaking his trousers with quiet sobs.
He looked helplessly toward Yang Yu, who was lost in thought, then made the effort to speak.
"Master, no pain… already… good."
Ye Cheng blinked up in surprise.
"A month ago… fine," he added softly.
His words were broken and stilted but understandable, his voice no longer hoarse—warm and deep, like sunlight over a forest stream. She found herself thinking he would sound heavenly if he sang.
Wiping her eyes on his lap, she sat beside him—but as soon as she did, he stood, turned, and knelt before her again.
"Suo‑Luo!" she gasped, reaching for him.
He bowed his head and spoke.
"Please… allow… training. I… surpass her. Children… no repeat… me."
Ye Cheng looked to Yang Yu for help. He translated quietly.
"He wants to train with you—to grow stronger than Instructor Su Tie—so that the children won't suffer as he did."
If anyone else heard such a statement from a slave, death would follow instantly. But Ye Cheng was not "anyone else."
Her eyes lit up.
"You mean you want to train with me? That's perfect! Let's see who beats their goal first!"
Suo‑Luo closed his eyes, took out his knife—a slave's standard weapon for self‑punishment—and gripped a lock of his own silver hair. Then he cut.
The gleaming strands fell to the floor, shimmering. His hands trembled, but he didn't stop. Each slice was slow, deliberate—until his waist‑length hair became shoulder‑short.
Yang Yu watched in silence, then spoke gravely.
"Since you made this vow, you will match your master's training—double."
Suo‑Luo nodded slightly, eyes still closed.
Ye Cheng understood: this was his pledge, his way of cutting ties with his old life.
Overwhelmed, she hugged him tightly.
"Suo‑Luo," she whispered, "I've told Potato‑Bean the same—I may be your master now, but I'll never keep you bound forever. If you choose to change, I'm proud of you."
"...Yes."
"Think about what the Instructor said. Whatever path you and Potato choose, I'll stand by you. But I need time—to learn what really happened between my father and them before I decide."
"...Yes." Suo‑Luo opened his eyes. The floor was strewn with silver hair, shining like threads of fate.
That morning, he sat quietly by the children's beds as they woke. Blinking sleepily, they stared at their father's shorter hair, then simultaneously burst into tears, clutching the new ends and crying so loud the whole house sang. No amount of comfort from Ye Cheng helped. Suo‑Luo let them cry without a word, without even a gesture to embrace them. When they finally stopped, something had changed—they washed, dressed, read, and played on their own, suddenly older.
From that day on, Ye Cheng dragged Suo‑Luo into daily training as her "sparring partner." True to Yang Yu's command, he did everything she did—double. She ran laps inside; he matched her outside. When she collapsed to rest, he sprinted twice as fast, until both returned home exhausted and dust‑covered.
Most household chores were handled by robots now, and "homemaker" Yang Yu's schedule grew mysteriously empty. He busied himself only before they left and after they returned. Whatever he did in between was anyone's guess.
Ye Cheng gave them both freedom and trust, and they never betrayed it. Outside training, life flowed in peaceful routine.
But Yang Yu knew better.
Peace like this was never permanent.
Before every storm, there came a terrible, unnatural calm.