Chapter 87: Caring or Not Caring

In the pitch-black underground darkness where sight failed completely and silence reigned from the world above, despair would claim its victims within moments. Fortunately, this group numbered over twenty or thirty souls crammed into one cramped space, even if each occupied a high-end cell. Through mutual conversation and complaint, they could vent the crushing weight of their potential graves, sparing themselves total collapse. For humans were human, after all. It was better to cling to life in misery than to die well. As long as the faintest thread of survival remained, even if they deceived themselves, they chose to endure, to persist.

Chatting or griping inevitably led to grievances about their sudden fall from masters to prisoners. Upon quiet reflection, their worldview held that their past deeds were blameless, or at best a commonplace of human frailty. No saint walked this earth free of bias, and even the rarest were solitary, living in profound wretchedness. Yet they had contributed: paying taxes, donating to charity, championing the vulnerable, spreading international goodwill, offering hospitable care, boosting the global standing of their realm, and simply loving life itself. How had it come to this? Some truly did not grasp the shift; others feigned understanding while pretending ignorance. Their voices carried the faint drone of dusk insects or the last gasps of sewer rats dreaming of survival. Whenever the topic turned to Lan Yi, they would swiftly divert, as if silence could erase the stain. That was a subject never to be voiced.

In the week since their rescuers arrived, any mention of Lan Yi summoned immediate, superior torment. The methods produced violent convulsions and pain without fatal or crippling side effects, eclipsing even water-and-electricity treatments in severity. It was nearly driving these so-called friends of Lan Yi to the edge of PTSD.

Lan Yi!!!

That vile, damned troublemaker... Lan Yi.

Why had he drawn such fortune? Why had so many suffered inhuman torment because of him?

While the inner curses burned, their eyes turned toward the shadowed iron-barred room where a woman waited.

Lan Yi’s former lover.

Xu Xingya.

Unable to hate him directly or even approach him, she became the prison’s collective scapegoat. It was her fault; without her schemes for profit and amusement, they would not have been ensnared. They deserved grand houses, idle days, and loving families! If only they had cast out that detestable Xu Xingya when Lan Yi raged!

That would have spared today’s ordeal.

Accusations and veiled stabs, eyes dripping with venom—these creatures said nothing of their own complicity or the casual arrogance with which they wielded influence. The more they repeated the refrain, the safer they believed themselves.

By the time the real Lan Yi arrived, they would walk free, unblemished.

Xu Xingya had been isolated.

At first panic seized her; then she steadied herself. Facing the hateful huddle, she bared her fangs without hesitation.

“I warn you—show me some respect, or when Lan Yi saves me, you will eat your words!”

“Heh. Save you? Dream on.”

The sneering voice of one prisoner rang out.

“Hmph. With his devotion, he dotes on me no matter what I do. After the Artificial God Realm, I am his white moonlight in the main world—the first love he could never have. Understand?”

Xu Xingya spoke with false certainty, painting Lan Yi as an easy pushover who always indulged her. This time would be no different. A tantrum, a sulk, and he would cradle her again.

Not only that—she would also blame him for delay.

“Exactly, sisters. Ignore these worthless bottoms. Your boyfriend will come. Then he forgives you and the rest are savage male genes tearing at each other. We wait for the winner.”

A faint, pleading voice drifted from another cell, flattering Xu Xingya with strained breath.

“Hahaha, I can’t take it. You fat sow called her a money-grubber and love donkey yesterday. How did her face change so fast?”

Some men near breaking point felt they had swallowed their own filth at the sight of such exquisite cruelty on the brink of death.

Ordinary folk they had met in public toilets had always been this illogical and shameless. They had been lucky not to have exploited those sharp tongues before.

“Hah. So what? You carriers of broken genes. We were used by you. In the end, your barbaric male pride and combativeness caused it all. If you had died sooner and yielded power to us who cherish mutual aid among women, the world would be at peace and Lan Yi untouched.”

“Have you got dung for brains? Mutual aid? Middle-school dropouts? Mouth stinking like an abortion table, brain leaking into the toilet while you pooped? You big-V influencers spent seven days here, flipping through hundreds of factions, secretly stabbing each other in the back. You think you’re something? You’re not even as good as the toilet I keep.”

A prisoner who found it amusing simply tore the masks away.

When a stone strikes a dog, it howls.

The underground prison erupted into noise.

Sharp voices quickly drowned everything else—not argument, but raw, meaningless screaming. They beat against iron doors, venting fury, crying out until their throats bled. Those who had experience already clapped hands over ears.

No warden.

These creatures could not master their emotions and would not stop until spent. It was the new normal.

The screaming, shouting, and weeping lasted only a moment.

Boom!

A sudden blaze of blinding white bulbs stabbed every prisoner’s eyes with acid pain. Tears poured forth; they retreated into the dark, shielding their faces. Some recovered faster.

Through the haze they saw a figure seated in the corridor’s center, listening with open curiosity. He had been waiting there for some time.

In an instant all prisoners trembled violently, bodies shaking like sieves. They knew this man intimately; their rescuers had forced his photographs into their faces again and again.

Lan Yi.

He sat upon the chair outside the prison, his gaze serene yet terrifyingly calm as it rested on Xu Xingya curled in the corner.

They had endured this before, yet positions had reversed. Now Lan Yi was outside, Xu Xingya inside.

Lan Yi?

Xu Xingya’s heart leaped. She forced down the unfamiliar, fearsome, upper-class aura clinging to her ex-lover and forced tears, smile, and a look of pitiful grievance. In the eyes of the spiritual cultivators, such transparent acting invited laughter.

“Lan Yi… you came…”

Her voice cracked.

“It is hard to believe I once loved such a shallow, foolish creature…”

His tone carried a sigh over old wounds.

“Just a lump of worthless flesh, devoid of beauty or wisdom.”

“Lan Yi, how can you speak to me like that? I am angry! If you do not coax me well today, you will never take me out! You bad man!”

Even the quiet prisoners covering their faces could not contain themselves.

Brainless?

Clearly something was wrong. This Lan Yi had appeared alone. How dare she speak so? Did she truly believe her ex would spare her head?

Lan Yi laughed, delighted.

If he harbored any regret from before rebirth, it had been the lack of a calm moment to sit and converse after his fierce revenge. He had been too decisive with those non-renewable yet increasable resources, chopping heads in fury and missing…

The chance to sit and speak.

For instance, Lan Lao Mo would have enjoyed hearing their deaths.

Ex-lovers, ex-colleagues, blondes, or the butt-obsessed human-like creatures who cared nothing for facts—all of them no doubt held unique insights into what he had done and how they met their ends.

“Everyone, I will not bore you with introductions. My heart is gentle; I will not torture you like the skinner. My time is precious, and today I will grant you a result that pleases me.”

The words drained his “friends” several shades paler. No one spoke, fearing personal targeting.

None were truly foolish. Seeming chaos served hidden gain.

The prison’s thunderous noise, the warden’s hasty exit, and the exposure to the world after the War of Worlds made supernatural power instantly link to Lan Yi.

Only this explanation fit: how a mere petty official, an honest nobody, could gain such might overnight. The troublemaker had struck lucky. Misfortune had befallen the lords.

“What? You fear me? I am not as vicious as you. I merely enjoy making others unable to live.”

He stood like a white crane amid quails, his 188-centimeter frame and perfect physique towering in the narrow space. As he surveyed them, no one dared meet his eyes. They prayed they would not be the unlucky ones dragged out to face the raging Lan Yi.

He was a god of life and death, savoring the aftertaste of vengeance in the enemies’ terror.

His gaze finally settled on a man.

“Qian Xiangdong, have I wronged you?”

The named man twitched as if shocked, offering a flattering smile that looked more like a grimace.

“Lan Brother, I am nothing. I was forced. I did not dare oppose them. If I refuse to testify, Liu Fatty fires me. You are magnanimous, sir, and will not stoop to my level. Just let me go!”

Qian Xiangdong—Lan Lao Mo’s former colleague.

Liu Fatty—their direct superior.

These two had dug the pit that ruined Lan Yi, accusing him of stealing secrets and breaking the non-compete pact, bankrupting the already broken man and forcing an unwinnable lawsuit.

In the previous life, they had been first to fall.

With rage boiling, Lan Yi wrapped a towel around a fire axe, stormed the old company, and unleashed the strength of a cultivator at the peak of Qi Condensation. Then his path to becoming Lan Lao Mo became an unstoppable avalanche.

“Damn it, Qian Xiangdong!” Liu Fatty, seeing his betrayer exposed, lunged at the bars. “I will not let you die in peace! When you took money to frame others as false witnesses, why not admit you were farting? You are not my pet!”

He turned to Lan Yi, desperate.

“Lan Yi—Lan Brother—Brother—Father—Ancestor!”

“I was forced!”

“I am only a small supervisor, Tang Shao—ah spit—Tang’s lackey. The real culprit is this dog’s spawn. He and that stinking whore set the trap to watch a wage slave like you get cuckolded and ruined for sport!”

Lan Yi listened with keen interest, as though the words were not his.

He had killed with ecstasy in the previous life. Most non-renewable resources never spoke; they went to hell to enjoy themselves. Global wanted status had left no quiet moment. Now every word fed his renewed joy, mending old wounds.

“When I had nothing, I starved on the streets with red eyes and was driven to steal chicken legs.”

His voice remained soft.

The two who had turned on each other fell silent, listening nervously.

“You know? Begging is more dignified than stealing when one can feed oneself. I will not punish stealing. There is nothing here to steal. Beg from now on. It is happier than my old life.”

“Smile!”

“You two are commanded to beg. Others will eat more. You will not starve. Of course you will not be full, not warm—but beggars must look like beggars.”

After they grasped the meaning of Lan Yi’s judgment, both collapsed like dead dogs, drained of strength.

They tried to plead for mercy, but when they met his emotionless eyes, the words died.

Still the old truth: it was better to live miserably than die well. As long as one lived, anything remained possible.

“Tang Chao.”

Lan Yi’s next target was the cheap, creative death of the previous life—the explosives that had blasted him skyward while he hid in his supposedly safe reinforced room.

Unexpectedly, the same Lan Yi who had slaughtered the first wave of pursuers brought bombs, sugar, and gasoline, becoming a bomb man. The blast equaled thirty kilograms of TNT; two entire floors were blown away in a spectacular ruin.

It was that very incident that made the event impossible to contain, placing Lan Yi on the global wanted list and earning him the title Lan Lao Mo among the mad.

“Hmph. Kill or be killed as you wish. This old man has enjoyed women and feasts enough. You cuckold, think I fear you?”

The earring-wearing, lip-pierced, tattooed punk lounged on his bedding without care.

“Mm, courage.”

Lan Yi nodded approval.

“I read your files. Some pleasures are definitely new to you.”

“What pleasures?”

Tang Chao answered on instinct.

“Being a man your whole life, when death arrives, why not try being a woman?”

Lan Yi’s words carried eerie promise, especially for the man.

Tang Chao’s nonchalance curdled into a snarl.

“You… you damn bastard! You… you cannot… cannot do that! Cannot!”

“Why not? I will record your happy life as a woman and distribute billions of copies for the world to admire. Look how well I care for enemies. If you had considered me, I might have cheered ‘Long live my lord’ instead of picking up a weapon.”

Lan Yi smiled.

He prized equality above all.

As Tang Chao became a woman, he would not be yellow-skinned with a black heart. Blacks, whites, and yellows all mattered—especially yellows. Tang Chao would spend the rest of his life in paradise.

Alas, he was too kind.

End-of-life care for enemies had been so thoughtful that Lan Yi felt his character lift a fraction and his conduct grow gentler.

Tang Chao was numb.

He roared and cursed, trying to provoke Lan Yi to kill him, but the top predator’s gaze stripped him of courage. He clutched his head and curled into the dark corner, whimpering for mercy.

Lan Yi’s gaze moved to the strength’s big-V influencers.

Under Lan Lao Mo’s stare they shuddered, hearts pounding, fearing invisible knives stabbing their throats. They knew they could not escape, for when they had posted about Lan Yi in online female toilets and led online violence, their curses had been vile.

Online venting felt good.

Offline execution left none.

Just as Lan Yi prepared to show his enemies some care, his brow lifted.

“Ji Ning, my mood is excellent. I hope you did not come to disturb it, or you will face one of my moves.”

“Lan Sir! Do I seem so tactless?” Ji Ning’s voice echoed from the corridor as he hurried in.

The bureaucrat now beamed as though celebrating the New Year.

He had risked disturbing Lan Lao Mo’s peace to bring good news.

With this news, Lan Yi’s mood would brighten rather than sour.

Ji Ning offered a tablet with respectful caution.

Military-grade.

The content was simple: internal voices opposing Lan Lao Mo—public ones at least—had vanished after the battle with the Evil God Race.

The spiritual cultivators had recognized Lan Yi’s leadership without hesitation. He was strong enough. They could yield anything short of the world’s end.

This was not the greatest joy.

Some extreme reborners who opposed Lan Yi’s supremacy had fled and now lived under constant wanted status. Most importantly, many clever men who disliked Lan Yi and sought control had not yet grasped the shift.

Nor had they understood that the new stratum of will, built on spiritual cultivators, had begun quietly assuming power.

In short, more blind non-renewable resources would soon arrive—posing, swaggering, domineering—ready to vent and relax Lan Yi, providing the last emotional value.

Ji Ning spoke earnestly, fearing misunderstanding.

“Lan Sir, we have no intention of using you to kill others. If you wish, we will intercept at once and keep these criminals away!”

“How have they become criminals?”

Lan Yi sighed and smiled.

“Any filth that threatens your happy mood, your friendly ties with Jianghe Civilization, or the future’s peace is unforgivable.”

Ji Ning’s cold gaze swept the prisoners.

All present belonged to that category.

Even without Lan Yi’s command, the reborners would never allow them to survive the next War of Worlds trial. They had been spared execution only so Lan Yi could relax.

“Very good.”

Lan Lao Mo rarely praised such results.

He had not been disturbed.

He had seen fairness, attitude, and respect.

Cooperation with the Artificial God Realm was assured. Lan Yi held undisputed dominance; rivers of blood were not his concern, only the reborners’.

The outcome mattered most.