Chapter 16 – Wei An’s Identity

As they spoke, a group of people entered the hall.

The leader wore a low-key yet high-quality brown coat with handmade leather shoes, his entire outfit color-coordinated with taste and sophistication—clearly a seasoned professional.

Accompanying him were over a dozen people, including local Taoyuan representatives, subordinates, and a group of bodyguards, exuding an air of authority.

The man spoke with a slight New City accent, though he wasn’t actually from there. But since it was the Core City, he thought it sounded more prestigious.

He was saying to the person beside him, “Yes, I know things seem a bit frightening, but everything is within calculated expectations.”

“Yes, Mr. Tao,” someone replied.

These people addressed him as “Mr. Tao,” though they likely didn’t know his real name.

But Wei An did.

Tao Jinlai. A figure belonging to a large, unmentionable faction within the Central government, a schemer of the highest order.

Wei An couldn’t exactly call them enemies. From a traditional colleague perspective, they might even be considered decent coworkers. Of course, they’d had their share of youthful conflicts, but such things were perfectly normal for young people.

Back then, Wei An was still a field agent, working with Tao Jinlai on a temporary case on a trash planet called Green Rose. Neither was particularly important at the time, and their collaboration had been polite and relatively smooth.

But near the end, to wrap things up faster than Wei An and make his report look better, Tao Jinlai had killed about twenty civilians.

They were small vendors from the local market. He hadn’t spared a thought about whether they were innocent—such considerations were irrelevant to people like Tao Jinlai. What mattered was making the report look good.

Of course, it violated regulations, but it was just a trash planet. Killing a few people wasn’t a big deal. Everyone would cover it up, and it’d be forgotten.

But Wei An was furious. Not only did he refuse to cover for Tao Jinlai, he nearly killed him… Well, Wei An did attack him, and the commotion was quite loud.

He just found Tao Jinlai particularly irritating, and killing him would’ve been beneficial. He was serious about it, but Tao Jinlai was lucky enough to escape.

For years after that, whenever they ran into each other at social events and exchanged fake smiles, Wei An would regret not acting faster back then.

Wei An got chewed out for it too—according to higher-ups, it was a critical period for his promotion, and he needed to demonstrate enough ruthlessness and control. Couldn’t he avoid acting like a child throwing a tantrum over something so trivial?

Tao Jinlai must’ve gone through the same process on his end.

Wei An knew he had been impulsive. What Tao Jinlai did was common practice. The important thing was managing work relationships.

In the end, they returned to their respective departments, pretending nothing had happened. In public, they remained courteous—an approach that preserved face for both departments’ elites.

Over time, both climbed the ranks. Though they each believed they’d eventually teach the other a lesson, the Federation’s system had already assigned them their places.

No matter how annoying or unbearable it was, it wasn’t considered an irreconcilable principle. As long as neither made a major mistake, they’d remain colleagues, exchanging fake smiles until retirement—or until one of them died, forcing the other to attend their funeral with a solemn expression.

Until three years ago, when Wei An made that mistake.

It removed him from the system, relegating him to a powerless retirement.

Wei An watched Tao Jinlai enter the hall. His “old friend’s” career was clearly thriving—he was a major player in this conspiracy.

Tao Jinlai scanned the crime scene.

“Keep working, don’t stop,” he said. “Everything about the ‘Gate’ must be perfect. If something wakes up, it’ll emerge from here. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

“Yes, Mr. Tao,” someone replied. “The sinking will begin in about twenty minutes.”

“Mhm. The weather control system is a bit affected, but the atmosphere is just right. These things always need a horror-movie backdrop…” Tao Jinlai said.

He suddenly stopped, as if spotting something dangerous in his peripheral vision. Slowly, he turned and saw Wei An.

Wei An was visibly worn at the moment, his headache barely dulled as the medication’s effects had weakened over the years. Still, he managed to stand with some dignity, smoothing his messy hair and smiling at Tao Jinlai to avoid looking too pathetic.

Even now, he still cared about appearances.

Tao Jinlai froze for about five seconds before sharply inhaling and quickly addressing his subordinates: “Check all action points, re-examine the adhesion data, inspect the perimeter, and verify the orbital status—”

His tone was tense, startling those around him into immediate action.

Tao Jinlai then picked up his phone and dialed a number, but stopped before completing the call, staring fixedly at Wei An again.

Wei An smiled at him.

“Good afternoon, Tao Jinlai,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see the Ministry of Defense’s elite involved in something like this.”

Tao Jinlai stood motionless with his phone for half a minute before lowering it and gesturing.

His bodyguards rushed forward, surrounding Wei An and aiming their guns at him. Two professionals quickly frisked him, confiscating his weapon.

Wei An didn’t move. No one could resist under so many gun barrels.

Tao Jinlai watched the scene unblinkingly, hand on his gun, body taut with tension.

Then one of his subordinates approached and whispered in his ear.

Wei An could guess what was being said—that he appeared to be alone, with no troops closing in, no orbital threats, nothing suggesting a trap.

Tao Jinlai listened, slowly breaking into a smile.

The subordinate stepped back, and Tao Jinlai approached Wei An with that satisfied grin.

“Mr. Qin,” he said to Wei An. “This is truly unexpected.”

Wei An didn’t respond. It had been a long time since anyone called him that name.

“After your… incident, I spent considerable effort investigating,” Tao Jinlai said. “I always thought someone like you couldn’t possibly die so easily. I was right.”

At this moment, they stood at a normal social distance, as if at a banquet or official event, their expressions and tones still civil.

“But after so long without a trace, I thought you really might be dead. Everyone makes mistakes,” Tao Jinlai continued, feigning a sigh.

“I attended your funeral. Everyone was very sad,” he said. “Of course, there were gossips, but I always defended you.”

“How kind of you,” Wei An said.

“You’re here, but without any major backing or scheme, right?” Tao Jinlai pressed.

He stared at Wei An’s face, barely suppressing his excitement.

“You’re ‘retired,’ aren’t you, Qin Wei?”

“I don’t go by that name anymore,” Wei An replied.

Tao Jinlai’s grin widened with a cruel sense of superiority.

Wei An knew what thrilled him—this was victory in a major career rivalry. His opponent had finally made a mistake, stripped of power and protection.

Now was the time to gloat and torment, a bloody feast.

Tao Jinlai straightened and turned to the others with formal gravitas, as if announcing something monumental.

“Let me introduce everyone,” he said. “This is Qin Wei, the Qin family’s most accomplished son. He once worked for the Federation’s most dangerous and powerful agency. Had he not made a mistake, he’d now be the head of the Ministry of Internal Affairs.”

At the mention of the “Ministry of Internal Affairs,” everyone’s expressions shifted, whispers of horror spreading.

The Ministry of Internal Affairs—the Federation’s highest echelon of power, overseeing all government operations. In public imagination, they were the ones who wielded execution orders, attended shadowy high-level meetings, excelled in political intrigue, and could directly take over core departments, deciding life or death for even the highest-ranking officials.

Standing under their fearful gazes, Wei An remained smiling.

Just like in his days of power, he carried himself with grace and composure, accustomed to being stared at like an omen of doom.

“If the Ministry of Defense is involved, then the Hel family factions must be participating too,” he said. “I haven’t been gone that long, and already such a grand spectacle?”

Tao Jinlai smiled back. “Indeed. Recent developments have been quite astonishing.”

“Nearly a hundred thousand dead,” Wei An said. “How many more this time?”

“Ah, many, *many* more. So what? Great endeavors require sacrifices. Neither of us is the type to fuss over such things.”

“No, we’re not,” Wei An murmured.

Tao Jinlai studied him with delight.

“Though now I’m not sure what kind of person you are,” he said. “I used to think I understood you well—you weren’t hard to figure out. You were raised strictly by the Qin family since childhood, officially adopted with genetic markers, highly valued.

“You performed well too—ambitious, diligent, capable of killing when needed, compromising when necessary. I admired people like you and thought you deserved your rapid promotions.”

He looked at Wei An with mock pity.

“I truly don’t understand why you’d do what you did. Was it because of your ‘fiancée’? She was lovely, but crossing your ‘family’s’ line for her—you knew the consequences,” he continued. “You’d already become the Qin family’s pride. It’s not like the old slave society days anymore—there were no hard rules binding you. You were the center of attention, the future Minister of Internal Affairs. Tsk tsk.”

Wei An listened coldly. Those old stories had long been gossip fodder, twisted to suit various agendas. The truth hardly mattered anymore.

Tao Jinlai went on: “Who’d have thought someone like you would end up like this?”

Wei An thought his retired life was fine, but in moments like this, he still burned with fury.

He knew it was just a former colleague reveling in his misfortune—nothing to care about—but it was infuriating.

Near the Tree Gate, people worked frantically—hanging corpses, painting symbols. A technician yelled about adhesion values being too high and uncontrollable, causing chaos.

Wei An’s headache persisted, the numbness making the discomfort worse. He felt as if something enormous was approaching—probably worsening hallucinations.

His silence didn’t deter Tao Jinlai.

The man rambled on about how close Wei An had been to success, how weak-minded he’d been to ruin himself, and how he himself had been promoted while higher-ups had once held such high hopes for Wei An. What a shame.

After mocking Wei An from every angle, Tao Jinlai noticed Gui Ling behind him.

“And who is this?” he asked.

The guard stammered, “This is… uh, Mr. Qin’s bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” Tao Jinlai was skeptical. “With Mr. Qin’s sensitive past and his own formidable skills, why would he need a bodyguard?”

He studied Gui Ling with keen interest.

The man in black leather and his accomplice had been recalled during the leadership inspection and now stood there dumbfounded, trembling as they reported.

His gaze kept flicking to Wei An, utterly bewildered about the situation.

Tao Jinlai eyed Gui Ling with amusement. “Quite handsome. Really just a bodyguard?”

Though Wei An wanted nothing to do with him, he had to speak up now.

“He has nothing to do with this,” Wei An said.

Tao Jinlai gave him a meaningful look.

Wei An had no idea what went on in that man’s head—probably nothing but bloodshed and torture.

Suddenly, Tao Jinlai signaled two burly bodyguards, who grabbed Gui Ling from behind, twisted his arms, and kicked the back of his knees, forcing him to the ground.

Gui Ling had been staring blankly at a bloodstain, lost in his dark thoughts since arriving. He’d shown no interest in Wei An’s power struggles earlier, not even glancing their way. Now, trouble had inexplicably found him.

The two mercenaries pinned Gui Ling’s arms, keeping him kneeling while one yanked his hair, forcing his head up.

Wei An was startled—genuinely startled, a rare occurrence in his life.

He lunged forward. “Stop!”

Another bodyguard pressed a gun barrel hard against Wei An’s head, ready to fire. He froze.

Tao Jinlai smiled at him, the scene almost theatrical.

“Is this a new friend? Or an old acquaintance I didn’t know about, someone you brought along to ‘retire’ with?” Tao Jinlai marveled with glee. “Your life is full of secrets.”

“Let him go,” Wei An yelled.

He quickly reviewed Gui Ling’s contract details, especially the clauses on autonomy. Ancient civilization contracts were full of exceptions—Gui Ling could act outside the rules if he chose.

What were those ancient programmers thinking? Couldn’t they just make him fully obedient? The Ministry of Science had been so careful, yet the number of staff he’d killed over the years was still massacre-level!

“Mr. Qin seems nervous,” Tao Jinlai said.

“Whatever you have to say, say it to *me*!” Wei An snapped.

“Oh?” He drew his gun, twirled it dramatically, then slammed the grip into Gui Ling’s forehead.

Wei An’s breath caught. The blow knocked Gui Ling’s head to the side. He staggered, blood streaming from his temple like broken beads, pooling on the floor.

Wei An stared in shock, speechless. Tao Jinlai grabbed Gui Ling’s chin, forcing his head up to examine his face.

Blood covered half of Gui Ling’s face, making the monster look even more ghastly. He glared at Tao Jinlai, furious but unmoving—perhaps honoring his earlier agreement with Wei An about the future, resisting the urge to annihilate Tongyun and this bastard in five minutes.

“I touched him. What will you do about it, Mr. Qin?” Tao Jinlai said. “He *is* quite handsome. No wonder you’re so protective.”

“You’re insane!” Wei An shouted.

Ignoring the gun at his head, he rushed to Gui Ling, swatting Tao Jinlai’s hand away to check the wound.

Gui Ling squinted at him, one eye half-closed from blood. Wei An carefully wiped it with his sleeve—the gun grip had left a gash over an inch long on his temple, still bleeding.

From Ministry of Science records, Wei An knew Gui Ling could be injured. Without resistance, his body was as vulnerable as an ordinary human.

Wei An murmured, “It’s okay, don’t move,” playing the powerless protector in an almost tender scene.

The bloodied monster glared at him and growled, “You’re the insane one, Mr. Wei An.”

“How does it feel?” Wei An whispered. “Does it hurt?”

Tao Jinlai watched the bizarre interaction with eerie fascination.