Chapter 29: Grand Design

“Wonderful—Xiao Zhi finished first again today.” Yang Yufei stroked the boy’s head with motherly warmth. “Good child, come with me.”
Under the other children’s envious eyes, Yang Yufei led Xiao Zhi out of the cafeteria.
Bai Yanci said flatly: “That candy is definitely wrong.”
She thought so too.
In memory Yang Yufei often gave them odd candies—mostly pink, sometimes other colors, probably different uses.
They exchanged a look and followed at once.
The people in the illusion couldn’t see them—no need to hide with arts. Yang Yufei wound left and right and finally entered a secluded office.
Inside the door was a small, fully equipped laboratory.
She had lived at Wangshu for years and never known such a place existed.
In the lab Xiao Zhi looked up, blank at Yang Yufei. “Vice-Director Yang, where is this? Aren’t we getting toys?”
Yang Yufei knelt, gentle and patient. “Don’t worry, Xiao Zhi. Finish your little task and I’ll take you for a new toy, all right?”
Xiao Zhi smiled and nodded, still dazed.
The lab’s back door opened softly—Mu Wenxin walked in.
Mu always wore the right smile. Her eyes on Xiao Zhi held the pleasure of appraising prey.
Xiao Zhi staggered a few steps, unsteady—and under their gaze collapsed unconscious.
“The dose was just right this time. Saves us talk.” Mu’s tone was flat; she didn’t look down. “Did you put everything I gave you into their daily meals as required?”
“All of it, as you asked.” Yang Yufei was urgent. “You have to promise me—your experiments will never hurt the children!”
“Relax. Mild induction agents only—to wake latent ability talent. Helpful, not harmful.”
“If we find gifted children, I’ll bring them to the bureau myself to train.” Mu reasoned warm and cold. “Vice-Director Yang, our hearts are the same—we’re thinking of these children’s future.”
Yang Yufei eased a little. “Don’t forget what you promised me.”
“Naturally. You may go.” Mu lifted unconscious Xiao Zhi onto the table, then as if remembering: “Right—the child named Yi Ke. Keep a closer eye on her lately.”
At the name Yang Yufei paused. “But you said before Yi Ke was just an ordinary child…”
“I’ve changed my mind. Problem?” Mu was still flat, arrogance underneath. “Do as you’re told. Don’t ask what you shouldn’t.”
The door closed. Only Mu and Xiao Zhi remained.
Xiao Zhi lay unconscious, face awful.
Mu drew blood with practiced ease, ran it through instruments she’d brought, scribbled dense data on the log.
She gave Xiao Zhi several injections. Cold tubes linked to his thin body—all for cold numbers.
For a moment her vision swam. The one on the table seemed not Xiao Zhi but herself years ago.
Same loneliness. Same helplessness.
Without knowing, strangers had arranged her whole future—life in lies, no right to choose for herself.
Bai Yanci’s brow knit. “She’s trying to strip this child’s ability.”
“Strip ability?” Her stomach dropped. “Ability… can be stripped?”
“Only those whose genes carry a god’s consciousness have abilities.” Bai Yanci explained patiently. “In theory, if you isolate that gene sequence, you can strip the ability.”
That made her think of Qixie’s modification experiments—the root of Jintian’s spiritual-flame cases.
Jade Dust used ability tools to give ordinary people powers and collect flames.
If ability could be stripped, could ordinary people become real ability users?
She pressed: “If you transplant that gene into an ordinary person, can they gain ability?”
“Sadly, no.” Bai Yanci shook her head. “Ordinary humans can’t bear divine power—not even a sliver. They stay ordinary. They can’t become true ability users.”
Mu finished writing, set down pen and paper, held her breath, and cast ability in the lab.
A pale yellow glow rose from Xiao Zhi’s chest, slowly forming a sphere. The instant it fully separated, Mu caught it in a special vessel.
Mu was thrilled, eyes bright: “Success at last—all that work wasn’t wasted!”
Even as foster daughter beside Mu for years, she’d rarely seen Mu this excited.
On the table Xiao Zhi suddenly convulsed violently. His color worsened by the second.
Then Xiao Zhi’s spiritual flame went out.
It happened too fast. She stared, unbelieving: “How! Mu promised Yang Yufei she wouldn’t hurt these children!”
Even illusion—facts that couldn’t be changed—her emotions still surged.
Inside she knew: Mu was expert at masks and lies. Such a person’s promise meant nothing.
“Human bodies are too fragile. Spiritual flame ties to genes. Forcing ability genes out is like tearing out flame itself—tearing out your source.”
Bai Yanci felt her anger and fear and gripped her hand tighter. “Dig out heart and flesh together—only death waits. Same principle.”
She stood stunned a long while.
Wrong—something always wrong. She’d missed something vital.
Bai Yanci knew too much, too clearly. Why would a moon immortal know human ability users in such detail?
Her eyes went to Bai Yanci’s profile. “Sister… how do you know all this so well? Do moon archives really record human ability users in detail?”
Bai Yanci answered: “Tens of thousands of years ago, before the gods fell, the moon had a sage who knew all antiquity. He left many records on fallen gods. The moon’s libraries are vast—they include human ability users.”
Hearing that, her mind drifted years back—to sealed memory.
When her ability first woke she couldn’t tell ordinary people from ability users.
Now she could sense clearly: every child in the orphanage had been an ability user. Without exception.
From earlier dreams she knew Mu adopted her and ran experiments to probe fallen-god secrets—for power and the bureau’s top seat.
At this point in time Mu had only noticed she was special—not yet that she carried fallen-god secrets.
So Mu and Yang Yufei cooperated to extract children’s ability genes—to study divine consciousness scattered in the mortal world.
Even knowing Mu’s real aim, she still found no clue to her own origin.
How had her memory been lost? At what moment? She still didn’t know.
When she first came to the orphanage Mu hadn’t partnered with Yang yet—couldn’t have touched her memory. Not the bureau’s work.
About a year later Mu finished adoption papers and took her to the bureau.
The scene shifted. They were pulled into another timeline.
The orphanage had been renovated. Children were taller—but many familiar faces were gone, dead in Mu’s experiments.
Mu had clearly sensed something by now. Yang Yufei was attentive—physicals as excuse for blood draws, all kinds of candy.
Until Mu appeared before her with a gentle smile: “Child, come home with me. I’ll give you a real family.”
Her blood ran cold. She knew what came next and screamed inside:
No. Don’t go on.
Stop!
As if hearing her, the whole illusion shook violently. The view twisted—about to collapse.
Bai Yanci said low: “Someone’s outside.”
When the illusion broke they stood in the ruins again—chaotic footsteps outside.
Forced out, she actually breathed easier.
Thank heaven… Bai Yanci hadn’t seen what came after.
They left the ruin and met the newcomers. Uniforms—Ability Bureau people.
More precisely—Mu Wenxin’s people.
The lead man startled at her, then bowed fast, respectful: “Team Leader Yi—what brings you here?”
The bow wasn’t respect for her—it was Mu’s face.
“I lived here a long time. Strange I can’t visit?” She shot back. “What’s with so many of you—what’s Director Mu up to?”
The man’s tone was harsh but posture still polite: “The director has her reasons. Team Leader Yi, you’d best leave soon—don’t delay the director’s grand design.”