Chapter 48: Confinement

The moment the button pressed—the machine roared loud.
Mu had kept Liu-ge and cleared others to force the run.
Flame-stripping had begun. She lunged to pull Zhen Yao off—Mu ordered: “Xiao Liu, stop her.”
“Yes, Director.”
Liu-ge raised a gun-shaped ability tool. Not real bullets—things made for her.
Bad—she called Bai Yanci at once.
Barrier somewhere—no power, couldn’t reach outside with ability either.
Liu-ge had followed Mu years—movement top tier at the bureau.
Power forced down—ordinary human. Couldn’t dodge. One shot center forehead.
Hit the ground hard. Coughed blood. Limbs cold. Head spun dull.
Curled in the corner, shaking with cold, eyes locked on Mu.
Liu-ge holstered the tool, cold at her: “Director, suppressant hit—she can’t fight now.”
“Well done.”
Mu came close, looking down: “Don’t waste effort. Suppressors for fallen-god power everywhere. Behave—with your special status maybe we can sit and talk properly.”
Pain made her shake—still she stared back defiant: “Let Zhen Yao go first. Then we talk.”
Mu seemed to hear a joke: “Child, look at yourself—what right to bargain? Choose the weak side—accept you might lose.”
“You want fallen-god flame? Want fallen-god power?” She held on: “Let Zhen Yao go. I stay in her place.”
“How naive.” Looking at her wretched state Mu said, “You’re in my hands—no fight left. Keeping both of you is better, isn’t it?”
“For you that’s best. I really can’t leave.”
Fast—while Liu-ge distracted she snatched a scalpel from the table.
Mu didn’t care—didn’t lift an eyelid.
Liu-ge mocked: “Team Leader Yi—you think a scalpel can hurt me?”
She laughed cold: “Of course not.”
Blade sharp, cold light, her resolve reflected—she set it across her throat: “Director Mu—for humanity’s fate and grand design—you don’t want me dead here, do you?”
“You!” Liu-ge’s eyes went sharp. He rushed to take the blade.
She backed several steps, heart hard, cut deep at the neck: “Back off. Don’t come closer—or I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“You won’t.” Mu’s flawless face finally shifted, eyes dark. “You always cherished life most—you’d never.”
“Whether I will—you don’t decide.” Blade closer—blood dripped on clean floor. “I said let Zhen Yao go.”
“I can’t let her go!” Mu rare heat. “I raised you years—don’t I know you? Stop the act!”
“Then don’t regret.” Eyes firm. “You won’t find a second fallen god, will you? Lose me—your greed and your grand design stop dead.”
Under both their eyes she cut her wrist without hesitation. Blood spurted.
Artery—without rescue soon dead.
“Ke-ke!” Mu cried out.
Weak from the shot—vision blurred after the wrist.
Before black took her she saw Mu step up herself, take sealed medicine from high storage, inject her.
She seemed to remember—Mu’s precious healing drug she rarely used.
In some way she was first-tier important to Mu too.
Woke with splitting headache—dazed. Wrist bandaged careful—pain pulsed now and then.
Looked around—memory aligned slowly.
This was… Mu’s residence?
Two years away—quite different from memory.
“You’re awake.” Mu’s voice.
Instinct alert—tried to sit—no strength left.
“Don’t move. You lost too much blood. I injected medicine—you need the night before you move free.” Mu brought a bowl. “Open up. I’ll feed you.”
Mu helped her up—gentle enough. She gave nothing extra—eyes on Mu, mouth shut tight.
“No poison. Nothing harmful.” Mu drank a mouthful in front of her—rare patience. “I ordered Zhen Yao released. Stay obedient here—I won’t send anyone after her again.”
The gamble paid.
She was the rarest, most vital specimen—Mu wouldn’t let her die. Weighing risk she’d release Zhen Yao.
Mu added: “Don’t plan escape. Suppressors block your ability here. No one will find you.”
Since waking something felt wrong. Longer she stayed—the uncannier it got.
Mu didn’t live here often—but no trace any human actually lived.
“Where is this?”
“My private lab.” Mu said. “Afraid you wouldn’t adjust—I don’t know your home now—so I made it like your old room.”
…
“Enough questions. Drink now?”
Mu tried to feed again. She took the bowl and drank in one go. Bitter spread—she hated medicine’s taste most in life.
No poison—no point fighting the bowl. Only recover body and power to flee this hellhole.
Mu wasn’t embarrassed. Talked on: “Child, too cruel to yourself—even willing to cut your own throat.”
Her foster mother produced candy from somewhere, peeled it careful—like old care.
She stared a long while—didn’t take it like before.
“Yesterday in the lab you curled in the corner looking at me—I thought of the orphanage—you looked the same.” Mu sighed. “Time flies. In a blink you’re so big.”
Mu mourning autumn now—she only found it funny—remembered Mu saying she cherished life.
True—in Wangshu years she’d feared death most—fought to live.
She’d been solitary, bullied hard.
Wangshu wore orphanage skin—the head director didn’t stop fights, didn’t value any life.
Injured or crippled—a doctor patched rough—and bullies got rewards. Encouragement made the rot worse.
Before Mu adopted her—except Vice-Director Yang—no one had shown her a shred of kindness.
She was weak. Orphanage rules said weak deserved bullying—trampled by the strong.
After Mu chose her Yang Yufei was attentive a while—personally took her to and from the lab.
Sparrow to phoenix—the other children jealous, bullied worse, often missed full meals.
She could beg no one—even Vice-Director Yang had no say, only watched.
Endure silently—nothing else.
One day the pack leader broke into her room and tore her drawing—she snapped and fought back.
One against many—no win. Beat black and blue.
She swore—never be weak again.
Human dignity—only she could seize it.
So when Mu came and offered adoption she agreed without pause.
Yang Yufei said Mu was a bureau lord.
Leave with Mu—no more wrongs, no more faces turned on her.
Lord or not—then she only thought: leave this hell, follow anyone.
Couldn’t be worse than now.
Years with Mu she’d learned.
Mu smooth on every side—she caught the manner, not the cold—learned disguise.
In time she wasn’t solitary—lively, bright. Only she knew it was fake—mask.
Long enough she sometimes fooled herself—as if she really were that excellent shining person.
She pulled from memory, probed: “You lock me here? Your experiment? Why not take me to the lab?”
“Don’t think that much. Rest your body.”
“My state blocking your experiment?” Cold laugh—blunt.
Trying to provoke Mu for useful words.
Mu only sighed: “Child, how can you think that? I’m not that cruel—how much do you misunderstand me?”