Chapter 163 Our World
February 10, Monday.
In the Dark Arrow Western Monitoring Zone, preparations for the new year’s spring southwest rotation battle are in full swing, with the training battalion gearing up for another deployment.
But everyone knows that the situation along the southwestern border has subtly changed. The return of the influence of the legitimate families of the Huaguo has brought about positive changes to the chaotic and bloody order in the southwestern border area, which can be seen as the only optimistic aspect amid the increasingly tough issues.
At the other end of the headquarters building, in Han Guowei’s office, Wang Hongjun is reading a confidential document issued by the headquarters.
It has been less than two months since Meng Huai’s blood invasion and escape, and the second phase of the investigation has not yet been completed.
Wang Hongjun’s gaze keeps shifting between the confidential document and Han Guowei’s face, his facial muscles twitching slightly. “According to regulations, it must last for three months; now we’re announcing a premature sacrifice? Is the headquarters so impatient?”
“Old Han, has there been any change regarding Meng Huai’s situation?”
Wang Hongjun knows that Han Guowei has another identity at the headquarters; many confidential pieces of information are beyond the purview of even the commander of the Western Monitoring Zone.
He is involved in many top-secret research topics, and the headquarters has gone to great lengths to protect him. Unfortunately, he still found himself in a dead end… Wu Zhongxian’s suggestion is that it’s better to end this long pain quickly rather than dragging it out, as continuing to rally forces would greatly affect morale.
Han Guowei closes his eyes, gripping the edge of the table with both hands, as if he is experiencing an inner torment.
“This is indeed a good way to clarify negative influences from top to bottom. Sigh, the sooner death, the sooner rebirth… when do you plan to formally announce this? And what about his family? What will you say there?”
Wang Hongjun puts down the confidential document and sighs lightly. “Over the past few months, his family has been put through enough trouble by us, with good news one moment and bad news the next, like a roller coaster.”
Zhen Guangquan is organizing preliminary intelligence investigations for an operation against the Black Dragon Society; let’s wait until his work is finished. Announcing it now would easily demoralize the troops, especially Tao Qiaoer and the Xuanjia Brigade.
Han Guowei takes a deep breath and pulls out a blank special document from his drawer, picking up a pen to fill in details related to Meng Huai while lowering his voice. “Old Wang, the headquarters is preparing some personnel adjustments. I will likely be transferred to take over as the commander of the Southern Monitoring Zone soon, so I’ll be counting on you to take good care of Han Bei then.”
“I plan to fly south this afternoon to meet Commander Peng in person and learn about the situation.”
Wang Hongjun abruptly stops as he raises his hand to take a sip of tea, feeling surprised. “You’re going to the Southern Monitoring Zone… has something happened with the madman Peng?”
It’s a bit saddening for Wang Hongjun to hear this news about his old partner being transferred to another monitoring zone; in the end, he can only sigh.
Old Wang, the troubles with the Rong family have leaked out, and there are gaping holes in the south, leading to some difficult situations; Peng’s health has deteriorated and he can no longer continue working.
“A firm post with a transient soldier; in this line of work, we go where we’re needed, so there’s no point in feeling sad. The only thing I worry about is the leak within the former 430 intelligence group; we still haven’t identified the mole.”
Han Guowei finishes writing the procedures for Meng Huai’s aftermath and looks up. “Because it involves the infiltration of overseas blood clan forces into Dark Arrow, the headquarters is taking it very seriously.”
“At present, international intelligence cooperation and sharing are becoming increasingly difficult; if they do, it is often half-hearted and merely formal.”
“In our country, at least we’re still maintaining a limited tacit balance with the legitimate blood clans. However, in Europe and America, it is practically becoming a collusion, with representatives of legitimate blood clans appearing in both the political and business circles… that’s the West, where money is their only faith.”
“This time, someone overseas is causing trouble in the country, and our international searches for intelligence cooperation have yielded no concrete responses. As long as it involves the intelligence of European and American legitimate families, it is virtually impossible to obtain valuable information. Our country is increasingly fighting alone.”
Looking at the portraits of several founding leaders on the wall, Han Guowei shakes his head helplessly, his face filled with bitterness.
“Then we must persevere and keep fighting!” Wang Hongjun gritted his teeth and slammed the table, his face pale with anger. “The nonsense of coexistence between two worlds; are the black blood clans not products raised by those legitimate families?”
Wang Hongjun’s explosive temper flares up again, and Han Guowei can only smile and shake his head, withholding his response.
“Let’s see if you have time. I’ll give a brief report.”
Outside, Zhen Guangquan’s voice is heard, prompting both Wang and Han to suppress their emotions and look over.
…
…
News of Han Guowei’s impending transfer from the Western Monitoring Zone to become the commander of the Southern Monitoring Zone spreads quickly.
Such personnel changes are only natural for an old soldier with decades of military experience. Inside the Western Monitoring Zone headquarters building, apart from some lightweight sentiments, everyone soon dived back into high-intensity work.
Han Guowei rushes to the airport in the afternoon, while Han Xiao avoids everyone and sits alone in a small conference room, going through massive amounts of data on her laptop. Occasionally, she rapidly writes notes, while at other times she chews on her pen in deep thought.
“Xiao Ge, why don’t you drive my dad? After all, he’s your guide, right? Not long ago, you two were so close!”
Han Xiao pushes the door open, hands on her hips, revealing her displeasure. “When it comes to workaholics, I think you’re crazier than my dad and my brother! Besides, you always like to stay in this cramped place.”
Han Jieqian raises his head from behind the computer, stretching his arms and relaxing, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not like we won’t see each other again. I want to make my work look nice; then he will truly be happy.”
“It’s a pity that at the end of the month, I’m leading a team to the southwestern border for a rotation battle. Otherwise, I might also be part of the major action against the Black Dragon Society coordinated by the Chief of Staff.”
As she speaks, Han Xiao sits down beside Han Jieqian, her expression a bit bored. “The southwestern rotation battle involves clearing out mountains and catching rats, training newbies.”
“Well, Chief Zhen has also assigned me a task to investigate the recent cases where several black blood clan strongholds in C City were successively destroyed by an unknown blood clan force. Isn’t that like finding lice on a monk’s head?”
Han Jieqian carelessly tosses a stack of documents aside, smiling mysteriously. “Look, doesn’t it seem like we two troublemakers are being eliminated by Chief Zhen?”
Hearing her cousin’s words, Han Xiao’s expression gradually becomes serious, lost in thought.
“This is a large-scale operation initiated by Chief Zhen to strike at the Black Dragon Society, requiring considerable time and manpower to collect and verify intelligence, supported by Commander Wang and my dad. Do you think there’s something wrong?”
After a moment, Han Xiao quietly asks, “Typically speaking, there’s nothing wrong. After all, this is part of his job. I’m just curious where the initial lead came from; otherwise, the cost of mobilizing forces is too great.”
Han Jieqian opens a high-resolution satellite image on his laptop and points to several marked locations on it. “Look, centered around C City, within a radius of hundreds of kilometers, there are several suspicious coordinates, all classified as suspected targets of the Black Dragon Society.”
“Sister, do you have a feeling, as Third Uncle said, that it’s like shooting arrows before painting a target? Does the Black Dragon Society really have such a large enterprise?”
Han Jieqian can’t articulate why when he sees the intelligence situation map, strange thoughts arise in his mind.
It’s said that the first-hand intelligence was obtained incidentally; I think as long as we can effectively strike against the black blood clans, whether it’s the Black Dragon or White Dragon Society, it’s not a bad thing.”
Han Xiao glances at the satellite map on the computer screen, which contains very little information, unable to comprehend where Han Jieqian’s intuition comes from.
“Incidental? When did we start relying on luck to get things done… It’s a pity I can’t participate in specific intelligence analysis and can only guess here; maybe I’m overthinking it.”
After a few seconds, Han Jieqian bitterly closes his laptop and stands up, grabbing his military cap. “Let’s go, Third Sister, let’s go eat outside together.”
“Xiao Ge, this morning I heard my dad say that the headquarters intends to classify Meng Che as a sacrifice, considering it closed. Did you know that…”
Han Xiao suddenly grabs Han Jieqian’s arm, her voice lowered to an almost whisper.
“A first-class meritorious case is too stimulating; everyone wants to turn the page quickly on this matter. Otherwise, it will always hang over us, causing disorder in people’s hearts…”
Han Jieqian chuckles, packing his laptop and documents into his bag.
“Actually, he might not really be dead, just like Xia Ying and Gu Yao?” Han Xiao mutters again, a strange sense of relief on her face. “It’s fine; this world no longer needs him to contribute anything; he can just find a place to hide his name.”
Not daring to look at Han Xiao’s expression, Han Jieqian just lightly nods.
Early in the morning, Jiang Yan goes out with Meng Huai, exploring the surrounding scenic spots of Longquan Mountain.
It is said that this is a rehabilitation suggestion given by Doctor Lu. What could be better for regulating body and mind than enjoying beautiful scenery together, immersed in nature?
The Hyacinth Villa is large, far bigger than what meets the eye. In addition to the main villa, it also includes numerous auxiliary activity facilities nearby.
Deep within the stream valley sits a small farm, where several Hyacinth little blood servants are pruning fruit trees, maintaining sheds, tilling the land, or fixing fences.
Labor is also part of the little blood servants’ self-cultivation and reorganization of life attitudes. Manyue always uses seemingly meaningless details of life to remind everyone that they are no different from ordinary people.
After taking a tour inside and outside the farm, Meng Huai seems to become interested, outright taking off his sports jacket, rolling up his sleeves, and wielding a hoe, vigorously cultivating the hillside near the farm.
His physical recovery has rekindled the original advantages of Meng Huai’s innate physique. At this moment, he resembles a perpetual motion machine, clearing out a new terrace of over half an acre outside the normal operational range of the farm in just half a day.
Not only Jiang Yan is watching, but also three or four curious little blood servants from Hyacinth, observing the tall and handsome young man transforming into a farmer, sweating in the field.
The weather hasn’t truly warmed yet, so Jiang Yan chooses cold-resistant vegetables like radishes and celery to plant in the new fields opened up by Meng Huai.
The man in front seems to be addicted to work, casually removing all his upper clothing, going shirtless, vigorously using the hoe, while Jiang Yan follows behind, sowing seeds. The scene holds an air of traditional gender roles, but whether they will reap the harvest isn’t important anymore.
“That person is a black blood clan member; we Hyacinth aren’t afraid to recruit anyone now… Unlike us, those of lower realms just require some medicine to return to normal.”
“Shh, lower your voice! Xiao Ling姐 said that person has also been raised for a long time by the black blood clan and doesn’t genuinely want to be part of it…”
“Little Yan姐 is almost a baron now; she wouldn’t look at such a fragile black blood clan knight, would she?”
“I think he’s quite good-looking; that guy is so handsome, and Little Yan姐 is exceptional. They look so romantic together.”
The small blood servants surrounding the farm, whispering in groups, no longer view the young man who occasionally emits a faint scent of black blood clan impurities with the same fear and unease as they did a few days ago.
Meng Huai’s well-built body after recovery, along with his cold and handsome demeanor, has caused the Hyacinth blood servant girls who lost the chance to work to fall into infatuation.
Finally, Meng Huai stops working, looking as if he were pulled from the stream, his strong, bare upper body glistening with sweat. The delicate aura he had after the blood invasion is now completely absent, replaced by a strong masculinity.
Only his handsome face, for some reason, appears slightly pale, as if he were physically drained.
The little blood servants nearby are murmuring something; Meng Huai can occasionally catch a word or two, but he doesn’t wish to say anything. I see him; in his eyes, this world—except for Jiang Yan—everything else and everyone, everything seen or heard, is unreal.
“Drink some water; you’ve been working all day.”
Jiang Yan emerges from a nearby greenhouse, carrying a large water bottle.
Before him, Meng Huai’s body is trembling slightly, and the veins at his temple are protruding again. Even with the strong concealing effects of internal and external hormone inhibitors, Jiang Yan still senses a few strands of abnormal breath and imbalance, which should indicate blood thirst.
Jiang Yan quickly sets down the water bottle, reaching out to touch Meng Huai’s forehead.
“Not feeling well? Blood thirst?”
“It’s nothing; this way of living is great, allows me to forget those feelings…”
Meng Huai wipes the sweat from his face, taking a slight step back, wanting to avoid the alluring scent emanating from Jiang Yan, especially at this moment.
Meng Huai is becoming increasingly aware of his body; this is a withdrawal reaction from certain addictive substances, leading to intermittent blood thirst disturbances.
The objects before him begin to distort, as if a hidden demon within is about to break out of its cocoon, pulling him back into that nightmare-like dark world. Only the black-haired girl in the distance persists in holding her ground.
“Just take a sip; take the medicine.”
Jiang Yan hesitates, taking out a small vial from her pocket, which contains several milliliters of her own blood, and in her other hand, she holds a small golden pill. “You don’t need to! ”
Like being stung by a bee, Meng Huai steps back several paces, gritting his teeth, his eyes tightly shut, fear, pain, and anxiety playing across his face.
“Don’t worry, your body is currently unstable; the blood thirst phase is very short. Having a bit of blood now won’t affect your recovery.”
Jiang Yan steps a few more steps forward, holding the blood vial in front of Meng Huai. He opens his eyes, hesitating as he looks at the blood vial, swallowing several times.
With a taste of fresh blood, he swallows the little golden pill, feeling as if every blood vessel, every pore, and every inch of skin is groaning with pleasure. The inner demon dissipates like smoke upon encountering its nemesis.
He quickly hands the blood vial back, not daring to glance at the overly tempting red again, and turns his head away. “Is this the life of the blood clan?”
A few minutes later, as his body and mind relax, Meng Huai sits down on the edge of the field, gazing around with a warm smile on his face.
The clear sky reflects the mountains and flowing water. The laborers move steadily in the fields, taking their time.
“This is the life of the Hyacinth, our world, not the world of the blood clans.”
Jiang Yan nods, then shakes her head.
Meng Huai is taken aback, unable to respond for a long time, noticing that Jiang Yan is staring at him intently, feeling a bit shy, he turns his head slightly. “Um, I like this kind of world.” After saying that, Meng Huai drinks half a bottle of water in one go, takes a deep breath, and grabs the hoe beside him, preparing to work again.
Just then, figures armed with guns and ammunition emerge from the distant woods.
Clad in black tight combat suits, gray-black tactical jackets, and bulletproof vests, with various equipment hanging from their waists and thighs, they exude an imposing and aggressive aura.
Meng Huai merely glances at them and immediately positions himself in front of Jiang Yan, his gaze sharpening, his hands gripping tightly.
“It’s Brother Zheng, leading everyone in training… Our way of living also requires protection.”
Jiang Yan smiles, stepping out from behind Meng Huai, raises her hand, and greets the approaching team.
“Who are the enemies?” Meng Huai thinks for a few seconds, a serious expression on his face.
“The black blood clans, or perhaps even more wicked people than the black blood clans.”
Watching the fully armed members of Hyacinth approaching, Jiang Yan speaks in a very calm tone: “Meng Huai, you were once involved in this too.”
Meng Huai falls silent, only following Jiang Yan’s line of sight as the people approach closer. “Hey, didn’t I hear you guys were going to Baigongyan to watch birds today? Why are you here guarding crops?”
Zheng Shaolin arrives beside Jiang Yan with a cheerful smile, glancing over Meng Huai’s bare upper body and nodding subtly.
There’s a familiar feeling… Meng Huai doesn’t speak; he just stares hard at the gear of the person before him, his expression gradually becoming serious.
From the sturdy figure of the unfamiliar man, Meng Huai seems to catch a whiff of a very familiar scent—not the pheromones, but a vague resonance that rises in his mind.
“What a guy.” Zheng Shaolin lifts the VSSM suppressed rifle in his hand, smiling a little before motioning in a certain direction. “After dinner, want to join us for some fun?”
Meng Huai withdraws his gaze and nods, a long-lost impulse stirring within him.
…
What was originally an outing turned into a full day of intense labor experience. Not only did Meng Huai till over half an acre of the new field, he even tidied up several vegetable racks in the farm’s greenhouses meticulously.
Dinner is prepared by Jiang Yan at the farm; she not only welcomes Zheng Shaolin but also lures several little blood servant girls from Hyacinth who don’t need to attend evening classes to come for a meal.
After waking up for the first time, Meng Huai actively greets the Hyacinth members aside from Jiang Yan. However, Zheng Shaolin’s generous and talkative demeanor leaves him somewhat at a loss.
The farm’s ingredients are fresh and natural, and Jiang Yan’s culinary skills are above average, making everyone feast happily.
He quickly notices certain unique phenomena regarding some tea, drawing discreet glances from Zheng Shaolin and the others.
This even leaves Jiang Yan helpless.
Because Meng Huai’s stubborn habit of staring intently at a plate of food while eating hasn’t changed and seems extremely natural.
What more can be said? Shift the dishes.
Jiang Yan carries a barely noticeable bitter smile, having to reestablish the dining etiquette that she had almost forgotten.
…
…
The underground shooting range at Hyacinth Villa has always been the least favored practice ground for the little blood servants.
Typically amiable and generous Zheng Shaolin shows an extremely unapproachable side here, often criticizing and reprimanding them, which is commonplace.
Zheng Shaolin only appears harsher and more talkative in this setting to prevent any distraction or waste that could result from inattentiveness. His strict approach stems from some unsafe and non-standard habits of the little blood servants.
There’s no getting around it; ammunition for dry shooting practice must be budgeted carefully. After Jiang Yan’s tactical training guidelines were introduced, the frequency of shooting practice has increased, significantly raising ammunition consumption.
However, today, Zheng Shaolin rarely speaks, instead maintaining a shocked expression as he watches a certain tall young man’s shooting performance.
Even stationary targets are all high scores, with no shots below six rings, and even the moving targets have a hit rate above thirty percent, reportedly while the other party is still in poor physical condition.
Jiang Yan quietly stands nearby, watching Meng Huai, whose expression is stern, eyes sharp, and holding a gun in an exceptionally standard posture. If he weren’t wearing ordinary sports clothes, one might think that the captain of the Xuanjia Brigade had returned.
After yet another magazine is emptied, the empty chamber clicks, and Meng Huai habitually ejects the magazine for inspection—just this motion leaves him momentarily stunned.
“Brother, impressive! Next time, let’s go shoot outdoors with rifles.”
Zheng Shaolin leans in, secretly exchanging glances with Jiang Yan.
“What’s the big deal… Just was in the army for a few extra years.”
On the other side, it appears that Jiang Yao, who came alongside them unbeknownst, is visibly agitated, reflecting her characteristic erratic shooting style, her hit rate below fifty percent, making Zheng Shaolin both amused and exasperated.
Meng Huai glances at Jiang Yao, makes no retort, silently handing the pistol to Jiang Yan, then stepping back.
“Xiao Yao, don’t speak so aggressively; when did you learn these habits?”
Jiang Yan furrows her brows, feeling that she has perhaps been too lenient with Jiang Yao; her expression now looks rather unfriendly.
Jiang Yao bites her lip, not wanting to look at Jiang Yan and Meng Huai, angrily tossing her earmuffs onto the shooting prep table, shoving past Zheng Shaolin towards the exit.
Jiang Yan’s attitude visibly darkens; Zheng Shaolin, attuned to the atmosphere, follows Jiang Yao’s lead, speeding out. The entire underground shooting training room is left with only Jiang Yan and Meng Huai.
“She doesn’t like me.”
After a few seconds, Meng Huai quietly mutters.
“I know, but it’s okay.”
Jiang Yan’s mood softens as she walks over to Meng Huai, looking up into his eyes. “Meng Huai, didn’t the shooting just now feel familiar to you?”
“Yeah… it feels like muscle memory.” Meng Huai slowly nods, looking down at his hands, filled with deep confusion. “I used to be in the army as well, just like Zheng Shaolin?”
Jiang Yan hesitates for a moment, and after a few seconds, frustratively nods. “Yes, a very impressive soldier.”
Meng Huai surveys his surroundings; this closed underground space makes him somewhat uncomfortable. A thin mist begins to appear before him, gradually spreading out, and everything starts to flatten out, as if he has returned to a certain forest of fog in a dream.
Statues of soldiers that are both strange and familiar begin to appear, each fully armed, with different expressions and stances. The closest statue is, unexpectedly, Jiang Yan.
Are they all my former comrades? Meng Huai gazes at the hazy scene in front of him, murmuring softly, feeling a throbbing pain in his temples.
“Meng Huai!”
The young man suddenly wobbles and nearly collapses, startling Jiang Yan into quickly embracing him and subconsciously scanning the surroundings.
Meng Huai appears to be in a dazed state, a confused and pained expression on his face, as if his soul has been summoned to another world, leaving only an empty shell behind.
