Gu Zeyu ultimately persuaded the divine Kun. It was humanity’s compassion, forgiveness, and kindness that made Gu Zeyu human.
Kun didn’t truly understand Gu Zeyu’s emotions. As a god, his ability to perceive human feelings was very weak. He wouldn’t even feel sad about any of Lu Yunian’s actions because he simply didn’t care whether Lu Yunian loved him or not.
But Gu Zeyu was Kun as a child. When the world was still new, he, too, once held affection for everything. Later, Kun discovered that people only needed his divine power to protect their homes. All his human aspects were seen as flaws in the eyes of mortals.
People’s admiration for strength was understandable.
Just like Lu Yunian, who only needed an Alpha superior to himself. He always got angry at Gu Zeyu’s tears. The word he used most often for Gu Zeyu was “fool.” He let a stranger Beta join their family. Even when comforting Gu Zeyu, he never said he loved him.
Gu Zeyu sat on the guest room bed, surrounded by plush toys Mrs. Spider had made for him since he came to the military camp. He didn’t know when Lu Yunian had moved them all to the guest room, but he understood—Lu Yunian had long wanted to sleep separately.
He fumbled around the room looking for a large bag, intending to take all the plush toys with him now that he’d decided to leave. Halfway through packing, he suddenly stopped. Looking at the dolls imbued with the Omega’s rum pheromones, Gu Zeyu asked Kun, who had been silently allowing his actions, “If it were you, you wouldn’t take any of these, right?”
Kun replied languidly, “It’s all trash.”
Gu Zeyu took out the plush toys one by one, arranging them in a row on the bed. He tucked them in, climbed up, and kissed each doll’s cheek. Dejectedly, he said, “When will I grow up, like you?”
Kun released a wisp of divine consciousness. A warm stream flowed from his fingertips, like gentle arms embracing Gu Zeyu, patting his back. He said, “Before I fell into slumber, my greatest wish was to never grow up, to be a child like you.”
Gu Zeyu yawned, his drooping eyelids betraying his exhaustion. Kun tilted his head slightly, observing how Gu Zeyu was trying to stay strong despite his heartache. “Sleep now. When you open your eyes again, we’ll be home.”
After Xiao Yu fell into a deep sleep, when Gu Zeyu’s eyes opened again, they had turned a deep blue. He walked out of the guest room with elegant poise. Passing the Omega’s room, he restrained the urge to demolish the entire house. He created a sound barrier sealing the door, casting a cold glance before leaving, muttering, “Ungrateful Omega.”
The Beta had already lulled the child to sleep. The little one clutched a deer-head comfort blanket, his chubby pink face pressed against the toy, looking no different from when he slept with his father.
The Beta got up groggily, seeing Gu Zeyu standing by the child’s bed. He reflexively checked the time – 1:30 a.m. Moonlight bathed Gu Zeyu, who exuded a cold aura utterly unlike his usual self. His gaze upon the child lacked its daytime tenderness.
“Mr. Gu, why are you here so late…” The Beta hurriedly got up, adjusting his nightwear as he approached.
Gu Zeyu waved his right hand, encasing the Beta in a water bubble barrier. Suspended mid-air, the Beta watched helplessly as Gu Zeyu picked up the child. His posture was stiff, but his resolve was firm.
Unable to make a sound within the barrier, the Beta watched Gu Zeyu carry the child step by step towards the balcony, finally rising into the air and leaping down. The Beta let out a silent scream of terror as the water bubble burst the moment Gu Zeyu jumped. Water soaked the room’s sofa and bed as the Beta fell onto the bed, his body drenched in cold sweat.
He dared not peer over the balcony, fearing he’d see Gu Zeyu and the baby as a bloody mess below. He’d heard countless stories at the childcare agency about postpartum depressed employers jumping with their babies, but never imagined it happening with an Alpha father.
The Beta slowly crawled off the bed, his legs still shaking violently. He staggered to Lu Yunian’s door, pounding on it desperately, screaming, “General, something terrible has happened! Your Alpha jumped off the building! He took the child with him!”
The Beta couldn’t see the invisible sound barrier. All his cries were swallowed by the water molecules, his weeping and shouting outside the door met with no response from the Omega within.
However, Gu Zeyu’s departure with the child was not smooth. The Kun offspring’s aura was difficult to conceal. The Ghost Legion, previously wary of the Imperial War Star’s military protection, had been lurking just two or three miles outside the camp. But as Gu Zeyu left alone with the child, swarms of eager black bat ghost Alphas converged like a moving dark cloud, rushing towards him.
Gu Zeyu raised an eyebrow coldly, observing the ugly-faced black bat ghosts, both fearful of his divine power and covetous of the demigod child in his arms. With each step he took, the dark cloud followed, like a persistent fly – harmless but aggravating.
He conjured a silver cloud, its falling raindrops crystallizing into five-petaled snowflakes on his hand. Each petal was razor-sharp. With a low murmur, the snowflakes pierced the forehead of each black bat ghost like blades. Upon impact, they exploded, freezing the corpses in ice, without a single drop of blood staining Gu Zeyu.
But the black bats were too numerous. The infant in his arms, startled by the sharp, low-frequency cries, began to squirm and wail. Gu Zeyu’s first instinct was to create a water barrier and isolate the child in another dimension. But as he slightly raised his hand, he recalled how Xiao Yu would hold his breath nervously just to hold the baby. Instead, he conjured a rippling water cradle, gently placing the child inside.
The water cradle drifted down to rest atop a tree canopy. Blue light dappled through, making Gu Lulu laugh like tinkling silver bells. Gu Zeyu encased the entire tree in a sound barrier, shielding it from the harsh cries outside.
A murderous aura permeated the air as the camp entrance became a sea of blood and corpses. As the ancient god unleashed his fury, Lu Yunian finally discovered the Beta crying helplessly at his door. His sleep had been restless. When three hours passed without the baby being brought in, he grew suspicious. More unsettling was that Gu Zeyu, who had never slept alone, hadn’t come to whine and insist on sleeping together.
The night was too quiet, leaving Lu Yunian tossing and turning sleeplessly. He constantly worried about his little fool, yet feared indulging Gu Zeyu too much.
“Did you see that person’s eyes?” Lu Yunian quickly dressed, first investigating the guest room balcony before asking sternly. “Were they deep blue?”
The Beta suddenly realized, stammering, “Yes, even the pupils were fine blue lines, like the color of the deep sea.”
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