Now it all made sense.

Shen Wang thought: This explains all the confusion.

Why Zhou Xiangzhe treated him differently, why Zhou Xiangzhe always carried candy with him, why Zhou Xiangzhe was so protective of him.

It was because Zhou Xiangzhe was Xiao Qi, the childhood friend who had never truly left his life.

That delicate child had grown into a refined adult. Though his appearance had changed, his core remained the same—still that overwhelmingly gentle person.

Shen Wang sat on the couch and let out a heavy sigh.

“Did you know from the start?” he asked Lan.

Lan’s attention was still on his blank book of divination. Hearing Shen Wang’s question, he answered casually, “I knew the moment I first saw you.”

“I’m a precognitive mutant. I can see many things.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, of course, your brother dislikes him,” Lan said with a hint of disdain, closing his book. “It’s all the Academy of Sciences’s fault for not letting me stay by your side to take care of you. He took advantage of the situation!”

Shen Wang: “…”

Wait, they were just two kids back then. Was “taking advantage of the situation” really the right phrase?

But there was no reasoning with a brother complex. Lan didn’t need logic; he only believed what he wanted to believe.

Besides, there was no point in arguing over this. To put it bluntly, Zhou Xiangzhe had recognized him, so why hadn’t Shen Wang recognized Zhou Xiangzhe? Was it just because Zhou Xiangzhe’s appearance had changed after devouring [Deer God]?

Well, that was indeed the main issue.

Back when the Galaxy Orphanage had been swallowed by an S-level pollution source, only two children had survived. One was Xiao Shiwu, who had been undergoing treatment at the hospital during his illness. The other was the only child the director had thrown out of a window. After that, Shen Wang had been nominally adopted by the hospital, and he had never seen that child again.

At the time, the hospital had said the child had been sent to a containment center for treatment. Among humans who had experienced pollution, fewer than one in ten ever left the containment center alive. And he had been so young.

Everyone had assumed the child wouldn’t make it.

Not knowing who he was, not knowing whether he was alive or dead, and being confined to the hospital for so long, Shen Wang had long since considered him dead.

Suddenly learning that Zhou Xiangzhe was the Xiao Qi from his past left Shen Wang with a complicated mix of emotions. He was even a little overwhelmed.

Letting out a soft sigh, Shen Wang pulled out his phone and sent a message to Ming Guang.

The reply came almost instantly, the notification sound ringing out so quickly that it felt like Ming Guang had been waiting by his phone.

“That was fast.”

Shen Wang muttered to himself as he opened the message.

[Shen Wang: Is Zhou Xiangzhe going to the S-district? Once he’s settled, can I visit him?]

[Ming Guang: Here’s the address for the S-district. Come after 8 a.m. tomorrow, and I’ll meet you at the entrance.]

“If you wanted to know the S-district address, you could’ve just asked me,” Lan said, leaning over. “I know everything.”

“But if I only asked you, I wouldn’t be able to explain how I knew the S-district’s location,” Shen Wang replied calmly as he typed out a response to Ming Guang. “Your guerrilla game isn’t over yet, and my spy game is still ongoing. Let’s not both fail before we even start.”

Lan had no choice but to retreat.

“I’m going to the S-district tomorrow to see Zhou Xiangzhe and also to ask about the [The Hidden God Incident]. What are you planning to do after this?”

Lan thought for a moment, his silver-purple eyes staring blankly ahead as if he were looking at something—or perhaps nothing at all.

After a few seconds of silence, he finally spoke.

“The precognition book hasn’t given me any new information. I’ve asked it, but it’s not answering. It seems to be on strike.”

Shen Wang: “…”

He couldn’t tell if Lan was joking or being serious.

The next morning, Shen Wang headed out. The spring morning breeze was still chilly, so he added an extra layer to his outfit.

Lan, holding his book, saw Shen Wang off, his expression clearly conveying the sentiment of “my dear brother is off to see that brat again.”

Once Shen Wang’s figure had completely disappeared, Lan stood at the door and reopened his book.

“The recent messages are so disorganized. Can’t you sort them out before telling me?”

“Who can make sense of this mess?”

“Is it my comprehension that’s lacking? Listen to what you’re saying—if you were clearer, would I even need to say this?”

“And why isn’t the Academy of Sciences’s news highlighted in bold red?”

Before Lan could get an answer, footsteps echoed from the stairs. Song Chen, a neighbor who had pulled an all-nighter, walked up, his eyes glazed over.

Seeing someone standing at Shen Wang’s door, Song Chen instinctively greeted them.

“Good morning, and congratulations on returning safely… huh?”

Song Chen’s foggy mind finally registered that the person in front of him didn’t seem to be his neighbor, Shen Wang.

His neighbor Shen Wang was a young, good-looking man. Though his behavior could be a bit unconventional, he appeared gentle and harmless—someone everyone would assume was a kind-hearted person. If Song Chen hadn’t witnessed Shen Wang threatening a domestic abuser with a gun, saying he’d break the other leg if he made another sound, he wouldn’t have believed it either.

Now, the person standing at the door was also good-looking, but in a completely different way.

Gloomy, silent, with black hair, black eyes, and a long black coat. Meeting his gaze felt like being pushed into a freezing lake in the middle of winter, with an overwhelming sense of oppression and unease.

Song Chen shuddered, feeling suddenly wide awake despite having gone without sleep for a full day and night.

“Uh, hello?” Song Chen asked. “Are you new here?”

“New here?” Lan turned to look at the room next to Shen Wang’s.

Since the previous tenant had been scared off by Shen Wang—even paying out of his pockets to move out—the Pollution Control Center had repaired the door Shen Wang had kicked in, and no new tenant had moved in since.

Lan pondered seriously. “That’s actually a good idea.”

“What?”

“I said yes,” Lan replied, turning back to Song Chen. “We’ll be neighbors from now on. Please take care of me.”

Song Chen watched as Lan turned and walked downstairs, completely baffled. After Lan left, Song Chen pulled out the pollution detector that every security team member carried.

The environmental pollution level was only 8%, within the standard range. Not a pollutant.

Song Chen breathed a sigh of relief, stretching lazily. With his nerves relaxed, he quickly felt the exhaustion creeping back in.

“Better get some sleep. I finally got three days off—gotta make the most of it.”

/

The Pollution Control Center had a dedicated train connecting to the S-district, but proof of authorization was required to board it.

Ming Guang had already taken care of everything. All Shen Wang needed was to wear his [Polaris] badge, which granted him access to all restricted areas.

When Shen Wang arrived at the entrance to the S-district, Ming Guang was already waiting for him.

“You’re here,” Ming Guang greeted him with a wave and led him inside.

This was Shen Wang’s first time entering the S-district, an area publicly known as a “hospital for high-pollution mutants.” It was completely different from a normal hospital.

They walked down a cold, sterile corridor lined with patient rooms. In the distance, an unidentified scream echoed. Medical staff in protective suits moved silently between the rooms, their movements precise and regimented. The atmosphere here was even more stringent than that of a containment center.

“Given the special circumstances, he doesn’t need to be forcibly isolated. But since he’s still an S-level mutant, he can’t be placed in a regular area either.”

As Shen Wang stepped into the S-district, he felt an inexplicable sensation. He was highly sensitive to pollution, and yet the pollution level inside the S-district was astonishingly low.

It was even more extreme than the isolation rooms in the containment center.

At a corner, Shen Wang spotted a hanging pollution detector displaying the pollution level of the area—a shocking 0.

Ming Guang noticed Shen Wang’s gaze.

“The founder of the S-district is the only S-level mutant affiliated with the Academy of Sciences, with the ability [Safe House].”

“He can create a completely pollution-free district within a sea of contamination. In such an environment, a mutant’s pollution level will temporarily stabilize.”

Shen Wang was surprised. “I’ve never heard of this.”

“That’s because [Safe House] has been in a deep sleep for many years due to his high pollution level,” Ming Guang explained. “To maintain the S-district’s operations, he forcibly sealed himself in a dormant state at a pollution level of 98%. It’s unlikely he’ll ever wake up.”

As they crossed the corridor, they reached another guarded door. Ming Guang handed his credentials to the guard, who inspected them before allowing them to pass.

Ming Guang thanked the guards and led Shen Wang inside.

As he put his credentials away, he said, “I’ve already coordinated with the S-district’s management. Zhou Xiangzhe will be here for about a week. Next time you come, you can use your credentials to enter directly without going through the procedures.”

Shen Wang was surprised. “Me?”

“Yes,” Ming Guang nodded. “You can visit him more often.”

Shen Wang didn’t ask why.

He realized that, as the only person who knew about Zhou Xiangzhe’s past, Ming Guang might also be aware of their connection.

They walked down another cold corridor and entered a new area. This section was much quieter than the previous one, with fewer medical staff. Some of the rooms were empty, while others housed individuals with severe mutations—some barely recognizable as human.

“This is the ward for high-level mutants,” Ming Guang said. “Those ranked B and above are placed here, with better security and protective measures.”

A B-level or higher mutant turning into a pollutant would be a disaster. To control this, the S-district had to fortify this area like an impenetrable fortress.

They walked all the way to the end, and Ming Guang let out a soft sigh.

“We’re here.”

He entered the password on the wall-mounted screen and instructed Shen Wang to memorize it. After inputting the password, the wall in front of them slid open like a door. However, what lay beyond wasn’t a passageway or a room—it was a solid, transparent wall.

The person inside noticed the movement and turned to look.

Zhou Xiangzhe looked the same as always, except his black combat uniform had been replaced with a white casual outfit. His silver hair cascaded over the white fabric, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. He wasn’t restrained by any devices, only the decorative pollution suppressors scattered across his body.

He stood up and walked to the transparent wall, the suppressors on his wrist clinking together as they dangled.

It added a strange, almost artistic flair to his presence.

“He’s here to see you,” Ming Guang said, leaving the two of them alone.

Zhou Xiangzhe’s golden eyes reflected Shen Wang’s figure. Neither of them spoke.

Finally, Shen Wang broke the silence. “Do you want some candy?”

He pulled out the last piece of candy Zhou Xiangzhe had given him in the gallery, the one he hadn’t eaten yet.

Zhou Xiangzhe’s eyelashes fluttered slightly at his words, as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh.

In the end, he shook his head. “The S-district has a unified diet plan. No outside food is allowed.”

“Besides, the candy was for you.”

Shen Wang thought: Yes, the candy was for me. You brought me so much candy, and you still remember how I once choked on a piece, so you never gave me too much at once.

Even after all this, you still didn’t tell me who you are.

Is it because you’re hiding something, or is it me?

Then Shen Wang fell silent again.

Because he suddenly realized that maybe he was the one who was hiding.

Xiao Shiwu from Galaxy Orphanage had disappeared into the hospital. A C-level pollutant had attacked the hospital, causing massive casualties, and Shen Wang had gone missing for three years. When he returned to Central City, he had changed his identity to avoid questioning, never imagining that Zhou Xiangzhe was Xiao Qi.

…Could it be that Zhou Xiangzhe didn’t acknowledge him because of this?

“You can ask me,” Shen Wang said, looking at Zhou Xiangzhe. “If it’s you asking, I’m willing to explain.”

Zhou Xiangzhe remained expressionless, his emotions still muted. From the first day Shen Wang had met him, Zhou Xiangzhe had always been calm, rarely speaking or smiling. He seemed cold, but there was warmth in his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Zhou Xiangzhe replied.

“I’m willing to trust you.”

The Xiao Qi who had endlessly indulged him as a child had grown up. Now, he was Zhou Xiangzhe, who still endlessly indulged him.

Life had come full circle, and the person he thought he’d lost had returned.

/

In the end, Shen Wang didn’t bring up the past. He chatted with Zhou Xiangzhe for a while longer, but the visitation time passed quickly. When the staff came to escort him out, Shen Wang had no choice but to say goodbye and leave.

He returned to the Pollution Control Center to update his ability records and remembered to investigate the [The Hidden God Incident], so he stayed a little longer.

As a high-ranking member of [Polaris], he had access to the Pollution Control Center’s database.

Inside, Shen Wang still couldn’t find specific information about the [The Hidden God Incident], but he did discover a year designation called [Divine Disappearance].

Shen Wang read through all the available information.

[Divine Disappearance]: A year designation, specifically referring to Year 8 of the Apocalypse Calendar, 22 years ago.

As a year designation, it naturally had a defining event, which was meticulously recorded in the archives.

In Year 8 of the Apocalypse Calendar, the world had just begun to build high walls. However, outside the walls, there were still displaced humans and countless pollutants, including terrifying S-level pollutants that had emerged at birth. Even though humanity had S-level mutants, they were stretched too thin to constantly monitor these S-level pollutants.

It was in this year that an inexplicable major event occurred.

Overnight, all S-level mutants and S-level pollutants vanished without a trace. With these greatest threats gone, humanity accelerated the construction of the high walls and the rescue efforts for those outside, quickly stabilizing the basic order.

Afterward, humanity concluded: This inexplicable event was the most critical factor in allowing humanity to stabilize.

Thus, it was named [Divine Disappearance], and Year 8 of the Apocalypse Calendar became known as the [Year of Divine Disappearance].

“Inexplicable?” Shen Wang looked at the records. “It seems more like it was deliberately hidden.”

“How did the Pollution Control Center manage this?”

…

Lan felt it was necessary to live near his brother’s house to prevent him from being deceived.

He thought this neighbor’s idea was great—he was now the new resident living next door to his brother!

Now he was going to claim the house at the Pollution Control Center. No matter what, he couldn’t let anyone else be assigned there. So Lan headed straight to the Pollution Control Center.

The Pollution Control Center didn’t allow ordinary visitors; only mutants and staff could enter. But who was Lan? He could come and go from the S-district as he pleased. The Pollution Control Center headquarters was nothing to him.

“So, where’s the department in charge of housing assignments?”

“How can you, as a precognitive ability, not even know this?”

“Fine, I underestimated you. But now I need to live next to my brother.”

In the end, Lan still managed to find the department.

Forging an identity for himself was too much trouble, so Lan didn’t complicate things. He simply marked the room next to Shen Wang’s as “unassignable” and noted that it was occupied by a dispatch team member.

Dispatch team members regularly left the city to deal with pollutants outside the walls, which would explain his frequent absences.

After completing the forgery, Lan left the office. Just then, a group of staff in white lab coats walked past.

As they passed by, Lan suddenly stopped and turned to look at them.

“Huh?”

Lan stood there calmly, still dressed in his sack-like outfit, his black hair tucked under a dark hood. His silver-purple eyes marked him as abnormal, but the staff acted as if they didn’t see him at all.

His ability, [Concealment], was a pollution ability he had taken from a dodder plant. It allowed him to hide his presence, making him unnoticeable no matter where he was.

It was thanks to this ability that he had entered the S-district and now walked boldly through the headquarters of the Pollution Control Center.

At that moment, his precognition book kept sending him prompts, urging him to pay attention to the group of staff in white coats.

Lan watched them leave, then glanced at the blank book in his hand.

He closed the book and followed them.

The staff chatted about their work as they walked, completely unaware of the strange figure trailing behind them.

“How is it? Any improvement?”

“No, the pollution level is still at 98%. We can only prevent it from rising further, but we can’t reduce it.”

“If he hadn’t put himself into a dormant state…”

“It’s been so many years. Will we ever find a solution?”

“We have to. If something happens to him, it won’t just affect him—it could destabilize the entire world.”

“For now, let’s stick to the usual routine. Ensure his safety first, and we’ll figure out the rest later.”

The Pollution Control Center held many secrets, such as its covert dealings with the Academy of Sciences and the fact that its headquarters was equipped with isolation facilities similar to the S-district, including a massive freezing chamber.

The staff changed into protective suits and entered the most secure freezing chamber.

Inside the chamber lay a crystal coffin, and within it was a young man with his eyes closed.

Half of the young man’s face and body had mutated. Beneath his translucent skin, blood vessels pulsed visibly. Half of his hair had turned a withered white, and one side of his body looked as if it had been forcibly fused with a fish tank, complete with tiny red tadpole-like creatures swimming inside.

A chilling aura surrounded him, and the freezing chamber was kept at an unbearably low temperature. Yet, despite this, he wasn’t dead—just in a deep slumber. Occasionally, his chest would rise and fall slightly with his breath. However, due to the cold, the red tadpoles inside his body moved sluggishly, unwilling to swim.

“Condition stable, pollution level stable,” one of the staff members noted as they recorded the data.

“What about the temperature? Can it hold? Should we lower it further?”

“I think it can hold for a while longer. The pollution source inside his body has low activity.”

“Understood.”

After recording the data, the staff sighed in unison at the results, which were almost identical to the last check.

The young man had lain here for over a decade, unchanging. Despite the years, neither the Pollution Control Center nor the Academy of Sciences had found a way to reduce his pollution level. It was as if the world had been frozen in this state.

“What are we going to do in the future?”

“Don’t worry. Mr. Jian handled everything before he went into hibernation. As long as the Pollution Control Center remains stable, he can survive here for decades. Those decades are the time we’ve been given.”

After encouraging each other, the staff left within the allotted time. Unfortunately, they still didn’t notice the stranger among them, nor did they realize that he hadn’t followed them out.

The heavy sound of the security door closing echoed through the chamber.

Lan stood quietly in place, holding his book as he gazed at the figure in the crystal coffin, his silver-purple eyes unblinking.

After staring for a dozen seconds, Lan opened his book.

“I didn’t expect to find a breakthrough here. What a surprise.”

“The [The Hidden God Incident] has remained a mystery because it’s difficult to find people who were involved in it from over twenty years ago. Even the Pollution Control Center and the Academy of Sciences have gone through several generations of staff.”

“But you—you’re a true S-level mutant who lived through that era.”

[Safe House], real name Jian Ruofan, was once affiliated with the Academy of Sciences. He was an S-level mutant who had survived since the beginning of the Apocalypse Calendar. He had experienced the [The Hidden God Incident] but hadn’t died. In the end, as the only surviving S-level mutant, he established the entire S-district and the containment center system, working tirelessly until his pollution level became uncontrollable and he had to resort to other measures.

Lan flipped through the book, black symbols moving across the pages and flowing into his pupils.

It turned out that Lan was actually quite talkative. He just didn’t like talking to people or pollutants. He preferred talking to himself.

“The S-district and the containment centers were built based on his ability. Impressive.”

“The only S-level mutant from the early days of the apocalypse, so he worked himself to the brink, and his pollution level skyrocketed with no solution.”

“A key figure in the [The Hidden God Incident] and its sole opponent… huh?”

Lan flipped back a few pages, carefully rereading the text.

“Year 6 of the Apocalypse Calendar: The Academy of Sciences proposed the [Divine Disappearance Plan], which aimed to eliminate all S-level pollutants to allow humanity to recover safely. This plan was strongly opposed by Jian Ruofan, who believed it would deplete too much combat power and was ill-advised at the time.”

“Year 7 of the Apocalypse Calendar: The Academy of Sciences refined the [Divine Disappearance Plan], arguing that S-level pollutants had reached a point where they threatened humanity’s survival.”

“Year 8 of the Apocalypse Calendar: The Pollution Control Center and the Academy of Sciences reached an agreement for the first time, approving the [Divine Disappearance Plan].”

At this point, Jian Ruofan’s support or opposition no longer held any practical significance. He could only go with the flow, swept along by the tide of the times.