Chapter 29

The other party showed no reaction, slowly walking back from the window step by step until it reached Horne’s side. It leaned in to stroke his face, but it didn’t even touch him before Horne grabbed its wrist and twisted it with a sudden burst of force—he knew it was futile, but he followed up with a punch right away.

He unleashed every ounce of strength to vent the hatred he’d buried for years, choking its neck until the other’s face turned bright red.

Bang! The door was smashed open, and several humanoid aliens rushed in. They pulled Horne away, trying to subdue him, but they had underestimated him. With a cold face, he punched the face of the one in front, then swept his leg out horizontally, kicking two more backward.

It calmly stood up, coughed several times, and watched the chaotic fight before it with cold eyes.

The aliens’ control over human bodies was imperfect; they couldn’t fully control someone like Horne. In less than half a minute, the guards reverted to their alien forms, leaped into the air to evade, and attacked from all directions until a sharp spike pierced Horne’s arm and another stabbed through his thigh. He let out a muffled grunt of pain as blood flowed down his arm and dripped to the floor.

The aliens shifted back to humanoid forms. Several of them grabbed his arms and pressed him to the ground, forcing him to bow before the alien’s sculptural idol.

Horne coughed violently, the taste of blood surging up his throat, his wounds aching unbearably from being gripped.

This approach was no good. Every time he saw an alien, he lost control, his mind going blank, always failing just like the countless times before—failure after failure! He couldn’t stay calm.

Horne gritted his teeth, not letting any sound escape through them.

Footsteps approached. It crouched down, meeting Horne’s gaze levelly, looking into the deep hatred in his eyes.

It said, “I have a new name now. It’s Ais.”

Horne struggled once, and the people behind him kicked him in the head.

His vision went black for a moment, his whole brain buzzing as he vomited blood.

Ais looked up and warned the guards, frowning slightly. “Go easy.”

It reached out and finally stroked Horne’s face without restraint, starting with a light caress before its two fingers dug in forcefully, pressing into his cheek and forcing him to look up and meet its gaze.

In those eyes was always resolve and unwillingness, never giving up or surrendering.

Horne jerked his head away and cursed angrily, “Get lost!”

But that hand wrapped around again quickly. Ais’s gaze traced Horne’s face carefully as it smiled and said, “To be honest, I was really grateful when you saved me back then. Humans didn’t trust me, and I was in pain too. At that time, only you spoke up for me. Haha, a kid in his early teens speaking up for an alien.”

“Get lost!” Horne didn’t want to hear it; that was the stupidest thing he’d done as a child.

“Back then, I really wanted to have you, but I didn’t understand how an alien could bond with a human. Now I do.”

Horne never imagined hearing such words; his face changed instantly.

All the disgust and hatred turned into a vicious sentence: “Being liked by an alien—truly the greatest failure as a human.”

Ais let out a hum of laughter, slowly standing up and pacing in front of Horne. It raised its voice and said, “Do you know? I really hate humans, this species that pretends to be so great. In truth, they’re lives in the universe that don’t even qualify as dust. Perhaps, on a cosmic scale, they don’t even deserve to be called life. Yet they always blather on about their spirit, their unity, their thoughts, thinking themselves supreme while other species aren’t worthy.”

Laughter echoed.

“A species that’s arrogant and conceited yet pretends to be humble.

“Oh, of course, humans’ flesh is so fragile that they tirelessly praise the greatness of the spirit. Otherwise, how would they satisfy their frail vanity? I know that when I say these things, you want to refute me. After all, if you don’t, how can you defend the worldview you’ve already built?”

It walked slowly away, then returned to stand before Horne, tilting its head up with a face full of smiles. “The collapse of viewpoints means an attack on their beliefs in survival. How could humans bear being attacked? They’d rather deceive themselves into proclaiming their species’ greatness.”

Horne struggled fiercely, but any movement made blood pour quickly from his wounds. He gritted his teeth and said, “You’re not human, so what the hell do you know! Humans are united by nature.”

“Oh? United?” Ais suddenly turned around. It took two quick steps forward and knelt down very close to Horne, staring straight into his eyes and lowering its voice. “Back then, did you think the same? It was I who saved you—don’t you remember? Selective forgetting, selective self-deception?”

It was too close; those hollow echoes vanished instantly.

What did it mean? Horne held his breath.

“Never mind, it doesn’t matter,” Ais said with a smile. It let go of Horne, clapped its hands, and stood up. “Though I don’t know how you survived until today, now you should see it more clearly.

“You can see how humans grow weaker step by step, tamed into exactly what we want them to be. Look at those humans outside the Tower District—they bustle about with their own lives, making money, living, entertaining themselves. Do you think they’re living for themselves? No, no, no. They live by the rules set by the Tower, living for the Tower. They think they have choices, but they don’t. And then they say: ‘One can’t be too smart if they want to live.’

“Not only that, they live in layer upon layer of fear—of themselves, of others, of the environment. The people crowded around them—you think they’re family, friends, lovers? No, no…”

Ais’s voice suddenly dropped into darkness. It leaned close to Horne’s ear in a whisper: “They’re a cage.”

With that, it burst into laughter, adding fragmented words amid the laughs: “The alien leader once only required them to wear masks, and they imprisoned each other of their own accord. Hahaha, isn’t that interesting? Over these decades, my favorite thing has been observing humans.”

Horne’s breathing quickened. Suddenly, he erupted with full force, breaking free of his restraints and swinging a fist at Ais’s face. Right after, his abdomen took a hard kick, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Ais strode over quickly and pinned Horne down, slipping its hand inside his clothes to grope around for a moment before sounding a bit surprised. “You came to the Tower alone without bringing a weapon?”

Horne didn’t answer it.

When he’d gone to see You Wenjie, You Wenjie had told him, “Mr. Horne, I know this is safer, but I still don’t recommend bringing a laser gun to the Tower. Moreover, please don’t bring any weapons. If you encounter danger, you can send a distress signal directly to me or Mr. Hels via the terminal.”

He hadn’t understood why at the time, but now he did.

In the aliens’ eyes, humans were fragile creatures; they didn’t need rebuttals.

At the same time, he vaguely guessed that Hels probably had informants inside the Tower and perhaps had relatively positive dealings with the aliens.

Horne was subdued again. This time, he didn’t struggle anymore. Instead, he spat out a mouthful of blood and gritted his teeth to ask, “So? What’s the point of all this effort to find me? What do you want me to do?”

Seeing that Horne had finally stopped circling the issue, Ais signaled the guards to release him.

The moment he was freed, Horne nearly collapsed to his knees but shakily stood back up.

With its back to Horne, Ais gazed toward the plaza center not far away and softly asked, “Do you know Hels?”

Horne froze for an instant, not expecting Hels’s name to come up in their conversation.

“None of your business,” Horne replied coldly.

“A very troublesome madman.” Ais wasn’t interested in Horne’s answer; it just lowered its tone and emphasized each word when mentioning Hels.

“So?”

Ais turned around, a trace of disdain appearing on its face. “You should know humans can’t leave the city gates, but we previously detected Hels’s Resident Chip in the Frost Plains—even if only once, and only for a few seconds—we still captured it. The gates are always guarded; he couldn’t have gone out through the only ones.”

Ais looked at Horne, who turned his head away to avoid its gaze.

“In Loch City, there’s a path I don’t know about leading to the Frost Plains,” Ais said softly. “I can’t find out what he was doing there or pinpoint the exact location.”

Horne sneered. “You monitor humans’ resident chips too?”

“No, only his.”

“Oh,” Horne replied curtly. “You’re afraid of him, then?”

Ais approached Horne again, and Horne took a step back, not wanting it so close, but Ais’s voice was still very near.

“Go investigate this for me…

“And then kill him.”

Horne fell silent, not speaking for a long time.

Night had deepened. The wind outside couldn’t penetrate the castle; the entire space held only the quiet flow of air, mingled with a faint bloody scent from Horne’s wounds.

After a moment, Horne said flatly, “Looks like you don’t need the mask technology anymore.”

“We once did, but not for long.” At this, Ais’s tone rose again, its face openly displaying a mocking smile. “Have you seen what humans are like now? Degenerate, decadent, despondent, suspicious of each other, even killing one another—utterly without conscience. We’ve made enough use of Hels…

“Do you know why the Tower let him be for so many years?”

Horne remained silent, pressing his increasingly painful wound tightly. He said coldly, “No idea. Not familiar with him. You have no right to negotiate terms with me. I won’t do anything for aliens.”

Ais laughed. “Still don’t get it? This isn’t negotiation; it’s my unilateral demand.”

With that, it turned its head and signaled the people behind Horne.

A noisy dragging sound followed.

Horne turned his head. When he saw the scene behind him, his brain went boom, and he froze in place without a word.

No wonder he couldn’t reach them.

Ains sat bound to a chair, unconscious all around her.

Horne instantly clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “What the hell is this?”

Ais’s smile made it look quite gentlemanly. “Of course, a small bargaining chip. If you think this little girl’s life is irrelevant, then…”

It walked to the window and glanced at Horne.

A force from behind shoved Horne forward two steps hard, dragging him to the window as well.

From here, he could see half of the Tower District’s structures. As Horne had imagined last time, the Tower District was divided into eastern and western zones, separated by a plaza in the middle with the Obelisk standing at its center. At the top, particles flickered.

1998:43

Ais’s voice was clear and distinct, lingering in his ears.

“You must have seen it when you came in. I’m sure you’re very curious what that countdown is. Let me tell you…”

It paused.

Horne’s hands clenched until his veins bulged. Suddenly, he heard a very distant voice, so far it seemed like a dream.

“After over a hundred years, my kin are about to descend.”

Horne closed his eyes and held his breath, as if one more breath would advance time by a second.

Humans would never have a chance to turn things around.

“However,” Ais continued, “I’m willing to give you a choice. Three months from now, Loch City can remain a human city. You can keep living here, and the aliens won’t interfere—until…

“Humans are completely extinct.” It said softly.

Like thunderclaps, Horne heard countless explosions in his mind.

Ais sighed indifferently and shrugged. “It all depends on you. I can only tell you this: within ten days, I want your response. Otherwise, this little girl’s corpse will first be hung at the Tower District’s main gate—of course, not just hers.

“If you make the right choice, that countdown is just for my kin’s arrival. Otherwise, it’s the death knell for humanity.”

Horne’s fingers nearly dug into his flesh; he used the intense pain to mask his raging fury.

After a moment, he sneered. “That’s just how you aliens operate.”

Ais wasn’t angered by Horne’s mockery and only smiled. “I didn’t want to trouble you, really, but Hels is just too strange.”

It walked behind Horne, its voice drifting backward. “Every alien we sent never returned. Even the humans we turned as spies, he quickly saw through. I personally tried assassinating him once and failed. He always escapes. That man is too smart—too smart to be left alive.”

“Then why do you think I can succeed?”

“Of course I don’t think you’ll definitely succeed. Even if you fail, it’s expected.” Ais turned back around, returning to stand before Horne, facing him. “But right now, no one’s more suitable than you. Before you get close to him, look into what he’s done before. I’m sure you’ll be happy to kill him.”

Horne only felt his temples throbbing wildly. He regretted not bringing his laser gun; otherwise, he would have blown Ais’s head off with a single shot.

Suppressing his killing intent, Horne smiled on the surface and said ambiguously, “I’m more curious about what exactly happened to make you all so wary of him. Hels is just a human. Don’t you think you’re… fearing him a bit too much?”

Ais did not answer Horne’s question.

“Now, the fate of humanity is in your hands, and the Tower only wants Hels’s life. Since you’re not close, it should be an easy choice between all of humanity and him, right?”

All the way back, those words echoed in Horne’s mind, like a venomous snake burrowing relentlessly into his brain.

He limped slowly along. The midnight wind blew, sobering him completely. The streetlights glowed pale white, with shadows lurking behind the pallor, like a cracked oil painting.

In a little while, dawn would break.