Yu Yan swam two laps around the tank, giving You Fuzhou a full view of his mermaid form from every angle.
The way a mermaid moved through the water was utterly unlike a human’s. With a single flick of that massive tail, it glided as smoothly and brilliantly as flowing silk.
Yu Yan’s tail was especially striking.
At first glance, it appeared pitch-black, like some abyssal sea monster. But as it undulated, faint multicolored glimmers danced across its surface, evoking the aura of some ancient deity.
It was not dazzling or flashy, but imbued with the weight of eons, enduring unyieldingly as it gazed upon the world.
You Fuzhou stared, transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away.
When Yu Yan paused once more before the glass, their gazes locked.
He curved his eyes in a gentle smile. How could he fail to sense that You Fuzhou’s complete attention was fixed on him?
Yu Yan had never imagined You Fuzhou would take to his mermaid form like this. After all, every time those people had forcibly dumped him into a tank, they always sneered that he wasn’t pretty enough—that he looked like a monster.
They excelled at indoctrination from the earliest age. Before his escape, the refrain he heard most often was, “With an appearance like yours, you’d be caught as a monster and burned alive the moment you stepped outside.” They had created him, yet they lectured, “A child born of human and mermaid has never been seen before. You’re a disgrace to humanity and to merfolk alike. Only our kindness keeps you here…”
If Yu Yan hadn’t been this unprecedented human-mermaid hybrid, if he weren’t an S-Class Guide who grasped the truth far earlier than they expected, he might truly have succumbed to self-doubt under their relentless brainwashing.
One’s environment could shape a person profoundly.
Take You Fuzhou, raised among the nobility of the Ares Empire, reaping the privileges of his class. Even when he felt unease at the sight of the powerful oppressing the weak, his thoughts turned to the future—after graduation, perhaps he could find ways to improve things.
Without Rong Yao’s ordeal, You Fuzhou might never have broken so completely with the Ares Empire.
He was only human, after all—not some infallible god.
Absent that incident, he would have weighed his obligations to his father and relatives, who had treated him decently; to the countless others with no quarrel against him, who hadn’t wronged him, and some who had even been kind.
But Rong Yao’s suffering changed everything. Back then, on Ares Planet, You Fuzhou had slammed into wall after wall.
He wanted justice—not merely for those who had nearly harmed Rong Yao and deceived her, but for everyone who had committed such acts.
He confided his intentions to his father, who had always backed him both ideologically and financially. What he received instead was a bitter quarrel that left him shattered.
His esteemed teachers at the military academy, his close friends and classmates—everyone urged him to target only those few culprits. If the anger still burned too hot, they could negotiate compensation. No need to escalate to such extremes.
“Spares where you can,” they said. “No point making waves. Even as an S-Class Sentinel, what you’re demanding is out of reach.”
They reminded him of future collaborations, of the tangled inter-family ties and blood relations. “No need to burn every bridge…”
Was that so?
By the time he consulted the last person and heard yet another round of similar platitudes, You Fuzhou’s fury had cooled into numb disappointment. Like a seedling cruelly forced to grow, he shed his boyish idealism and awoke to harsh reality, seeing through the facade.
After that final persuasion, You Fuzhou simply took Rong Yao, hacked into a small warship from the academy, and blasted his way off Ares Planet.
Later came his recruitment into the Freedom Alliance, his self-made fortune through robbing the rich to aid the poor, and finally, the purchase and refit of this very space carrier…
He trusted no one.
Not the Empire. Not the Freedom Alliance.
You Fuzhou knew their true nature: politicians, every one, prioritizing self-interest above all. For years, the Empire and the Alliance had danced their endless tango because it suited their deals.
And now, two kindred souls gazed at each other across the glass of the tank. In some profound way, no barrier truly separated them.
Yu Yan’s voice, softened and muffled by the barrier, carried a hazy gentleness. “You Fuzhou.”
His eyes curved—not in question, but in quiet certainty. “You like my mermaid form.”
You Fuzhou snapped out of his “so damn cool” daze with a light cough. His gaze flicked over Yu Yan’s bare upper body before jerking away as if scorched, his ears burning red. “Very cool…”
He had never been one for lies. “I figured it’d be like the ones I saw in aquariums as a kid… Never imagined it’d be this cool.”
Every aquarium in the Empire displayed mermaids.
They were status symbols, trophies of conquest and captivity—proof of dominance over races that possessed their own nations, homes, and civilizations.
Mermaids were no mere beasts, but war had reduced them to chattel.
“Because I’m a mongrel,” Yu Yan murmured lowly. “I’m not like the other mermaids… I’m neither fully mermaid nor human.”
You Fuzhou’s brow furrowed at his words. “They called you that?”
Yu Yan met his eyes with evident confusion, as if oblivious to any issue. “What?”
“You said because you’re…”
He faltered, unable to voice the ugly term.
But Yu Yan understood. He tilted his head ever so slightly. Even in his mermaid guise, with its innate overlord’s aura of dominance, he managed an expression of wide-eyed innocence. “Yeah.”
The admission came so naturally that anyone would assume he’d simply heard it too often from childhood—accepted it as truth.
He probably had no inkling of its venom.
That was You Fuzhou’s thought.
“Don’t talk about yourself that way.”
You Fuzhou drew a deep breath and fixed Yu Yan with a solemn gaze. “It’s not a fair label. Being mixed-blood means you get to be both human and mermaid. That’s a strength.”
He paused, then ventured, “You don’t have any diseases from the forced hybridization, do you?”
Yu Yan did, in fact.
But he didn’t say so right away. Instead, he hesitated, his eyes lingering on You Fuzhou.
“What’s wrong?”
You Fuzhou’s worry deepened. “Some severe genetic defect from the clash? Come on out—I’ll get you to a doctor.”
A flicker of warmth stirred in Yu Yan’s chest. “Doctors can’t fix it… I told you, don’t disdain me.”
You Fuzhou didn’t hesitate. “I won’t disdain you.”
Yu Yan continued, “Mermaids have a breeding season every year, from June to September—four months long. When that gene merged with my human side, it didn’t fade. Instead, I get heats every two or three months… They’re agonizing. Medications don’t help.”
You Fuzhou blinked. “…?”
He hesitated. “What’s a heat?”
Yu Yan hadn’t anticipated this particular stumbling block.
He fell silent for half a second, then offered a gentle smile. “It means during that time, I crave mating with my Sentinel—desperately.”
