Chapter 93: Night Fishing

The first step of the salvation plan sent from the other side required Su Mingyao to seek out Luo Shang, inform him of the universe’s current crisis, and request his assistance.

Su Mingyao: ??

Why me?

His mind swirled with confusion.

Even though Su Mingyao had done his best in this life to make some amends, improving their relationship slightly over the previous lifetime, things had been utterly rotten between them back then. What good was a marginal thaw?

Shouldn’t this mission have gone to Su Bingyao? Why him, of all people?

Big Bro clearly had a much better rapport with Luo Shang! Sending him to persuade Luo Shang would be twice the result with half the effort, right?

Their explanation ran as follows:

You’re the one who can fulfill Luo Shang’s needs.

Precisely because Su Bingyao, as Big Bro, had always shared a solid bond with Luo Shang—both in this life and the last—he simply couldn’t bring himself to make such a plea.

In the previous life’s plot, Su Shang, the vicious male side character, was destined for all-encompassing suppression: from family, friends, shifts in social standing, and more.

Su Bingyao, thanks to his close ties with Su Shang, had long known exactly who Luo Shang was. He understood and even empathized with the hardships driving his villainy. There was never any deception at play, so the dramatic arc of “unmasking the true face of the vicious male side character Su Shang, renouncing darkness for light, and pivoting to Su Mingyao” never materialized.

Without fulfilling the plot’s demand to oppress Luo Shang, Su Bingyao’s screen time dwindled. He featured a bit more at the story’s outset, when Su Mingyao first joined the Su Family, but amid the later tangles of love and hatred, he was little more than a spectator.

From this perspective, Su Bingyao barely engaged with the plot, meaning Luo Shang had scant need for him.

Emotionally speaking, they couldn’t predict what Su Bingyao’s request might yield from Luo Shang. The man had transcended human limits; judging him through mundane psychology was folly.

A pragmatic, interests-based approach made far more sense.

If Luo Shang intended to keep up the act, Su Mingyao’s presence was indispensable.

He held utility for Luo Shang to exploit.

That gave him the standing to make his appeal.

Shen Changqing possessed the same leverage, of course—but Luo Shang would swoop in to save Su Mingyao from peril, whereas a misstep from Shen Changqing might earn him a death sentence. Better for Su Mingyao to float the idea.

Su Mingyao grasped all this the moment their response appeared, plunging into a prolonged silence.

Luo Shang no longer bothered concealing his supernatural ability around him, but proactively shattering that final veil still felt awkward.

And over something as monumental as saving the world… Was his value to Luo Shang really that high?

Lost in a jumble of thoughts, Su Mingyao’s mood soured.

Yet the world’s end loomed inescapably close. He had to act.

Steeling himself, Su Mingyao set out to find Luo Shang.

Luo Shang wasn’t at the Su Family Villa. Su Mingyao knew as much—if he were, the heart voice would reach him. The villa lay silent, confirming his absence.

Where, then, on this late night? Su Mingyao drew a blank.

He turned to the national team for aid, tapping their intelligence network to pinpoint Luo Shang.

Their tone carried helpless resignation.

“Have us search? The last signal we picked up on Luo Shang came from a deep-sea trench… His companion smashed one of our deep-sea submersibles in the research institute.”

Luo Shang and his allies were behind it, the Special Countermeasures Team had concluded from later intel.

The Special Countermeasures Team Leader remembered it vividly.

For one, the device had cost a fortune; the national reimbursement sum stuck in his mind. For another, the professor overseeing it griped endlessly during claims that his doctoral students faced graduation delays—and now they wailed daily in the lab. Truly pitiable.

Luo Shang wasn’t some travel-constrained mortal. He was a superhuman, free to soar into the heavens or plunge into the depths.

A quick flight upward, a dive downward—surveillance meant nothing, satellites even less.

Human detection had its limits, and Earth brimmed with uncharted realms. Should Luo Shang wander there under cover of night for amusement, good luck finding him.

They wouldn’t.

“If you can’t locate him, how am I supposed to make my pitch?” Su Mingyao noted astutely.

“We’ve got an alternative. Perhaps have Mr. Su Bingyao inquire around.”

“It’s perfectly normal for an older brother to check up on his little brother who’s out all night without coming home—especially since you’ve gotten into trouble before.”

That incident with Su Mingyao had scared Su Bingyao half to death. Ever since then, he’d transformed into a model guardian. No matter how late he worked at the company—even pulling all-nighters until three in the morning—he’d always call Su Mingyao to ask where he was.

However, out of deep respect for Luo Shang, he hadn’t dared send such messages to him yet. Deep down, he probably believed that anyone with ill intentions toward Luo Shang was the one doomed for bad luck.

Su Mingyao did as he was told.

Sure enough, a moment later, Su Bingyao sent over an address.

Su Mingyao plugged it into his search and found it was by a lake on the outskirts of the city.

“He says he’s out night fishing,” Su Bingyao typed. “The odds of catching fish are higher at night because they get sleepy and disoriented, so they’re easier to hook.”

Su Mingyao: “?”

He could buy explanations like higher oxygen levels in shallow waters at night drawing fish up to feed, but fish getting drowsy? What kind of logic was that?

Talk about a weird excuse!