Chapter 30: “You’re Doubting Me.”

After Meieruita returned An Luo’s Apprentice Credential to him, he said, “The task is to pick Man-Eating Flower Fruits.”

He kept his word. “I’ll take you after dinner.”

An Luo asked, “Why after dinner?”

“There’s no light on the underground first floor. It gets very dark after nightfall, and even more dangerous, so hardly anyone goes there. Your disguise won’t be easily exposed.”

As soon as An Luo heard “even more dangerous,” alarm bells rang in his mind.

He cautiously glanced at Meieruita, his two conflicting thoughts tugging painfully at each other inside him.

The first thought was, Don’t go—this is absolutely the protagonist’s scheme. Going means ascending to heaven.

The second was, The protagonist probably isn’t planning to do anything to me; this is just normal advice.

Both thoughts had supporting evidence.

The first one went without saying. As the author, An Luo knew too much, which was his original sin. Meieruita definitely wouldn’t let him off. The current gentle approach was just to squeeze out his remaining value. Once An Luo was no longer useful, it would be an instant kill.

Who knew what Meieruita was really thinking? What if he caught him off guard and made An Luo die in the mission? It wasn’t impossible!

After all, up to now, Meieruita didn’t seem particularly interested in the plot’s development—or his own fate.

The second possibility held water too.

If Meieruita had wanted to kill him, there was no need to waste a Contract Scroll to send John away earlier, or to help An Luo control the Curse. He could have just pretended to know nothing.

It mainly came down to the cost of investment.

Meieruita had no reason to make such an obviously losing deal, right?

An Luo wavered between the first and second thoughts, like a seesaw going up and down several rounds, until the scales in his heart finally tipped toward the second.

Life was only once—he had to cherish it doubly!

Even if there was only a one percent chance, An Luo didn’t want to gamble.

Not to mention the odds were a frightening fifty percent!

“You’re doubting me.” Meieruita’s voice was calm as his gray-green eyes turned toward him, and he took a step forward.

An Luo’s throat felt dry. “…Yes, yeah.”

Meieruita stood in front of An Luo. He was seventeen, almost eighteen, already faintly taller than An Luo. His youthful face slowly leaned in.

An Luo suddenly felt like he was walking in the rain with an umbrella— no matter how low he pressed it, icy raindrops still blew in on the wind.

He instinctively stepped back, but Meieruita followed like a ghost, his footsteps eerily silent, like the most adept predator at hiding itself.

An Luo’s back hit the cold stone wall, his breathing unconsciously quickening.

The fragile facade of friendliness, already paper-thin, teetered on the brink of collapse.

Meieruita reached out and slowly removed the mask from An Luo’s face.

His movements were deliberate. An Luo’s face gradually emerged from behind the white mask—softly curved cheeks, slightly rounded eyes, ruddy lips.

Meieruita gazed at An Luo, reminded of the newly hatched chick he had once seen.

Sodden and trembling.

“You don’t trust me,” he said methodically. “From a rational standpoint, that’s very logical.”

“But reality always differs from pure logic.” Meieruita slowed his speech. “The reality is, you need me.”

“I’m the protagonist of this world. You can only rely on me, can’t you?”

“But I don’t want you to feel too uneasy.”

Meieruita stepped back, giving more space, his voice steady. “No need to worry that I’ll make a move on you during this mission, my Creator.”

He smiled. “An Luo, I have other plans for you.”

“If one day I want to kill you…”

His hand slithered like a cold snake from An Luo’s shoulder to his neck.

His broad palm slowly closed around that warm, delicate section of throat. Meieruita closed his eyes, feeling the blood pulsing beneath.

An Luo was extremely tense.

Even though he figured Meieruita probably wouldn’t act here, what if?

Meieruita’s hand didn’t squeeze, but the cool touch still made An Luo feel throttled, his breathing uncontrollably rapid.

Finally, Meieruita released him. His gray-green eyes opened, locking onto An Luo’s.

He said, “If one day I want to kill you, I’ll do it personally, with my own hands, slowly.”

“You’re my Creator,” Meieruita said. “Patricide must be done by me, the protagonist, personally. Those other worthless creations have no right to touch you.”

“So don’t worry.”

Meieruita said softly.

He didn’t need a father.

There was an eternal power struggle between father and son. The father held great power in his youth, but when the son grew strong and vigorous, conflict erupted over authority.

The aging lion refused to relinquish power, yet lacked the strength to defend it.

Visions flashed before Meieruita’s eyes of things he had witnessed.

Fathers beating sons in youth, only to face retaliation from those sons in old age.

An endless cycle, like a farce that never curtained.

An Luo wasn’t much like a father either. Nor like an authoritative Creator, or an unquestionable patriarch. He showed no desire to dominate, control Meieruita, or seize power from him.

But if not a father, what could he be?

Unbeknownst to An Luo himself, he already held the dominant position, wielding the power to control Meieruita.

Perhaps that was An Luo’s innate power as the Creator.

Meieruita reflected on his recent weakness, an involuntary urge to draw close, like a jealous child craving to monopolize An Luo.

He didn’t want this, but he was powerless against it.

So Meieruita decided not to evade anymore. He would rationally confront his inner weakness and instinctive attachment to his Creator, his father.

But one day, when the time came, he believed his attachment would fade, like a grown son’s.

All it took was time and the accumulation of power.

As long as he grew strong enough, with more power and knowledge.

He could surpass An Luo.

Like those vigorous young sons, strong enough to look down on their frail, aging fathers.

No longer looking up, but down.

Then, he would treat An Luo as those sons treated their aged fathers.

Completely overthrowing the mountain weighing on his heart.

Meieruita looked at An Luo, whose eyelashes fluttered anxiously.

Like two black phoenix butterflies beating their wings.

Power transitions always came with blood—that was an immutable law. But Meieruita would minimize the pain.

He stepped back as if nothing had happened. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything.”

Meieruita lifted An Luo’s hand at his side and gently placed the cool white mask in his palm.

Then he let go, his rough palm brushing over the tender skin of An Luo’s hand. An Luo couldn’t help but tremble.

This conflict that didn’t quite feel like one ended just like that. An Luo leaned against the wall, cold sweat breaking out on his back, his legs a bit weak. Meieruita, nonchalant, helped him to the chair and sat him down, patted his shoulder reassuringly, then returned to his desk to read.

An Luo’s false alarm passed, and he recovered after a moment.

He quickly grasped the key point: Meieruita wasn’t planning to act against him on this mission.

That was enough—that was all he wanted.

As for the rest—patricide, killing or not—it wouldn’t affect him at all.

Simple reason: Wasn’t it obvious?

Meieruita would definitely strike after squeezing out An Luo’s value.

He had written the protagonist that way himself—how could he not know?

The culprit knew best what he’d done…

An Luo had been mentally prepared for a long time. Now Meieruita had just laid it out in words, and it was for the future anyway.

No big deal.

Meieruita’s sudden move just now was a bit creepy.

But it was fine.

An Luo recalled Sadako’s face-jump scare and thought Meieruita wasn’t that scary.

At least he was good-looking.

That top-model face, even as a ghost, would be like Nie Xiaoqian—scary, but also alluring.

An Luo patted the goosebumps on his arms, and they soon subsided.

He meditated as usual for a while, still gaining nothing.

Looks like he couldn’t do it alone, An Luo thought. He decided to wait a bit longer, until today’s events passed, the friendly facade patched up thicker and sturdier, then ask Meieruita for help with guidance.

As someone from Flower Country, An Luo was well-versed in the art of muddling through family dynamics.

As a kid, after messing up and getting beaten, he’d cry and lock himself in his room. Come mealtime, Mom would knock and call him to eat. He’d refuse; she’d threaten another beating, and he’d grudgingly go.

Usually, the meal was even more lavish than normal, with his favorites.

One meal, two, three, four—and the incident was forgotten.

So no big deal.

This slightly awkward atmosphere was perfect for that trick.

An Luo didn’t know any other way anyway.

Might as well replicate his childhood coping method.

From personal experience, it was foolproof, always worked.

An Luo recalled Meieruita’s preferences and realized he didn’t seem to have any.

No matter what An Luo made—good or bad—Meieruita ate it calmly.

No pickiness; whatever An Luo fed him, he finished clean.

His expression and movements were the same as when eating black bread.

An Luo racked his brain again, remembering he’d set Meieruita to be indifferent to material things, with food just needing to fill the belly and provide energy.

Uh… free improvisation it was.

Make more variety?

Meieruita heard the door open and close.

He wasn’t surprised.

Even if An Luo seemed soft, he was human. After such blunt threats and intimidation, staying away was the mildest response.

He’d prepared for An Luo to be gone all day.

But unexpectedly, An Luo only left briefly and soon returned.

Followed by the aroma of dishes.

“Dinner time,” An Luo’s voice said calmly.

Meieruita looked up in confusion.

“Come eat,” An Luo urged.

He stood blankly, eyed the unusually lavish lunch on the table, and sat somewhat at a loss by the meal.

“Eat up,” An Luo said.

Watching Meieruita silently pick up his chopsticks, An Luo thought, This trick really works.

No wonder Mom loved using it.

A few more meals, and today’s over.

Perfect!