Chapter 32

The competition had entered its white-hot phase. More and more kids were being eliminated, leaving fewer and fewer contestants in the arena. The player list on the Hall’s massive screen now showed only a sparse few rows, but the scrolling scoreboard climbed ever higher. The remaining contenders were Liang Wangyou, Jin Shu, Rong Jin’s child, two little Omega girls, and one little Beta boy.

In this match between Jin Shu and the Beta boy, Jin Shu had started teasing the solemn-faced little boy even before the bout officially began. The boy responded with two solid punches to his body—perfectly legal moves. Jin Shu only laughed harder. When the match finally started, both kids displayed impressive strength, trading fierce side kicks in a relentless offensive barrage. Jin Shu lost. The little boy pulled him to his feet, his small face stern as he asked if his butt hurt.

It did hurt—a lot. The boy huffed and walked away. Jin Shu hopped and skipped back down to Wen Yan’s side. “Uncle Wen, hello!”

“The Dance King was amazing today,” Wen Yan praised first, then wiped the sweat from his brow. “Tired? Want some water?”

“Not tired, not thirsty. Thanks, Uncle.” Jin Shu waved to his Omega mother. She looked so gentle, dressed in an elegant, classic black gown. Wen Yan glanced over, and they exchanged smiles and greetings. Jin Shu plopped down beside him. “Uncle Wen, I’ll sit here with you. Waiting for Wangyou to win the trophy so I can touch it.”

Because of this loss, his score had dropped two places. First place was now out of reach.

“Sure.” Wen Yan chuckled. He spotted the referees on the platform tallying scores, figuring the next match would take a bit. He shrugged off his trench coat and draped it over Jin Shu. “You’re cooling down after exercising. Wear this to stay warm for a while.”

Jin Shu looked down at the coat, then grinned up at him. “You’re as nice to me as my mom.”

Wen Yan ruffled his hair. He couldn’t count how many times he’d turned to glance at the second-floor private booth. Who was behind that tea-brown one-way glass? Ever since he’d sat down, a scorching gaze had been burning into his back. Jin Shu noticed he wasn’t turning back and asked, “Uncle Wen, what are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” Wen Yan shook his head.

He couldn’t figure it out. Back in school, he’d had some good friends, but years had passed with no contact. Was it someone who knew him? Who could have such a piercing stare?

The brief rest ended, and the new schedule appeared. Sure enough, Liang Wangyou faced off against Rong Jin’s child. In the elimination rounds, contestants now dueled one-on-one. On the eight-by-eight-meter square arena, the two little Alphas stood opposite each other in white uniforms. With the referee’s command, the first round began.

Both little Alphas charged at once, evenly matched. Liang Wangyou stayed relaxed on defense but reacted lightning-fast. His attacks were merciless. Wen Yan finally noticed that though they were the same height, Liang Wangyou had slightly longer legs. His kicks repeatedly caught Rong Jin’s child off guard, but Liang Wangyou took a hit to the ribs too.

Liang Wangyou narrowly won the first round.

With only a minute’s rest, he returned to his coach, drenched in sweat, listening intently to tactical advice. In the last ten seconds, he twisted his head their way. He flashed Wen Yan a smile first, then spotted the coat on Jin Shu beside him. His brows furrowed, chin lifted in a cold huff… What a possessive little Alpha. Wen Yan laughed aloud. Liang Wangyou pouted. Wen Yan held out his palm and patted the air. Only then did Liang Wangyou’s brows smooth out.

He took the second round without surprise too.

“Ow, ow, ow—if I keep wearing this, he’ll kick me twice!” Jin Shu wasn’t cold anymore. He handed the trench coat back to Wen Yan.

Wen Yan squeezed his warm little palm and took it.

In this five-round format, if Liang Wangyou won the third, his score would pull far ahead of all the remaining kids. He’d be first no matter who he faced next. Wen Yan had to admit, though the trophy didn’t matter, a spark of pride kindled in his heart. It wasn’t that the other children were lacking—his Liang Wangyou was just exceptional.

~~~

The two little Alphas bowed to each other and entered the countdown. Liang Wangyou, confident of victory, waited calmly. But the instant the referee signaled, Rong Jin’s child drove a straight kick right into his chest. Liang Wangyou clutched his chest and toppled backward.

The crowd erupted in shock.

Wen Yan rushed onto the arena. Medical personnel hurried over.

In the second-floor private booth.

The S-level Alpha braced his hands on the wide chair, watching silently, eyes unblinking.

“Chief, should I handle this?” Cheng Zhu asked from behind him.

“No need,” Liang Shijing refused.

Cheng Zhu showed a flicker of confusion.

“Don’t provoke him when he’s throwing a tantrum,” Liang Shijing said flatly.

Cheng Zhu froze, then stole a quiet laugh.

By the time Wen Yan arrived, the medical personnel had surrounded Liang Wangyou and were checking him over. He pushed through, grasping Liang Wangyou’s hand. The boy was still smiling at him. His uniform had been pulled open, revealing a reddened little chest. The medical personnel pressed around it. “Does it hurt to breathe?”

Liang Wangyou nodded.

Next, the doctor listened to his heart and had him move his arms, trying to sit up. As the personnel stepped back, Wen Yan saw Rong Jin had come down too. His child stood nearby, smirking smugly.

“Apologize,” Wen Yan said slowly, rising with an expressionless face. “Whether your child broke the rules or not, apologize to him right now.”

Kicking above the collarbone with the sole of the foot wasn’t right, even if legal. The rules specified below the collarbone. Accidents could be forgiven, but this little Alpha had done it on purpose. Knowing he couldn’t take first, he’d lashed out in frustration. A five-year-old might not know better, but the parent bore responsibility.

“Injuries are normal in competition, aren’t they?” Rong Jin lifted his chin arrogantly. “The secretary will contact you about medical costs later. Don’t waste time—get on with the match.”

“Fine.” Wen Yan nodded firmly and said no more, turning back to check on Liang Wangyou. Through the gaps in the crowd, the boy watched him. Slowly, his mouth crumpled. He cried—not loudly, but with quiet, hiccuping sobs. He’d clearly heard Rong Jin’s words and felt wronged. The moment the medical personnel confirmed no serious injury, Wen Yan scooped him into his arms, blowing gently on his sweat-damp hair and reddened chest.

“Wen Yan.” Liang Wangyou whimpered softly, repeating his name over and over without saying anything else. Wen Yan kissed his forehead. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.”

Earlier, the medical personnel had blocked the view of the competition area from the spectator seats, so no one could see what was happening on the mat or how badly Little You was hurt. Now, as the medical personnel dispersed with their first-aid kits, the omega who had drawn everyone’s attention since entering the venue stood up while cradling Little Alpha in his arms. At the same time, the plainclothes bodyguards hidden among the audience rose to their feet and descended to surround the competition area completely.

“Whenever they’re ready to apologize, that’s when we’ll let them leave,” Wen Yan said coldly, holding Liang Wangyou tight as he stared down Rong Jin and the Little Alpha at his side. He enunciated each word clearly. “Trespassers will be shot on sight.”

He wasn’t asking for anything excessive—just a simple apology. Why was it so hard to get these people to deliver one? The kick itself wasn’t a big deal, but that arrogant attitude? Unacceptable. If they wanted to act all high and mighty, they could do it right here under everyone’s watchful eyes.

Gradually, the murmurs in the hall turned into open whispers. Anyone pulled at random from the VIP seats was a big name in the Capital, yet someone had clearly taken control of the entire venue. This omega looked so gentle and refined, with a face that captivated everyone, but his actions were decisive and ruthless.

The crowd was stunned and didn’t dare make a move. For one thing, the rules for today’s tournament prohibited controlled weapons, and these plainclothes bodyguards weren’t carrying any knives—they had guns, guns that had passed security. That meant special clearance. For another, the organizers had stationed a large contingent from the National Security Office to maintain order. Now those soldiers stood impassively at the passageways, completely ignoring the omega’s lockdown of the arena.

The tall, upright Alpha Officer at their head stood with his arms crossed, casually pacing the passageway.

Wen Yan returned to the front row and settled Liang Wangyou on his lap. Little You clung to his neck and refused to lift his head. Wen Yan cooed soothing words while wiping the tears from his cheeks. Liang Wangyou must have been deeply upset—half a month ago, he’d declared he would take first place, only to be fouled and knocked down in front of everyone. His pride had to be shattered.

Fortunately, it wasn’t anything serious…

“Want me to blow on it some more? No more crying, okay?” Wen Yan murmured gently. Liang Wangyou shed a few more intermittent tears and burrowed deeper into his embrace. “Wen Yan, I’m sorry.”

“Why apologize? You didn’t do anything wrong,” Wen Yan said, puzzled.

But Liang Wangyou fell silent, his red-rimmed eyes fixed on Wen Yan. “Did I lose?”

“No, you didn’t lose. I’ll make sure you get justice. Come here, let me hug you. The doctors will bring the medicine soon—it’ll be okay in just a moment.” Wen Yan held him close and glanced toward the competition area. Rong Jin hadn’t made any rash moves, but his face was ashen. His child was on the verge of tears. Having committed the foul first and now being openly discussed by the crowd, he was in a tough spot. At that moment, the Old Venue Director, a man over fifty, hurried over. He first kindly inquired about Liang Wangyou’s condition, then offered Wen Yan a fair solution.

“According to the tournament rules, Rong Lang’s severe foul disqualifies him. Sir, could you let me mediate? It would allow the other parent to apologize to you and your child.”

Wen Yan knew everyone in the hall was waiting for his decision. He didn’t want to waste their time. He had never been one to act capriciously—if it were just him, he might have agreed, but the victim was Liang Wangyou, so he needed to hear the boy’s opinion.

“Little You, how about they apologize to you?”

Liang Wangyou pursed his lips and said nothing.

“Kiddo, you shared candy with Grandpa the other day,” the Old Venue Director said, crouching down halfway. “Grandpa knows you’re the best kid in our hall. As thanks for that candy, how about we postpone the finals until your chest heals?”

“No.” Liang Wangyou rejected it immediately and turned back to Wen Yan. “Wen Yan, I want to compete right now.”

“Okay.” Wen Yan stroked his head, affirming his choice.

“What if I don’t get first place? Can I sleep with you tonight?” Liang Wangyou asked suddenly. He added, “I want to sleep with you.”

“Sure.” Wen Yan answered even more firmly.

Liang Wangyou grinned happily, slid off his lap, adjusted his uniform, tightened his belt, and walked step by step toward the competition area. The bodyguards parted to let him through. He said something to one of them, and soon all the bodyguards stepped back, escorting Rong Jin down as well. The tournament announcer resumed, even though the Little Alpha who had kicked Liang Wangyou now had his score wiped clean.

The referees returned to their positions. Suddenly, a lone clap rang out, followed by two, then three, until thunderous applause filled the hall. The new round began. This time, after the referee’s command, Rong Jin’s child didn’t rush in immediately, but Liang Wangyou moved fast. He didn’t use any Taekwondo strikes—instead, he charged straight ahead, swept the other boy’s legs out from under him, and in a blur no one could follow, locked in a Cross Armbar to dislocate his right arm.

The crowd was dumbfounded, and even Wen Yan shot to his feet from his seat. A piercing wail of agony echoed through the entire venue!

On the mat, Liang Wangyou looked down at the Little Alpha writhing on the ground and moaning in pain. “Sorry, I fouled.” Then, without a trace of remorse, he walked off the mat. The scene erupted into chaos again—some in the audience shouted accusations, others whistled, and some applauded.

Liang Wangyou returned to Wen Yan’s side, eyes downcast and silent, looking every bit like a child who knew he’d done wrong.

“Who taught you that?” Wen Yan asked stiffly, staring at him. The move Liang Wangyou had used was a Brazilian jiu-jitsu technique—no skill or strength required, just wrapping your legs around the opponent’s thigh and neck, then twisting whatever you wanted. Compared to children’s Taekwondo, it was like comparing a candle to a bonfire. The Liang Wangyou he’d just seen wasn’t the cute, coquettish boy he knew. This one had charged forward expressionless, slammed his peer to the ground with ruthless precision, locked him down before the referee could react, and casually hyperextended the arm…

But then Wen Yan remembered the three videos Liang Shijing had shown him to lure him to Oak Bay. Liang Wangyou could ride horses alone, ski expert slopes by himself—he’d been capable of so much for a long time.

The omega fell silent for a long moment. Liang Wangyou pursed his lips and looked up. “Wen Yan, you’re not petting me anymore.”

Wen Yan was still reeling from the shock deep inside, but upon hearing this, he gently placed his slender white fingers atop the boy’s head. Only then did Liang Wangyou explain, “My father taught me that. He said if I get bullied outside, I should use this move, and not to worry about the rest—he’d take care of it.”

Wen Yan drew a deep breath. “Then why did he send you here in the first place?”

“He said there are lots of other kids at the sports venue, and I should play with them.”

Wen Yan was left speechless for a long moment. Out on the track, Rong Jin made repeated attempts to shove past the bodyguards’ blockade to confront him. Liang Wangyou tugged at his sleeve with a small hand. “Wen Yan, will you still let me sleep with you?”

Without sharing a bed, there’d be no chance to catch a whiff of those pheromones.

“How about another day?” Wen Yan’s gaze flickered. “Tonight, I’d like to have a talk with your father.”

The Old Venue Director was at a complete loss over how to handle the situation. He directed the medical personnel to reset Rong Lang’s dislocated arm and tried to calm Rong Jin down. The audience grew increasingly rowdy, casting aside any pretense of upper-class decorum as they buzzed about Liang Wangyou and Wen Yan’s identities. With the chaos spiraling out of control, the army—who had thus far turned a blind eye—finally stepped in. But their intervention was hardly aggressive; they simply moved through every row and aisle, instructing spectators to immediately shut off their cameras, phones, and other electronic devices.

Just like that, the venue fell silent.

A creaky sound of a door opening echoed from behind. Wen Yan turned to look.