I Really Deserve to Fucking Die

I can go home!

We can go back to Blue Star!

Upon hearing this news, an intense hope suddenly burst forth in Luo Mengjie's tear-blurred eyes.

She desperately broke free from her husband's support, stepped forward, grabbed the Commander's heavy Battle Armor, her voice trembling, carrying a hint of pleading humility.

"Sir! Can... can we see Xiaofan?"

"We have so much to say to him... Please, just let us see him, just once!"

Chen Long also raised his head, looking at the Commander with the same expectant gaze.

However, the Commander remained silent for a moment, and finally, slowly but firmly shook his head.

"Feel sorry."

For the first time, there was a hint of regret in his voice.

"Chen Fan's future, every step of his journey, is personally planned by the White Emperor and the other eight Martial Gods. This concerns the rise and fall of our Human Race for the next ten thousand years."

"This is a top order; no one may interfere, and no one may inquire about it."

"Don't even mention you, even I," the Commander chuckled self-deprecatingly, "Have no permission to know even the slightest detail about his whereabouts."

For Chen Long and Luo Mengjie, the punishment of returning to Blue Star was more like an exile.

Amidst the complex gazes of countless teammates—a mixture of envy, awe, and a hint of pity—they were escorted by two unfathomable bodyguards onto their dedicated Interstellar Assault Ship.

Outside the porthole, the steel fortress they had fought for for years gradually receded into the distance, turning into a speck of light in the Cosmic Dust.

They had no idea what a drastic change awaited them when they returned to the old house on the outskirts of East Sea City, a place filled with guilt and longing.

They had no idea where their son was or what dangers he was facing.

At the same time.

Blue Star, East Sea Martial Arts Elementary School.

Former principal Li Guangming, now an honorary advisor to the East Sea City Education Bureau, stood confidently at the school gate with his hands behind his back.

Before him stood a ten-meter-tall statue of a boy, made of pure gold and gleaming in the sunlight, which was being slowly hoisted and erected by several large construction machines.

The statue's face was unmistakably Chen Fan's!

Li Guangming, with his pregnant belly protruding, spoke animatedly and with great enthusiasm to a group of media reporters who had come to interview him.

"Did you see that? Did you all see that?!"

He pointed at the gleaming golden statue, raising his voice louder than anyone else's.

"Number one on the Myriad Laws Ranking! Chen Fan! He came from our East Sea Martial Arts Elementary School!"

"Back then, he was only eight years old, and I could tell that this child had extraordinary potential and was destined for greatness! I immediately made the decision to promote him from third grade directly to the top class in our elementary school!"

"You could say that," Li Guangming cleared his throat, a sly smile spreading across his face, "That he has achieved what he has today, I deserve at least half the credit!"

East Sea City, South City Old Park.

Under several old Wutong Trees, around a stone table and chessboard, a group of old men were fanning themselves with palm-leaf fans.

Chen Ping picked up a black chess piece, which hovered in the air for a long time without falling. He sighed again; this was the eighteenth time today.

Old Zhang, the chess player opposite him, was displeased. He tapped the chessboard with his palm-leaf fan and said, "Old Chen, let's play chess. Why are you sighing like that? Are you thinking about your grandson who was sent to a special school again?"

"What special school? You make it sound so awful." Chen Ping's eyes widened, but then he slumped down, slamming the chess piece on the board and muttering, "It's just a Training Camp. It's tough, but it's better than being stuck at home."

He said that, but his heart was aching.

Xiao Fan was a quiet child who didn't like to talk much. When he was eight years old, he was diagnosed with autistic tendencies.

Later, he was transferred to another class by the school, and he spent even more time in a daze.

Now he's been taken away by that unreliable teacher, supposedly to some closed "Blue Star Training Camp," and it's been almost a year since then, with no word from him.

I wonder if they've been bullied over there, if they're well-fed, and if they're warmly dressed.

Just then, the giant public Light Screen in the center of the park, which usually displays commercial advertisements, suddenly crackled and the image changed.

The solemn and dignified logo of the Federation Supreme News Channel appeared.

Immediately following, an ancient and dazzling golden scroll filled the entire screen, as if it had fallen from the depths of the universe. At the top of the scroll, two names composed of Daoist runes suppressed eternity.

[First: Chen Fan (Human Race)]

[Second: White Emperor (Human Race)]

"Hey! Old Chen!" Old Zhang, a chess buddy, spotted Chen Ping's Old Zhang eyes and slapped him on the shoulder, shouting, "Look! Your ancestral graves are emitting auspicious smoke! Your grandson's made it big! He's on TV! Myriad Laws Ranking!"

The old friends around them joined in the teasing and good-natured banter.

Chen Ping glanced at it with his cloudy old eyes, waved his hand dismissively, and picked up the chess piece again. "Just a coincidence of names. My son is a quiet, unassuming fellow; he wouldn't have such extraordinary abilities."

However, the news anchor's impassioned, almost distorted voice resounded throughout the park through the loudspeaker.

"A miracle! This is a miracle belonging to our Human Race! This peerless Prodigies, who at only eleven years old has ascended to the top of the Myriad Laws Ranking and suppressed the record of 300,000 years ago, has been confirmed by this station to come from our Blue Star, from our East Sea City!"

East Sea City?

Chen Ping paused slightly, his hand holding the chess piece, a strange feeling rising in his heart.

Won't...

What a coincidence!

The next second, the news feed switched again, showing a file photo.

In the photo, a child of about eight years old is wearing the Training Uniform of East Sea Martial Arts Elementary School. His eyes are calm, but the corners of his mouth are filled with a mischievousness and indifference that are inconsistent with his age.

Even if Chen Ping turned to ashes, he would still recognize that face, those eyes!

"Clatter."

A warm, smooth black jade chess piece slipped from Chen Ping's trembling fingers, bounced a few times unwillingly on the chessboard, and finally rolled to the ground.

He stared intently at the familiar yet unfamiliar face on the Light Screen, his lips trembling, his throat feeling as if it were stuffed with cotton, unable to utter a single word.

The surrounding noise, jeering, and teasing all vanished at that moment.

All the old men fell silent, staring at him in astonishment, then at the Light Screen, their expressions shifting from mockery to utter shock and disbelief.

The East Sea City First People's Hospital, the President's Office.

The doctor who had personally written the diagnosis that the patient had poor perception of the outside world and some autistic tendencies was holding a thermos and staring blankly at the news broadcast on the wall for a long time.

He slowly took off his gold-rimmed glasses and wiped them clean with a velvet cloth.

His gaze swept over the walls of the office covered with certificates of honor, banners, and medals—symbols of authority that he had once been so proud of—but now seemed utterly glaring and laughable.

After a long while, he let out a dreamlike murmur, his voice filled with self-doubt and absurdity.

"I... I diagnosed a future Martial God... with... autism?"

"Hahaha, I fucking deserve to die!"

The doctor suddenly burst into laughter and slapped himself across the face.

Amidst the flurry of activity as his old buddies pinched his philtrum and handed him water, Chen Ping slowly came to his senses.

He did not faint, nor did he burst into tears.

He simply stood up abruptly, pushed away the people supporting him, and then, looking up at the cloudless sky, let out a thunderous laugh.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

The laughter was initially suppressed, but then grew louder and louder, making the sycamore leaves rustle.

As he laughed, two streams of hot tears rolled down his deeply lined cheeks.

"You little rascal... you little brat..."

"They even dared to lie to Grandpa! They hid it... they hid it so well!!"

At this moment, all the worries and heartache transformed into boundless pride and relief.

Just as Chen Ping was experiencing a surge of emotions, a mixture of joy and sorrow, the old-fashioned Personal Computer on his wrist, which he had used for over a decade, suddenly started beeping.

He answered the call with a puzzled look on his face.

A strange yet respectful voice came from inside.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Chen Ping?"

"This is the Federation's Highest Security Committee. We have been ordered to pick you up."

"Your son, Chen Long, and daughter-in-law Luo Mengjie, are on their way back to East Sea City aboard a Federation ship."