Chosen: Beyond Fate

“Let’s start with something simple. Name?”

Kong Yebai’s face twitched constantly as he tried to suppress the urge to curse and scream. Finally, he answered in a trembling voice, “L-Li Chunchang.”

Ji Jue raised an eyebrow. “That’s strange. Just before your teammate died, he shouted ‘Mr. Kong.’ Who exactly is that? Or is there no such person? Do you know anything about it?”

“I, I don’t kno—Aaaaah!!!”

“This time, it’s the liver.” Ji Jue’s fingers slid over the wound, kindly stopping the bleeding for him. He lifted the organ up and shook it in front of his eyes. “You should really drink less. Look how fragile it’s become. Here, take it back. Replenish yourself.”

Nearby, Tong Hua, who was hiding and acting as a lie detector, quietly stepped back. Partly to avoid getting splattered with blood, and partly because Ji Jue, once fully immersed in this act, had started radiating an increasingly unhinged aura. Was he... starting to show his true nature?

What kind of cursed feng shui does Cliff City have to produce a potential psycho serial killer like this?

Clearly, forcing the victim to eat his organ to “replenish”[1] was working quite well. After “replenishing” his liver, and calming his liver fire[2] in the process, Kong Yebai became much more cooperative.

He came clean about his name, age, gender, and everything else. In fact, he was so cooperative that Ji Jue, who had been considering changing the man’s gender for fun, even felt a little disappointed that the man showed no trace of iron-willed toughness.

But it also made sense. What righteous person in their right mind would end up in a rotten place like the Heretic Cult?

Once things got going, Ji Jue barely needed to ask questions anymore. The man started confessing smoothly on his own.

Kong Yebai was a forty-one-year-old male Federation citizen, and an Entropy Chosen One. He had joined the Heretic Cult four years before to seek a cure for his condition. This time, he’d entered the Time Ruin to carry out the cult’s mission: obtain a living sample of the Undying Disease and detonate the Time Ruin in Cliff City.

There had been eight others who followed the High Priest’s orders. Since entering the Time Ruin, they had been trying everything to approach the isolation zone of the Undying Disease.

After many arduous efforts, the High Priest had gone deep into the inpatient building, busy doing something unknown, while his followers remained in the outpatient building to serve as support and informants. Sometimes, they lured incoming Chosen Ones into joining them to provide materials for the High Priest. Other times, they eliminated anyone who could interfere with the plan.

Each follower had a clear role. They charged full of enthusiasm straight down a road that led to their own destruction. It was, in a way, quite harmonious.

Of course, Kong Yebai knew very well that this would probably not end well for him, but by then he had already run out of choices. Rather than leaving the cult and waiting for death, he’d decided to gamble. Once the Time Ruin collapsed, the cult would have arrangements in place, and they could escape from Haizhou afterward.

As followers of the Nine Abominations, a cult that worshipped destruction and chaos, the Heretic Cult’s name would send a chill down one’s spine when spoken[3]. The Dragonrite Society also pursued dragon transformation techniques and aberrant corruption, but they took a high-end approach. Even though they caused trouble every day, their operations were relatively limited, and most of their conflicts were still at a fairly advanced level.

In contrast, the Heretic Cult preferred to disguise themselves as other sects or organizations, secretly spreading their teachings, inciting worship of aberrations, or corrupting the foundations of Supreme Benevolence.

Because of this secrecy and disguise, by the time local authorities tracked them down, they had often, quite literally, harvested their followers and fled. The reason they were still able to operate smoothly despite years of crackdowns and being universally hunted, aside from suspected backing from Celestial Beings and certain beings under the Vortex, was mainly the cult’s unique technique.

The cult could alleviate the symptoms of aberration in Chosen Ones, turning severe cases into mild ones, and getting rid of all symptoms from mild cases. This was something no legitimate medical system in the present day could achieve. It worked well, and it worked fast. As for side effects and cost, anyone who had already fallen enough to cooperate with the Heretic Cult was in no position to care about that anymore.

In general, almost everyone who chose their treatment eventually joined the cult, and many even became core members, just like Kong Yebai. As early as four years ago, he had begun suffering the side effects of Entropy corruption. His body had started undergoing elementalization. Without the Heretic Cult, he probably would have lost control and exploded long ago. There was no way he’d still be alive today, running around as someone else’s lackey.

Ji Jue immediately picked up on the inconsistency. “But that doesn’t add up. The Spring City ruins have been sealed off so tightly that not even a fly could get in or out. So how did you manage to enter? Or was it only your team that got in?”

“I... I...” Kong Yebai, who had been spilling everything without reservation so far, hesitated. He stammered, his facial muscles twitching. “Spare me, sir, spare me... I-I’ll even call you ‘Daddy[4].’ if I tell you this, the High Priest will definitely—”

Ji Jue sighed. He looked down at his blood-covered hands, puzzled. “How strange. You’re afraid of a High Priest who can’t even save you, but you’re not afraid of me? Is it because I look a bit kinder than your High Priest?”

“I... He... I...”

Kong Yebai's face twisted in anguish as tears and snot streamed down. Finally, with no other choice, he opened his mouth and revealed the emblem branded onto the roof of his mouth.

It was a lock placed by Mind Core. The moment he tried to give out the core secrets, he could not only no longer speak, he could not even form the thought. If the lock was forced open, he would probably be reduced to an idiot on the spot.

Ji Jue’s face darkened.

What, wanna try a bondage scene with your Ember daddy[5]? Think my Pacifier’s just for show?

As he pondered his next move, an unexpected noise came from outside the door. For a very brief moment, surprise flickered across Ji Jue's face. His expression turned even gloomier.

With a casual wave of his hand, the shackles binding Kong Yebai fell. Ji Jue forcibly draped a white lab coat over him and stuffed the eager, ravenous monster fetus into his arms.

“A patient attacking a doctor isn’t against the rules. You know what you should and shouldn’t say.”

Before the words had even finished leaving his mouth, the door swung open. A smiling monster, his face crisscrossed with surgical stitches, walked in. Its pitch-black eyes, bloodshot and unnervingly bright, swept across the room.

“It's awfully late. Why aren’t you resting? What’s all this racket about? Hm? Why is he here?”

Kong Yebai’s heart pounded. Looking at the face that had once seemed so cruel and terrifying, he no longer felt the slightest trace of fear. Instead, it was as though he had seen a long-lost family member. His eyes were nearly filled with tears.

“I... I...”

“Oh, he’s here to help,” Ji Jue chimed in. He turned back with a small smile. “He was worried we didn’t have experience taking care of infants, so he kindly came to assist, right?”

In Kong Yebai’s arms, the infant just happened to crawl up onto his neck, its sharp mouth hanging right in front of his throat, twitching with eagerness. That nearly made Kong Yebai’s tears spill out for real.

“Y-yes, that’s right.”

Mr. Qian clapped, proud of what he was seeing. “Ah, you’re getting along so well. That’s nice. But don’t delay the real work. It’s time for rounds.”

Ji Jue hesitated. “Now?”

“Yes. We shouldn’t let the patients wait. Do it now.” Mr. Qian nodded firmly, allowing no delay or excuse.

Kong Yebai immediately lowered his head, masking the ecstasy threatening to show on his face. He saw Ji Jue shoot him a cold glance over his shoulder, silently telling him to behave and wait. He rose to his feet. “Alright.”

Following Mr. Qian, Ji Jue pushed the door open and left.

A long, deathly silence settled over the room. Only Kong Yebai and the monster fetus crawling on the floor were left.

He opened his eyes wide, scanning left and right in disbelief, afraid this was some kind of trap. The waves of pain wracking his body and the growing anxiety in his chest had become impossible to endure. Almost instinctively, he got to his feet and started toward the door, but before he could get close, the monster fetus suddenly became alert. Its grotesque grin spread wider as its twisted face slowly turned to stare at him.

A chill ran down his spine. He had lost access to his matrix and blessing, and without any spirit matter to fuel his abilities, he was no match for the monster. Dazed, his thoughts raced, and he remembered how greedily it had devoured his teammate’s corpse earlier.

He turned to look at the surgical instrument trolley. His face twitched once, twice. Finally, he gathered his courage and pulled out a bone saw, gritting his teeth.

His face twisted. He could barely hold back a scream, but the anesthetic still lingering in his system dulled the pain just enough. By the end, every trace of color had drained from his face, leaving him deathly pale.

Half of his arm lay on the table. He cautiously picked up his own severed limb and waved it toward the monster fetus. When he saw the creature’s greedy, starving gaze lock onto it, Kong Yebai could no longer hold back and let out a bitter, desperate laugh.

Without warning, he hurled the severed arm behind him. As the monster fetus lunged after it, he gritted his teeth, forced himself up, and rushed out the door. He ran and vanished into the darkness. Only the ragged sound of his breathing, almost like a strangled sob, reverberated against the distant wails.

Run! Run! Run! I have to run faster!

Kong Yebai had never run so fast. He did not even bother tangling with the ravenous patients converging on him. Staggering, he slammed through the stairwell door and charged upward, as though fleeing from hell.

It wasn’t until he reached the fifth floor that he finally dared to stop. At last, he let out a long breath of relief. His steps grew more and more unsteady. His vision blurred as waves of dizziness washed over him, but he didn’t dare stop. Like a beast, he dragged himself forward across the ground, crawling, screaming, and crying out in agony.

“Mr. Kong?”

Someone in an office seemed to hear the distant, miserable cries. They opened the door to check, and upon seeing his face, froze for a moment before quickly helping him up and bringing him inside.

Under the dim light, his teammates gathered around him. The moment they saw his condition, they all gasped in shock.

“How did you end up like this?”

“You came back alone? Where are Ximin and Mr. Xiu?”

Kong Yebai didn’t even care about taking his medication. He grabbed his teammate’s arm tightly. “Hurry, contact the High Priest. I need to contact the High Priest! Now! Hurry!”

That unknown monster that had appeared out of nowhere was already on the verge of exposing everything the cult had been planning. He had to be eliminated at any cost.

***

In the empty office, the door was pushed open again. Ji Jue rushed back after receiving the message, only to find the office completely empty.

“Just as expected, he ran, huh?”

In the corner, Tong Hua made herself visible again. After witnessing everything, her face had gone completely deadpan.

“Yes, exactly as you predicted,” she replied. Even the self-amputation part had played out almost identically.

“Then let’s clean up,” Ji Jue said, rolling up his sleeves to organize the messy office. “There’s too much clutter. I can’t stand looking at it.”

“Hm?” Tong Hua looked puzzled. “At a time like this, shouldn’t you hurry and track down their base?”

She obediently got up and started tidying. Being around this guy for too long made her feel like her brain was slowly degrading.

“What are these bottles for? Why are they just sitting here?” she asked, looking at a pile of plastic jars and containers on the desk. She had not even noticed when they had been placed there.

Ji Jue glanced at them and waved them off. “I don’t need them anymore. No reason to keep them, just throw them away. Just be careful and wear gloves. Nitric acid and sulfuric acid are corrosive to humans. The lead box next to it originally held CT scan radioactive materials from the hospital. And those empty casings... Just leave them, they’re just empty casings.”

“Oh.”

Tong Hua picked up the box, but something suddenly felt off. She bent down quickly and saw that under the desk, there was an open, empty barrel that she had not noticed before. It looked like... a glycerin container.

Realization struck her like lightning. She turned around in shock and stared at Ji Jue in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you actually made a bomb?”

Ji Jue did not answer. He just smiled.

Tong Hua swallowed hard, her expression slowly stiffening. “Don’t tell me you put the bomb into...”

The smile didn’t leave Ji Jue’s face. In the dead silence, only the countdown on the electronic clock in the corner ticked down to zero.

Suddenly, a massive shock shook the building. A deafening blast, followed by billowing smoke and flames, surged through the Time Ruin, echoing within.

“Yes,” Ji Jue replied.

1. “吃什么补什么” (literally “you replenish what you eat”) is a traditional Chinese folk dietary belief. Its core idea is “like nourishes like”, meaning that consuming animal or plant parts that resemble a certain human organ or function is thought to nourish or strengthen that corresponding organ.

The idea originates from the traditional Chinese medicine principle of “analogical correspondence” (取象比类). According to this theory, foods resemble human organs in shape, color, or properties, and therefore eating them can help replenish the corresponding organ’s qi, blood, or nutritional needs. ☜

2. “肝火” is a term specific to Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM). It refers to an internal “fire” caused by stagnation and transformation of heat in the liver meridian’s qi and blood. This concept belongs to the TCM theory of the five organs and does not refer to the anatomical liver in Western medicine.

It is commonly triggered by prolonged emotional imbalance (such as stress or irritability), irregular diet, or lack of sleep, and can lead to a range of symptoms associated with excess internal heat. ☜

3. Fun fact, the original raw here writes 迎风臭十里 which means “stink up the air for miles.” ☜

4. In Chinese, calling someone “Dad” (爹/爸爸) or saying “I’ll call you ‘Daddy’” in this context is not sexual. It is a form of desperate submission or humiliation, acknowledging the other person’s absolute dominance and begging for mercy. The expression draws on the traditional emphasis on family hierarchy and seniority in Chinese culture, where recognizing someone as a father symbolically places oneself in an inferior position. Here, Kong Yebai is groveling in terror, not expressing affection.

While the Western equivalent "Who's your daddy?" carries a heavy sexual or casual connotation, the Chinese version functions primarily as a generational, hierarchical, and deeply personal attack rooted in centuries of cultural norms. ☜

5. Just to clarify (so that I don’t get cancelled TT), the author wrote 余烬大爹 here which literally translates to “Ember Big Daddy”. ☜