Chapter 211
Chapter 211: Cub’s Dad, Quit Showing Off—Stop Force-Feeding Me PDA!
Agris’s hand rose again, hovering above Atuya’s face. “Do you really think I can’t bear to hit you?”
“You can,” Atuya said, still as stone. “Hit me. I won’t dodge.”
She even leaned forward slightly, offering her cheek, as if making it easier for him.
Agris’s palm dropped.
It was inches from her skin when it stopped dead.
His eyes were rimmed red. Hatred and unwillingness, resentment and sorrow, twisted together until his expression looked almost shattered.
“Atuya,” he said hoarsely, “I always thought you loved me. That you understood me.”
His voice cracked. “Turns out you don’t.”
“What did I do wrong?” he demanded, the words spilling out like blood. “I’m the Insect Clan’s eldest prince. From the day I was born, the throne was never meant for me. And still, everyone in the entire M31 Star System compares me to Chong Ming.”
“They call him outstanding. They call him the greatest dragon in history.”
“And me?” His laughter was ugly. “I’m just an insect. A low thing that never belongs on a stage. Even as the Insect Clan’s eldest prince, I’m still expected to marry a female insect. I still don’t get to decide my own life.”
“I’m not reconciled,” he whispered. “I want to compete. I want to be better than him. I want Empress Mother to see me.”
His eyes burned with desperate, childish hope. “I even dared to imagine that if I became outstanding enough—more outstanding than Chong Ming—I might be able to change the Insect Clan’s history. Change the way females reign over males.”
His voice rose. “I just want to be valued! I just want to be supported! I just want Empress Mother to see me!”
He threw the question at her like a punch. “What did I do wrong? Why won’t you help me? Why?”
People always said the first child was favored. Proof the parents loved each other.
Agris had never had that.
In the Insect Clan imperial family, he was treated like something optional—present, fed, dressed, cared for, yes… but never cherished.
Servants waited on him with respect that felt like a lie. Their eyes carried a constant pity: what a shame he was a male insect.
Behind his back they said it openly—if he were female, the Queen’s first child would have been Crown Princess. The heir.
Instead, he was male. And one day, when he grew up, he would be used as a bargaining chip—traded away to win over powerful female insects.
He wasn’t inferior. He could fight. He could earn money. He could plan and govern. So why did he have no freedom? Why couldn’t he decide his own fate?
He wasn’t reconciled.
He would never be reconciled.
Atuya stood with half her face stamped with five clear fingerprints.
Her gaze remained calm.
There was no tenderness in it. No longing. No love.
From the moment she told him she would end their engagement, she had placed herself in the position of a subordinate. She treated him as a superior of the imperial family: high-born, elevated, untouchable.
Not servile. Not defiant.
Just coldly correct.
Atuya spoke flatly, like reciting a report. “I’m the Insect Clan’s general. I command one million troops. In war, I can direct forces between one and five million.”
“If I help you, I abandon those one million troops. They’ll be implicated because I helped you. They’ll be punished with me.”
She didn’t soften. “More than seventy percent of them have parents, mates, children, siblings. I can’t drag them into punishment because of my selfishness—or yours.”
“They live because they live,” she said grimly. “The Insect Clan doesn’t leave ordinary soldiers many ways to survive. I’m the general they trust. Their lives are in my hands. I have to protect them as much as I can.”
“And I will never start a war because of your mistake,” she continued, each word clipped, “dragging more soldiers and ordinary citizens into death.”
Atuya’s eyes were steady. “You imperial family members—high-class insects—you think common insects dying is normal. You think dying for you, dying to seize one more planet or one more star system, is an honor.”
“You call it honor. I don’t.”
“I’m not afraid of war. I’m not afraid of death. I’m not afraid to lead a charge.”
“What I’m afraid of,” she said, voice icing over, “is being forced to die for your personal desires.”
Agris stared at her as if she’d spoken nonsense. “Soldiers exist to earn merit and achievement. Without war, how do they become high-class? How do they survive on cheap subsidies?”
“You’re their general. You never even asked them! How do you know they don’t want war?”
“And besides,” he pressed, eyes fever-bright, “Jiang Tea Tea is the only 3S-level mutable plant-type healer in the entire M31 Star System. If I had her, it wouldn’t just raise my ability level. It would raise the entire Insect Clan—”
“Stop being naive, Your Highness.”
Atuya cut him off like a door slamming.
Her voice was ice-cold. “With your ability, you can’t take Jiang Tea Tea.”
Agris snarled, desperate. “Then you! And the soldiers on this ship—”
Atuya didn’t rise to the bait. “I can’t take her either. The soldiers on this ship can’t take her.”
She leaned in slightly, eyes sharp. “None of us can.”
“We should be grateful,” she said quietly, “that her subordinates showed mercy. Otherwise we’d already be dust, left behind forever on Ri Pan Star in Zhen Lin Empire.”
Agris shook his head violently. “I don’t believe that—”
“Believe it or don’t,” Atuya said. Then, with the same chilling calm: “Are you still going to hit me?”
“If not,” she added, “go back and rest.”
Agris’s throat worked. His hand remained raised, but it wouldn’t fall.
Atuya stepped back two paces and called in her adjutant.
Her voice turned razor-edged. “If His Highness refuses to go rest, inject him with another ability suppressant and a sleep shot. Until we arrive at the Insect Clan, do not let him wake.”
“Atuya, you dare—” Agris surged forward.
“If anything happens,” Atuya snapped, “I take full responsibility.”
The adjutant answered sharply, already moving. Two syringes flashed in hand—sleep and suppressant.
A soft hiss.
Both shots hit Agris at the neck.
His anger vanished like a string cut. He collapsed to the floor, eyes closing, body going limp as he fell into deep sleep.
Atuya’s expression tightened for a fraction of a second—control in her eyes, something held back.
But she didn’t go to lift him.
She let the adjutant carry him back to his quarters.
Atuya stood by the window for a moment, watching cloud banks pass beneath the ship. Then she turned and began issuing orders, directing the dismantling and packing of everything related to the Space Weapons Exhibition, preparing to return to the Insect Clan.
On Zhen Lin Empire’s side, Xia Wei Yi and the Ri Pan Star garrison handled the aftermath with smooth efficiency. They coordinated with every nation, assisted every exhibition zone, and ensured every remaining tourist stayed safe until departure.
On Chong Ming’s warship, Jiang Tea Tea saw merit light again.
It rushed toward her, slipped into her body, and vanished into her cultivation like water into thirsty earth.
“What are you grabbing?” Chong Ming asked.
Jiang Tea Tea had spread her palm to the air as if something invisible were falling into it. Her fingers curled, closing as though she’d caught it—but Chong Ming saw nothing.
She lowered her fist and lied without blinking. “A tiny speck of dust.”
More strands of merit light slipped into her.
It was too strange. Where was it coming from? She hadn’t done anything particularly virtuous. Why would merit light keep showing up?
She had asked the fake heiress consciousness. She had searched through its memories. Aside from donating to an orphanage on a remote planet, there was nothing—no grand charity, no heroic act.
Chong Ming’s golden eyes swept the air carefully. There was no dust.
He didn’t call her out. “As long as you caught it.”
He gestured. “Come on. Back to the room.”
Jiang Tea Tea blurted, “I’m not hungry. I don’t want to drink your blood right now.”
Merit light was nourishing—more nourishing than dragon blood.
If she could figure out where it came from, she wouldn’t need his blood at all.
Chong Ming’s eyes darkened slightly. “If you’re not hungry, then we’ll go to the simulation room.”
Jiang Tea Tea blinked. “Huh? What for?”
“To simulate a war against Atuya,” Chong Ming said, like it was obvious. “She’s one of the Insect Clan’s top ten generals. Her style looks plain on the surface, but there’s a lot under it.”
“I had people build a simulation based on her style and the battles she’s fought. We’re on the way to Capital Planet. You can test it.”
Jiang Tea Tea pouted. “Commander-in-Chief Chong Ming, Your Highness—come on.”
“I have a two-month vacation. My first mission was under ten days. The Space Weapons Exhibition was a whole month. I’ve got, what, less than fifteen days left, and you still won’t let me breathe?”
Just because she wasn’t human didn’t mean he could work her like one.
Chong Ming’s gaze caught on the curve of her belly for the briefest moment, and at last he relented. “If we don’t use space jump, the trip to Capital Planet takes three days.”
He raised two fingers. “Then two days of simulated war. One day of rest.”
Jiang Tea Tea’s eye twitched. “Wow. Thank you so much for giving me one whole day off.”
Chong Ming answered airily, “You’re welcome.”
Jiang Tea Tea: “…”
Who wanted to be his commander-in-chief? Who?
Then a thought snapped into place.
The contract with the fake heiress consciousness had made her famous across the star system. People admired her. Liked her. Believed in her.
Believed in her…
She suddenly spoke. “My stomach hurts. I need the restroom. You go to the simulation room first.”
She threw the words over her shoulder and bolted.
Chong Ming reached out to catch her and grabbed air.
He watched her flee back and laughed softly. “Her short legs sure can run when she wants to.”
Zhong Li He had been wandering Chong Ming’s warship with Kong Que like it was his own home, poking his nose into everything and commenting on anything that moved.
He clicked his tongue. “Short legs, huh.”
Chong Ming turned his gaze on him. “The ‘short legs’ you mock can fight you to a standstill. You need more training.”
Zhong Li He bristled. “We’ve fought before! She couldn’t beat me.”
Chong Ming didn’t bother hiding the disdain in his eyes. “She couldn’t beat you before. That doesn’t mean she can’t beat you now.”
Zhong Li He’s sapphire eyes widened. “What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t tell me her ability level upgraded too.”
Chong Ming’s brows lifted. “Congratulations, you got it right. No reward.”
Zhong Li He felt instant imbalance, pure envy twisting in his chest. “No—wait. She’s eight months pregnant with your cub. In your family tradition, as the cub gets older, it needs more nutrition. The mother gets weaker. She needs careful care. She needs nonstop psychic-force soothing from the father.”
“And if that’s still not enough, the father has to offer blood and flesh as nourishment.”
He pointed at Chong Ming with outrage. “You’re not injured. You’re not even with her all day. And she’s not weaker—she’s stronger, and her ability level upgraded. How am I supposed to believe that?”
Chong Ming’s mouth curved. His voice dropped, smooth and lethal, designed to kill on impact.
“Maybe it’s because the cub’s father—me—is the highest-level, strongest male in the Gold Dragon Clan.”