Accidentally Provoked My Archenemy [ABO] - Chapter 5

Although she was technically “heading home,” Sang Yu had no actual intention of doing so.

Sang Yu: Cherish life—starting with me.

That final boss Cheng Yunan was still in her house. What if he lost his mind and decided to take her down with him? Sang Yu readily admitted she was paranoid—she was highly suspicious by nature, borderline delusional.

So, she decided to eliminate all threats to her life before they could ever materialize.

Calmly leaving the teleport base, Sang Yu immediately entered her hovercar, switched it to manual mode, and shut down every traceable system inside—including her smart terminal.

Then she turned the wheel and leisurely began driving in the opposite direction from where she’d come.

She was headed toward Gu Amo’s house.

Time to hide out at her lackey’s place.

Manual mode wasn’t truly manual; she could still use her hands freely and let her mind wander.

This part of the city was the complete opposite of the cold, lifeless floating residence she’d left behind. The contrast only became more glaring the farther she went. If her home was like ice submerged beneath the sea, then this place was molten lava—hot, vivid, alive.

It even reminded her of her old world—bustling and chaotic.

Nostalgia stirred in her chest, and she slowed the hovercar slightly, crossed one leg over the other, and gazed out the window at the vibrant, steamy scenery.

Feeling relaxed, she opened her meta-bracelet and prepared to call Gu Amo.

The meta-bracelet was a high-level military device, typically reserved for senior officers. The Sang family didn’t have many; hers had been a gift from her uncle.

Normally, she never used it, but it functioned as a communication tool and was synced with her smart terminal. It could also cloak all her personal information if she wished. That’s the only reason she hadn’t shut it down too.

Before she could even place the call, Gu Amo’s name popped up on the incoming line.

Sang Yu chuckled softly.

She hadn’t even gotten her teasing words out when Gu Amo’s trembling, fearful sobs reached her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, startled.

Gu Amo was usually bold and shameless, able to bend or stand tall as needed. This was the first time Sang Yu had ever heard him sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“S-Sister Sang…”

His voice choked, disjointed and halting. The comm line was filled with noisy chaos, and Sang Yu, increasingly annoyed, frowned and almost hung up.

But she held back.

“Well? What happened? Spit it out already!”

“What good is crying!?”

Maybe her shout snapped him back to reality. Though still crying, Gu Amo managed to compose himself a little.

“Sister Sang… Ah Bai… Ah Bai’s seriously ill. The doctor said she can only be saved with nurture flesh. But only the military has it… My family doesn’t have any connections. Can you—please—can you ask your uncle? Just a little, that’s all we need…”

Nurture flesh—a rare, soft gland found near the Insect Queen’s teeth. It could bring the dead back to life. Given humanity’s consistent defeats against the Insectoids over the centuries, its scarcity needed no further explanation.

It was nearly impossible to acquire.

The last recorded acquisition had been a century ago. Due to its rarity, the Central Alliance only used it to reward war heroes with extraordinary military service. Neither wealth nor status could obtain it.

No service, no reward.

The Gu family was wealthy—but not connected enough to have access to that.

By the time Gu Amo got to the last part, he was once again choking on his own sobs.

Sang Yu could practically imagine how devastated he must look—a full-grown Alpha crying like a baby.

“Stop crying,” she said, massaging her temples. “What’s her current condition?”

If they were this desperate for nurture flesh, then Ah Bai must be on the brink of death—barely hanging on.

Ah Bai was a sweet, gentle Omega from a rich family. She and Gu Amo had grown up together and were already engaged. Sang Yu had met her before—soft-spoken and pure like a blank canvas.

Saying she wasn’t moved would be a lie.

“She’s… she’s already signed the critical condition waiver… Sister Sang, I’m begging you. Please save her…”

“How much do you need?”

Gu Amo had come to the right person. Among everyone he knew, only Sang Yu had even the possibility of helping. Her uncle was the guardian of Central Star—unmarried, doting to the extreme, treating her like his own child.

She did, in fact, have some nurture flesh.

Her meta-bracelet could even extract a minuscule amount, gifts from her uncle on past birthdays.

It wasn’t much, though.

The amount stored in the bracelet was negligible. The gifts were more substantial, but whether it would be enough to save a life… Sang Yu had never considered using it for that, and she had no idea if it would work.

In recent years, the Insectoid invasions had only worsened. Her uncle was constantly fighting on the front lines, never able to return. If what she had wasn’t enough… Ah Bai would likely not survive.

By now, Sang Yu had turned the hovercar around, switched it back to auto mode, and set all indicators to maximum—just waiting on the exact dosage.

Luckily, Gu Amo still had enough presence of mind. After a brief pause, he quickly replied.

When she heard the word milligrams, Sang Yu’s silver-gray hovercar shot forward like an arrow, and she finally let out a breath of relief.

“Wait for me at the floating residence,” she said coldly.

Her voice was sharp, but oddly reassuring.

“O-okay. Got it.”

After ending the call, Sang Yu immediately veered into the hyper-speed express lane. The one she chose was still under construction. Though empty of vehicles, it was littered with obstacles.

She didn’t care.

Swerving, leaping, dodging, she took the shortest possible route and barreled straight through.

The floating residence wasn’t far from the Central Hospital—much closer than the teleport base. Even so, by the time Sang Yu arrived in a cloud of heat and exhaust, Gu Amo was already waiting at the entrance.

“What are you crying for!?”

She kicked open the car door. Not even bothering to remove her helmet, she rushed up the steps in two long strides.

In this world she’d transmigrated into, Sang Yu’s life wasn’t much different from her past one. Aside from romance, everything else was perfect—her family background, parental love—absolutely top-tier.

Though she hadn’t lived here long, this house had been prepared for her long ago by her parents. It was quiet but fully equipped with entertainment and amenities. They even built a separate warehouse just to store her annual birthday gifts.

Sang Yu didn’t care much for such things. She often tossed the unopened presents in there the moment guests left.

Fortunately, her uncle understood her well. He’d built a secret compartment in her study and stashed all his gifts there. That was the only reason she remembered where the nurture flesh was.

Entering the study, she opened the hidden compartment and pulled out the item. She handed it to Gu Amo, stopped him from bursting into fresh tears, and sent him off.

Only then did she finally relax.

Slumping onto the couch, she stretched lazily and poured herself a glass of water. She had intended to rest for a bit, but her mind wouldn’t stop replaying the image of the person she’d left back in her house—Cheng Yunan.

Red-eyed, tear-streaked, begging her not to leave, full of sorrow and helplessness.

Sang Yu angrily hurled her glass of water.

Sang Yu: Damn it—enough already!

Could this reaction please stop being so automatic!?