After The Mission Failed, The Scumbag Alpha Ran Away - Chapter 27

27: The Truth of the System

Ning Yunze’s voice was so low it was almost inaudible, his words drifting lightly on the wind, fragmented and seemingly nonsensical, like a murmur in a dream.

Jiang Youbai didn’t react at first. Soon, however, a brief surge of shock and bewilderment washed over her. She abruptly looked up at Ning Yunze.

Thinking she hadn’t heard him clearly, Ning Yunze hurriedly repeated in a hushed, urgent tone: “Jiang Youbai, I’m the host—the true host of the system.”

This information was too critical.

Jiang Youbai quickly suppressed all her emotions, grabbed Ning Yunze, and dragged him downstairs as she asked, “Is time tight? Let’s talk in the pavilion downstairs.”

As she pulled him along, she could clearly feel how emaciated Ning Yunze had become—he was practically just skin and bones, with no strength left. He could barely walk, and Jiang Youbai had to support most of his weight as they descended the stairs.

The spirited young man from half a month ago had suddenly turned into this frail, dying figure.

The small garden below the teaching building had a pavilion, secluded and open on all sides. Anyone approaching would be spotted immediately. At this time, most students were either playing basketball or at the convenience store, so few would come to the pavilion.

After confirming no one was around, Jiang Youbai dragged Ning Yunze to the pavilion and asked in a low, somber voice, “Ning Yunze, what did you mean by what you just said?”

Ning Yunze seemed utterly drained, barely able to stand, let alone spare the energy to check their surroundings.

He gripped Jiang Youbai’s hand tightly, his fingers pressing down with enough force to almost crush her bones. “The system is dormant right now. This is the only time it won’t interfere. I went to great lengths to buy us this opportunity.”

“What do you mean?”

Jiang Youbai stared intently at his haggard face. Her heart pounded wildly from a mix of excitement and tension.

Ning Yunze mustered his strength, enunciating each word clearly for Jiang Youbai to hear.

“In the multiverse, there are many underdeveloped worlds, most of which are from novels. These worlds contain vast amounts of energy but are also extremely fragile. As a result, a type of hunter—or ‘system’—emerged, surviving by draining energy from these worlds.”

“To obtain energy, systems must suppress the protagonists. They can’t directly interfere with the world or alter its people or events. Instead, they parasitize the antagonists, using them to achieve their goals.”

Jiang Youbai’s heartbeat grew louder, her bl00d surging through her body. These few sentences seemed to isolate her entirely from the world, leaving only Ning Yunze in her vision. Her field of view narrowed until all she could see was Ning Yunze’s dry, moving lips.

She could barely even hear her own voice.

“So… who is the protagonist? And why the system?”

This time, when she mentioned the “system,” she wasn’t punished.

Ning Yunze’s voice grew hoarser, his tone more urgent. “It’s Xiaolou. She’s the protagonist of this world. The system wants to strip her of her luck to harvest energy, so it sought me out. As long as I help complete the tasks, I can gain many things.”

“But this world encountered an anomaly. For some reason, Xiaolou only has about two-thirds of her original luck, and the mission progress has been equally unfavorable. The system hasn’t been able to succeed.”

Jiang Youbai quickly extracted the key points from Ning Yunze’s words, noting several inconsistencies. After a moment’s hesitation, she chose to remain silent and let him continue.

“The first mission failed quickly. The system only obtained a fraction of the energy. But this world’s level is high, and the system wasn’t satisfied with such meager gains. It reset the world. The missions kept failing, so it kept resetting—until it succeeded. This is the seventh attempt.”

Jiang Youbai stayed quiet. Ning Yunze’s grip on her hand tightened, his fingers pressing down with bone-crushing force.

Suddenly, an unnatural excitement flashed across Ning Yunze’s face. “This time is different. In the previous six attempts, you died young. But in the seventh, you’ve survived to this point, even differentiating into an Alpha and becoming another protagonist in the novel. Before you differentiated, the system sensed the remaining luck was on you.”

“It can’t act directly, but the luck on you is highly unstable. So it can parasitize you, guiding you and Xiaolou to destroy each other. As long as it stalls the progression of your and Xiaolou’s ‘storyline,’ it can slowly drain energy from both of you.”

Jiang Youbai let out a slow sigh.

She had suspected something like this long ago, though not in such detail—and certainly not that she was also a protagonist.

Staring at Ning Yunze’s gaunt, lifeless face, she asked with almost pitying clarity, “What about you, Ning Yunze? You say you’re the antagonist. So why are you telling me, one-third of the protagonist, all this?”

In truth, she already knew the answer.

During their first meeting, Lou Huaiche had assassinated the imperial grandson to help Ning Yunze.

Later, Ning Yunze could freely enter Lou Huaiche’s film set, standing guard outside her room, cigarette butts littering the ground at his feet.

She didn’t know why, but she wanted to ask anyway—out of some strange sympathy.

Those cigarette butts and Ning Yunze’s words that day compelled her to voice the question. She didn’t need the answer; she just wanted to give Ning Yunze a place to confess his secret.

Ning Yunze’s expression flickered momentarily before he released her hand, spinning in a delighted circle with a triumphant, almost intoxicated smile. “I tricked the system. Jiang Youbai, I tricked it! I pretended to complete the tasks while secretly sabotaging them. I thought mission failure would be enough… but the first time, Xiaolou still died. Thankfully, thankfully, we could reset.”

He laughed even as tears streamed down his face. “Who said the antagonist has to hate the protagonist?”

“Among all these noble Omegas, I’m the most unremarkable. But Xiaolou isn’t. In the original worldline, she was supposed to be strong, beautiful, reaching heights no other Omega could. I was destined to be just another vase in the empire’s display case—but Xiaolou shouldn’t have been.”

Ning Yunze’s entire life had been utterly ordinary, no different from millions of other Omegas in the empire, no different from the scheming nobles in the capital.

“I’m the antagonist, but even antagonists have their own thoughts. After many resets, I finally severed the system’s connection to its headquarters. Its energy is nearly depleted now. It can only periodically hibernate to sustain itself. Jiang Youbai, I’ll help you. Before the system finds reinforcements, we’ll complete the worldline. I can destroy the system in the process.”

Ning Yunze was an unremarkable antagonist, but he had ensnared the system. He wasn’t particularly clever, but he was persistent and patient. Cycle after cycle, he endured until he finally seized this slim chance—with the system’s energy drained and its attention divided, he succeeded.

If he could help the protagonist Omega achieve her glorious destiny, his own life would gain a glimmer of meaning.

Jiang Youbai was struck by his tears. Each drop seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, carrying the burden of Ning Yunze’s seven cycles.

Seven cycles—she couldn’t fathom how Ning Yunze had persevered. This wasn’t a simple task. It required his very life, every ounce of his strength.

He had burned his own existence to light Lou Huaiche’s path forward.

After a moment of silence, Jiang Youbai stiffly changed the subject. “Destroy the system?”

“These systems were once living people. For immortality or other reasons, they temporarily transformed into this state.” Ning Yunze’s voice was flat. “The system is weakening, but it’s not enough yet. Jiang Youbai, I need you to work with me from the inside to break it.”

“The best way is for you to willingly transfer your luck to Xiaolou. I’ll stall the system, and then Xiaolou, as the protagonist, will complete the worldline.”

“What do I need to do?” Jiang Youbai asked.

“Die.” Ning Yunze’s expression was blank, his lips barely moving as he uttered the word. Dark circles hung under his eyes as he stared unblinkingly at Jiang Youbai, as though trying to peer directly into her soul. “A world can have many protagonists, but there’s only one true Child of Destiny. A Child of Destiny missing their luck is fragile.”

“If I die, my luck will transfer to Lou Huaiche?”

“Yes.”

Jiang Youbai glanced around. The garden was lush, the sunlight warm. She found it almost laughable. “You want me to die? Ning Yunze, do you realize what you’re saying?”

“Can’t bear to part with your status?” Ning Yunze let out a strange laugh, a condescending pity flashing across his face, as though retaliating for Jiang Youbai’s earlier sympathy. “Don’t worry. You don’t actually have to die. Fake your death, or transfer your consciousness to a clone—anything that ensures ‘Jiang Youbai’ ceases to exist. Then the luck can transfer.”

Jiang Youbai studied his odd demeanor but remained silent.

Ning Yunze’s smile grew increasingly malicious. He burst into laughter. “Jiang Youbai, you’re not the princess.”

Jiang Youbai frowned. “What do you mean?”

A sense of foreboding rose in her chest.

A voice in her mind whispered that Ning Yunze’s next words would overturn her entire existence, negating everything she had ever been and plunging her into an even deeper abyss.

“Jiang Qingxian should be.” Ning Yunze stated it plainly, as though commenting on the weather.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why Jiang Qingxian wasn’t brought to the capital until she was twenty-two? It’s because you two are the same age. Many speculate Jiang Qingxian was a Beta who differentiated into an Alpha. But no—she’s the crown princess’s daughter. She’s twenty years old and just differentiated into an Alpha.”

Jiang Youbai involuntarily took a step back. She opened her mouth but found herself speechless.

Her mind emptied. Her consciousness seemed to float out of her body, detaching from the world entirely. She felt nothing—no particular thoughts or reactions—only flashes of her life flickering before her eyes.

The hardships of her childhood, the mother who nearly strangled her, the endurance of adulthood, Chi Ruo, Lou Huaiche.

With excruciating clarity, she heard her own hoarse voice. “Do you have proof?”

“You can ask your Omega mother when she switched you. It’s unbelievable, but she did it.” Ning Yunze checked the time. “I can’t stay much longer. If we linger, the system might notice. Think it over and let me know.”

Without another word, Ning Yunze turned and left.

He seemed to have regained some strength, no longer on the verge of collapse, his steps lighter.

Jiang Youbai stood rooted in place, dazedly scanning her surroundings once more.

It was as though her consciousness hovered above, scrutinizing everything—including the Jiang Youbai standing below.

The garden was lush, the air faintly fragrant with greenery. Sunlight bathed everything in a soft golden glow.

The summer breeze was warm, yet a chill seeped into her bones.

If she wasn’t the crown princess’s daughter, then the meaning of her life had never existed.

It was too absurd. As usual, Jiang Youbai instinctively opened her personal terminal and reflexively clicked on Chi Ruo’s messages.

“I think my mother isn’t my birth mother.”

Just before sending, she paused, deleted the text, and snapped back to reality.

For the first time, Jiang Youbai felt utterly lost, with no idea what to do.

Everything she had endured was because of her lineage.

Everything she possessed was also because of her lineage.

The identity of “the crown princess’s daughter” had brought both suffering and privilege, shaping her life until now. Without it, she might not escape misfortune—but she would likely lose everything she currently had.

Jiang Youbai lowered her gaze and decided to verify the truth first.

She didn’t go to her mentally unstable mother in the asylum—who was barely lucid anymore—but chose to confirm Jiang Qingxian’s bl00d relation to her mother instead.

Over the years, she had built a small network of her own, inconspicuous but embedded in key places.

Obtaining the old emperor’s DNA was impossible, but getting Jiang Qingxian’s and the Omega in the asylum’s DNA was simple.

Modern medicine was advanced. Two days later, she had their DNA samples and ran a test on her terminal, immediately receiving the results.

Jiang Youbai skipped the lengthy report and scrolled to the last line.

[Consistent with biological relationship.]

She quietly deleted the record from her terminal and spent the entire day sitting in her empty room, staring out the window.

By the time she snapped out of her daze, she couldn’t even remember what she had been thinking about.

Dusk had fallen. She extracted her own DNA and her mother’s, ran another test, then did the same with Jiang Qingxian’s sample. After annotating the results, she sent them to Chi Ruo.

Chi Ruo was likely busy—the message remained unread for a long time.

Late at night, the “unread” status finally changed to “read.”

Chi Ruo replied a few minutes later: “.”

A single punctuation mark, expressing nothing—but Jiang Youbai could easily imagine Chi Ruo’s expression and reaction.

She laughed, immediately understanding Chi Ruo’s meaning.

Chi Ruo’s second reply came an hour later. She seemed even more agitated than Jiang Youbai: “I’m speechless. Actually speechless. What kind of soap opera plot is this? The princess identity was already ridiculous enough, but now it’s just infuriating. I wish I could go back a hundred years and strangle your mom and your uncle’s dad. What kind of monsters did they raise? Just die already! So annoying!”

Ten minutes later, Chi Ruo finally calmed down: “Jiang Youbai, wait. Let me clarify one thing—this is more important than your ridiculous lineage.”

“Listen. I have little attachment to the Chi family or the crown princess. As part of the old imperial faction, I support the princess solely because that princess is you.”

Jiang Youbai replied, “I know. I actually found out two days ago. Today was just to share my disbelief.”

“At this point, whether you’re the crown princess’s biological child doesn’t matter. Aside from my adoptive mother, no one in the old imperial faction cares. They just want a ruler who represents their interests.”

Chi Ruo continued, “I don’t care. I’ve never openly been part of the old imperial faction, and my ties to them are superficial. I’ve long since stepped out of my adoptive mother’s shadow. Jiang Youbai, I’m worried about you.”

Jiang Youbai read the message and scoffed.

Chi Ruo was her friend. She would never have to worry about Chi Ruo abandoning her over her identity.

She called Chi Ruo, who answered immediately.

Jiang Youbai’s voice was calm. “Chi Ruo, don’t worry about me. Right now, I’m thinking—if I’m not the crown princess’s daughter, do I still need to suffer for the throne?”

Chi Ruo’s voice was as sharp and brash as ever. “Then I’ve worked for you for nothing all these years? At least your uncle pays me. You just guilt-tripped me into working for free. You still owe me wages.”

She pivoted: “Think about it. If it comes out now that you’re not the crown princess’s child, it won’t help. If it turns out you’re your uncle’s biological child, it’ll be even worse. He’ll definitely bury you, pretend nothing happened, and hand the throne to the eldest prince.”

Chi Ruo was right. Jiang Youbai had deeper ties to the old imperial faction. If she were the emperor’s biological child, she could also gain some support from the conservatives.

Jiang Youbai said, “If we let the mistake stand, I still don’t want to suffer anymore. The pain is too glaring.”

Chi Ruo paused. “But if you don’t suffer for the throne, what else can you do? Jiang Youbai, that’s what I’m worried about.”

“From birth, you were raised to succeed as the crown princess’s child. Whether you wanted it or not, whether you had other passions, whether you suffered—none of it mattered. After adapting to this life, you suddenly learn your entire starting point was wrong. How do you face yourself?”

Jiang Youbai closed her eyes. “I don’t know, Chi Ruo. I really don’t. But though I don’t know how to face myself, I do know I don’t want to suffer anymore.”

Chi Ruo mused, “Why don’t you check into the Imperial Mental Hospital? That might be your final destination.”

“But there’s another possibility—I could fake my death and leave. Start over with a new identity.”

Chi Ruo considered it seriously. “It’s tricky. Faking death and changing identities is too difficult. Even I could only arrange the fake death part.”

“I have another idea, but let’s table the fake death plan for now. I’ll think it over.”

After a few more words, Chi Ruo hung up: “I have paperwork. Jiang Youbai, you get a special pass to call me these two days—even at midnight.”

“So you’d still get mad, huh?”

“Don’t push it. My maternal instincts have limits.”

Jiang Youbai’s room was dark, the curtains drawn. A half-person-tall robot stood by her bed, its chest light blinking red.

The princess’s residence had a pseudo-osmanthus tree.

After humans settled on Pandora, most native plants were prefixed with “pseudo-” in reference to Earth’s flora.

The pseudo-osmanthus differed greatly from Earth’s osmanthus but shared a similar fragrance, hence the name.

It bloomed year-round. Even with the windows closed, its faint scent lingered in the air. Jiang Youbai walked to the window, pulled open the curtains, and pushed open the window. Outside, green, faintly glowing petals fluttered down.

The sky was clear, twin moons hanging high, casting silvery light over the ground.

What a beautiful sight. In all her years of busyness, she had never truly stopped to admire it.

This place she had lived in for ten years had never felt like home.

The identity of “Jiang Youbai” had been hers for twenty years, each day burdened by its weight.

She couldn’t even tell if she felt any attachment. The princess identity was like a mold, and she had grown into it—

A flawless princess, with the real Jiang Youbai buried beneath.

Jiang Youbai opened the window and jumped out.

Petals scattered like a curtain of flowers.

The princess identity was built on countless lives. Even if she wasn’t the true princess, those people had died for her.

But once she realized she was never meant to bear this burden, a flame of longing for freedom ignited in her heart.

Beep—

A message from Ning Yunze. After their talk, Jiang Youbai had set alerts for his messages.

She opened it.

“Jiang Youbai, let me remind you—and give you an excuse. Once the system drains the protagonist’s luck and absorbs all the energy, this world will collapse into true apocalypse. No one will survive. As for the old imperial faction, you don’t need to worry. Tell Jiang Qingxian the truth. Even if she doesn’t openly reclaim her identity, she’ll protect their interests.”

“Or rather, she’s inherently someone who cares about the world. Knowing others have died for this identity, she won’t abandon them.”

Jiang Youbai studied the message. “Reading between the lines, I only see one message.”

“What?”

“Now, the pressure shifts to Jiang Qingxian. We’ll just keep milking this one sheep.”