Can Alpha Also Be A Wife? - Chapter 25
Chapter 25: Mental Dominance
A brilliant starship drifted slowly through the expanse of stars.
Its crimson serpentine markings gleamed proudly—an unmistakable symbol of its allegiance.
“Still no word from Lanlos?”
In the starship’s command center, a red-haired youth spun a bl00d-red ring between his fingers. He leaned back in his chair, voice lazy but tinged with impatience.
“No, sir,” his subordinate answered respectfully. “Even the Hidden Butterfly clan has lost his trail.”
“Useless!” Al snapped, picking up a nearby object and flinging it across the room with force.
“He couldn’t resist chasing after that imperial Alpha of his, and now he’s completely vanished. The Alliance put their hopes on that?”
His subordinate wisely stayed silent, caught between fear and self-preservation.
“Forget it. Just find Lanlos,” Al growled, cursing under his breath. With a dismissive wave, he sent the man away.
As the door closed behind the departing subordinate, the rest of the room remained deathly quiet. No one dared attract attention when Al was in a mood.
But then a sharp chime shattered the silence.
Al frowned. “Ignore it.”
The communications officer reached to terminate the call—but froze when he saw the ID. His hands trembled slightly. “Young Master… it’s the Patriarch.”
Al’s expression changed immediately. He straightened his clothes, calmed his features, and stepped in front of the screen. When the call connected, he offered a polite greeting: “Father.”
The man on the screen shared Al’s red hair and features—though older, his presence was commanding.
He scanned Al’s composed demeanor and gave a rare nod of approval. “Good. You’re finally learning restraint.”
Al gave a tight smile but quickly shifted the topic. “Lanlos has gone missing.”
“Don’t worry about him,” the Patriarch replied. “The Tianyi tribe hasn’t raised any alarms, so he’s safe.”
“And the ‘Nightmare’?”
“There’s a cloned version being cultivated in the lab,” his father said coolly. “The Empire’s situation is unstable. Once Lanlos rejoins you, return to the Alliance immediately.”
As the screen began to fade, Al quickly added, “Father, I discovered polar ice crystals on Hillier’s Star. I’ve made a deal with the locals.”
He said it casually, but under the screen, his fists clenched tightly.
“Well done,” his father said, cracking a rare smile.
The call ended.
Once the screen went dark, Al’s calm demeanor cracked. He grabbed the nearest object and smashed it against the wall.
The crash echoed throughout the room.
A cleaning robot scuttled over, only to be stopped by Al’s foot pressing down hard on its head.
“Why do I always have to follow Lanlos!?” he shouted.
The eight races of the Alliance were supposed to be equals—but in practice, Al always felt like he was one step below.
Lanlos had fallen for some Alpha from the Empire—a man who used him to steal the “Nightmare.” And instead of punishing him, the Alliance gave him a princely title.
And now Al was expected to pick up his mess and earn favor for it?
“Ridiculous!”
Al crushed the robot with his bare hands, the metal crumpling under his rage. Still not satisfied, he kicked the broken machine across the room.
BOOM—
The starship shuddered violently as if hit from outside.
Al stumbled, barely catching himself. “What the hell was that? Is the hull falling apart?!”
Before anyone could answer, the ship rocked again.
“Young Master! We’re being intercepted!”
From the console, one of the crew called out, eyes wide.
The screen lit up with rows of dark machines, barely visible against the starry backdrop. Their numbers were staggering.
“It’s the Empire’s autonomous weaponry!”
Unlike the physically superior Alliance species, the Empire relied on technological might—especially intelligent weaponry, a deadly innovation developed to resist annexation.
Even now, the Alliance hadn’t managed to reverse-engineer the tech.
These weapons weren’t easy to control either. Only those with incredible mental strength and extreme multi-tasking ability could wield them.
Al mentally ran through a list of potential suspects—those capable of commanding so many machines.
None fit.
Which meant… it probably wasn’t a person.
He opened a short-range comms channel. “This is Al Yasuo of the Red Snake Clan. I came to the Empire under official invitation. Why are you targeting me?”
He wasn’t like Lanlos. His presence in the Empire was legally sanctioned, with all the necessary permits. No one should be daring to touch him.
The channel remained dead silent.
A sense of unease crept in.
He nodded to his crew. They readied the weapons systems and prepared the mechas, just in case.
Al repeated his message, and finally, there was a reaction—
—but not words.
The enemy fleet began to move.
Tension surged through the control room.
Al wracked his brain. He hadn’t done anything too obvious… unless…
His expression darkened.
The ice crystal deal?
No way the Empire could’ve known about that so fast. It had barely been a day!
Grimly, he decided to enter the fray himself.
But just as he stepped toward the door, a crushing mental force surged through the ship.
BANG.
The entire crew dropped where they stood.
Footsteps echoed in the silence.
The control room door slid open, and a slim figure stepped inside with calm, deliberate grace.
Al struggled, pinned under immense pressure. He could only watch as the intruder approached—eyes cold, aura suffocating.
“Al Yasuo,” the man said flatly.
Al’s heart clenched.
How did he get in so fast?
He tried to speak, to demand answers—but his voice caught in his throat, as if something unseen had locked it in place.
Outside, the sounds of mecha combat raged on.
Inside, silence ruled.
The intruder walked over and casually rifled through Al’s belongings. Without hesitation, he found and retrieved a subspace orb—the one holding the polar ice crystals from last night’s deal.
Expression unreadable, the man turned and walked to the control console. He issued several commands as if the ship were his own.
Al’s eyes widened. That face… those eyes…
He knew him.
Or rather, his instincts did.
A buried memory, perhaps from the battlefield?
He couldn’t explain it, but one thing was certain: if he weren’t being suppressed right now, he’d be shaking uncontrollably.
This wasn’t their first encounter.
But it couldn’t be him.
That man was never seen outside high-level military ops. He shouldn’t be here.
Yet the intruder sat down calmly, legs crossed, and sent out a signal.
In a blink, the Empire’s mechas ceased fire and retreated as one.
They melted back into space, vanishing without a trace.
When the Alliance’s pilots returned to their ship, another wave of spiritual suppression pinned them in place.
No one could move—even to blink.
Then, a single mecha boarded.
From it descended a man with an unremarkable face and an unbothered air.
He held the subspace orb in one hand, spinning it lazily through his fingers.
“Young Master Al,” he said casually, “trading rare energy illegally in the Empire? Sounds like an extra fifty years added to your visit.”
His tone was conversational, almost friendly.
Al finally found his voice. “You plan to detain me?”
“I found it by accident,” he lied quickly. “Was just about to turn it in.”
Within the Empire, he had to play by their rules—or risk imprisonment. So he humbled himself fast.
“Oh?” The man finally turned to look at him, smirking. “Much appreciated, Young Master Al.”
He paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
“Since you’re visiting, it wouldn’t do to leave you without a proper tour. Hillier Star is nearby—scenic, peaceful, rich in culture. I’d be delighted to accompany you myself.”
Al clenched his jaw. He knew there was no refusing.
That man wasn’t just being courteous—he was sending a message.
“. . . Thank you for the generosity.”
The words tasted like poison.
He thought that was the end.
But then—boom. The mental pressure spiked again.
One by one, everyone collapsed.
Even Al’s sturdy mind couldn’t hold on.
As he slipped into unconsciousness, he caught one last sight.
Another man entered the control room, pulling off a disguise with a grin. He dropped to one knee beside the first intruder, the gesture intimate, familiar.
Al’s vision blurred, but he recognized him.
Lu Shihuai.
And then everything went dark.