Chapter Fifteen: The Stingy Angel Yan

Chapter Fifteen: The Stingy Angel Yan

After entering the hotel and arriving at the room, the first thing that caught the eye was a rather dirty and disordered space. Mold grew wantonly in the corners. But given that it was wartime, one couldn't be too picky.

“We’re under special circumstances now—electricity is rationed. The conditions here are a bit rough, so you’ll just have to make do,” the young soldier leading the way said awkwardly before making a quick escape.

Rose, who had entered ahead, coughed twice, choked by the stale air inside. She hurried to open the window and then placed Yun Yang on the bed.

Noticing that Angel Yan was clutching her wounded abdomen and leaning against the doorframe, Rose went over to support her into the room. Once Yun Yang and Angel Yan were settled, she glanced at the two invalids and realized she couldn’t count on either of them.

Silently, she picked up the cleaning tools stashed in the corner and began tidying up the room. After more than ten minutes of work—it wasn’t exactly spotless, but at least it was habitable, wasn’t it?

Sitting on the bed, watching Rose finish cleaning, Angel Yan suddenly felt a pang of embarrassment. Rose’s face and hands were now smudged with dirt, making her look like a mischievous kitten.

After cleaning the room, Rose went to the bathroom to wash her hands and was about to retrieve Yun Yang, still lying in the box.

Before she could get there, Angel Yan spoke up. “Alright, alright, you look like a little kitten now. Go take a shower. I’ll see to your beloved.”

“Be gentle with him,” Rose replied, blushing under Angel Yan’s gaze, and dashed into the bathroom as if something were chasing her.

Once Rose closed the door, Angel Yan withdrew her gaze and carefully examined the box on the bed—or rather, the person inside it.

It was clear that the person inside had the constitution of an ordinary human from Earth, but there was also a mysterious energy sustaining the beating of his heart. This was rather odd—not a divine body, yet able to survive with the aid of energy. What kind of inscrutable black technology was this?

But none of that truly mattered. The known universe was so vast; even the Angels, let alone the God River civilization with its two hundred thousand years of history, were not omniscient. How could the Angels, with less than a hundred thousand years to their name, hope to know everything?

Gently placing Yun Yang on the bed, Angel Yan observed him carefully. Something seemed amiss. He did not appear simply to be unconscious, but rather in a peculiar state—alive, yet dead; existing in a special quantum state, uncollapsed. To break this state would require energy—a tremendous amount, enough to guarantee the collapse of the probability wave into life.

Both the God River and the Angels had studied quantum physics, but due to quantum uncertainty, it was far too difficult to employ in practice. Transforming uncertainty into certainty demanded colossal amounts of energy—not worth the cost, and so both had abandoned the effort. Thus, Yun Yang’s state was not surprising to Angel Yan.

About twenty minutes later, Rose emerged from her shower. Angel Yan briefly explained Yun Yang’s situation. Rose listened, somewhat puzzled; if she could get online, she’d have researched what quantum physics actually was.

When Rose asked if she could save Yun Yang, Angel Yan replied helplessly, “I truly can’t. To control such probabilities, you’d need an ocean of energy. Look at me—I barely have enough energy to sustain myself, let alone spare any to save him.”

“So, to save him we need energy, and to get energy, we have to find Reina. And you, Angel Yan, are looking for Reina too. Are you lying to me?” Rose asked, suspicion in her voice.

“Why would I lie? Lying or not, we have to find Reina regardless. There’s no need for deception,” Angel Yan replied, her tone tinged with resignation.

After hearing Angel Yan’s answer, Rose decided to stay in Yellowstone City for two days before setting out to search for Emperor Reina.

On a war-scarred pedestrian street, surrounded by shattered ruins and craters from shellfire, a figure with chestnut hair, dressed in a black trench coat and tall boots, wandered aimlessly, uncertain where to go or where her friends might be. In a nearby alley, two shadows flitted past.

Back in the hotel room, Rose was chatting with Angel Yan.

“So you Angels only have one set of armor? Don’t you have other clothes?” Rose asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Every beautiful Angel is a warrior. Leaving the Angel Nebula means going to war,” Angel Yan replied, wearing an expression that said, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“That’s so sad. Your whole life is nothing but fighting,” Rose muttered quietly.

“For the justice and order of Queen Keisha. So that the God River civilization and the known universe can live happily under the shelter of justice and order. I have no regrets.” Although Rose’s voice was low, Angel Yan was, after all, a deity—she couldn’t possibly have missed it. She explained herself with sincere devotion.

“I see. You Angels are truly noble. I can’t compare—I just want Earth to develop in peace,” Rose replied, half-lounging on the bed, gently stroking Yun Yang’s cheek as she voiced her feelings about the Angels and her hopes for Earth.

After a moment’s silence, Rose found the gaping hole in Angel Yan’s armor distracting. She decided to drag her to the mall to get some clothes. As for why they were “getting” and not “buying”—well, even if you wanted to pay, there was no one to take your money.

The next day, ships belonging to the Direwolf Civilization entered Yellowstone City’s airspace, and the city’s air-raid sirens blared. The intelligence reached Rose, the Hero Company’s super-soldier, at once. She had no time to think or even to inform Angel Yan before rushing out to confront the threat.

“A flagship is approaching. Do you need my help?” came Angel Yan’s voice from behind.

“If your body can handle it, I don’t mind,” Rose replied, not breaking stride.

A wormhole opened above the Direwolf ship, and Rose, clad in black armor, leapt out and landed steadily on the deck.

She crouched to analyze the ship’s armor, only to find too many unknown elements—her own micro-wormholes couldn’t penetrate the vessel.

Stymied by the “turtle shell,” Rose suddenly received an encrypted message from Angel Yan; apparently, Angel Yan had been taunted by the Direwolf Civilization and had taken a hit—she was itching to take out one of their ships.

“Wait a moment,” Rose replied, unwilling to rely on an Angel’s hand to deal with her enemies. No matter how benevolent Angels might be, they were still outsiders. Power not under one’s own control could never be trusted.

Seeing Rose refuse her help, Angel Yan shrugged helplessly. “Can’t crack that shell? Want to borrow my Flame Sword?”

Rose glanced at the “turtle shell” beneath her feet, then at Angel Yan—she truly had no other option. Receiving the code for summoning the sword, she traced her hand through the air, and a sacred sword inscribed with crimson runes appeared in her grasp.

Time was short. Without taking a closer look at the sword, she plunged it into the hatch with both hands. The ship’s hardened hull immediately melted open, leaving a hole more than large enough for a person to enter.

Watching Rose slip inside, Angel Yan couldn’t help but exclaim, “How exhilarating! Working with a super-soldier of the God River gene line really feels different.” She casually retrieved her Flame Sword.

With nothing more to do, she opened a wormhole corridor and sat atop it—though to outsiders, it looked as if she were sitting in midair.

Inside the ship, Rose cut her way through to the command room. The reinforced alloy door gave her pause; not only was her gene engine still cooling, but the door’s material was indecipherable—no way to open a wormhole inside.

Inside the command room, the Direwolves panicked at the alarms. Headquarters had just sent word: avoid engaging the black-armored Angel at all costs, survival is paramount. This spoke volumes about the power of the black armor and the Angel. Now, with the flagship breached and the connection to the Angel all too obvious, how could they remain calm?

Yet, as veteran warriors, their discipline held. After a brief frenzy, order was restored, and they formed a line, vowing to protect the commander to the death, awaiting the intruder’s arrival.

Rose, still outside, was contemplating her next move when the Direwolves, anxious from watching her on the surveillance feed, decided to strike first. The door slid open, unleashing a hail of bullets—but the corridor was empty; their shots hit nothing.

Alerted by the door’s movement, Rose, with the reflexes of a super-soldier, took cover behind the frame, easily weathering the storm. She might not die from such an attack, but who wanted to get hit?

Now that the door was open, Rose wasted no time. She primed a flash grenade, counted a few seconds, then tossed it inside, dazing the Direwolves.

In that instant, she darted in, opened several wormholes above, and Yellowstone City’s artillery thundered to life. The Direwolf ship erupted in a blaze from within, crashing down in flames. The two escort ships made no move to avenge it—orders from command were clear: survival above all.

Thus, Yellowstone City’s crisis was temporarily averted.

Seeing the ship engulfed in flames, Angel Yan looked around, but Rose was nowhere to be seen. After several attempts to reach her via encrypted comms with no response, a sense of foreboding crept in.

As Angel Yan was lost in anxious speculation, a wormhole suddenly opened overhead, and Rose tumbled out, landing squarely atop her.

“You’re not dead?” Angel Yan teased, seeing Rose in such a sorry state.

“I nearly was! If you’d let me use your Flame Sword a bit longer, I’d have finished them off much sooner and wouldn’t look like this,” Rose grumbled, removing her hand from Angel Yan and glaring in annoyance.

She glanced back at the fleeing ships but let them go, her curiosity shifting to the wormhole corridor beneath her feet.