After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Met the Reborn Omega - Chapter 52

At night, unknown things always happened inside the prison. Although this Hell Island facility held the most dangerous criminals, making escape virtually impossible, internal management was not particularly strict. Violence frequently broke out.

Perhaps the authorities allowed it—criminals eliminating other criminals. Many inmates here had committed heinous crimes, but death sentences were not administered. Some were even scheduled for release soon.

That was likely why Su Jing, despite having killed so many, remained here relatively unharmed. Perhaps the higher-ups saw her as a useful tool for handling certain individuals.

Chen Lin had noticed this, too. Although Su Jing wore shackles, they hardly restrained her. She could easily undo the chains around her ankles whenever she wished.

Moreover, Su Jing’s cell had no surveillance cameras, and prison guards rarely patrolled her area.

When the clock struck two in the morning, Chen Lin opened her eyes, fully awake and alert. Sitting up in bed, she turned to glance at Su Jing on the neighboring bunk.

Su Jing appeared to be sleeping soundly.

Chen Lin quietly walked to the cell door and tried turning the knob. It was locked—at least they weren’t so bold as to leave it open.

Crouching down, she examined the lock. It was an older model—the prison had yet to adopt the latest high-tech systems.

Chen Lin pulled a piece of wire from her pocket, unsure where she had gotten it. With a deft twist, the lock clicked open.

At first, she worried there might be alarms. However, it seemed that as long as no one attempted to escape the prison entirely, internal movements weren’t restricted. Clearly, the authorities had long chosen to turn a blind eye.

Moving swiftly, Chen Lin slipped out of the cell, avoiding every camera. After these months, she had memorized the entire layout of the prison and knew all the blind spots.

Before long, she reached Liang Yu’s cell. Liang Yu had a room to herself. Chen Lin quietly slipped inside, noting that there was a camera mounted overhead—but it was clear she didn’t care about being recorded.

She approached Liang Yu’s bed. The woman stirred awake, startled to see Chen Lin standing over her. Shock turned to anger as Liang Yu opened her mouth to shout—but before she could make a sound, Chen Lin seized her by the collar and effortlessly lifted her off the bed.

“You—!”

Before Liang Yu could say more, she felt a sharp pain in her chest. In the next instant, her body was hurled through the air, slamming into the wall with a sickening thud.

Agony spread through Liang Yu’s body, and she tried to scream for help—but no sound came out.

All she could do was stare at Chen Lin in terror.

Chen Lin stepped closer, her gaze cold and unfeeling. Her foot struck Liang Yu’s chest again, the loud crack of breaking bones echoing through the room.

“Mmff…”

Liang Yu whimpered, paralyzed by fear.

Chen Lin looked down at her without a trace of mercy.

“Back then, the girl you hurt begged you for mercy too, didn’t she?” Chen Lin said coldly. “Did you show her any?”

Liang Yu could only watch in horror as Chen Lin advanced step by step. The leg that should have been crippled—according to records—showed no sign of disability at all.

Chen Lin’s leg had never been crippled.

Chen Lin simply sat at the edge of the bed, watching Liang Yu. That one kick had broken Liang Yu’s ribs; fragments had punctured her lungs. Liang Yu could no longer speak, only writhe on the floor, awaiting death.

Internal bleeding wasn’t immediately fatal. Once enough blood filled the lungs, the person would suffocate—a slow, excruciating death. Liang Yu didn’t even have the chance to call for help.

She couldn’t utter a single word; she could only stare wide-eyed at her approaching end.

Chen Lin unfastened the watch from Liang Yu’s wrist and held it up before her face. In the silence of the dark room, the ticking of the second hand sounded painfully loud.

Tick-tock, tick-tock…

Flowing along with time was also Liang Yu’s dwindling life.

Eventually, Liang Yu could no longer hear the ticking—nor anything else at all.

Chen Lin took the watch, slipped it onto her own wrist, and stood. Suddenly, she sensed someone behind her. She spun around and lashed out with a swift kick—only for her right leg to be caught mid-air.

It was Su Jing.

Chen Lin didn’t know when she had arrived—or how long she had been watching.

Su Jing squeezed Chen Lin’s foot lightly and said with a smirk, “Wasn’t your leg crippled by me?”

Chen Lin retracted her leg calmly. “It was a psychological wound. My leg was never actually damaged.”

It turned out that Chen Lin had deceived everyone, including Su Jing, into believing her leg was disabled.

Su Jing, intrigued, crouched down and examined Chen Lin’s leg again. “It’s not just fine… there’s something else here.”

“Steel bone,” Chen Lin said. “I underwent surgery. My bones were replaced with metal.”

Su Jing’s eyes lit up like a curious child discovering a new favorite toy. “Metal implantation technology isn’t fully mature yet. During the procedure, they don’t use anesthesia—you have to stay conscious while your bones are extracted and replaced with steel. That kind of pain… no ordinary person could survive it.”

“It was extremely painful,” Chen Lin admitted. “That’s why I only replaced one leg.”

“One leg is enough,” Su Jing said with admiration. “With just that, you can easily break a human’s bones.”

While Su Jing was clearly excited, Chen Lin only regarded her coldly—her gaze sharp and piercing, revealing the truest version of herself.

“But you,” Chen Lin said, voice low and steady, “caught it without a scratch.”

That kick earlier had been completely neutralized by Su Jing. What a monster, Chen Lin couldn’t help but think.

Su Jing straightened up, and Chen Lin noticed she was barefoot, no shackles in sight.

Su Jing glanced at the corpse lying behind Chen Lin and clicked her tongue twice.

“A righteous enforcer, huh? You struck decisively. She must have suffered a lot before she died,” Su Jing said with a lazy smile.

“If you kill, you must be prepared to be killed.”

Chen Lin had hesitated, had wavered. She had wondered if she was wrong. But every time she saw criminals living without a shred of remorse—every time she thought of the innocent victims—an unstoppable impulse surged within her.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to kill. Standing above the law was wrong. And yet…

“You weren’t wrong. You did the right thing. They deserved to die.”

It was Su Jing comforting her, like a hand reaching out in the depths of despair—something for Chen Lin to cling to when she had almost lost herself.

I wasn’t wrong. I only killed those who deserved it.

Su Jing’s words felt like both encouragement and temptation—urging her forward to commit more acts, pushing a conflicted Chen Lin onto a clearer path.

Even if that path led to hell, Chen Lin walked on—because Su Jing was there, luring her deeper, step by step.

“This place has surveillance. Tomorrow, they’ll know it was me,” Chen Lin said quietly.

This was the last vestige of her conscience, the safety line she’d left herself: If she committed wrongdoing, she would accept the punishment. That was why she hadn’t cared about the cameras when she decided to kill.

“Oh? Is that so? Take another look at the surveillance,” Su Jing said with a smirk.

Startled, Chen Lin lifted her gaze to the monitor—only to find that the camera was already broken. She didn’t even know when it had happened.

“You destroyed it?” Chen Lin asked, her voice trembling slightly. Not only had Su Jing wrecked the surveillance, but she had also destroyed the escape route Chen Lin had left for her conscience.

Su Jing leaned in closer, wrapping her arms around Chen Lin, whose body was shaking slightly. Her voice was a whisper, seductive like the devil’s:

“Don’t worry. I took care of everything. It’s alright. You can go ahead and do whatever you want. I’m here for you—my little enforcer.”

A strange calmness spread through Chen Lin’s heart. She knew it was wrong—yet…

She could feel something inside her quietly fading away. But by now, she had lost control, and it no longer mattered.

She lightly hugged Su Jing back.

If this path led to hell, then so be it.

The next day, nothing unusual happened. The days that followed were the same. Chen Lin and Su Jing barely interacted again, as if after that night, their fates no longer crossed.

It wasn’t until Lin Changsheng finally managed to secure Chen Lin’s release that things changed.

Chen Lin was declared innocent and walked out of the prison, limping toward the gates of freedom.

Su Jing came to see her off. Chen Lin merely glanced at her once, then turned and left without another word.

Outside, for the first time, Chen Lin realized how blue the sky was.

Lin Changsheng got out of the car and handed her a crutch.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I just didn’t manage to find any useful information,” Chen Lin replied.

Lin Changsheng sensed that something was off about her, but he didn’t dwell on it. He was in good spirits lately and didn’t notice the subtle changes in her.

“Don’t worry. Take your time. There’s still a while before she gets out,” he reassured her.

“I’ll go home and rest for now. I’ll contact you if I find anything new,” Chen Lin said.

“Alright, I’ll drive you.”

In the car, the two of them sat in silence.

After leaving prison, Chen Lin was even quieter than before. Lin Changsheng simply assumed she had suffered hardships during her time inside.

After dropping her off, Lin Changsheng watched Chen Lin limp heavily toward her house. He didn’t look away until she closed the door behind her, a hint of confusion flickering in his eyes.

Was her limp always that severe?

Just then, Mo Zhaoyan’s call came through. Lin Changsheng’s face lit up with joy as she answered, “Hello, wife!”

“When are you coming home?”

Lin Changsheng could practically picture Mo Zhaoyan smiling tenderly on the other end of the line.

The joy of being in love made her forget about all the small, nagging details. “I’m heading back now.”

Their relationship had been progressing at lightning speed lately, thanks to a surprise incident during the finale of a variety show they had participated in.

At the show’s end, the production team had planned a “surprise” by secretly approaching Lin Changsheng’s room to film an impromptu moment.

Unexpectedly, Mo Zhaoyan had been inside the room as well. What was supposed to be a surprise quickly turned into a shock.

However, when people realized that Lin Changsheng and Mo Zhaoyan were officially married, rumors about their supposed divorce crumbled instantly.

Lin Changsheng clearly remembered that evening. Her brother-in-law had told her the program had ended, so she returned to her room, not expecting to find Mo Zhaoyan waiting there.

In truth, Mo Zhaoyan had been wanting to talk to Lin Changsheng for a long time. During the show, after the “Moonlight Confession” segment, a seed of certainty had taken root in her heart. She had long wanted to confront her feelings.

Fortunately, with the program wrapped up, she finally had the chance.

Since her rebirth, Mo Zhaoyan had sensed something different about Lin Changsheng—as if she had become the person Mo Zhaoyan had once deeply loved. But uncertainty gnawed at her: could a soul truly transfer into another body?

Still, if Lin Changsheng said it herself, Mo Zhaoyan would believe her.

“What do you want to know?” Lin Changsheng asked gently, seeing the conflict in Mo Zhaoyan’s eyes and opening the conversation herself.

“Are you… really you?”

Though Mo Zhaoyan had countless questions, what came out was only this one seemingly nonsensical inquiry.

Lin Changsheng smiled softly. “It’s me. The one who married you is me. The one who spent our honeymoon together is me. The one who has loved you all along—is me.

I’ve been trapped in this body for many years. I watched that ‘other’ me stay by your side, powerless to intervene. I watched you leave the version of me that was no longer truly me. I watched you reset this world.

Because of you, I had the chance to come back. Ah Yan, I have to thank you.”

Mo Zhaoyan quickly covered her mouth as tears streamed down her face. She hadn’t realized how long she had lived in fear and doubt.

Now, hearing confirmation from the one she loved for so many years, she found it almost too overwhelming to believe.

“It’s me who should be thanking you,” Mo Zhaoyan choked out. “Thank you for appearing in my world, for teaching me what love truly is. Thank you for showing me that you never changed—you just disappeared for a while. You never stopped loving me.”

When it came to love, fear and insecurity were never one-sided. Lin Changsheng gently wiped away Mo Zhaoyan’s tears, heart aching for her.

“If you keep crying, you won’t look like that cool, aloof President Mo anymore,” Lin Changsheng teased softly.

Mo Zhaoyan tightly gripped Lin Changsheng’s hand, terrified of losing the treasure she had finally recovered.

“Will you be taken over again?” she asked, voice trembling slightly.

“Never again,” Lin Changsheng assured her. “Because now, I know just how much you love me. I no longer have fear inside me. As long as my light remains, no one can ever take my body again.”

Mo Zhaoyan gave a soft hum of acknowledgment and leaned forward, wanting to finally kiss the lover she had waited so long to reclaim.

Their lips were just about to meet—when a knock sounded at the door.

Mo Zhaoyan’s face immediately cooled as she went to open it, only to find the production team standing there with a live broadcast rolling.

The viewers could clearly see Mo Zhaoyan’s slightly flushed eyes and the nameplate on the door: Lin Changsheng’s Room.

“Sorry,” Mo Zhaoyan said icily. “She’s not available today.”

With that, the production team was promptly shut out, and the live chat exploded in chaos.

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