After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Met the Reborn Omega - Chapter 59

Lin Changsheng walked across the wooden floor, each step producing a creaking sound, like a whisper from beneath a once-glossy surface that had long since rotted away. This dark memory had been buried deep within her mind, sealed away—one she least wanted to revisit.

Years ago, she had been kidnapped by Su Jing.

The room was dim, lit by a single overhead bulb that hung from the ceiling. Looking up, the light stabbed at her eyes, yet it wasn’t bright enough to fully illuminate the space. It felt like the beam had been intentionally focused on her face—to keep her from drifting into unconsciousness.

Her arms had been suspended by chains, forcing her to stand on tiptoe. If she started to faint, the chains would pull at her shoulders, dragging her back into pain. The agony alone kept her from closing her eyes.

Su Jing appeared at intervals, always emerging from the shadows. The light bathed her figure, casting her like a deity peering down upon mortals. In the beginning, she would speak kindly to Lin Changsheng. But as time passed, and Lin Changsheng refused to yield, Su Jing began punishing her.

On the first day, Su Jing slowly etched lines into her back with a knife—deep enough to slice skin, but not fatal. Her technique was precise, calculated, and the pain spread across Lin Changsheng’s body like fire.

And even then, she wasn’t allowed to pass out.

Su Jing would stop the bleeding just enough to keep her conscious. The moment wounds began to heal, she would tear them open again.

At first, Lin Changsheng would scream in pain. But upon seeing the twisted pleasure on Su Jing’s face, she clenched her teeth, bit her lips, and forced herself into silence.

On the second day, Lin Changsheng was dazed. The light overhead seemed to sway. Just as she was about to fall asleep, Su Jing returned—this time with a new target: the glands.

The most delicate part of the human body.

She didn’t destroy them outright—just carved out half of one, yanking the flesh from Lin Changsheng’s body. The pain was unbearable. Lin Changsheng involuntarily bit through her own lip.

“Have you ever wondered,” Su Jing asked, holding the blood-soaked gland fragment as if it were a toy, “why humans evolved into A/B/O, and why glands even exist?”

After playing with the bloodied piece for a moment, she grew bored and casually threw it to the floor.

Lin Changsheng’s only response was a cold, contemptuous stare—the gaze of a god looking down upon mortals. Su Jing was visibly stirred by that look.

From that moment, her attitude shifted.

In the beginning, she treated Lin Changsheng the same as everyone else—probing for weaknesses, trying to break her will and turn her into a devoted servant, a follower.

But Lin Changsheng was unlike anyone she had ever encountered.

“We’re the same,” Su Jing said one day. Her tone had changed. She no longer wanted to dominate; she wanted to destroy the world together with Lin Changsheng.

We were made for each other. Together, we would be the perfect existence.

But how could Lin Changsheng possibly submit?

After a week of torture, the light suddenly went out.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Lin Changsheng slipped into unconsciousness.

She didn’t know how long she slept. Only when she felt something crawling along her back—on the wounds that had barely scabbed over—did the piercing pain and unbearable itching wake her again.

The environment had changed.

It was still dark, but now clearly more spacious—and though rundown, it resembled the interior of a villa. Lin Changsheng forced herself upright. The air was filled with a sickening stench of rot. As she moved, flies scattered from her body in a buzzing swarm.

There were so many of them.

She had no idea how long she had been lying there, but the sight before her was seared into her soul.

“Urgh—” Lin Changsheng dry-heaved. Her stomach was completely empty—there wasn’t even bile left to vomit.

She staggered toward the only visible light source. Her foot struck something wet and sticky, but it was too dark to see what it was. Her body was weak, nearly numb.

Trembling, she finally made it to the window and pulled open the curtains.

Blinding light streamed in through the window, and as Lin Changsheng turned back, she finally saw what she had kicked just moments before—

A human head.

Behind her were bloody footprints, step after step, leading all the way back through the house. In the living room, two corpses lay sprawled on the floor. One body was decapitated, the other mostly intact. The entire room was covered in blood, thick with the stench of iron and death.

Lin Changsheng gagged again, nauseated by the scene, and bent over by the window. A wave of dry heaving overtook her once more. Her hand, bloodstained, left a red imprint on the glass.

Her clothes were soaked in blood—but none of it was hers. She had no visible wounds.

Call the police.

That was her first instinct. Holding her stomach, she staggered toward the door, driven by a faint sliver of hope for survival. But even as she moved, Su Jing’s voice echoed in her ears:

“I will prove to you how ignorant the world is. They will only hurt you. You don’t belong to them. I am your true place of belonging.”

Lin Changsheng ran.

She stumbled her way out of the house, but everywhere inside still bore her marks—her fingerprints, her footprints, her bloodstains. She descended the mountain path in a daze. Though she was exhausted, her body hadn’t yet completely broken down.

Finally, she encountered someone on the roadside. The moment they saw her blood-drenched form, they gasped in horror.

Lin Changsheng called the police.

As the memory came to a close, Lin Changsheng looked back on this illusion. Everything she had just seen was clearly constructed based on her memories—but not without distortion. She had indeed reported the crime, but she hadn’t been taken directly to the police station afterward. She had been sent to the hospital first.

The doctors, after a full examination, found no major injuries aside from slight anemia. The wounds on her back had already healed, some of them so well they looked like old scars. Despite not having eaten in days, her vitals were merely weakened, not life-threatening.

It was likely Su Jing had injected her with nutrient solutions to keep her alive. Both Su Jing and Lin Changsheng were prodigies in their own right—perhaps that’s why Su Jing believed only Lin Changsheng could truly understand her.

Later, police arrived at the location Lin Changsheng had described. Inside the house, they found five more corpses. Most had died from blood loss, their backs bearing extensive knife wounds, some even dismembered with brute force.

The investigation revealed a shocking detail—every one of those victims had previously participated in online harassment against Lin Changsheng. At that time, Lin Changsheng had gained public attention for helping Mo Zhaoyan develop a suppressant patch—a breakthrough that brought her both acclaim and, unfortunately, waves of cyberbullying.

Police returned to the hospital to question her again. Doctors noted that the scars on Lin Changsheng’s back were remarkably similar to the wounds on the deceased. The lead investigator then was Chen Lin.

Upon discovering the similarity, Chen Lin began to suspect that Lin Changsheng might be the killer.

No traces of anyone else were found at the crime scene—only Lin Changsheng’s. And when asked why she had been there, Lin Changsheng couldn’t explain. She claimed she had been kidnapped, but could not describe the abductor’s face.

With no clear alibi and overwhelming circumstantial evidence, Chen Lin resorted to relentless interrogation, trying to force a confession.

But Lin Changsheng—having already endured Su Jing’s torture—was no longer someone who could be broken by questioning.

In the end, she was released for lack of evidence.

But no legal ruling could stop the online rumors. From that moment on, Lin Changsheng grew increasingly quiet and withdrawn.

It was also around that time that she began to hear a voice inside her body—the first sign of Xingyun’s awakening.

Xingyun had always been dormant inside Lin Changsheng. It was Su Jing’s interference that brought it fully to life—and manipulated it for her own use.

Now, Lin Changsheng stared at the illusion before her and said coldly:

“You can’t defeat me. I’m no longer the person I used to be.

Besides—this is all fake.”

With a sharp wave of her hand, Lin Changsheng shattered the illusion—the entire scene before her collapsed and vanished, like a physical manifestation of her fear finally dissolving.

As the image faded away, Lin Changsheng awakened from the neural interface. She ripped the headset off and threw it to the floor, where it landed with a loud crash.

Only then did she realize—she was no longer in her office.

This place… it resembled the mansion from the illusion.

But now, though the air was still thick with decay, the stench of blood had faded, and there were no signs of corpses. It was still dark and suffocating, and Lin Changsheng felt deeply unsettled.

Then, she heard clapping.

From the shadows emerged a figure dressed in white—Lin Wan.

“I crafted that illusion just for you,” she said softly. “And you escaped so quickly…”

“It was you.”

Lin Changsheng’s calm reply only seemed to excite Lin Wan further. She trembled with anticipation, one hand gripping the opposite arm tightly. A flash of steel gleamed in the dim light—a knife, identical to the one Su Jing had once wielded.

“You’re her follower.”

For the first time, Lin Changsheng clearly saw the madness in Lin Wan’s eyes. “Yes… I am her most faithful believer…”

Lin Changsheng gave a cold, mocking laugh.

That laugh cut through Lin Wan like a blade. She had seen it before—that glint of disdain, the icy indifference in Lin Changsheng’s eyes.

It was the same expression Su Jing had once given her.

Because she had failed. Because she wasn’t worthy to be one of Su Jing’s “artworks.”

“What are you laughing at?!” Lin Wan snapped. She lunged at Lin Changsheng, the knife pressed tightly against her throat, its icy edge biting into her skin. Lin Changsheng could feel the cold steel, and how Lin Wan’s trembling hands were on the verge of losing control.

“I’m laughing at you—for mistaking a demon for a god.”

“Shut up! Shut up! You’re the demons! You don’t know… you don’t know how much she meant to me!”

“Too bad your god will never save you,” Lin Changsheng replied coldly. “She wouldn’t even look at you.”

That struck Lin Wan’s deepest wound.

**“No! She will! She will look at me—as long as I kill you! If I kill you!”

There had been a time Su Jing had looked at Lin Wan—just once. But Lin Wan had failed her. She couldn’t kill. No matter how vivid her fantasies were in her stories, in reality, she had been too afraid, too weak to follow through.

And Su Jing had no use for a failed creation.

She discarded Lin Wan.

To Lin Wan, it felt like being abandoned by her only god, by the only faith she had.

Not this time. Not again.

“I’ll make you proud of me!” she screamed.

Meanwhile, Mo Zhaoyan hadn’t heard from Lin Changsheng for several hours.

Worry gnawed at her relentlessly.

Then her phone rang.

What she heard on the other end shattered her composure.

The phone slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor.

She rushed to the police station, panic rising in her chest—but when she arrived, the officers refused to let her see Lin Changsheng.

“I’m sorry,” the officer said. “The suspect refuses all visitors. Lin Changsheng has confessed to murder. Please leave.”

“She confessed…? Who did she kill?”

There was a pause.

“Lin Wan.”

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