Chapter 109: Main Story Finale
“Lin Jiangye… Lin Jiangye—where is he? Where the hell is he?!” On the rooftop of the tenth floor, a crazed man gripped a remote control so tightly his knuckles had gone white. That remote controlled the explosives strapped to the group of children behind him.
The moment he pressed it, those kids would be blown into pieces—there wouldn’t be the slightest chance of survival.
A lot of the police were terrified the lunatic would hit the button at any second. If those children died, then they’d be done for this year too.
They’d finally managed—with a team of doctors—to stabilize the man’s mental state. All they needed was a little more time: once Consultant Lin finished settling the drugged animals downstairs and came up to divert the lunatic’s attention, the sniper hidden in the high-rise could take the shot cleanly.
But “accidents” only ever happen when you least expect them.
Just as everyone thought the lunatic was calming down, a phone ringtone suddenly rang out.
Everyone’s faces tightened—because it wasn’t coming from any of them.
It was coming from the lunatic.
Who was calling him? What did the caller want?
The police standing in front of him went rigid. They considered snatching the phone away, but the fear was immediate: what if they moved even slightly, startled him, and he reflexively pressed the button—
They watched, helpless, as he ended his livestream and answered the call.
They didn’t know what the caller said, but they saw it clearly: the lunatic’s eyes, which had been lucid, turned cloudy again—violent, agitated.
Damn it. Who the hell called him?!
Exactly as they feared, the moment he hung up, he started screaming again for Lin Jiangye to show himself.
At the same time, he reopened the livestream—only this time, the chat was flooded with paid trolls, all raving about Lin Jiangye.
Some claimed they’d seen Lin Jiangye sitting leisurely in a café, sipping coffee like he didn’t care at all about the kidnapped children.
Others swore Lin Jiangye had already gone back to Yue City, hugging his animals and resting.
And then more—rumors everywhere, wildfire-fast. Several related hashtags even surged onto the trending list, instantly drawing the attention of countless netizens.
But when people clicked in, the posts were already gone—along with the accounts that had posted them.
Before any new rumor could spread, the Wenyang City police issued a fresh public notice: there was a mastermind deliberately spreading false information, deliberately re-triggering the kidnapper, putting the police and victims on the fire to roast.
The statement itself was perfectly reasonable—yet the longer Lin Jiangye didn’t appear, the more people muttered to themselves. More and more began to suspect that this famous Consultant Lin might actually not care about the victims at all.
“Half an hour! If I don’t see Lin Jiangye in half an hour, I… I’ll kill him first!”
The lunatic yanked one child up by the arm. His eyes were so bloodshot he looked like a slasher villain straight out of a movie.
His phone dropped to the ground. The camera angle perfectly captured his twisted, feral face—and the child’s terrified, sobbing expression.
It made the livestream audience’s hearts clench.
Even though the police were trying to control the narrative, online discussions about “Where is Lin Jiangye?” only grew louder. In the end, the topic even shot to #1 trending.
It was taken down quickly—but the public’s voices weren’t something you could just “take down” with a click.
“Who is it? Who else is out there, still watching Lin Jiangye?” The Wenyang police felt like their heads were about to explode.
The two men who had planned the scheme were already locked up, and the other four had been detained by the Capital police even earlier.
Which meant this incident targeting Lin Jiangye wasn’t planned solely by the organization trafficking protected-animal products.
As the situation unfolded, Wenyang investigators also began digging into the circus personnel—and found that some of them were wanted fugitives from Yue City.
They didn’t dare remain in Yue City. Yue City was huge, sure—but if the crows ever decided to keep an eye on them, then getting caught was only a matter of time.
Forced to flee, they simmered in resentment. Their hatred eventually latched onto Lin Jiangye—the man who could command those crows.
So when other people approached them and proposed taking Lin Jiangye down, they agreed on the spot.
That organization paid to plant them inside a notoriously shady circus, sent the circus to Wenyang City, and at the crucial moment had them drug the animals and release them.
As for the lunatic from the Zhang family—he’d been retrieved by the organization too. And the explosives? A wanted criminal had handmade them. They weren’t as powerful as standard bombs, but killing a child would be more than easy.
After the incident erupted, those people scattered and ran immediately. Some were caught, but a small group successfully stayed hidden—watching events unfold from the shadows.
That phone call came from one of them.
If he hadn’t called at that exact moment, the doctors the police brought in might have successfully soothed the lunatic.
And that wouldn’t do. They absolutely would not allow any “accident” to derail this operation.
Just as the lunatic was screaming about killing a child, a tall, slender figure appeared at the rooftop door.
“I’m here.”
Lin Jiangye was practically steaming with heat. He’d just finished dealing with the two lions, then sprinted nonstop to this building—and charged up ten floors in one go.
He took two breaths, forced his breathing steady. The police around him hurriedly filled him in on the current situation.
Once he heard someone was watching everything from the shadows, Lin Jiangye narrowed his eyes and looked down at the phone on the ground.
“I know what to do. We have a sniper ready, right?”
“We do! The sniper’s been ready for ages!”
Lin Jiangye nodded, pushed past the others, and strode straight toward the lunatic.
At the same time, Shang Fuyan arrived downstairs and saw Tiger Mom and the other “kids” crouched in the vehicle, craning their heads upward.
He hurried over, climbed into the vehicle, and sat there panting. “Are the animals… all taken care of?”
The other animals stared at him in surprise, not understanding why he’d appeared here. But Tiger Mom and the German Shepherd exchanged a glance—neither of them looked surprised at all.
Tiger Mom nodded, then lowered her head and nudged Shang Fuyan gently.
The man felt absurdly honored.
My god. The Mountain God just nuzzled me.
If the timing weren’t so wrong, he would’ve wanted to tell Lin Jiangye the “good news” immediately.
Tiger Mom understood: the only reason they’d been able to reach Wenyang so quickly and help Lin Jiangye was because this man had played a part.
But he didn’t claim credit. He just stayed quiet, worrying about the human cub’s situation.
When Lin Jiangye saw the lunatic, his first thought wasn’t “his mental state is unstable.”
It was: something about him was off.
Not the insanity—the movements. The mannerisms.
He moved… numb. Mechanical.
No—more like a puppet on strings.
“Has he been controlled?” Lin Jiangye murmured to the police beside him. They weren’t surprised; they nodded hard. “Doctors noticed it too. It looks like he’s been given a psychological suggestion.”
Later, they interrogated the wanted criminals and confirmed it: among the masterminds, there really was someone skilled in hypnosis.
And that person wasn’t among the suspects currently being interrogated—meaning he’d slipped away from the circus early. That phone call had to be his.
One call, less than a minute, and he shattered over two hours of police effort. No one else could’ve done that.
Lin Jiangye understood immediately. He glanced down at the phone on the ground.
That phone could not stay here.
He spread his hands and walked toward the lunatic step by step. “I’m here. Why did you want me?”
The lunatic was ecstatic the moment he saw Lin Jiangye—like a scavenger that had caught the scent of carrion. He stared with bulging eyes, locked on him.
“You’re here! You finally came! Hahahahaha! They were right—they were right! You really would show up!”
The police all went cold at that line. They already knew he had someone behind him. What they feared was what the lunatic might demand—something vicious, humiliating, unbearable.
The livestream audience felt tense too. Earlier, people had been shouting, Why isn’t he here yet? But now that he really came… many almost wished he hadn’t.
The moment Lin Jiangye appeared, the lunatic’s excitement spiked. What if he got too worked up and pressed the remote by accident?
He was a madman. Who could predict what a madman would do?
And just as the police feared, the lunatic’s first demand was this:
Lin Jiangye had to strip off all his clothes.
If he refused, the lunatic would press the remote and blow the children to pieces.
Shang Fuyan and the others instantly exploded in rage.
The livestream audience also went wide-eyed. No one expected such a deranged demand.
This was blatant humiliation—no other way to put it.
Watching from behind the scenes, the criminals pulling the strings burst into laughter.
“That’s only the first step!”
By their plan, stripping was only step one. After that would come all kinds of demands—self-harm, and even more degrading, humiliating “tasks.” They weren’t just trying to break Lin Jiangye physically; they wanted to grind him down mentally and publicly shame him to the bone.
Most importantly, they were going to force that madman to livestream every second of it.
“Won’t the livestream get taken down all of a sudden?” someone asked.
A young man lounging on the windowsill let out a snort. “Relax. The cops won’t be able to take it down this time, even if they want to.”
They had prepared everything in advance—bribing an employee at the streaming platform—because their goal was to destroy Lin Jiangye completely.
While everyone else was shocked and furious, Lin Jiangye himself stayed remarkably calm.
He took a few steps forward, touched his ear, and just as the madman’s impatience started showing, he suddenly said, “Go on. Press it.”
He was less than two meters from the phone, so the words were broadcast clearly.
Before the first sentence could ignite an explosion of outrage, he added, “Did you forget you’re still holding a kid? If you press that remote, the kid dies—and you die too.”
The netizens who were about to erupt fell silent. The madman, who had been looking forward to watching Lin Jiangye get embarrassed, also went quiet. And Shang Fuyan—who was so angry he was about to blow—couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.
Right—at that moment, the madman had one hand on the remote and one hand gripping a child. The phone could only lie on the ground.
If he pressed the remote, he wouldn’t benefit either.
The madman was mentally unstable, sure—but he wasn’t stupid. As he realized the bind he was in and started thinking of a way out, a white blur suddenly flashed past his eyes.
Wh… what just flew by?
While the madman was still frozen, Lin Jiangye clasped his hands behind his back and waved casually at the police behind him.
That gesture meant: Sniper, get ready.
Wenyang’s police chief snapped into focus. He stared at the madman, who looked temporarily stunned—but unfortunately the man’s left hand was held tight against his chest, perfectly blocking the sniper’s line of sight. Otherwise, that would’ve been the cleanest shot.
Lin Jiangye knew that too, which was why he’d signaled them to prepare.
Qiming had already snatched the phone off the ground. That way, even if the puppet-master tried to call again and change the madman’s “script,” it wouldn’t work.
The onlookers only felt the world spin—then the livestream suddenly vanished.
The room hadn’t been forcibly taken down. It was just that Qiming had dropped the phone from the air onto the ground.
The phone shattered to pieces. No phone, no livestream.
Seeing this, the people hiding behind the scenes all went blank.
Then the room erupted with furious, spitting curses. This was never in their calculations.
“Why the hell would that madman just throw his phone away?!”
“What now—do we keep hiding here and wait?”
“Wait my ass! We need to run!”
The moment the words fell, the group grabbed their bags, flung the door open, and rushed out.
Only to find—downstairs—they collided head-on with police officers coming up to investigate.
“Wanted criminals!”
“Run!”
—
On the rooftop, Lin Jiangye lifted his head and swept his eyes toward a concealed window where a sniper was positioned.
Now all he needed was to make the madman raise the hand holding the remote. The sniper could instantly punch through the wrist—tear the tendons—so the fingers couldn’t move, and the remote would drop.
The police hadn’t considered a headshot. But they feared the “what if.” What if the madman hit the button in his dying moment?
And if the bullet only damaged part of the brain, he wouldn’t die instantly.
Of course, the best outcome would be forcing the madman to drop the remote on his own. But Lin Jiangye knew himself—he didn’t think he had that kind of persuasion power.
He continued walking toward the madman. The man snapped back to reality, tossed the child aside, and the moment he looked up, he saw Lin Jiangye closing in fast. He stumbled backward several steps.
“Don’t come closer! One more step and I’ll press it!” he shrieked, raising the remote high.
A perfect opening.
Lin Jiangye and the police all lit up—because the timing they’d been praying for had arrived just like that.
The sniper, already ready the instant he saw the signal, didn’t hesitate.
With a dull thump, the bullet tore out from the window and struck dead-center on the madman’s wrist.
Bang! A small crater burst open in his wrist.
For a split second, he didn’t feel pain—only the sensation of being hit, then numbness. Control over his hand vanished.
Before he could even process it, a pale hand seized his wrist and slammed down hard. He heard the sharp crack of bone snapping.
Lin Jiangye had crushed his wrist.
Lin Jiangye carefully cradled the remote as it dropped into his palm, terrified of jostling it.
He was about to hand it to the police—when the madman, yanked back to awareness by agony, realized he’d lost the only chip he had to bargain with.
No remote. Now what?
Run? Where could he run?
He stared at Lin Jiangye holding the remote with such careful gentleness. A sudden surge of hatred exploded in his chest—Why does the person who ruined my life get to live?
A knife was hidden inside his coat. But he knew: one-on-one, he’d never beat Lin Jiangye.
So—
As the police rushed him, he spun and bolted toward the children.
No remote? Fine. He could still grab a child and threaten them.
This time, he’d demand only one thing: to leave.
But after two steps, he felt that familiar pressure behind him—Lin Jiangye was already on him.
The madman didn’t think. He yanked out the knife and stabbed at Lin Jiangye.
In less than a blink, his right wrist was snapped too—forced into a break.
Pain flooded his brain. He stared at the children just an arm’s length away, their faces trembling with fear—and faint hope—and in that moment he felt the whole world had wronged him.
Why, when disaster struck, did they have someone willing to risk his life?
Why hadn’t he?
Why?
In a flash, he remembered how, after the Zhang family collapsed, he’d lived like a stray dog under bridges—begging former “friends” on his knees just for a bite of food.
His heart had warped back then.
And that was exactly why he hated these children even more.
His wrists were broken—so what? He still had his arms.
That thought sparked a manic grin. The instant Lin Jiangye saw it, a cold dread surged up his spine.
Ignoring his broken wrists, the madman swung the knife again—then hooked one child with his arm and flung the kid hard to the side.
The next moment, Lin Jiangye’s kick sent him flying.
But Lin Jiangye didn’t have time to care. He launched himself forward and caught the child, hugging them tight.
Then—
Everyone watched in horror as the madman grabbed another child and jumped off the rooftop.
“If I’m dying anyway, I’m taking one kid with me!”
Because of the hostage situation, firefighters had already laid thick rescue air cushions below.
But from the height of the rooftop—eleven floors—this was far beyond what those cushions could safely handle. Even if they “caught” him, the impact could easily break bones.
Lin Jiangye didn’t think.
He shoved the child he was holding into someone else’s arms and leapt after them.
He kicked off the wall, launching himself in a straight line toward the madman.
The madman’s eyes bulged. He hadn’t expected Lin Jiangye to jump too.
Then he laughed.
Two people dying with him—worth it.
Lin Jiangye didn’t even look at him. He tore the child out of the madman’s grasp, then curled his body into a tight ball, wrapping the child inside himself like armor.
From eleven floors, the fall lasted only seconds.
But in those seconds, Lin Jiangye used pure instinct: protect the child.
With the air cushion absorbing part of the force and his body taking the rest, the child wouldn’t die.
But what about him?
Lin Jiangye closed his eyes and waited for the pain.
He didn’t know—down below, everyone had already turned into screaming silhouettes.
Because they’d fallen off-line.
They were going to miss the cushions.
At that critical moment, three massive shapes surged out from the side, using the height of an ambulance as a springboard and slamming into the falling bodies.
Tiger Mom. Tianheng. Kaiyang.
Three large beasts leapt as one, crashing into Lin Jiangye mid-air. Above them, Chang Geng spread his wings and dove toward Lin Jiangye too.
At the brink of disaster, the four of them, working together, knocked Lin Jiangye back into the cushion’s landing zone.
As for the madman—
Splut.
He hit the concrete beside it. The force drove his skull down into his chest.
No chance of survival. Not even a sliver.
The instant Lin Jiangye landed in the cushion, Shang Fuyan was the first to sprint over. The moment he saw Lin Jiangye curled there, his eyes turned red.
Lin Jiangye’s leg was twisted at a horrifying angle—obviously broken.
Medical staff swarmed in, checking his vitals first.
Good news: Lin Jiangye was alive.
Even better: the child he protected was alive too.
But there was bad news—his breathing was so faint, like a tiny flame in a gale. One misstep, and it would go out.
With lives on the line, no one cared anymore about the tiger and wolves surrounding them. They shoved the beasts aside and hauled Lin Jiangye onto a stretcher.
Tiger Mom tried to follow, but Shang Yongyi stopped her. “You can’t. Let my brother go.”
He didn’t even need to say it—Shang Fuyan was already running after the medics, climbing into the ambulance with them.
On the way to the hospital, he gripped Lin Jiangye’s hand so tightly his fingers went numb, praying under his breath.
“Just live. If you live… I’ll do anything.”
—
Meanwhile, at the edge of death, Lin Jiangye met an old acquaintance again.
“Hello! This is the Resurrection System 001—HOLY—why is it you again?! How are you dying again?!”
A resurrection system, as the name suggests, existed to pull a host back from the brink—or even from death itself—and restore them in their most perfect condition.
Lin Jiangye stared at the fluffy white ball in front of him, dazed.
If he remembered right, summoning a system required an overwhelming obsession… and you only got one chance.
So what was this?
System 001 circled him, yelling “what the hell” the whole time, then finally said flatly, “Mm-hm. You really don’t get a second chance. But someone is willing to give theirs to you.”
In the real world, Lin Jiangye was still being resuscitated while Shang Fuyan kept praying beside him.
And with the system’s appearance, Lin Jiangye’s life stopped slipping away. The doctors hadn’t fully saved him yet—but the “pause” meant he wouldn’t die immediately.
As for his leg… “Come on. Do the mission. Once you finish, your leg will be fine.”
Back then, Lin Jiangye had practically been snapped in two—and still got patched up.
“Good thing you’re only near death this time,” 001 muttered. “If you’d fully died, you’d be a vegetable for years.”
The difference between near-death and death meant totally different missions—and totally different difficulty.
001 glanced at the man by the hospital bed, quietly crying. It clicked its tongue. If Lin Jiangye lay there for years, that guy would collapse.
Hearing the system ramble, Lin Jiangye finally snapped back.
He couldn’t see what was happening in reality, but from the system’s words he could guess easily who’d dragged it here with sheer obsession.
Thinking of Shang Fuyan softened something deep in his chest—then guilt hit hard.
Not just guilt toward Shang Fuyan, but toward Tiger Mom and all the animals at home.
He’d made them worry.
Lin Jiangye inhaled slowly, forced himself steady, and grabbed the system, striding into the white mist.
“Let’s go!”
Second time’s the charm. He had to clear this fast—otherwise the people waiting for him would worry themselves sick.
—
The Wenyang incident blew up nationwide: a mass outbreak of drug-induced circus animals rampaging through the streets, plus children taken hostage on a rooftop.
And Lin Jiangye’s authority level had just been upgraded—so now the criminals who targeted him were looking at nothing less than life in prison.
The madman was dead.
The remaining fugitives were quickly caught—with the help of birds.
Those birds were rallied by Tiger Mom, Chang Geng, Qiming, and the others—working with police.
Their rage was simple: if it weren’t for those people, Lin Jiangye would never have ended up like this.
Footage of Lin Jiangye protecting the child mid-fall spread everywhere. Overnight, any earlier resentment about “He drew the madman’s hatred” vanished.
After police released the full timeline and revealed that the retaliation happened because Lin Jiangye was too capable, many who’d once blamed him felt ashamed.
The wrong people were the criminals—not Lin Jiangye.
When the public learned Lin Jiangye remained unconscious after emergency treatment, people began showing up at the Yue City Public Security Bureau with bouquets, asking officers to pass along their wishes.
One week. Two weeks. Three…
A full month passed.
The longer Lin Jiangye stayed unconscious, the more Shang Fuyan’s fear grew.
Doctors said: if he didn’t wake within a month, the odds of becoming a vegetative patient rose sharply.
And if he became a vegetable… waking up was almost zero.
Sitting by the bed, Shang Fuyan stared at Lin Jiangye’s pale face and felt himself hollow out.
“It’s been a month. Tiger Mom’s getting more and more irritable. If you still don’t wake up… she’ll be furious.”
“Border Collie seems pregnant again. The German Shepherd tries to cling to her and keeps getting kicked out. He’s anxious—worried about you and worried about his mate.”
“Bixi, Opal, and Catcake cried their voices hoarse. The three little ones are pathetic… but I can’t understand what they’re saying.”
He talked the way he always did, telling Lin Jiangye about home.
Halfway through, his voice broke.
“When will you wake up? I’m so scared…” and so full of regret.
If he’d known it would end like this, he wouldn’t have waited downstairs.
No—he wouldn’t have let Lin Jiangye go to Wenyang at all.
He lowered his face to Lin Jiangye’s hand and brushed it gently. Tears slid down his cheek, dripping into Lin Jiangye’s palm.
“Crying, huh?”
A hoarse voice sounded above him.
Shang Fuyan’s eyes flew open. He jerked his head up, staring at Lin Jiangye in disbelief.
Just minutes ago Lin Jiangye had looked pale and fragile. Now his face was rosy, his gaze clear—he didn’t look like someone who’d been unconscious for a month.
“You…” Shang Fuyan’s mind rang, blank. For a moment he thought it was another dream.
He had that dream every other day.
Then the face came closer—so close their breathing tangled.
The clear eyes flashed with a sly smile. “Wow… you really are crying.”
Warm breath brushed Shang Fuyan’s cheek.
It was real.
Lin Jiangye had woken up.
