Deviant: No Longer Human

Seeing her little sister break down like this filled Wang Xueying with dread.

'Did it really happen?' Wang Xueying's thoughts spiraled into panic, her face twisting with bitterness at the possibility.

The idea that Mei might have been forced or hurt in some unimaginable way was almost too much to bear.

A few minutes later, the door swung open, and Xinyue Zhilan rushed in, her face lined with worry.

Wang Xueying stood by the door, having been the one to call their mother, her earlier resolve crumbling under the situation.

"Mom, she won't say anything. It's bad..." Wang Xueying's voice was thick with guilt and fear.

She had assured their mother just yesterday that there was nothing to worry about, that everything was under control.

But now, it was clear that nothing could be further from the truth.

Xinyue Zhilan's heart sank as she looked at Mei, curled up on the bed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

The sight of her daughter in such a state was like a knife to the heart.

She rushed to Mei's side, gently sitting down beside her and wrapping her arms around her fragile form.

"Mei, please... tell me what happened," Xinyue Zhilan pleaded softly, her voice filled with a mother's desperate concern.

But Mei only curled up tighter, as if trying to shield herself from the world.

"It's... okay," Wang Mei muttered, slightly startled and scared when she realized Xueying had called their mother so quick.

She quickly wiped away her tears, trying to compose herself.

All she had wanted was some time alone, but now, faced with the person she had been avoiding, she felt a surge of fear.

Misinterpreting the situation, Xinyue Zhilan's face darkened.

Though she wanted to scold her daughters, she held back, focusing instead on coaxing more information from Mei. "Baby, it's okay if you don't want to talk... But can you tell me his name? Who was it? Where does he live? Anything you remember?"

"..."

Wang Mei's lips quivered as she realized the tight corner she was in.

If she didn't give a name, she was done for.

But if she admitted that it was her brother, the consequences would be even worse.

She could almost picture their mother's fury, and it terrified her.

She knew she was overthinking—Wang Xiao, getting beaten?

The idea was absurd. So many people wanted to harm him, yet none had ever succeeded.

But to protect Wang Xiao, she decided to lie. "Prince..." she muttered under her breath.

"What?" Xinyue Zhilan asked, not quite catching the word.

"It's... P-Prince," Wang Mei repeated, her voice barely louder, trembling under the pressure of intense gaze.

"Huh?" Xinyue Zhilan's suspicions deepened.

Something didn't add up.

"Sweetie, can you say that again? Mother didn't hear it clearly."

"P-Prince," Wang Mei forced herself to repeat, her voice honest and clear.

She kept her eyes downcast, terrified that if she met her mother's gaze, she would break and spill everything.

Wang Xiao had been clear—this was not something she could reveal to them.

"..."

Xinyue Zhilan felt her legs weaken as she stood from the bed, rubbing her temples as she processed this.

She looked over at Xueying, hoping for some confirmation, and found her elder daughter equally stunned, staring at Mei in shock.

"You mean the person who saved the city from the beast attack a few days ago?" Xinyue Zhilan asked, needing to be absolutely sure.

"Mhm..." Wang Mei nodded weakly, barely able to keep her composure.

"..."

Both Xinyue Zhilan and Wang Xueying's expressions darkened.

"Was it really him? Are you sure?" Xinyue Zhilan pressed, her voice low and intense.

"Mhm." Wang Mei nodded again, this time more firmly.

She was a hundred percent sure.

Seeing Wang Mei's confident nod, Wang Xueying turned to their mother, her voice tinged with desperation. "Mom, is it really that bad? Can we do nothing against him?"

Even if it's the Prince, he's still just a prince, right?

Haven't even emperors been executed throughout history?

Wang Xueying's mind whirled with these thoughts, trying to grasp the situation.

But little did she know, for Wang Xiao, the title of 'Prince' was merely a formality—his power was more akin to that of a god than an emperor.

Xinyue Zhilan understood the seriousness of the situation better than her daughters ever could.

She knew that Mei and Xueying weren't aware of the full extent of the powers surrounding the Eighth Prince.

Cases against him surfaced almost daily.

Even within their own Qing Dynasty, countless victims suffered each year because of him.

Yet, despite the overwhelming evidence and the countless cries for justice, nothing ever came of it.

Those who opposed him either disappeared or found themselves powerless against his overwhelming might.

The legal system, once so revered and respected, was rendered impotent; judges became eunuchs the moment his name was mentioned, pushing the date to next year and beyond.

A small country from the southern African continent once attempted to crusade against him by sending all their forces to Romania.

The Romanian government, wanting to test the prince's abilities, allowed it to happen.

The result was catastrophic: not a single soldier managed to breach the boundary wall of his mansion before being killed and annihilated.

Those who fled to other parts of the world were hunted down, and their bodies were brought back, only to be hanged in the capital of their country—naked and nailed to the walls of the parliament.

To this day, no one has dared to remove the carcasses.

The prince warned that if the nation's rulers were not executed in the same manner as the order they had passed against him, he would burn the country to the ground within two days.

The very next day, a coup took place, led by those who had initially supported the government's decision.

They turned against it, and the government was overthrown.

All the former executives and rulers were executed the following day.

Xinyue Zhilan's heart ached as she looked at Mei, who sat curled up on the bed, still too young and innocent to understand the monstrous reality.

She knew they were up against something far beyond a simple prince or even an emperor.

Prosecuting a god?

But how could she protect her daughters from someone like Eight Prince, who held the power of a god?

Her mind filled with the potential consequences.

Should she risk everything to go against him, or would that only invite greater disaster?

The fear of what might happen if they defied him made her hesitate.

She wanted to believe in justice, but the reality was that justice was often a fleeting concept when faced with absolute power.

Justice — in itself — was upheld by strength alone, with the stronger imposing their version of justice upon the weaker.

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