The Rebel's Omega
Chapter 95

Chapter 95: Chapter 95

One tried to swing a machete at him from behind but Hua Ren ducked and grabbed the man’s arm mid-swing, twisted, and broke it at the elbow. The scream that followed was cut short by a cold heel to the throat. The man fell to the ground, clutching his throat in pain.

Another came at Hua Ren with a torch which Hua Ren tore from the bandit’s grip, and drove the burning end straight into his gut. The man screamed at the top of his lungs, collapsing and writhing in agony.

Hua Ren sidestepped the next one and drove his knee into the man’s ribs, shattering them. The man wheezed and dropped to his knees, just in time to be met by a spinning back kick to the head that left him unconscious.

“Tch.” Hua Ren scoffed. “And here I thought I’d get a decent fight.” He hadn’t even used a quarter of his full strength.

Seeing this, the rest hesitated and some even turned around, running towards the gate. What kind of omega was this? Was he even human? They didn’t believe the person fighting was an omega. It was impossible. He had to be an Alpha. But who he was didn’t really matter. They had to run away and preserve their lives first!

One of them got to the gate but was sent flying back to his comrades with a kick to his chest. He fell unto them, spurting out a mouthful of blood.

“No one leaves,” Sheng Fei said coolly, unsheathing his sword. They would either die by his omega’s hand or by his own. They could not let a single one of the bandits leave or the town would be in trouble.

Besides, he knew it was weird but he truly enjoyed watching his omega make Alphas and Betas scream.

It seemed like the message didn’t get through to the rest for another one attempted to escape. Sheng Fei sighed. He really hated it when people didn’t listen. He wasn’t like Hua Ren. He was merciless.

He stepped forward smoothly, intercepting the man with a single, brutal punch to the gut. The air left the bandit’s lungs in a strangled gasp before Sheng Fei drew his blade and slit his throat cleanly. Blood spilled like across the dirt as the body crumpled soundlessly.

Then Sheng Fei reached up and pulled off his mask. He took a single step forward, eyes glowing gold in the moonlight.

“I said,” he spoke, voice calm but layered with deadly authority, “No. One. Leaves.”

Power rolled off him in thick waves. His pheromones surged into the air, rich and suffocating, like a storm pressing down on the earth. It coiled through the night, wrapping around every living soul, pushing down on their lungs like iron, the only exception being Hua Ren.

The bandits froze. Sweat poured down their backs in rivulets. Their legs trembled and their vision swam.

It was as if death itself had walked into their midst and chosen a form: tall, composed, and crowned with golden eyes that gleamed like a predator’s. They had never felt anything like this before.

This...This was a true Alpha.

The bandits began to panic. They turned toward Hua Ren then back to Sheng Fei and back to Hua Ren again. There was no safety in either direction, but at least with the white haired man, they would only suffer. With this one... they would simply die. Pain was better than instant death.

They made their choice.

The remaining men regrouped and circled Hua Ren.

“Together!” one cried. “We can take him if we all—!”

A sharp crack of a neck silenced him.

Hua Ren had already moved. He was tired of waiting for them to come to him. Besides, he was really hungry and he wanted that bounty fast.

He danced between them like a specter, snapping bones like twigs beneath his blows. He twisted their arms at unnatural angles, dislocated legs and cracked ribs.

It was elegantly brutal.

Soon, the dusty ground was littered with broken bodies—groaning, unconscious, or too scared to move. One man tried crawling away but Hua Ren calmly walked over then slammed the man’s head against the ground, rendering him unconscious.

By the time it was over, the only sound left was the ragged breathing of those still alive.

Hua Ren stood in the center of it all, his robe stained with sweat and smears of blood.

The townsfolk had all come out, wide-eyed and trembling.

Was this... really an omega?

Soft footsteps crunched over the ground. Sheng Fei came to stand before Hua Ren, his expression unreadable beneath the moonlight. Quietly, he reached out and took Hua Ren’s hands in his.

The knuckles were bruised slightly, red, and stained with blood, making Sheng Fei frown a bit. He could remember how the small slender hands clutched his arms, begging him to go slow. He marveled at how the same hands could be so deadly. He felt really lucky.

Hua Ren blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He hadn’t expected Sheng Fei to inspect his hands first. And then that frown on his face, like he was displeased seeing the bruises and blood.

“It’s not my blood,” Hua Ren said, looking away quickly, hoping to appease the man. Sheng Fei’s touch was gentle, careful, and he was releasing soothing pheromones that made him feel more at ease. He groaned inwardly, not liking how he was behaving more and more like his gender.

Sheng Fei nodded, still inspecting. “Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice soft.

“What?” Hua Ren asked, surprised by the question.

“I asked if it hurts.” Sheng Fei repeated.

The question hit Hua Ren harder than any of the blows he’d just delivered. His breath caught and he looked up, stunned.

No one had ever asked him that. No one had ever cared to.

After all, he was the strong one. A General. The Ivory Warlord of the Celestial Kingdom. He was always okay. He had to be for a lot of people looked up to him. He couldn’t show a single moment of weakness before his subordinates or superiors. He had grown up that way, loving to battle but always hiding his pain.

“...No,” he murmured, voice barely audible. Then, almost too quickly, he turned his head and shook it. “No. It doesn’t hurt.”

But his ears tinged the faintest shade of pink and in his chest, his heart fluttered. A warmth he didn’t expect bloomed there, soft and unfamiliar.

Was this what it meant to be marked? Was he wrong all this while? Before he could think too deeply about it, a voice interrupted.

"Ahem—" came a strained, breathless cough.

A man strode forward, dressed in robes far too long for someone so short. The dark blue silk dragged along the dirt, carried awkwardly by two tiny servant girls gripping the ends with both hands and trying not to trip. The man himself looked like he barely hit his early thirties, though his slightly bulging belly—a clear byproduct of too many wine jars and too little restraint—added some age to him. His round, shiny face bore the expression of someone torn between shock and joy, resulting in a look that was more dazed than dignified.