IBO – Chapter 24 The Incident Triggered by the Little Bell

This novel contains sensitive and taboo content like R*pe, Mu**er etc. Read only if you are comfortable.

Song Fu seemed to have all his strength drained, and he slowly slid down along the kitchen counter to the cold floor. Like a helpless child, he curled himself into a ball.

As the head of the household, Song Buli naturally couldn’t stand seeing Song Fu in such a hopeless, dreamless state. He wanted to comfort him.

He thought of many things to say, but when it came time to speak, no words would come out. How could he comfort him? He himself was still unwilling to accept things—what could he even say?

With a deep sigh, Song Buli sat down beside Song Fu. Anyone in this situation would probably feel at a loss.

He couldn’t come up with any fancy words, so he could only pat Song Fu on the shoulder.

Over the years, the brothers had been searching everywhere for their eldest brother. Back then, he had disappeared right in front of them at the gate of the orphanage.

Since then, they had been searching for him. As they grew up, each of them started their own careers, but they never gave up looking for their brother.

Later, they learned that their brother had disappeared due to a temporal rift, and the probability of surviving such a rift was only ten percent.

Even so, for that ten percent chance, they kept searching tirelessly.

Of course, some people advised them to give up. People would say, “The odds are too low, and it’s been so many years… just let it go.”

But they had never once given up. Why? Because back then, their brother had never given up on them.

Thinking of this, Song Buli’s expression darkened. “Fourth brother, do you remember how our eldest brother brought us back in the first place?”

Song Fu still hadn’t lifted his head from his knees. He mumbled, “I remember… back then we were almost starving to death and collapsed by the roadside, then he picked us up.”

Song Buli sank into a fond memory, his face full of nostalgia. “That’s how our brother picked each of us up. I remember we had fainted from hunger by the roadside. Many people passed us by, but no one even glanced at us—only our brother stopped for us.”

“He picked each of us up, one by one. He took care of every one of us, even though his own life wasn’t easy. The orphanage didn’t provide any funding, so he had to work odd jobs to support us. Many people back then advised him to give up on us.” Song Buli spoke slowly.

He took a deep breath and gently lifted Song Fu’s head from his knees. Holding his face, he spoke firmly, word by word: “But during the hardest times, our brother never once gave up on us—not even once! He would rather work two jobs every day to support us than ever think about abandoning us. He gave us everything he could—his youth, his energy, and his love. So I believe he must have his reasons. Do you really think someone like him would deliberately abandon us to raise other kids?”

Song Fu’s eyes had already reddened. That’s right—how could their brother be that kind of person? He hadn’t forgotten how their brother had painstakingly raised them. But… how should he explain those scenes?

“But… but how do we explain those scenes? He did raise other little ones.” This time, Song Fu’s voice lacked conviction.

Song Buli, assuming the authority of the eldest brother, smiled “kindly.” “Sometimes what you see with your eyes isn’t the whole story.” The immediate task was to stabilize this overly dramatic little brother.

Song Fu seemed to be struck by a realization. “Right… we can just go ask our brother for an explanation! I have to let him know that we are the best little brothers—those little ones are nothing!”

Suddenly, Song Fu was filled with determination, even fire in his eyes, wishing he could fly straight to Song Yiran and outshine those little ones.

Ideally, he wanted to crush them all, to show their brother who truly deserved to be chosen.

Song Buli’s smile became more natural. Fortunately, Song Fu was easy to manipulate; otherwise, he would have had to resort to force.

By combat ability, he was the strongest among the brothers—beating up Song Fu would have been no problem.

But that wouldn’t work for long. Song Fu was a bit stubborn, and no one could predict what he might do.

To prevent any trouble, he, as the second brother, had to first get his younger brother under control.

“Slap—”

The kitchen door was violently pushed open. A man in a green Imperial army uniform, wearing thin gold-rimmed glasses, with dark circles under his eyes, and looking like he hadn’t slept for days, stormed in.

The moment he came in, he scooped a bowl of nutrient soup from the pot and drank it silently. He was the fourth brother, Song Yang.

When Song Fu saw Song Yang enter, he wanted to start talking about their eldest brother. “Song Yang, today I—” But before he could finish, he was interrupted.

“Shut up, you scumbag brother who squeezes your siblings dry,” Song Yang said bitterly.

Song Fu immediately went silent.

For a moment, the entire kitchen was shrouded in the oppressive aura exuding from Song Yang.

Song Buli tried to lighten the mood. “Fourth brother, how does Second Brother’s new dish taste?”

Song Yang answered coldly, “Second Brother, the nutrient soup you made tastes exactly like the original nutrient solution. Promise me, don’t try any innovations next time.”

Song Buli went silent, too.

The only sound in the kitchen was the slurping of Song Yang drinking his soup. Both Song Buli and Song Fu dared not speak, fearing another verbal assault.

Feeling that sitting on the floor undermined his dignity as Second Brother, Song Buli quietly stood up, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Song Fu also wanted to stand, but the moment he moved, Song Yang shot him a vicious glare. Resigned, he stayed seated, his heart chilling like the cold floor beneath him.

Only after Song Yang had finished two bowls of soup did he feel alive again. He hadn’t slept for five days and had nearly reached his breaking point—and the one responsible for all this was none other than Song Fu.

Slamming the bowl down, Song Yang stormed to Song Fu, grabbed his collar, and lifted him up. “Damn it! Do you know how long I haven’t slept? I stayed up five straight nights cleaning up your mess! Five days! Do you even know how I survived those five days? You don’t! And while I was cleaning up your mess, you even stole my starship to go traveling! Thanks a lot!”

“I just don’t understand how you managed to leave fifty reports unfinished—fifty post-battle summary reports—and didn’t even touch a single word! Is your little brain even developed? How did you become a general in the Empire? You might as well retire now!”

Song Yang vented all his pent-up resentment on Song Fu.

Song Fu cautiously freed his crumpled collar from Song Yang’s grip and sheepishly explained, “Song Yang, calm down. I didn’t mean to skip writing the reports. Besides, you know these reports are just formalities—they’re not that important.”

Hearing this made Song Yang even angrier. “Hah! Of course you think it doesn’t matter if you don’t write them—they all came to me instead! I’ve had the worst luck in eight lifetimes serving as your adjutant. I couldn’t find you anywhere, so I had to do it myself. I stayed up five days straight cleaning up your mess—almost hit restart on life!”

Song Fu tried to wriggle. “Well… you don’t need to be so angry, just take it slow…”

“Take it slow? Give me the time! You dragged it out so long that when they found me, there was no time left! If you’re capable, write them yourself! Do you know how closely they were watching me? The Archives people were outside my office every day, even when I went to get water, they never looked away. And while I was racing against time to finish the reports, what were you doing? Secretly flying my starship on a trip!”

Song Yang’s anger was materializing into something almost tangible. If Song Fu hadn’t been so careless, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

Every time Song Yang asked if the reports were done, Song Fu claimed he was working on them. Damn it! How could Song Fu leave so many reports unfinished?

Song Yang’s eyes darkened as he raised his fist, the black aura of resentment coiling behind him. He was about to go dark. Today, he would teach this brother who exploited his siblings a lesson in “brotherly respect.”

Seeing Song Yang’s fist getting closer to his handsome face, Song Fu panicked. Though he could beat Song Yang, he was in the wrong here; morally and emotionally, he couldn’t retaliate.

But he underestimated Song Yang’s fury. At this rate, his face wouldn’t survive. Desperately, he tried to signal Song Buli for help.

Song Buli shrugged helplessly.

Song Fu’s heart sank. If he had known it would come to this, he wouldn’t have skipped writing the reports.

Just before Song Yang’s fist landed, Song Fu shouted, “I found Eldest Brother!”

The fist stopped. Song Fu breathed a sigh of relief—but then it fell again.

“Ah! I’m wrong, stop hitting me, ahhh, don’t hit my face, you’ll ruin it, I’m wrong…”

Song Fu was beaten around, his handsome face swollen and bruised, repenting for the foolish act of not writing the reports.

When Song Yang finally stopped, exhausted, he sat down. This was his limit—five days without sleep had taken their toll.

Only then did Song Yang ask, “So, you’re saying you, this useless, lazy, underdeveloped little-brained scumbag who exploits his siblings, found our diligent, resilient, kind, gentle, and wise Eldest Brother?”

Hearing this string of unflattering descriptions, Song Fu tried to argue, “You can praise Eldest Brother all you want, but you don’t need to trash me so much! It’s not fair. Fourth Brother, have I ever been bad to you?”

“Second Brother, judge for yourself! Have I been bad to Song Yang?” Song Fu tried to get Song Buli to defend him. Looking back, he saw Song Buli standing stiffly by the window like a pillar.

Song Fu walked over to pat Song Buli’s shoulder. “Second Brother, are you… just standing there?”

Song Buli quickly blocked the screen on Song Fu’s small device—but it was too late.

On the screen, Song Yiran was placing a bell on little Song Fu—the same bell Song Fu had once worn.

“Hah! I knew it,” Song Fu snorted, unsure if he was laughing at himself or at Song Yiran.

“His eyes no longer see us. All he sees now are those little ones. He met us first, but now he easily treats those kids as if they were us. Hah, how ridiculous. We’ve been here searching for him like lowly insects for so many years. I bet he’s mocking us in his heart,” Song Fu’s eyes darkened, his voice tense with paranoia.

He held the bell from the device, turning it over in his hands, his voice nostalgic. “Eldest Brother, I still remember when you first put this bell on me. And now you give the same bell to someone else. Eldest Brother, your bells are really cheap—just like the words you said. Cheap, easily replaced.”

Without a second thought, Song Fu tossed the bell to the floor, stepping on it until it was flattened and embedded in the floor, impossible to retrieve.

He turned, carrying the device, and left the room with a single line: “I’ll bring him back.”

Song Buli sighed. The thing he feared most had happened.

But he knew he couldn’t stop Song Fu. Even if he stopped him this time, Song Fu would take the chance next time. All he could do was shout after him, “Come back soon!”

Now the kitchen was left with only Song Yang, who was inwardly bewildered but outwardly calm, and Song Buli, standing at the doorway watching Song Fu leave.