My Avatar Is Becoming the Final Boss-Chapter 22: Father

In the records, the UN’s classification for Black Cocoon was crystal clear:
— Kui-level (tentative).
“Only one notch above Quasi-level and Harmless-level, in other words, not-so-trash among the trash, but trash all the same. My real self is Restricted-level... and yet my game character is just a Kui-level?” Ji Minghuan shrugged.
Still, he wasn’t too bothered by it.
After all, based on the system settings, every game character had a visibly high growth ceiling, and this character had only just been created. It would take some time before Black Cocoon's power started to climb.
Once he finished this game character’s Main Quest, fully consumed all the Attribute Points provided by the Character Development System, and unlocked the entire Character Skill Tree... by then, it wouldn’t be surprising at all if Black Cocoon’s classification shot up from “Kui-level” to Calamity-level. With a well-developed skill system to boot, maybe this single character alone could take down a few Calamity-level members of the Rainbow Wing.
But the most crucial part was that Ji Minghuan wasn’t limited to having just one such game character:
— As long as he accumulated enough Split Points, he could continue creating more characters.
Besides, the character he currently had started out with low stats not only because the Esper ability had only awakened two days ago, but also due to the fact that he’d been injected with an ability suppressant by the people at the Research Facility, preventing him from utilizing his full potential.
Otherwise, Ji Minghuan didn’t even dare imagine how terrifying his character would have been if he hadn’t been injected... Maybe every single Attribute would’ve exceeded the max cap into “Question Mark-level” territory.
With everything checked, Ji Minghuan closed the official webpage of the Reality-altering Esper Association, his eyes drifting across the living room. Su Zimai sat quietly on the sofa watching TV, Gu Qiye was alone in the kitchen busying himself, and the fan blades turned slowly, casting mottled light and shadow on the floor.
Just then, a voice broke the momentary silence.
“By the way, big bro, you’re not gonna get into another fight with Dad tonight, are you?” Su Zimai paused, then said softly, “It’s been two years after all.”
“Who knows...”
Gu Qiye casually responded as he stored groceries in the fridge, his face showing no clear emotion.
After a moment’s silence, he suddenly asked Ji Minghuan, “By the way, Xiao Yu, were you home all last night?”
What’s this? Is he suspicious of me?
Ji Minghuan thought, but answered smoothly without hesitation, “What else? I ordered takeout and went to bed.”
“Did you hear anything weird during the night?” Gu Qiye pressed.
“Nope. Did someone break in last night?” Ji Minghuan responded instinctively.
“Nope.” Gu Qiye chuckled and shook his head. “Forget it, pretend I didn’t say anything.”
Ji Minghuan lowered his gaze, wondering what mistake he might’ve made that triggered Gu Qiye’s suspicion. Just then, Su Zimai spoke up.
“Come to think of it, you’re acting kind of weird today.”
“How so?” Ji Minghuan turned to look at her, thinking, Sis, could you not make things worse right now?
From the kitchen, Gu Qiye kept washing vegetables while quietly listening.
Su Zimai said blankly, “I don’t know. Maybe you’re talking more than usual. You usually stay holed up in your room doing who-knows-what and barely say a word.”
“Oh, so should I leave?”
“That’s not what I meant.” Su Zimai shook her head.
“Talking more is a good thing,” Gu Qiye chimed in from the kitchen while chopping meat. “Don’t turn out like Dad, ignoring even your own family. Think about how Mom treated us back then. The atmosphere at home was way better.”
Ji Minghuan shrugged and said nothing more. He didn’t really understand how real families were supposed to get along.
Although during his years at the Orphanage, he had genuinely considered Kong Youling his family, their relationship felt more like close friends than actual family.
Back at the Orphanage, he used to wish he had a family. After all, his parents had abandoned him when he was young.
But now that he had these fake relatives around, he found himself oddly surprised: it seemed like people who actually had family often felt more resentment or distance when they met them, even hoping to keep a certain space between each other.
At least Gu Wenyu himself was like that—or maybe it was just the way the character was set up—he really hated interacting with his family. Then again, that might’ve had to do with his parents: his mother had died in an accident, and his father had completely abandoned them.
“People are strange creatures—get too close, and you start to hate each other.”
Ji Minghuan thought carelessly to himself, suddenly feeling a bit relieved that he’d grown up in the Orphanage.
As the three of them went about their own business, the sound of cicadas marked the passage of time. Before they knew it, the clock on the wall ticked past 6 PM, and the streets outside were already draped in twilight.
Then, the doorbell suddenly rang through the house.
“You two go answer the door, see who it is.” Gu Qiye’s voice came from the kitchen, devoid of emotion.
Hearing that, Su Zimai and Ji Minghuan exchanged a silent look on the sofa. They clenched their fists and simultaneously chanted “rock, paper, scissors” as they flung out their hands.
A second later, Ji Minghuan’s paper beat Su Zimai’s rock. Having played this countless times at the Orphanage, he could tell what she’d throw just from the movement in her hand muscles.
Su Zimai paused for half a second, raised the rock-formed fist, and flipped her middle finger at him. As Ji Minghuan taunted her with a “Can’t handle losing?” she got up from the sofa expressionlessly, slipped on her sandals, and walked toward the door.
She opened it to see a tall, well-built man.
The man stood around 1.85 meters, wearing a white shirt and slacks, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His unshaven face was expressionless, his eyes dull, with a reddish scar just below the corner of his eye.
He looked down, backlit by the ink-like dusk. When he raised his eyes and saw Su Zimai’s face, he froze for a moment. Then, his hollow gaze lit up slightly.
Gu Zhuo’an slowly withdrew his gaze from his daughter’s face. His lips moved slightly, and he rasped out in a hoarse voice:
“I...”
Su Zimai stared at him for a couple seconds, her eyes sweeping over his weary features and unshaved stubble. A flicker of light passed through her indifferent gaze—not sure if it was pity or mockery. She opened her mouth but couldn’t get any words out. In the end, she simply took a deep breath and turned back into the living room.
She said to Gu Qiye, who was still cooking in the kitchen, “Bro... Dad’s back.”
Gu Qiye didn’t respond, just kept his head down cooking, leaving only a silent silhouette.
Meanwhile, Ji Minghuan, sitting on the sofa, was already getting ready to pull the same old trick again.
If Gu Zhuo’an turned out to be some bigshot, then as long as he used Binding Restraint Detection to probe his power, he’d be able to infer the hidden identity of this father who had been gone for two years.
And once he had a grasp on Gu Zhuo’an’s potential background... Ji Minghuan would finally have the confidence to put on the mask and negotiate with Gu Qiye as Black Cocoon, on equal footing.