After Raising Monsters, I Was Loved by Everyone in the Wasteland – CH105

Chapter 105

Seeing Ah Lü bare its sharp fangs without hesitation, Wen Xin, not confident enough to risk resisting snake venom, reacted swiftly and let go of the little green snake.

The scale tree viper inevitably tumbled downward, almost falling off the black beast’s back. Wen Xin caught it with his other hand just in time. Dizzy and disoriented, the snake lifted its head, once again meeting Wen Xin’s calm and gentle face.

The fear from the sudden drop evaporated. Ah Lü stared at Wen Xin.

Its serpent eyes, naturally imbued with a cold, inorganic gleam, gave its gaze a scrutinizing quality.

Indeed, it was scrutinizing him.

The human youth before it didn’t possess the strong physique of a beast, yet there was something distinctly different about him compared to the researchers. What was it? Why did it find him so likable?

Unable to resist its curiosity, the little green snake lowered its head and sniffed the back of Wen Xin’s hand.

The human had a faint scent—neither blood nor the stench of rotting flesh. It lacked the nauseating odor that clung to the researchers.

Instead, the scent reminded Ah Lü of warm sunlight streaming through a window, or soft, fluffy clouds in the sky. It was gentle, comforting, and brimming with life.

As it continued sniffing, Ah Lü suddenly grew inexplicably excited, as if it had drunk too much wine. Its tail perked up and began to twitch uncontrollably.

Wen Xin’s eyelid twitched.

Sure enough, the thwarted Ah Lü tried again, gleefully opening its tiny maw wide.

“Hisss—!”

Anticipating this, Wen Xin stuffed his sleeve into its mouth.

The little green snake’s mouth was immediately filled, its sharp fangs blocked by the soft fabric. Its round eyes widened in disbelief, as if it couldn’t comprehend that it was being treated this way.

At the research base, only uncontrollable beasts were muzzled. And now Wen Xin had done the same to it!

Outraged, Ah Lü’s sharp teeth threatened to shred the sleeve. But before it could act, Wen Xin pressed his fingers against its small head, gently stroking along its smooth scales.

Speaking softly, Wen Xin coaxed it, “Alright, alright. I’m not going to hurt you. Just relax, good little snake.”

Ah Lü froze.

This feels… so ticklish, so good…

Wen Xin, no stranger to handling unruly creatures, skillfully ran his fingers along the viper’s scales with practiced ease. The little green snake went limp, trembling slightly, and let out a soft whimper with the sleeve still in its mouth.

Just then, the black beast beneath them suddenly faltered. Wen Xin caught a whiff of an even stronger scent of blood—someone had struck Xiao Hei!

A jolt of alarm coursed through Wen Xin, but before he could determine the location of Xiao Hei’s injury, the beast let out an even more violent roar.

The sound was a tidal wave of fury, each surge imbued with overwhelming killing intent. It drowned out the pursuing guards, causing blood to spill from their eyes and ears, their internal organs rupturing as they collapsed like dominoes.

Farther back, others found their path blocked by a wall of corpses. Shocked, they could only watch helplessly as the black beast carried the young man further and further away.

It wasn’t until higher-ranking researchers arrived, cursing in frustration, that orders were barked: “Gather the army! We must recapture No. 1 at all costs!”

Xiao Hei’s stamina was nothing short of astounding. Even with severe injuries, it raced forward at breakneck speed, charging from daylight into dusk.

The relentless jolting made Wen Xin’s vision blur. Despite his enhanced physique from the Blue Pearl, his stomach churned endlessly.

How long had they been running? Four hours? Five? Wen Xin had lost track.

The black beast didn’t pause. It was like a runaway horse, unbridled and wild, rushing forward regardless of whether it was being pursued, bulldozing its way through obstacles.

The surrounding cliffs bore the brunt of Xiao Hei’s rampage. While the beast remained unharmed, it left gaping holes in the mountain walls, sending rubble and debris cascading down.

Wen Xin ducked to avoid the falling stones, anxiously reaching for Xiao Hei’s head, hoping to calm the frenzied creature.

Just as his hand touched Xiao Hei, the beast suddenly staggered, its steps faltering before it collapsed heavily to the ground.

Wen Xin was thrown off as well, tumbling down with it.

Sharp rocks covered the ground. If Wen Xin hadn’t reacted quickly, he might have smashed his head open.

Grimacing in pain, he climbed to his feet. Ah Lü still clung to the sleeve in its mouth, seemingly addicted to it. Exasperated, Wen Xin picked up its tail and wrapped it around his wrist.

Heavy, labored breathing came from nearby, like the gasps of an elderly person nearing their end.

Compared to when they had first reunited, Xiao Hei’s size had shrunk dramatically, nearly halving. Where it had once been two stories tall, it now barely reached half a floor.

This stark change only underscored how severe Xiao Hei’s injuries were. Its energy was depleting so rapidly that it could no longer maintain its massive form.

Wen Xin’s heart clenched with worry. He moved closer to examine Xiao Hei’s condition.

But before he could get near, the panting beast’s golden eyes suddenly snapped open. They glowed with a bloodied ferocity, coldly locking onto Wen Xin as he approached.

A crushing sense of pressure descended upon Wen Xin, like the weight of a thousand pounds.

He staggered, gritting his teeth and bracing himself on his knees to avoid falling to the ground.

Realizing Xiao Hei wasn’t fully lucid, Wen Xin quickly spoke, “Xiao Hei, it’s me, Wen Xin.”

The beast’s gaze remained indifferent, its voice deep and chilling as it replied, “Xiao Hei? Human, who do you mistake me for?”

Wen Xin’s lips parted in shock. It dawned on him that this powerful mutant had been stripped of its memories and awareness.

Looking into Xiao Hei’s eyes, Wen Xin saw irritation roiling like a storm. He swiftly adjusted his approach. “I’m not mistaken. Xiao Hei is the nickname I gave you. Aren’t you D55?”

“D55…” The beast squinted, as if recalling something. A low murmur rumbled in its throat. “Yes, that was my designation before I hatched.”

Wen Xin exhaled in relief, only for the beast to sneer disdainfully, “But at least it sounds better than the idiotic nickname ‘Xiao Hei.’”

Wen Xin: “…”

Unperturbed, he accepted his poor naming skills. Still, he was surprised to hear the typically composed Xiao Hei mock him so openly. For a moment, he thought he might be hallucinating.

The beast struggled to lift part of its body. “So, you’re the Hatcher who abandoned me without hesitation for Zhou Zhao’s promised wealth and status?”

With a low, venomous growl, the beast added, “A human who deserts his mate and child.”

What kind of nonsense was this?!

Wen Xin’s head throbbed. He didn’t even have the time to correct Xiao Hei’s misuse of the idiom as he hurried to explain. “Who told you that? I never abandoned you! It was Zhou Zhao who abused his authority to have me reassigned. I never wanted to leave.”

He quickly outlined how he had been forcibly removed and recently brought back. His gaze remained fixed on Xiao Hei’s battered body, his eyes filled with anguish.

Xiao Hei’s massive tail swept up, blocking Wen Xin’s hand as he reached to examine its wounds.

The beast stared him down, its voice still icy. “In other words, you’re still part of the base. They summoned you back to control me. I don’t trust you.”

Without hesitation, Wen Xin shrugged off his white lab coat. Gripping its edges, he tore the insignia on his chest in half, a decisive gesture cutting all ties with the research base.

The scale tree viper nearly fell to the ground: “?”

Wen Xin folded the coat into a makeshift pad for the little snake and approached Xiao Hei.

But once again, the giant tail swept him away.

Wen Xin froze mid-step, locking eyes with the pair of golden irises.

The standoff between man and mutant seemed to stretch endlessly, the air heavy with tension. Finally, Xiao Hei spoke slowly, his voice laced with cynicism. “Even if you see my wounds, what can you do about them?”

Xiao Hei wasn’t wrong.

Wen Xin had been thrown into this alternate dimension empty-handed. The sparse, makeshift environment mirrored the pitiful state of his reassignment, utterly devoid of supplies.

When he arrived, he hadn’t expected to find Xiao Hei battered and wounded, and the only thing he carried now was a confiscated firearm. A gun was useless for healing.

Hearing Xiao Hei’s question, Wen Xin fell silent. His lips trembled, his voice hoarse and rough as sandpaper. “…Let me see. I noticed your movements were less fluid while you were running. Something is lodged inside your body—I can try to remove it.”

“The base’s people could catch up at any moment. Getting your body into better shape will make it easier for you to escape, won’t it?”

Xiao Hei opened his mouth, ready to reject Wen Xin outright as he had earlier, but the human’s gaze stopped him. He couldn’t utter the words.

Wen Xin’s fractured, almost pleading expression stabbed at something deep within Xiao Hei, like a sea urchin burrowing into his heart, its spines drawing blood with every movement.

Why am I like this? Xiao Hei questioned himself.

Was it because this human looked better than others? Because his voice was gentler, his patience enduring even after repeated rejections? Was it his scent—pleasant and soothing—or the fact that he was Xiao Hei’s Hatcher, the one closest to him?

Or was it because he was the one who had saved Xiao Hei from the inferno, leaving an indelible mark on his soul?

Whether Xiao Hei wanted to admit it or not, he had once waited by the door, confused by Wen Xin’s absence, his gaze fixed on the threshold with silent longing. He had grown angry when Wen Xin never returned.

Now, Xiao Hei found himself fighting a stronger impulse: the desire to pin Wen Xin down and inhale his scent endlessly, a feeling far more potent than his reflex to push the human away with his tail.

Lost in this momentary daze, Xiao Hei missed his chance to block Wen Xin, who darted past the tail with a feline-like agility and crouched at the beast’s side.

The wound was on Xiao Hei’s abdomen. Up close, Wen Xin could see the shocking extent of the injury: bright red blood oozed steadily, pooling into a small puddle on the ground.

Wen Xin gritted his teeth, his pained gaze striking a nerve in Xiao Hei. The tail, poised to shove Wen Xin away again, froze mid-air.

As Xiao Hei hesitated, believing Wen Xin might flee in terror at any moment, the latter drew a shallow breath and spoke firmly. “I see it.”

“There’s a bullet in your wound. Ordinary rounds wouldn’t pierce your defenses, so this one must be specialized. It has to come out now.”

“Conditions are far from ideal, and I can’t sterilize the area. You’ll have to bear with me.”

Wen Xin finished speaking quickly. Already crouched low, he pressed one hand against Xiao Hei’s body and reached for the foreign object embedded in the wound with the other.

Any injury short of a direct blow to the heart wouldn’t threaten Xiao Hei’s life. But his abdomen, being softer and now exposed flesh, was far more sensitive.

Wen Xin worked carefully to extract the bullet, which was lodged deep. With no tools available, he had to dig with his nails.

Even though Wen Xin was as gentle as possible, his slender fingers still sent shivers through Xiao Hei’s body. The sensation was somewhere between pain and an unbearable itch, sending jolts through his nerves. The beast let out a series of low growls, agitatedly slapping his tail against the ground.

“Almost there,” Wen Xin murmured soothingly. “Good boy, just a little longer.”

With one swift motion, Wen Xin felt his fingers hook around something. Without hesitation, he pulled it free.

The foreign object’s hard shell separated from the slick flesh with a wet, squelching sound. The obstruction in Xiao Hei’s abdomen was gone, and the tension in his body eased.

Blood continued to flow from the wound, but Wen Xin acted quickly, stuffing the torn strips of his lab coat into the opening to staunch the bleeding.

Fully focused on treating Xiao Hei’s injuries, Wen Xin’s gaze kept drifting toward the restraints and shackles still clinging to the beast. “We need tools to get rid of these awful things. You also need time to recover. We have to get far away from the base and find a safe place to rest.”

Wen Xin didn’t notice the pair of golden eyes fixed intently on him.

The blaze that Xiao Hei remembered from his time as the Grey Egg had left a vivid impression on him. He recalled waiting endlessly for Wen Xin, only to be disappointed again and again. That lingering heartache had felt like being scorched from the inside out.

But after the researchers had drugged him repeatedly to suppress his strength, days and months blurred into one hazy continuum. Trapped in a cage, Xiao Hei had lost track of time and himself.

Now, that old heartache returned with renewed intensity, surging through him like a tangled mess of yarn, frustratingly unresolved.

The only explanation Xiao Hei could offer himself was this: Wen Xin had saved him again. It made sense that the human would stir his emotions.

Yet, Xiao Hei couldn’t stop questioning Wen Xin’s motives. What did this human want from him?

Unable to find an answer, Xiao Hei recalled something crucial.

…Wen Xin called me Xiao Hei.

That name must have been born of countless days and nights of longing, uttered with such natural affection.

No wonder I hate the name “Xiao Hei.” No wonder I dislike it so much.

The more Xiao Hei thought about it, the clearer his memories became. He remembered Wen Xin asking if he was Xiao Hei when they first met. A sudden clarity struck him—he was a substitute.

A burning rage flared within him, so intense it made him want to destroy the very mountains surrounding them.

Xiao Hei couldn’t bring himself to harm the young human. Wen Xin’s fragile frame likely couldn’t withstand even a single swipe of his claws.

Suddenly, Ah Lü slithered over. Its fangs glinted as it stared at Wen Xin for a long moment. But eventually, the little snake let out a resigned whimper, closing its mouth and coiling around Wen Xin’s wrist.

Through an unspoken connection, Ah Lü transmitted its thoughts to Xiao Hei: No. 1, if you don’t like him, then give him to me. I’ll take care of him. If he ever tries to hurt us, I’ll bite him.

In an instant, Xiao Hei’s fury found a new target. His crimson eyes flared with murderous rage, and he let out a roar laden with oppressive might.

The overly smug snake was nearly shaken into a concussion by the sound. Panicking, it darted into Wen Xin’s shirt pocket to hide.

Wen Xin, startled, froze for a moment. Just as he was about to ask what had happened, Xiao Hei shakily rose to his feet, grabbed Wen Xin with his jaws, and tossed him onto his back.

“I won’t obey your suggestion to leave the base behind,” the black beast growled, exhaling a searing breath. He didn’t know how to deal with the human’s presence, nor how to face Wen Xin.

But when he turned his gaze toward the direction of the base, his voice carried an unrestrained hatred so fierce it seemed tangible, a storm threatening to unleash its wrath.

“They must die,” Xiao Hei declared, his words dripping with venom, “and they must die in agony under my claws!”