Chapter 106
The black tyrannosaurus let out a low growl, its steel-like claws digging heavily into the ground. Dirt and gravel sprayed into the air as deep fissures formed beneath it, the hatred in its voice bone-chilling and palpable.
But all Wen Xin felt was an unbearable sadness.
He lowered his gaze to the tyrannosaurus’s battered and scarred body. These horrifying wounds looked painful enough to make anyone shudder, even at the mere brush of a feather.
Let alone the barbs and steel cables embedded deeply in its flesh.
The tyrannosaurus’s incredible regenerative ability had been cruelly suppressed. Every movement caused the barbs to dig in further and the steel cables to tighten.
Molten-hot blood dripped incessantly from its scales, forming rivulets on the ground that seemed endless.
—This creature was clearly enduring an indescribable and ongoing torture.
Wen Xin spoke softly. “That’s only natural. Isn’t it”
Immersed in its hatred, the tyrannosaurus stiffened at those words.
After a long pause, it tilted its head slightly, the golden glow in its eyes flickering as if reassessing the human before it. “I thought you’d be afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” Wen Xin asked.
The tyrannosaurus’s voice lowered. “After all, you’re one of them—the people from the base.”
Wen Xin’s tone remained patient. “From an objective standpoint, I just shot at base personnel to help you escape. By now, they’ve likely branded me a traitor. I’m not going back, and I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
The tyrannosaurus mulled this over, letting out a short, gruff hum from its throat as if reluctantly agreeing.
Before it could finish, Wen Xin’s hand gently patted one of the uninjured patches of its scales. “That makes us partners in crime now. If something happens to you, I won’t survive either.”
From the beast’s tense muscles to its ever-watchful golden eyes, Wen Xin could tell it had no sense of security in this unfamiliar world after just escaping its cage.
He didn’t want Xiao Hei to feel further alarmed, so his tone carried the weight of an unshakable promise.
And he wasn’t wrong.
This alternate dimension existed solely because of Xiao Hei’s stable willpower. If anything happened to Xiao Hei, the space would collapse, dooming everyone trapped within it.
However, in the ears of the tyrannosaurus, Wen Xin’s words carried a different meaning.
That simple sentence, delivered in an even, unadorned tone, resonated like the sharp clang of a sword, sweeping away all chaos and hatred with an unstoppable force, piercing straight through the beast’s heart.
In that instant, the tyrannosaurus froze, its claws mid-dig into the earth. Its mind went blank, soon flooded by a flurry of bewildered emotions.
Do you even realize what you’re saying?
You’re pledging to live and die alongside a monster?
Why? Is it for that “Xiao Hei” again? What’s so special about me that I deserve this?
Its frosty gaze bore traces of agitation, but whatever it was about to say was silenced when Wen Xin gave its side another reassuring pat.
“Even if you want revenge and refuse to leave the base behind, we still need to move from here,” Wen Xin said firmly.
He glanced around. “There are traces of your rampage everywhere—this place is too obvious and could easily be tracked by satellites.”
“And your size,” Wen Xin added, gesturing vaguely. “Running around like this is just as conspicuous. Can you shrink down further?”
The tyrannosaurus, still reeling from Wen Xin’s unanticipated declaration, found itself inexplicably compliant. It shrank to the size of an ordinary horse without protest.
Wen Xin’s gaze remained fixed on the iron collar around its neck. Shrinking had done nothing to loosen the restraints, and his expression darkened slightly.
The beast started running again.
With each step, the steel cables cut deeper into its flesh, fresh blood oozing out. Yet it didn’t falter, as if the wounds didn’t matter.
Wen Xin let out a long, heavy sigh, clenching his fists.
If not for the fact that he couldn’t match Xiao Hei’s speed on foot—and that Xiao Hei refused to shrink further to let him carry it—he would have jumped off and bolted forward at full speed himself.
Soon, they reached a small, secluded village.
The place was run-down, with few signs of youth. Only a handful of elderly villagers with hoes slung over their shoulders could be seen returning from the fields.
The mudbrick houses near the village entrance were mostly abandoned. Their doors hung open, and the dark interiors gaped like ominous maws.
But while these eerie, shadow-filled homes might deter others, they didn’t faze Wen Xin.
His eyes lit up, and he slid off the tyrannosaurus’s back.
These unoccupied houses would make the perfect temporary hideout to mask their trail.
However, as they approached the human settlement, Xiao Hei stopped abruptly, refusing to go any further.
Suppressing the irritation and ferocity brewing in its chest, the tyrannosaurus spoke: “You should stay here. It’s safe from the base’s pursuit.”
Wen Xin caught on quickly—Xiao Hei intended to part ways here.
…So everything he had said earlier had fallen on deaf ears.
The glimmer of excitement in Wen Xin’s eyes dimmed instantly. Undeterred, he grabbed hold of one of the beast’s forelimbs and, as calmly as he could, began to reason: “I haven’t even removed your restraints yet.”
The tyrannosaurus visibly flinched.
Its gaze dropped to where Wen Xin’s pale fingers clung to its bloodstained scales. Against the deep, inky blackness of the creature’s hide, those fingers looked like a strange flower blooming in desolation—a mix of pristine white roses and alluring scarlet poppies, igniting a wildfire of bloodlust and heat within Xiao Hei.
As it stared, dazed, Wen Xin’s steady voice broke through its haze: “Xiao Hei!”
The name jolted the tyrannosaurus back to its senses.
Its fury burned anew—partly at being addressed with that detested name, and partly at itself for being so easily distracted.
Had it really been swayed by a mere platitude about shared life and death?
But when its golden eyes met Wen Xin’s clear, crystalline gaze, it found itself unable to unleash the deafening roar of rage building in its throat.
“I’m Number One,” it growled, the declaration laden with restrained wrath. “Not this ‘Xiao Hei.’”
Yet the storm of frustration had nowhere to go. It raged through the beast’s chest, a tempest of bitterness more excruciating than the pain of its restraints.
Drawing back, Xiao Hei shook off the hand that had stirred its emotions, snapping: “Not even my claws or teeth can break these restraints. What makes you think you can? Don’t talk big.”
Wen Xin tried to grab hold again, but Xiao Hei’s tail lashed decisively, cutting off his reach.
Wen Xin took a deep breath, stepped back, and coldly said, “Fine, go.”
Three simple words froze the tyrannosaurus in place as if struck by an incantation.
Wen Xin is angry, Xiao Hei’s thoughts buzzed, his mind a muddled whirlwind.
But the logical part of him argued: Wen Xin was human, a social creature. Staying here in the village would undoubtedly be safer and more comfortable than following a monster like him.
With deliberate care, Wen Xin spoke again, his words as sharp as the edge of a blade: “If you leave, I’ll return to the base right now and let them shoot me dead. Believe me, I’ll absolutely do it.”
The tyrannosaurus flinched, the corner of its eye twitching violently.
He was bluffing.
There was no way Wen Xin would actually do something so foolish. He wouldn’t…
Half a moment passed before the tyrannosaurus relented. Turning its massive claws with begrudging effort, it shuffled back toward Wen Xin, growling its discontent.
This time, Wen Xin didn’t bother to placate the beast. With a curt nod, he said, “Stay here and wait for me.”
He walked toward a villager’s house and knocked. When the door opened, he greeted the old woman inside with a polite and slightly bashful smile. “Hello, ma’am. Could I trouble you to sell me a few things?”
Though Wen Xin had initially believed himself empty-handed, he quickly recalled he still had his phone and wallet. The phone, however, was a base-issued communicator with a built-in satellite tracker and couldn’t be kept. Thankfully, his wallet contained some loose cash—enough for the essentials.
From the shade of a nearby tree, Xiao Hei watched the human interact. The old woman’s wary gaze softened as Wen Xin spoke, her suspicion giving way to kindness.
“Alright, wait here. I’ll fetch it for you,” she said.
Wen Xin beamed gratefully. “Thank you so much, ma’am!”
Watching from a distance, Xiao Hei thought: See? He’s so capable and resourceful. He can take care of himself perfectly fine.
A niggling thought whispered: You can leave quietly now.
But as soon as that idea surfaced, Wen Xin turned his head as if sensing it, his expression hard and warning—so unlike the warm smile he’d just shown the old woman.
Xiao Hei froze, one paw mid-step, then growled irritably and swiped at a nearby branch, snapping it in two.
After securing what he needed, Wen Xin returned to the abandoned house he’d chosen. He inspected the rooms, eventually settling on one with faint traces of recent use—burned wood, leftover instant noodle broth—likely a resting spot for travelers.
It would serve as their temporary shelter.
Inside, Wen Xin gathered the unburned firewood, cleaned the dusty bed with a grimy sheet, and cracked open the jammed window, knocking on its frame for emphasis.
Half a minute later, the black tyrannosaurus begrudgingly squeezed through the opening, careful not to let its blood drip onto the surroundings.
Without addressing the beast, Wen Xin fetched a plastic basin, returned to the old woman’s house for clean water, and acquired a fresh loaf of bread.
Xiao Hei observed everything, perplexed. “You’re so good at fitting in with those humans. Why won’t you stay with them?”
Wen Xin glanced up, his voice calm but unyielding. “Because right now, the only thing I care about is you Xiao Hei.”
Thump.
An invisible arrow pierced Xiao Hei’s heart, sending searing heat coursing through its veins. Even its breaths felt scalding, and the beast fought the urge to roar, hoping to dispel the maddening ache in its chest.
“Say it again, human. I am not Xiao Hei! Stop treating me as someone else’s substitute!”
Wen Xin froze for a moment, then realized what the tyrannosaurus had misunderstood.
“You… You really are…” He was caught between laughter and exasperation. “Are you dumb? When I call you Xiao Hei, I’m calling you—no one else.”
But the tyrannosaurus turned its head away, resolutely refusing to listen.
Seeing this stubbornness, Wen Xin knew any further explanation would be futile. With a helpless sigh, he relented, “Fine, Number One.”
Hearing their argument, the little green snake, who had been playing dead, couldn’t resist poking its head out again. However, it immediately stiffened upon seeing Wen Xin holding a pair of pliers and approaching the tyrannosaurus.
The snake coiled tightly around his wrist in alarm, as if to stop him.
“Hissss!”
You’re bringing a weapon near Number One? Are you insane? You may want to die, but I don’t want you dead!
What the green snake hadn’t anticipated was the tyrannosaurus’s surprising reaction—it allowed Wen Xin to approach.
Lethargically, the tyrannosaurus cast a glance at the tool in Wen Xin’s hand and muttered, “I already told you, you can’t remove these restraints…”
Before it could finish, Wen Xin had already pinpointed a weak spot in the steel cable and, with a decisive motion, clamped down with the pliers.
Snap.
The sound wasn’t loud, but in the ears of the tyrannosaurus and the green snake, it was as deafening as a thunderclap. Both turned simultaneously, wide-eyed, staring at Wen Xin’s hands in disbelief.
Wen Xin met their quivering gazes with an even expression. “Sorry, but I’m a bit stubborn. I believe in learning through action.”
