Chapter 107
Steel cables were linked section by section, resembling mechanical spider legs clamped tightly onto the Tyrannosaurus. Cutting just one spot was clearly not enough.
Wen Xin was about to take further action when the green viper, its pupils contracting sharply, suddenly darted from his wrist onto the shackles. Fixing its gaze on the severed edge, it let out a sharp hiss: “Ssss?!”
How was that possible?!
Its scales flared up like jagged spikes, its slit pupils narrowing into a vicious line. Ignoring all reason, the snake bared its fangs and sank them ferociously into the shackles.
“Ah Lü!”
The sharp fangs failed to leave even a scratch on the shackles. Instead, the viper’s body convulsed violently and fell limply to the ground.
Wen Xin quickly scooped it up. The little snake’s body trembled uncontrollably, blood trickling from its mouth. Its once vibrant scales dulled instantly, turning ashen like withered leaves.
“Ah Lü, what’s wrong? Why is this happening? Ah Lü! Don’t scare me!”
Heart pounding, Wen Xin cradled the snake, desperately trying to calm down. He repeated to himself to stay cool—calm, calm, stay calm—as sweat beaded on his forehead.
The Tyrannosaurus propped itself up, its gaze lingering on the trembling viper. In a hoarse voice, it said, “It’s fine.”
Wen Xin’s head snapped up. “What?”
The Tyrannosaurus’s eyes were deep and shadowed. “There’s a substance in the core of the restraints that specifically counters us. It’s probably a toxin or a cellular dissolvent, but it’s not fatal. It’ll pass soon—don’t worry.”
But how could Wen Xin not worry?
He asked urgently, “Is there any way to ease it?”
The Tyrannosaurus shook its head. “It’s a punishment—there’s no cure.”
Punishment?
Wen Xin met the Tyrannosaurus’s gaze. Its expression was fierce but also burdened with an accustomed weariness, as if its soul had been subjected to countless cruel lashes.
Wen Xin’s lips turned deathly pale as he lowered his gaze to the green snake in his palm.
The snake was writhing in agony, rolling back and forth in his hands with pained hisses. To counter the pain, it coiled itself into a tight ball.
“Hisss… it hurts…”
For a moment, Wen Xin clenched his molars, his hatred for the facility searing into his bones. “Those bastards!”
The Tyrannosaurus, having observed the viper’s reaction, knew the pain would subside eventually and that its life wasn’t in danger. It stopped worrying.
The facility was a place that devoured mutants and humans alike. To survive, caution was imperative. The snake had let its emotions take over, failing to exercise restraint. It now had to pay the price.
This was the norm.
Just like now: if the Tyrannosaurus gave up halfway and failed to escape the facility’s grasp, it too would face excruciating torment.
The Tyrannosaurus observed the fiery anger in the young human’s furrowed brows, emotions surging like crashing waves—so raw and vivid that it felt baffled.
This human carried too many enigmas, including the way he naturally and affectionately called the snake “Ah Lü,” just as he called it “Xiao Hei.”
Something was off…
“Don’t worry, sweetheart.”
The young man’s hoarse voice carried a gentle warmth, like a spring breeze, drawing the Tyrannosaurus’s attention despite itself.
Wen Xin, heartbroken over the suffering viper, instinctively cupped the coiled snake in his hands, pressing it against his chest.
In the past, when the others were unwell, he had done the same. Within a few minutes, or at most a few hours, they would gradually recover.
But this time, things were different.
Wen Xin inhaled deeply and exhaled sharply, his thumb stroking the snake’s scales as he whispered soothingly with tender care.
“Don’t worry, it’s okay. Everything’s fine.”
“It’ll stop hurting soon, I promise.”
The green viper writhed in agony, its expression twisted. Hearing Wen Xin’s words of comfort, it wanted to snap back: Fine? Stop hurting? Try it yourself if you dare!
But when it met Wen Xin’s eyes—brimming with such deep concern—the little snake suddenly felt it could almost hear his thoughts.
If only I could share this pain instead.
“Ah Lü, you’ll be okay. You’ll get better soon.”
Please get better soon.
The searing pain in its veins, bubbling to the point of explosion, felt suddenly cooled, as if soothed by a gentle breeze. The snake’s jagged scales, raised in distress like mountain ridges, softened and lay flat against its body.
While the Tyrannosaurus was lost in thought, the green viper gradually calmed under Wen Xin’s repeated reassurances.
Seeing the snake now lying quietly in Wen Xin’s palm, no longer consumed by pain, the Tyrannosaurus blinked in surprise.
“What did you do?” it asked.
“What?” Wen Xin didn’t catch the question.
His emotions had surged and ebbed so much that he was exhausted. Now, seeing the snake recover bit by bit, he finally relaxed his furrowed brow and gently asked, “Ah Lü, do you feel better?”
The snake, still drained, lay limp in his hand. Hearing his voice, it raised its head slightly and flicked out its bright red tongue, licking his fingertip.
“I… earlier, I was angry.”
Thanks to its innate ability, the green viper could interpret the emotions and hormonal signals of living beings, allowing it to understand their words.
But understanding and speaking were two entirely different matters.
It had never spoken to other humans before. Now, as it struggled to form its first words, they came out haltingly and clumsily, with misaligned pronunciation.
“I made you… worry. Sorry.”
Wen Xin’s heart ached at the sight of the little snake so earnestly apologizing. He gave it a soft smile, rubbing its head with the pad of his finger. “Why were you angry?”
The green viper extended its head slightly, prompting Wen Xin to examine its scales.
Wen Xin obliged.
Close to the snake’s vital seventh vertebra, he found a ring as thin as a wire embedded halfway into its body, with blood-red streaks radiating from the source.
Compared to the injuries on the Tyrannosaurus, this shackle seemed minor—nearly unnoticeable because of the lack of a pronounced scent of blood. Additionally, Wen Xin, when stroking the snake, had instinctively avoided its sensitive seventh vertebra, so he had missed the ring altogether.
But now, here it was—a ring embedded deeply into the flesh, mere millimeters away from piercing the snake’s critical point.
Wen Xin stared silently at the thin ring. The green snake broke the silence first: “I got angry… because I couldn’t take it off. I saw you… do it so easily, and I thought… I’d try again.”
“…That’s worth being mad about,” Wen Xin said, tapping the snake lightly on the head with his fingertip. “But don’t act so recklessly next time, understand?”
“Okay.”
Before its words even faded, Wen Xin used his fingertips to lift part of the ring, exposing it to the light. Moving quickly, he snipped it apart with a pair of pliers.
He then pinched the severed ring with his fingers, carefully maneuvering it along its arc to minimize further injury, and pulled it out in one motion!
The moment the shackle was removed, the green viper let out an uncontrollable scream.
A silent thunderclap seemed to explode from it, shaking the house. Outside, plants swayed as if caught in a sudden storm. Villagers stared in shock at their quaking lamps, exclaiming, “An earthquake?!”
The tremor shook even the ground beneath them. Wen Xin, too, stumbled slightly but quickly steadied himself by gripping the table. When he looked up, his gaze met the wide, astonished eyes of the snake.
The green viper felt a profound sense of relief.
For so long, its body had been bound by a thorny chain of torment. With Wen Xin’s help, that chain had been severed, leaving it feeling light enough to float.
Strength, energy, and even its pain-numbed nerves were fully revived.
The snake fixed its heated gaze on Wen Xin. At the peak of its elation, it suddenly sprang forward: “Human, what did you do?!”
Wen Xin had no time to respond before the green viper, like a lively streak of lightning, began darting around him. It joyfully wound around his wrist, slithered up his arm, across his shoulders, back, abdomen, and even his head.
It was so excited that it seemed intent on exploring every inch of Wen Xin: “You helped me! You’re amazing! Human, how are you this strong?!”
“You’re stronger… than Number One!”
For the green viper, this was the highest, most heartfelt compliment it could muster.
Wen Xin, seeing the snake trying to wriggle into his sleeve, hurriedly caught the overly excited creature.
Still brimming with elation, the snake coiled around his wrist twice, licking his fingertips with its tongue, its eyes dreamy.
“Hisss, hiss hiss.”
You make me feel like I’ve known you forever.
Wen Xin gently rubbed the snake’s head and picked up the pliers again. Turning to the silent Tyrannosaurus, he said, “Shall we continue?”
The Tyrannosaurus jolted, as if waking from a daze, and its entire body trembled.
Wen Xin instinctively reached out, patting it reassuringly. “Don’t be afraid.”
His warm palm pressed against the cold, scaled surface, transferring heat steadily. The warmth melted into the Tyrannosaurus’s overwhelmed consciousness, almost searing its body.
But to Wen Xin’s surprise, his gesture seemed to make the large creature tremble even more.
“I might just be a bit cold,” the Tyrannosaurus rasped. “Go on, don’t mind me.”
Hearing this, Wen Xin lit the firewood and cracked open the window slightly for ventilation.
The firelight illuminated the room, casting a shimmering glow over the Tyrannosaurus’s golden eyes as they fixated on Wen Xin.
But before Wen Xin could notice the intense gaze, the Tyrannosaurus turned its head aside, swallowing nervously. “I’m ready. Go ahead.”
The Tyrannosaurus’s condition was far more severe than that of the green viper.
Wen Xin steadied himself, his expression growing focused.
He began by systematically snipping the restraints at their connection points. Bloodstained fragments clattered heavily to the ground, each landing with a dull thud.
Setting aside the pliers, Wen Xin grabbed a fruit knife, heating it in the fire to sterilize it. Without hesitation, he sliced through the flesh around the barbs.
The Tyrannosaurus remained silent throughout, only trembling faintly when the knife cut into its flesh.
Wen Xin felt the shiver and softly reassured it, “Just a little longer. It’ll be over soon.”
One by one, like barnacles being removed from a turtle’s shell, Wen Xin extracted the barbed spikes, tossing them onto the floor. Finally, he gripped the edges of the central shackle and yanked it down with all his strength.
Crack!
The twisted burden crashed to the floor, revealing the powerful body beneath. Scales, long deprived of light, glistened with a renewed brilliance, glowing in the firelight with a dazzling luster.
The Tyrannosaurus suppressed the urge to howl in relief, barely holding it back.
But its tail betrayed its emotions. It wagged uncontrollably, slapping the ground with a series of loud cracks, expressing its joy and exhilaration on its behalf.
Wen Xin reached out to steady the thrashing tail. “All right, all right, calm down.”
The tail stiffened, then retreated nervously to coil behind the Tyrannosaurus, almost bashfully.
Wen Xin didn’t dwell on the gesture, his attention already on the remaining shackle on the Tyrannosaurus’s hind leg. He picked up the pliers again, his focus sharpening as he worked.
The ground grew increasingly stained with crimson splatters as more components of the intricate alloy restraints were removed from the scarred body.
The green viper, perched on Wen Xin’s wrist, rubbed against him restlessly. Hearing the clatter of the metal pieces, it slithered to the ground and, unable to contain itself, angrily whipped the fragments away with its tail.
Beads of sweat dotted Wen Xin’s forehead once more. He wiped them away quickly and turned his attention to the last piece—a triangular spike.
The spike’s connection to the shackle had already been severed, but Wen Xin had saved it for last. Just two finger-widths away from where it was embedded lay the Tyrannosaurus’s heart.
To have such a cruel implement constantly threatening its life—how could Xiao Hei not have been terrified?
Wen Xin exhaled a long breath.
Placing his hand on the spike, he thought about how to distract Xiao Hei. Raising his head abruptly, he called out, “Number One.”
The Tyrannosaurus lowered its head despite the pain.
“Sorry, but I still want to call you Xiao Hei.”
The Tyrannosaurus growled lowly, its brow furrowing. “Stop it.”
“You are Xiao Hei. I don’t know why you’re so adamant that you’re not, but you should have confidence. No one can replace you. After all, you’re the Tyrannosaurus.”
Wen Xin extended his other hand, gently stroking the creature’s battered face. “To me, you’re always one of a kind.”
His words struck like a raging tornado, roaring through the Tyrannosaurus’s ears, tearing through every barrier with unstoppable force.
Its pupils quivered violently, reflecting the sheen of sweat on Wen Xin’s brow, the gentle curve of his lashes, and the star-like sparkle in his eyes.
In that fleeting moment, Wen Xin gripped the spike and pulled hard.
Splurt.
Blood sprayed in a vivid arc, and the Tyrannosaurus trembled from head to tail.
The roar it had suppressed burst forth at last, a sound of overwhelming power and fury that shook the heavens.
The earth quaked, winds howled against the torrent of energy, and the very air seemed to ripple with terror as the space around them wavered precariously.
As the space began to collapse, the green viper, halfway to curling back around Wen Xin’s wrist, jolted as if waking from a dream. It looked around in stunned bewilderment.
Xiao Hei’s gaze also regained clarity.
Fragments of the collapsing space scattered like petals in the air, carried upward by unseen currents. Above, the night sky was painted with streaking meteors, their silver trails lending a dreamlike glow to the scene, as if the world itself had been touched by a fairy tale.
The Tyrannosaurus gazed deeply at Wen Xin. Lowering its once-proud head, it exhaled a warm breath and gently brushed its snout and cheek against the human’s neck.
It said, “You are also… my only one.”
At the black rift outside City G.
The area had long been cleared.
Faced with the dominant First Base, some had left in anger, while others, sensing the storm to come, had retreated to safer distances.
A researcher approached with a report. “Dr. An, everything is ready.”
Dr. An lifted his wrinkled eyelids slightly. “If it’s ready, release it. Though it’s a bit inferior to Number One, it’ll suffice.”
