Chapter 108
The last two words emerged faintly, as soft as a breeze brushing past one’s ear. Yet, Wen Xin caught them clearly.
He froze, his first thoughts swirling between whether this “only one” referred to the Tyrannosaurus’s sole human family or its only human friend.
The gaze meeting his own was pure, devoid of even a hint of romantic nuance. This clarity shattered the greed and possessiveness that had flickered briefly in Xiao Hei’s heart.
It was as though the creature had been abruptly yanked from a beautiful dream back into a stark reality. Facing Wen Xin, it stared at his delicate, handsome face.
Compared to a year ago, Wen Xin had undoubtedly changed. His posture was straighter, his skin rougher, and his muscles more defined. His body’s contours were fluid, his gaze sharp and resolute, resembling a proud poplar standing firm on a cliffside.
The youth had grown stronger—not just physically but also in the refinement and fortitude of his soul. Yet, he remained soft, warm, and compassionate, always gazing at violent and ferocious mutants like Xiao Hei with a trace of pity.
When that hand tenderly ruffled Xiao Hei’s head, it felt as though a broad, sturdy umbrella had opened above, shielding it from relentless storms.
There were thousands of elite scholars in the base and millions of humans across the world. During times of disaster, countless heroes and warriors had stepped forward. Yet Xiao Hei had never encountered anyone quite like Wen Xin.
It was like a parched traveler stumbling upon a clear spring in the desert—a precious, life-giving discovery.
But such a spring, nestled within a sun-scorched wasteland, was bound to attract others. Any thirsty soul would desperately covet its sweetness.
How could Wen Xin belong solely to it?
This youth, with his indomitable will and keen intellect, was destined to shine among his peers. His resolute spirit and radiant presence would naturally draw others who would offer their admiration and loyalty.
His scent exuded the tranquility of misty mountains, and his earnest gaze carried a warmth like sunlight, capable of calming even the most irate of mutants and making them bow their heads submissively.
How could it dare dream of claiming such a human for itself?
Xiao Hei faced this reality head-on, and its very soul quaked. A complex and indescribable taste spread from its heart to its tongue, even making breathing feel like a sharp ache.
Meanwhile, Wen Xin was lost in his thoughts. Based on his understanding of the word “only,” something about it felt off.
He suspected Xiao Hei might simply be misusing the term—after all, the creature had accused him of “abandoning his wife and children” during an earlier rant.
Xiao Hei didn’t let him ponder for long. Swallowing the heart-trembling emotion it couldn’t afford to express, it slowly added, “Among all humans, I only trust you. You’re also the only one… who can help me.”
Wen Xin blinked in realization. He cradled Xiao Hei’s head and sincerely said, “Thank you for your trust.”
The mention of serious matters made Xiao Hei grow solemn. It seamlessly changed the topic. “Breaking the shell symbolizes my rebirth, and removing the restraints represents the release of my power. But one last obstacle remains: resisting my nature and holding onto myself.”
Wen Xin’s expression turned serious. “What do I need to do?”
Xiao Hei gazed deeply at him, its eyes filled with a tenderness reserved only for him, along with an unspoken yearning.
Shaking its head, it gently rubbed against the young man’s cheek. “The nature I speak of is the beastly instinct embedded in our mutant genes. This battle is something no one can assist with—we must face it alone.”
As it spoke, Xiao Hei raised a paw, conjuring a black vortex beside them. With a muffled pop, the vortex spat out a blood-drenched squirrel.
The squirrel landed on its feet, immediately springing upright and chittering angrily.
“Ah Zi!” Wen Xin jumped in alarm, rushing to examine it. Only then did he realize the blood wasn’t its own—it bore no wounds.
Hearing Wen Xin’s call, the purple squirrel’s blood-hued eyes gradually cleared. It scurried onto his shoulder, frantically inspecting him in turn. “Where were you?! I couldn’t find you anywhere and ran into those disgusting white coats!”
From Ah Zi’s description, the “white coats” seemed to be researchers. Wen Xin’s expression hardened. “Where did you encounter them?”
Ah Zi explained that it had encountered them in a pocket dimension, but it could tell these weren’t imaginary constructs—they were real people.
To Wen Xin, this all but confirmed his suspicion that the secret research base and First Base were connected.
In other words, as soon as the lucky survivors entered the black rift, First Base operatives had pursued them inside.
Ah Lü, now fully alert, remained internally shaken, as though it hadn’t yet snapped out of its shock.
It stared at Wen Xin before it, its slitted pupils trembling with bewilderment.
When did Wen Xin discover my true nature?
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on such matters.
The air seemed to solidify, and the sounds of life disappeared without a trace. A distant thunder rumbled faintly above, while fierce winds roared through the city. The icy, oppressive aura made Ah Lü’s scales bristle instinctively.
Xiao Hei was entering the most critical phase of its evolution.
“Take Wen Xin away from here. Immediately,” Xiao Hei commanded.
Seeing the seriousness in Xiao Hei’s eyes, Ah Lü stiffened, then wrapped its tail around Wen Xin’s ankle. “It’s right. What’s about to happen is beyond us. Let’s go!”
Wen Xin glanced back at Xiao Hei. The creature appeared calm and composed, as though the struggle against its nature would be as simple as eating a meal.
His heart eased slightly. Wasting no time, he reached for the snake, letting it coil around his wrist, and hoisted Ah Zi onto his shoulder. “Let’s retreat for now.”
Xiao Hei nodded, though a trace of worry flickered in its gaze. “And you…”
The moment Wen Xin had stepped into the black rift, Xiao Hei had caught a familiar trace of his scent.
This realization brought it clarity. It struggled to maintain its composure, guiding the volatile energy within itself, converting its fiery intensity into a gentle stream that poured into the youth.
Yet, while even a fraction of this energy would grant others abilities or trigger visible evolution, Wen Xin remained largely unaffected.
It was like a multi-ton bomb plunging into the ocean, where one would expect towering waves, only to see a splash no bigger than a fingernail.
This anomaly was deeply unsettling. Xiao Hei couldn’t discern what was wrong with Wen Xin’s body, and the worry gnawed at its mind.
Now, that filthy pack of rats had tracked it down again, intent on ripping another piece of flesh from it. Worse still, there was a particularly troublesome enemy lurking nearby, ready to strike.
This was no time to resolve such matters.
Meeting Wen Xin’s puzzled gaze, Xiao Hei’s usual savagery and bloodlust were nowhere to be found. Instead, it softly instructed, “Remember this: get as far away as possible. The farther, the better.”
The moment it finished speaking, the black beast dissolved into a shadowy spirit, vanishing into the ethereal void as the dimensional space violently shattered.
The group found themselves back on solid ground. Dazed, they exchanged bewildered glances, each seeing the same confusion mirrored in the other’s eyes.
Before they could process what had happened, someone cried out in alarm, “The flesh is moving again! It’s growing… still growing! Is it really coming back to life?!”
The crimson flesh writhed as though it had gained sentience, inflating like a balloon to envelop the skeletal framework.
Layer by layer, the flesh filled out the hollow frame—liver, pancreas, lungs, brain—followed by an intricate network of veins and arteries.
Under the moonlight, its obsidian scales gleamed with an eerie pallor. The bulges on its back pulsed as if something within was ready to burst free. Its resurrected heart began to beat again, the sound reverberating like a thunderclap on a clear day.
The horrifying sight was nothing short of a demonic god’s descent. The crowd looked up, their faces frozen in speechless terror.
“It’s coming back to life! What do we do? What do we do?!”
There was no room for doubt. Someone shouted, “Run for your lives!” and the crowd scattered like startled birds.
The black behemoth, kilometers long, loomed over the chaos. Only two or three unstable vortex exits offered a chance to escape.
Desperate, people shoved and trampled each other, racing toward freedom. In the mayhem, no one noticed Wen Xin, who slipped away with two mutants in tow.
Wen Xin had lost his backpack somewhere along the way, its location unknown.
With Ah Zi perched on his shoulder and Ah Lü coiled around his wrist, Wen Xin stayed at the rear of the crowd, waiting for the right moment to quietly exit the black rift.
Just then, Ah Lü tightened its coil around his wrist, sending alarm bells ringing in Wen Xin’s mind. He instinctively sidestepped.
A sharp dagger materialized out of thin air, slicing through the space where he had just been, before embedding itself in the ground.
There was no one there—only the dagger.
Wen Xin’s pupils contracted sharply.
Foiled in its first attempt, the dagger began to tremble violently, then, as if guided by an invisible hand, rose once more into the air.
Ah Zi hissed, “Wen Xin, it’s an ability!”
Reacting swiftly, Wen Xin grabbed the dagger’s hilt. The blade thrashed wildly, its strength nearly overwhelming him.
Struggling to suppress the weapon, he said calmly, “The one using this ability can’t be far. Look around—find them!”
Ah Zi’s sharp eyes scanned the area and quickly locked onto the target.
“How dare you, human! You’re courting death!”
The hidden assailant had no time to react before being met with a flying kick from the enraged squirrel. A pained howl followed as the figure hit the ground, limbs splayed out, coughing up blood.
The dagger, now devoid of control, finally stilled.
Before Wen Xin could catch his breath, Ah Lü darted forward, jaws snapping at a seemingly empty spot three meters away.
“Ah!”
A shrill scream erupted from the supposedly vacant air, followed by the gradual appearance of a human figure. They clutched a sharp weapon, clearly intending to strike while Wen Xin was distracted.
This person had the power of invisibility.
But the ambush didn’t end there. The dark substance, previously dormant on the ground, began to surge once more, forming shapes like bubbling asphalt.
Within mere seconds, a horde of zombies appeared before Wen Xin. Towering and grotesque, they drooled as they opened their mouths to let out guttural roars.
Wen Xin’s heart sank—these were second-tier zombies.
Recent months have forced humanity to confront a harsh truth: zombies could evolve.
While first-tier zombies were easily dispatched with a sturdy club, higher-tier zombies had tougher skin, greater speed, and immense strength, rivaling high-level mutants.
The number of zombies swelled rapidly. Whatever energy source was fueling their formation, it was working at an alarming rate. Within ten minutes, hundreds of zombies could flood the area.
Wen Xin closed his eyes briefly, then opened them with a steely gaze. “Ding Pingle, is this your doing?”
The air went still for a moment.
Then, slow clapping echoed from the shadows as a man stepped forward. He bore a striking resemblance to Ding Pingle but appeared 20 or 30 years older.
The man looked at Wen Xin, his eyes alight with a strange brilliance. “Of all the people I’ve encountered, you’re the most surprising. I think I might even be falling for you.”
