Chapter 114
When Wen Xin woke up, he found himself in an old, decrepit residential complex located on the western outskirts of City G.
The complex had all the hallmarks of a condemned building waiting for demolition. The entrance gate was practically nonexistent, wild beasts ran rampant in the surrounding forest, and the walls were full of gaping holes. It was the kind of place that invited anyone to come and go as they pleased.
Had it been just a few days ago—even as recent as two days before—Wen Jingfeng would never have considered using this drafty, falling-apart place as a temporary base of operations.
But choices were limited. After Xiao Hei’s outburst of fury, almost the entirety of City G had been reduced to rubble.
Especially the areas where the First Base had been stationed—buildings collapsed, trees snapped like twigs, and there wasn’t a single intact spot left. The survivors who lived through it bore the terror of the rampaging beast deep in their hearts. Only after the disaster subsided did they dare to poke their heads out from their hiding places, trembling with fear.
Then they were stunned.
The ground before them was clean—unnaturally so. After enduring lava, hurricanes, and thunderstorms, not a single blade of grass had survived, let alone any buildings!
So, when the majority of the survivors despairingly realized they were left to sleep out in the open, this remote, untouched old residential area suddenly transformed. Its value skyrocketed, akin to a five-star hotel.
Wen Jingfeng managed to secure one of the buildings there—not through violence, of course, but by… let’s just say, some persuasive negotiation.
His subordinates had already cleaned the place out beforehand. They swept away accumulated dust, discarded random debris, and used wooden boards and bed sheets to patch up the holes in the cracked walls.
When the windows were opened, a cool breeze swept through, immediately making the space feel bright and spacious.
Li Yongming reported the current situation.
“…The First Base completed their full retreat two hours ago. They left in such a hurry that many newer pieces of equipment were abandoned at their camp and not taken along.
We spoke to some of the other survivors, and apparently, the First Base was attacked by an unknown assailant. But it seems the attacker was just one person?”
Wen Jingfeng sharply pointed out the critical detail in the report. “When the First Base publicly announced their plans to come to City G, they hired mercenaries at exorbitant prices to divert attention. However, their actual research team had already arrived at the camp ten days prior.
“All their efforts were just a smokescreen to obscure their true intentions. Given that, their defenses must have been heavily fortified. For someone to breach their perimeter and deal such a blow to the First Base, it couldn’t have been a mere mercenary. I’d wager the attacker was a newly evolved ability user.”
For once, Wen Jingfeng—known for his sharp tongue and brutal honesty—offered rare praise: “You said it was a single person? That’s pretty bold of them.”
Wen Xin looked at his brother in surprise.
Unexpectedly, that glance immediately drew Wen Jingfeng’s attention.
Wen Jingfeng stared at Wen Xin—but not quite at him. The small, strained movements of him holding his breath suggested he was barely keeping his composure. “…Mr. No. 1, may I ask if you are experiencing symptoms of attention deficit disorder or if you’re just homesick and missing parental affection? Must you cling to my brother’s hand like a child who can’t let go of their pacifier?”
Throughout the discussion, Xiao Hei neither participated nor spoke.
He lounged on the sofa with a relaxed demeanor, playing with Wen Xin’s hands—bending and straightening his fingers, brushing against the calluses on his fingertips, and even scrutinizing the palm lines as if admiring the crown jewels of Eiffel III.
Upon hearing Wen Jingfeng’s comment, Xiao Hei lazily raised his eyelids.
To avoid attracting undue attention, his golden eyes had reverted to an ordinary black. Even with altered features, the unique presence of an S-class, highly dangerous mutant could not be concealed. Ordinary people meeting his gaze would find their legs weak and their bodies chilled to the core.
Wen Jingfeng’s pride was innate, yet even he had to admit the man before him filled him with both unease and fear.
Feeling the awkwardness, Wen Xin tried to retract his hands, thinking it inappropriate to let Xiao Hei play with them while discussing serious matters.
Xiao Hei, finding his hands abruptly empty, turned to Wen Xin with an expression of confusion, as if he didn’t understand what he’d done wrong. This gave Wen Xin a pang of guilt, as though he had wronged him.
Before he could reconsider, Xiao Hei hooked his fingers around Wen Xin’s again and stared intently. “I promise not to speak or interrupt your discussion.”
Lowering his gaze slightly, he added softly, “You know my situation. My mind is still in chaos. I need something to occupy myself, and staying by your side is the only thing that can calm me down.”
Faced with Xiao Hei’s earnest plea, Wen Xin couldn’t help but relent.
He shook his head at Wen Jingfeng. “It’s fine. Go on. Xiao Hei won’t disturb us.”
Wen Jingfeng nearly laughed in frustration. “A man clinging to another man’s hands like that, and you think it’s normal? Do you not understand that such behavior could lead to a charge of harassment, punishable by up to five years in prison?”
Feeling exasperated, Wen Xin could only rub his forehead. Explaining to Wen Jingfeng that Xiao Hei wasn’t human—that he was, in fact, their pet cat—was clearly out of the question.
For mutants, expressing intimacy through physical touch was entirely normal. Even the little critters back home loved to cling to him, rubbing against his head or arms.
It was already a concession for Wen Jingfeng to tolerate Xiao Hei being by Wen Xin’s side during his unconscious state. Wen Xin suspected his brother might have some understanding of Xiao Hei’s true identity.
Otherwise, with his decisive personality, Wen Jingfeng would have thrown him out long ago rather than resort to sarcastic remarks.
“Let’s get back to the main topic,” Wen Xin said, trying to ignore the ticklish sensation in his palm. “What do you think prompted the First Base to retreat so quickly?”
Wen Jingfeng glared at him as if he were hopeless, before turning his focus back to the matter at hand. “The reasons could be many. For one, An Qi, the lead researcher, is the driving force behind this operation. It’s possible that an emergency at the First Base headquarters required his immediate return to stabilize the situation.
“Another possibility is that An Qi is laying a trap as part of a new scheme. And lastly…”
Wen Xin smoothly continued, “The attacker who infiltrated the camp was actually targeting An Qi—and succeeded.”
Wen Jingfeng paused in thought. “That’s certainly not out of the realm of possibility.”
“It’s more than possible,” Wen Xin said firmly. “It’s highly likely.”
“We all saw it. That mutant appeared right after the First Base deployed their fighter jets. With so many survivors nearby, it targeted only the people from the First Base.”
“Later, the mutant went berserk. Even if it wasn’t a direct result of something the First Base did, the fact that the mutant lost control at their camp makes it impossible to rule out their involvement.”
Wen Xin had his suspicions but couldn’t directly reveal the truth to Wen Jingfeng. Instead, he subtly pointed out some of the unsettling details of the incident.
Finally, he spoke decisively. “The First Base planned this operation for so long. There’s no way they would abandon it at the moment of payoff unless something serious happened. Considering how much valuable equipment they left behind, I’m at least seventy percent certain that something happened to An Qi—something significant, and he’s gravely injured.”
Wen Jingfeng’s gaze toward Wen Xin shifted subtly, though noticeably.
Wen Xin, unfazed, met his brother’s scrutinizing eyes with a calm demeanor. But the prolonged silence between them was tense.
Just when Wen Xin began to worry he might have given himself away, Wen Jingfeng finally broke the silence. His words, however, weren’t to question or agree with Wen Xin, but to dig up an entirely unrelated grievance.
“My dear brother, might I ask, how did it feel to knock your older brother unconscious?”
Wen Jingfeng hadn’t brought it up earlier during their serious discussion, so Wen Xin thought the matter was water under the bridge. Now, caught off guard, he nearly choked on his water and averted his eyes. “There… was a reason for that…”
Wen Jingfeng arched an eyebrow. “I’ve got time. Let’s hear it.”
Under his brother’s amused yet piercing gaze, Wen Xin struggled for an explanation. After a long, awkward silence, he gave up and said, “I had a reason, but I can’t tell you.”
Wen Jingfeng’s lips curled into a smile, one that said, You’re dead.
Wen Xin’s eyebrow twitched. Realizing that if he didn’t redirect the conversation quickly, things would escalate, his mind raced for a solution. “Brother, do you remember what Father used to do for a living?”
The sudden topic shift caught Wen Jingfeng off guard and successfully interrupted his momentum. The smile on his lips faded slightly. “Why are you asking this?”
The flash of emotion was fleeting, but Wen Xin caught it.
He had mentioned his father because of a dream he’d had, not expecting it to touch on something Wen Jingfeng was reluctant to discuss. Frowning, he felt a vague sense of foreboding. “Don’t tell me… Father didn’t die of natural causes?”
Wen Jingfeng sighed deeply. “You don’t remember? After Mother passed, Father became depressed and withdrawn. He didn’t want to go on living—anyone could see it. No one could pull him back from that edge… In that state, how could his body not fail him?”
A lie.
Looking at Wen Jingfeng’s seemingly sorrowful expression, Wen Xin couldn’t help but think so.
At that moment, a subordinate knocked on the door, needing Wen Jingfeng’s attention for something.
Wen Jingfeng seemed to forget about questioning Wen Xin regarding his earlier actions. He simply told him to rest well and left briskly.
Wen Xin still wanted to confirm whether An Qi was alive.
Something this significant shouldn’t be easy for the First Base to hide, yet they had managed to seal off information surprisingly quickly. Even Wen Jingfeng had been unable to get any solid intel.
The absence of news about Dr. An Qi’s death left a heavy cloud over Wen Xin’s heart. Combined with Wen Jingfeng’s increasingly cryptic attitude, he felt a subtle but undeniable undercurrent of danger.
As Wen Xin sat with a furrowed brow, Xiao Hei suddenly ran a claw lightly across his palm.
After having his fingers toyed with for so long earlier, Wen Xin thought he’d grown desensitized. But this sudden scratch was like a jolt of electricity straight to his brain. He reflexively pulled his arm back, trembling slightly.
“Smile,” said Xiao Hei, the culprit, as if his sudden action wasn’t at all intrusive. He extended a finger to smooth the furrow in Wen Xin’s brow. “Don’t frown.”
Xiao Hei’s fingertips were always warm—strangely so for a creature that was technically cold-blooded, the complete opposite of Ah Lü, the scaly green snake.
In the colder autumn and winter months, that warmth might have been comforting. But now, in the heat of summer, it felt stifling.
Wen Xin brushed Xiao Hei’s hand away with a small smile. “Alright, alright. I won’t frown anymore. Happy?”
Wen Xin, woefully inexperienced in matters of affection, failed to interpret Xiao Hei’s overly intimate actions as anything beyond a pet’s neediness. Despite Wen Jingfeng’s repeated heavy-handed hints, Wen Xin simply chalked it up to his “cat” being unusually clingy.
Xiao Hei hesitated briefly, then withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened.
At that moment, two small lumps beneath the blanket on the bed began to shuffle and wriggle. The blanket was thrown back, revealing two furry little heads.
“Finally, you’re done talking. We were suffocating under here,” one of the creatures grumbled.
Wen Xin couldn’t help but chuckle. He scooped them up, one in each hand. “You brought that on yourselves. Who told you to bury yourselves under the covers?”
Ah Lü instinctively coiled around Wen Xin’s wrist, affectionately rubbing against him. But then, as if a cold wind had swept over it, the snake shuddered.
Looking up, it met Xiao Hei’s dark, penetrating gaze. Beneath that calm surface lay an emotion so intense and frightening that it sent chills down the snake’s spine.
Before Ah Lü could react, Xiao Hei grabbed it entirely and lifted it into the air.
“What are you doing?” The snake flicked its tongue in confusion.
“Wen Xin just woke up. Don’t bother him.”
Ah Lü blinked, utterly bewildered. Bother him? I just rubbed his hand!
Xiao Hei began stroking the snake, but his movements were far less gentle than Wen Xin’s. It felt more like he was peeling the snake’s skin.
Ah Lü writhed in discomfort, unable to escape, and caught sight of Ah Zi, the purple squirrel perched on Wen Xin’s shoulder. The snake immediately voiced its discontent. “You say I’m being a nuisance, but what about Ah Zi?”
The little purple squirrel hadn’t spent much time with Xiao Hei and didn’t fully understand his personality. Hearing Ah Lü’s complaint, it couldn’t help but grow nervous.
Since ascending to S-class, it had been a long time since Ah Zi had experienced the suppression of higher ranks. That sense of ease was utterly shattered when it encountered Xiao Hei again.
Luckily, Xiao Hei only glanced at the small purple ball resting quietly on Wen Xin’s shoulder. Seeing that it wasn’t causing any trouble, he scratched Ah Lü’s chin with his thumb. “It’s much better behaved than you.”
Ah Lü was flabbergasted, its pupils widening in shock. “I’m not well-behaved?”
As the most self-proclaimed reliable one in the household, Ah Lü couldn’t stand being maligned like this. It tightened its coil around Xiao Hei’s finger with all its might. Unfortunately, to the tyrannosaur-like Xiao Hei, it felt no more than a tickle.
Unable to win a fight and too afraid to curse, Ah Lü immediately sought external support. “Wen Xin, back me up! He’s saying I’m not obedient!”
Wen Xin, amused by the squabble, couldn’t help but relax as he saw the little ones causing a ruckus. With a deliberate tone, he defended the snake, “How could that be? You’re the most obedient.”
Ah Lü’s spirits lifted instantly, and it smugly raised its brow scales at Xiao Hei. “Hear that?”
Eventually, Xiao Hei let go, giving Ah Lü the chance to escape. The green snake bolted into Wen Xin’s hands, curling itself into a sulking ball. No matter what, it refused to let the rough, ungraceful dinosaur touch its scales again.
Wen Xin, unable to suppress his laughter, gently petted the snake’s smooth scales to comfort it.
Boom!
The sound of an explosion rang out suddenly. Wen Xin’s expression changed immediately as shouts erupted from outside. Remembering that Wen Jingfeng had left not long ago, he swiftly gathered the little ones and made his way to the door.
Outside was pure chaos. Almost everyone staying temporarily in the residential area had come running out into the open. Wen Xin grabbed a passerby and asked, “What’s happening?”
The person, visibly panicked, yelled, “The group of ability users who fled earlier—they’re back! They want to claim City G and are trying to drive us ordinary people out!”
