Chapter 116
No one knew exactly when it began, but people started to notice the sky growing darker.
Everywhere, the deafening roar of artillery echoed, smoke coiled upward in spiraling columns, and the air reeked of sulfur and burning. The thick black smoke obscured the view, so at first, no one thought much of it.
But soon they realized this darkness wasn’t ordinary. It spread with an unnatural intensity, faster and fiercer than anything they’d seen before.
In the blink of an eye, ominous clouds rolled in, blanketing the sky and pressing down heavily as if about to collapse. The dense, seething darkness roared across the heavens, swallowing the last vestiges of daylight.
Boom!
Massive streaks of silver lightning tore through the clouds, crashing to the ground with earth-shaking force, splitting the oppressive darkness for brief, blinding moments.
Everyone froze.
Then came the overwhelming pressure—terrifying and suffocating. Many of the weaker individuals buckled under its weight, their legs giving way as they collapsed to the ground.
When the air cleared enough to see, their pupils contracted in shock.
At the center of countless gazes, a colossal black beast suddenly emerged. Its massive frame towered over everything, its sheer size enough to blot out the sky.
“It’s… it’s that thing! The monster’s here again!”
Run.
The instinctual fear of the tyrannosaurus had already been etched into the souls of ordinary humans. Resistance was futile, and the moment they saw it, their only thought was escape.
But the stakes had already been set, and the battle was well underway. So much effort had been spent, so many lives lost—how could anyone simply walk away?
This was especially true for the ability users. Their extraordinary powers gave them confidence, but that same confidence often bred arrogance.
Faced with the colossal black beast that had nearly destroyed City G just days earlier, many had already forgotten how they had once trembled before it. Nor did they wonder why the tyrannosaurus had suppressed its S-rank mutant aura.
“Retreat?”
“Retreat my ass! If this monster wants to interfere, we’ll make it regret it!”
“Wait a second—everyone, shut up!”
A sharp-eyed ability user squinted at the tyrannosaurus and exclaimed, “There’s someone standing on its head!”
“What?!”
It wasn’t just the ability users who noticed. Scouts among the ordinary human factions also spotted the figure, sending shockwaves of alarm through their ranks.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.”
A clear voice echoed through a loudspeaker, slightly distorted but unmistakable in its distinctive tone. Anyone familiar with its owner would have recognized it immediately.
“Sir… isn’t that…?” Li Yongming stared at the figure in disbelief, glancing hesitantly at his superior.
Wen Jinfeng gripped his binoculars tightly, his expression as dark as storm clouds. Li Yongming wisely fell silent under the weight of his commanding officer’s oppressive aura.
No matter how thoroughly Wen Jinfeng had prepared for the battlefield’s myriad possibilities, he could never have anticipated this: Wen Xin, appearing at the height of the chaos, riding atop the tyrannosaurus.
Humans instinctively feared powerful, unknown creatures and alien beings. But when such entities established a connection with humanity, that fear diminished proportionally.
The gazes fixed on Wen Xin began to change. Suspicion and curiosity replaced pure terror as people wondered about his relationship with the beast.
A flying ability user abruptly soared into the sky, pointing and yelling, “You’re the one who sent this monster to attack City G two days ago, aren’t you? What are you planning now?”
Under countless watchful eyes, Wen Xin’s face remained as calm as still water, betraying no emotion. He didn’t even glance at the flying ability user hovering before him.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your sparring,” Wen Xin said evenly. “I’m here to deliver a message.”
His voice, steady and unyielding, carried through the tense battlefield.
“From this moment onward, everyone is to leave the vicinity of City G immediately. Without my permission, no one is to approach.”
A stunned silence swept through the battlefield.
“Pfft.”
After a long pause, someone broke into laughter, the absurdity of the statement finally catching up with them. Laughter spread, rippling through the crowd. No one had expected such an outrageous declaration.
“Wait—did I hear that right? You’re saying you want to take over City G all by yourself?”
The flying ability user, already irked by Wen Xin’s indifference, cackled loudly at the announcement. His expression turned malicious as he drew a gleaming blade and dove toward Wen Xin.
“So it’s just some clown looking for attention? Die!”
Ability users’ enhanced bodies made them far stronger than ordinary people. At this range, the flying ability user was certain he could kill Wen Xin with a single strike.
But then he realized he couldn’t move.
It was as if an invisible hand had seized him mid-air, locking his body in place.
His face contorted in terror. The sound of his bones creaking echoed ominously until—pop!—he burst like an overfilled balloon.
Bang!
A rain of blood mist showered down from above, accompanied by an earsplitting scream.
The crowd was stunned into silence. But the death of one man wasn’t enough to terrify the thousands gathered.
A squad leader among the ability users roared, “Everyone, attack! Kill him!”
Several ability users gathered, pooling their mental strength for a combined assault.
But above them, the roiling clouds churned violently. Without warning, a storm of lightning descended.
Bolts of blinding electricity swept across the battlefield like a tidal wave. Every ability user who dared to approach was caught in its unrelenting onslaught.
Compared to earlier attacks, this massacre was eerily silent. Those further afield heard only the crackle of electricity and the deafening clap of thunder.
When the thunder faded, the silence that followed was absolute.
No cries of agony, no screams of despair. Just the scorched remains of armored vehicles, mortars, fighter planes, and fortress outposts. Everything had been incinerated, leaving only blackened scars on the barren earth as evidence of the carnage.
This was annihilation.
Death had come so swiftly that there hadn’t even been time to retreat.
The battlefield fell deathly quiet.
All eyes turned toward the desolate, lightning-scorched wasteland. Even breathing seemed to tremble in fear.
Throughout it all, Wen Xin’s expression remained unchanged.
Lowering his gaze, he adjusted the loudspeaker to its maximum volume.
Crackle.
The static caught everyone’s attention once more.
Wen Xin spoke, his voice calm but commanding.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let me ask you—”
“From this moment onward, everyone is to leave the vicinity of City G immediately. Without my permission, no one is to approach.”
“Which part of that sentence do you not understand?”
The quiet authority in his voice carried a weight that brooked no argument.
In that instant, whether it was the masterminds who had orchestrated the battle or the opportunists who had sought to inflame the chaos further, they all felt their hands tremble as they gripped their binoculars.
In moments of life and death, people often find strength they didn’t know they possessed.
For example, opposing and even hostile factions began to retreat simultaneously. A task that should have been chaotic and time-consuming—resolving disputes, organizing withdrawal sequences, and coordinating group movements—was suddenly happening with unprecedented efficiency.
Under the silent surveillance of the relentless thunderstorm, the various factions astonishingly managed to withdraw from City G in less than half an hour.
Some tried to return, believing that City G was too vast for Wen Xin to monitor every corner.
For those who defied him, Wen Xin directed Xiao Hei to unleash another storm of lightning.
The aftermath of the thunderclap left nothing but scorched earth and an eerie silence. Any whispers of dissent evaporated as quickly as they arose.
Once the last group had been successfully driven out of City G, Wen Xin allowed Xiao Hei to set him gently back on the ground.
The once-thriving city was now desolate, its barren land dotted with ruins and ashes. The remnants of buildings stood like broken tombstones marking the devastation.
In the distance, the sun dipped below the horizon, its final rays painting the wasteland in hues of gold and crimson. The silent battlefield, littered with unclaimed dead, seemed like a voiceless requiem for the fallen.
Wen Xin stood motionless, his back to the half-sunken sun, his expression inscrutable.
Then, he crouched by a corpse, its eyes frozen wide in death. Reaching out, he gently closed its eyelids.
The colossal black beast vanished, and the man appeared behind the youth, his gaze fixed on Wen Xin’s slender figure. “Driving them out of City G—is that all you plan to do?”
“The leaders of these factions aren’t fools,” Wen Xin replied without turning around. “With City G under my control, they lose their reason to fight over it. Most of them will likely choose self-preservation and back off for now.”
Dusting off his knees as he stood, he continued, “That said, they’ll start investigating who I am. To prevent Wen Jinfeng or City A from getting dragged into this, I’ll need to stage a dramatic ‘break’ with them.”
Wen Xin spoke of this heavy burden in an almost casual tone, though Xiao Hei understood it was an effort to ease concerns.
Taking on such an immense and unfamiliar responsibility must have left Wen Xin feeling overwhelmed. Yet his calm demeanor betrayed none of it.
On his face, there was only steadfast determination and unwavering confidence, like an immovable rock amidst a raging sea.
No one could see the turmoil in Xiao Hei’s heart. His chest felt aflame, and a strange, searing heat coursed through him. The golden brilliance of his true eyes surfaced once more.
The man didn’t try to persuade Wen Xin otherwise. He simply gazed at him with quiet warmth. “I’m always here for you. Do whatever you need to do.”
Perhaps it was the emptiness of their surroundings or the desolate scene that painted the world as if the apocalypse had truly come. Wen Xin’s eyes met Xiao Hei’s radiant golden gaze, and for a moment, he felt a tremor in his chest, like a heartbeat too loud to ignore.
Wait, what am I thinking?
The strange thought flitted through his mind, and Wen Xin quickly shook it off, laughing lightly. “Alright. Let’s talk about the agreement we need to finalize.”
The two of them salvaged a reasonably clean blanket from a wrecked camp and spread it out on the ground. Sitting cross-legged, they looked ready for a serious discussion.
Given their bond, Xiao Hei didn’t think there was any need for formal negotiations.
But Wen Xin was resolute, shaking his head with a smile.
“Xiao Hei, don’t underestimate your power. If the world knew you could be used, people would swarm you from every corner of the globe. Not even an endless storm of lightning could drive them away.”
His tone remained composed as he posed a sharp, unsettling hypothetical. “With such an irresistible lure, who’s to guarantee I won’t falter along the way?”
Wen Xin chuckled, his expression carrying a maturity beyond his years. “I don’t even trust myself.”
The First Base understood No. 1’s potential better than anyone. If Xiao Hei successfully evolved, he would become the closest thing to a god on Earth.
Even An Qi’s silver crystal, a weapon that once posed a threat, might no longer be enough to endanger Xiao Hei.
The thought of granting a human the power to dominate the world was terrifying—even if that human was himself.
“Humans are inherently flawed. I’m no exception.”
Wen Xin spoke solemnly, his eyes sincere as he made his request. “So, Xiao Hei, if one day you find that I’ve changed—if I’ve become greedy, ruthless, and willing to sacrifice lives for my ambition—I want you to stop me.”
Xiao Hei froze, struggling to process what he had just heard. His expression darkened in disbelief.
“What… did you just say?”
Wen Xin didn’t repeat himself. Instead, he reached for the sidearm at his hip.
On this ravaged battlefield, death had been his constant companion. His ammunition was often depleted and replenished, again and again, through countless battles.
Some warriors saved their last bullet for themselves, preferring to avoid a crueler fate if left with no other choice.
Wen Xin, however, always fed his last bullet to his enemies—a defiant form of resolution.
But now, after sealing his agreement with Xiao Hei, Wen Xin loaded a single round into his pistol.
Holding the weapon firmly, he ejected the magazine to reveal the round within, displaying it to Xiao Hei’s trembling eyes.
Then, with a snap, he slid the magazine back into place, took Xiao Hei’s hand, and pried open the clenched fingers, placing the gun into his palm without hesitation.
“Xiao Hei, I want to entrust my life to you. Will you accept it?”
Xiao Hei nearly couldn’t hold it.
Though he could endure the heat of a furnace burning at thousands of degrees, the faint warmth of the pistol seared him unbearably. A tempest of violent emotions surged within him, threatening to boil over.
He wanted to smash the gun against the ground, grind it to dust beneath his heel, and obliterate it with lightning a thousand times over until it vanished entirely from existence.
Finally, Xiao Hei looked into Wen Xin’s clear, unwavering eyes. They shone with a luminous trust—silent, unspoken, but absolute.
It was a trust that the tyrannosaurus, in this life or the next, would never betray.
The air seemed frozen for a long moment before the man reached out. Instead of taking just the gun, he clasped both the weapon and Wen Xin’s hand tightly in his own.
Wen Xin blinked in surprise as Xiao Hei’s deep, gravelly voice broke the silence. “Do you realize that asking me to be the one to execute you is a cruel request?”
A dull ache spread across the back of Wen Xin’s hand, Xiao Hei’s grip firm enough to leave red marks.
But Wen Xin’s thoughts were fixated on Xiao Hei’s words. After a pause, his brow furrowed as the gravity of what he’d asked sank in. Retracting his hand slightly, he said, “I’m sorry. I’ll think of another way—”
“I’m willing.”
Wen Xin froze, whipping his head around to face Xiao Hei, his expression a mirror of the disbelief the man had worn moments earlier.
Xiao Hei smiled faintly and repeated, “I’m willing.”
Taking the gun into his hands, he tilted it upward and lightly tapped Wen Xin’s chest with the muzzle, each word weighted with emotion. “If you truly become someone even you can’t stand, I’ll take this final bullet and put it in your heart.”
“Then, your heart will be entirely mine—as punishment for making me do something so cruel.”
Wen Xin’s lashes trembled.
Each tap of the gun felt less like it struck his chest and more as if it reverberated deep within his heart, causing it to tighten involuntarily.
Wen Xin had always been quiet and dutiful, a serious student described as introverted and obedient by his teachers and peers. Rarely was he scolded or admonished by anyone outside his family.
Hearing Xiao Hei say “punishment” stirred an inexplicable feeling within him—a mixture of embarrassment, unease, and something he couldn’t quite name.
Avoiding the man’s piercing gaze, Wen Xin shifted his eyes aside and feigned composure, as if pretending to be a block of wood could help him regain his calm.
Returning to the matter at hand, Wen Xin laid out the most pressing concerns. The rest seemed manageable in comparison.
By seizing control of City G, he had temporarily averted a disaster. Without his intervention, the city would have become a battleground for profit, leading to irreparable destruction.
He planned to gradually lift the restrictions after the chaos subsided, allowing some people back into the city.
The energy that had granted others their abilities was a byproduct of Xiao Hei’s evolution. Now that Xiao Hei’s evolution had been interrupted, those who returned to City G would soon realize that staying there no longer gave them the power they sought.
As word spread, the allure of City G would fade, curbing the greed that had driven so much conflict.
By forcing everyone to leave, Wen Xin had bought this precious period of calm.
For Wen Xin himself, taking over City G also fulfilled his long-standing idea of establishing a survivor base. Now that he had the territory, he no longer had to worry about where to build it.
What he couldn’t predict, however, was how his actions would be perceived. He could only imagine the rumors that would circulate or how many survivors would actually choose to follow him.
He sighed softly, the weight of it all settling on his shoulders.
Xiao Hei’s demands were far simpler: to restart his interrupted evolution and to destroy the First Base.
Hearing Xiao Hei mention the First Base reminded Wen Xin of something he hadn’t yet told him—An Qi’s death.
When Wen Xin shared the news, Xiao Hei didn’t show any immediate joy. Nor did Wen Xin feel particularly triumphant.
Almost in unison, they both spoke.
“Even though I shot him several times in the head, I suspect he’s not dead.”
“An Qi might still be alive.”
Wen Xin nodded. “I’ll arrange for someone to gather intel.”
For now, the matter of City G was settled.
Wen Xin had previously sent Ah Zi to ensure Wen Jinfeng’s safety. While most of the troops had withdrawn with the other factions, Wen Jinfeng hadn’t left immediately.
When he and Wen Xin met again, his demeanor and tone toward his younger brother were markedly different.
“I’ve planned many paths for you and envisioned countless futures. But I never imagined you would choose the hardest one on your own.”
Wen Xin waited, half-expecting his brother to criticize him for being reckless or overestimating himself.
To his surprise, Wen Jinfeng said nothing more. After a long silence, he turned to Xiao Hei and said, “Strike me with lightning.”
