Chapter 127
The explosion caught the three shapeshifters completely off guard. The bearded man met a grisly death, while the other two survivors were left severely injured.
The crew-cut man, trembling and pale from blood loss, shakily used his ability to restore the password box to its pre-explosion state. He glanced at the shapeshifter beside him, who was standing with lifeless eyes, his clothing charred, looking no better than himself.
“What do we do now?” The shapeshifter’s voice quavered as he looked at the corpse lying on the ground.
“Don’t ask me! How the hell should I know?” snapped the crew-cut man, yanking at his hair in frustration. The movement caused the wounds on his face to throb painfully, twisting his expression into something grotesque. “Who could’ve guessed that Wen Jinfeng lunatic would rig such a powerful bomb?”
“If we take the box back directly, how do we explain it to the General?”
No explanation could work. The decayed state of the corpse alone would reveal the time of death, and if the higher-ups suspected anything and sent someone to investigate, who knows what kind of ability might reveal the truth about what happened?
The thought of the General discovering their intent to break free of his control sent a chill through the shapeshifter, plunging him into despair. He looked as if he had fallen into a bottomless abyss.
The fear in the crew-cut man’s eyes mirrored his own. Chewing on his mangled fingers, he mumbled neurotically, “We can’t go back. Going back is suicide.”
Suddenly, he looked up. “We might as well double down on our mistakes!”
“What?” The shapeshifter stared at him in astonishment.
“Wen Jinfeng went to such lengths to destroy this box, which means the contents could threaten the General or Dr. An Qi. This box is our only way out!”
Perhaps the sudden death of the bearded man had shaken them to their core, because after a brief silence, the shapeshifter hesitantly agreed, “But how do we open it?”
He swore at the sight of the blood pooling on the floor. “I’m not touching that thing again. Over my dead body.”
The crew-cut man’s expression turned calculating as he regained his composure. “We don’t have to take that risk. Don’t forget, there’s someone else meant to retrieve the item.”
“Do you remember the mission the General gave us?”
When the General’s orders were mentioned, the shapeshifter’s eyes briefly flickered with a sinister light before he began to struggle violently, clearly attempting to resist mental manipulation. Xiao Qi, the fox, exerted more pressure, and the shapeshifter soon succumbed to the illusion.
The scene shifted.
The ruined site and mangled corpses vanished, replaced by a dark, silent room. Electronic light shimmered faintly on the alloy walls and ceiling, casting dim reflections.
A man dressed as a steward appeared, expressionless. “You all understand your mission, correct?”
The bearded man, previously arrogant in the memory sequence, now lowered his head submissively and replied timidly, “Yes, we understand. Retrieve the box, deliver the letter to Wen Xin, and then persuade him to lead his forces to City A.”
The crew-cut man chimed in, ingratiatingly, “Wen Jinfeng just announced his public fallout with his brother, and then this ‘accident’ happens. To outsiders, whether or not Wen Xin is involved, suspicion will inevitably fall on him.”
“If Wen Xin marches to City A at this time, it’ll certainly provoke dissatisfaction among Wen Jinfeng’s subordinates. Even if his intentions are sincere, everyone will think he’s seizing the chaos to occupy City A. It’s a brilliant move!”
Even without establishing a psychic link, Xiao Qi the fox could sense the insidious intentions of the crew-cut man and his group as he watched their scheming demeanor.
If Wen Xin impulsively sent people to provide aid as anticipated, it could easily lead to a significant dispute—one that would be impossible to explain away later.
Despite overhearing their plans to frame him, Wen Xin’s expression remained utterly unperturbed. He looked thoughtfully toward the middle-aged man seated in the office chair.
At that moment, the steward spoke up, “General?”
The middle-aged man, addressed as “General,” gave a curt acknowledgment. Sitting with his back to everyone present, half of his upturned face shrouded in shadow, his features and expression remained obscured. In a simple, cold tone, he said, “Go.”
“If you can’t find the person or the box, don’t bother coming back.”
The three shapeshifters shuddered in unison.
The scene abruptly ended, leaving behind fragmented, disjointed pieces, as though someone had violently scrambled the memory.
Xiao Qi attempted to delve deeper into the shapeshifter’s recollections, aiming to reveal the “General’s” face. Suddenly, the shapeshifter’s eyes rolled back, and he began convulsing violently.
Dark purple veins bulged grotesquely under the shapeshifter’s skin, snaking up his neck and face like vines. Overcome with excruciating pain, he writhed on the floor like a fish out of water, his torment utterly inhuman.
As the illusion depended on the shapeshifter’s mental stability, his chaotic state forced Xiao Qi to terminate the technique.
Frowning, Xiao Qi heard Wen Xin remark from behind, “It seems whoever sent them wasn’t entirely clueless.”
This statement implied that the so-called “General” was aware of Xiao Qi’s ability to read memories and had planted a mental safeguard in the shapeshifters. The moment they attempted to disclose the General’s identity, the safeguard triggered their breakdown.
Xiao Qi sighed, frustrated. Pushing further might turn the shapeshifter into a mindless shell, yielding no useful information.
Wen Xin chuckled softly at Xiao Qi’s scrunched-up expression, ruffling his hair. “Alright, it’s not such a big deal.”
“But your brother is being held at the First Base,” Xiao Qi said, clearly distressed. “It’s dangerous.”
“He’s fine.” Wen Xin stepped over the unconscious shapeshifter and picked up the letter, shaking it slightly. “At least, that’s what he claims.”
Xiao Qi looked puzzled. “Hmm? But there was nothing in the letter saying he’s fine.”
Wen Xin explained, “It’s a prearranged code between him and me.”
“The contents of this letter shouldn’t be taken at face value. Wen Jinfeng wouldn’t beg or humble himself, even with a blade at his neck. He’d sneer and curse their ancestors instead. Him appealing for my help is simply impossible.”
Although Xiao Qi hadn’t spent much time with Wen Jinfeng, he knew enough to agree with Wen Xin’s assessment. Reluctantly reassured, he nodded but still asked, “Why would he go to the First Base in the first place?”
Despite their staged public fallout, Wen Xin and Wen Jinfeng’s blood ties made it possible for the First Base to leverage this connection against Wen Xin.
Wen Xin, too, was pondering the matter. His expression wasn’t heavy but wasn’t relaxed either.
Excluding the possibility of being drugged, Wen Jinfeng must have had compelling reasons to take the risk—something of enough value to force his hand.
Wen Xin tapped a finger against the silver-white password box, the crisp sound echoing as a thoughtful gleam appeared in his eyes.
The crew-cut man and his companions had pinned their hopes on Wen Xin to escape the General’s control, yet even Wen Xin didn’t know the box’s password. Earlier, he had faked the sound of unlocking it to lower their guard and expose their vulnerabilities.
Had he known this additional responsibility would arise, he and Wen Jinfeng would have devised a more thorough plan regarding their code.
… Or would they?
Wen Xin frowned slightly.
In reality, when memories could be fabricated or extracted, no password could be entirely foolproof. Were he in Wen Jinfeng’s position, facing the same dilemma, Wen Xin would never design a password that risked discovery.
His intuition told him the letter might contain something he’d overlooked. He reread it meticulously.
We are brothers by blood, sharing the same genes. Betrayal between us is impossible; this is an immutable truth.
But that black monster you’ve involved yourself with, my dear brother, let me warn you: its apocalyptic power is beyond your control.
Sometimes, even I am terrified of the extraordinary abilities it displays. Wen Xin, ask yourself: in allying with it, are you truly prepared? Can you wholly trust and rely on its power?
Rereading these words, which seemed like attempts to sow discord, a sudden realization struck Wen Xin. His expression brightened with understanding as he murmured, “I’ve figured it out.”
“Figured out what?” Xiao Qi asked, still puzzled.
Without answering, Wen Xin picked up the silver-white password box and strode out, giving cold orders to the guards: “Take that man to the dungeon. Interrogate him thoroughly and find out where his accomplices are.”
The guards glanced at the unconscious shapeshifter on the floor and were startled. “Yes, sir!”
Wen Xin and Yuan Yanzhong took turns overseeing affairs in City G. Since Wen Xin had traveled to the Idealism Sect, Yuan Yanzhong naturally stayed behind to maintain order.
However, Yuan Yanzhong couldn’t rest easy knowing Wen Xin was so far away. He tirelessly patrolled back and forth between the Idealism Sect and City G, marking both locations as his checkpoints. His unwavering dedication even made Ah Lü, the viper, click his tongue in amazement, silently marveling at the “subdued dinosaurs’s” persistence.
Still, the snake couldn’t resist teasing him: “You’re willing to do everything for him but can’t even muster the courage to say, ‘I like you’?”
Yuan Yanzhong, stoic as ever, answered this jibe with a merciless swipe of his claw.
Currently, sensing that Wen Xin was already waiting for him at their agreed meeting point, Yuan Yanzhong hastened his pace, feeling that the young man needed his assistance.
“What’s the matter?” he asked upon arriving.
Wen Xin presented the silver-white password box. “Can your spatial ability extract the item inside this box directly?”
After hearing the brief explanation, Yuan Yanzhong quickly understood the situation. He placed his hand above the box, concentrated for a moment, and nodded. “Yes, I can.”
Seeing this, Wen Xin felt a wave of relief. His deduction had been correct—Wen Jinfeng likely never set an actual password. Instead, his repeated warnings in the letter about Yuan Yanzhong’s uncontrollable abilities were a veiled reminder.
This risky maneuver could have gone disastrously wrong, potentially implicating Wen Xin and everyone intercepting the items. Fortunately, Wen Xin had been cautious and methodical.
As Yuan Yanzhong activated his spatial ability, visible ripples spread through the air before them.
Unlike the illusionary effects of Xiao Qi’s mirages, this disturbance carried a palpable, sharp intensity. It was as though an invisible blade, sharp enough to cleave metal, had struck their space, sending waves of pressure that were both fearsome and oppressive.
Wen Xin, seemingly accustomed to such phenomena, gradually relaxed his tense muscles after a few seconds.
Xiao Qi, on the other hand, was so startled that his fur nearly bristled. His round pupils contracted into thin slits as he skittered to the side, clearly unnerved.
Yuan Yanzhong glanced briefly at Wen Xin’s composed expression, a hint of curiosity flashing in his otherwise calm demeanor.
Moments later, the item inside the box was extracted without triggering any traps. Yuan Yanzhong opened his palm, revealing a glass vial containing an unknown liquid. Wen Xin instinctively recalled the suppressant he once injected into Yuan Yanzhong.
But this vial’s contents were clearly different.
The liquid shimmered a radiant blue, fluctuating between ethereal wisps and crystalline fragments, moving in an unending, chaotic dance. Under sunlight, it refracted a dazzling array of colors, as though alive.
As he gazed at the vial, Wen Xin was struck by an odd feeling—the liquid seemed imbued with a vibrant, life-like energy.
Even stranger, he felt a distinct premonition that this substance was once a part of him.
Xiao Qi, who had crept back to Wen Xin’s side, stared at the vial with an unexplainable yearning in his eyes.
Meanwhile, Yuan Yanzhong instinctively lowered his head, sniffing the vial in Wen Xin’s hand with a trace of indulgence. “…It smells like you.”
Wen Xin’s gaze remained fixed on the vial. So, it wasn’t just his imagination.
Although the item had been retrieved, its effects were unknown. Wen Xin didn’t dare inject himself on a whim—who knew whether it would turn him into a superhero or a Godzilla-like monstrosity?
Suppressing the urge to merge with the liquid, he carefully secured the vial and revisited the pressing questions at hand.
Question one: Who is the “General” orchestrating the crew-cut man and his group?
By Wen Xin’s count, there weren’t many individuals still entitled to that rank. Cross-referencing the crew-cut man’s statements and clues from the memory sequence, Wen Xin’s heart sank. He had already arrived at a conclusion.
He had focused much of his attention on Dr. An Qi but overlooked the fact that without military backing, the First Base couldn’t have been established so quickly. The financial and logistical resources required far exceeded the capabilities of ordinary powerhouses.
Thus, the answer still lay within the First Base.
Question two: Why was Wen Jinfeng in such a hurry?
If the vial was something Wen Jinfeng had obtained through unconventional means and stored at the First Base, why hadn’t he waited longer?
Perhaps he could no longer afford to wait—something had compelled him to take immediate, drastic action.
The limitations of unreliable communication became glaringly apparent at moments like this. No matter how vast Wen Xin’s intelligence network is, it couldn’t eliminate delays in information relay.
At the end of Wen Jinfeng’s letter, he had mentioned the cactus he once mistook for an elder brother.
To others, this seemed like a casual remark, but Wen Xin knew Wen Jinfeng wasn’t one for idle nostalgia. It was likely a coded message.
“I need to go to City A.”
Xiao Qi was startled by Wen Xin’s decision. “But going now would be walking right into their trap!”
Wen Xin responded with a teasing smile. “If I were alone, that might be true. I’d have to tread carefully and avoid clashing with Wen Jinfeng’s old subordinates.”
He glanced at Yuan Yanzhong, his expression bright and mischievous. “But with you here, do I still need to worry about those problems?”
This livelier side of Wen Xin drew a soft chuckle from Yuan Yanzhong. “You needn’t worry about anything.”
The razor-sharp claws of the Tyrannosaurus, unyielding as blades, would always clear the path for his commander.
