Chapter 130
Seeing the label “Mentor” beside An Qi’s name, Wen Xin’s mind reeled with shock, recalling a small detail from before the apocalypse erupted.
No wonder.
No wonder that back when most people dismissed the zombie virus as a mutated strain of rabies, Wen Jinfeng had sternly warned him over the phone: Stay home unless absolutely necessary.
Wen Xin rubbed his temples, the weight of realization pressing down on him.
Perhaps Wen Jinfeng had seen through An Qi’s moral depravity long ago, having witnessed the sordid events in the secret research base. Learning that the zombie virus originated with An Qi only solidified Wen Xin’s disgust—a loathing tempered by grim inevitability.
Now, the stack of documents in his hands was irrefutable evidence against An Qi. If Wen Xin later sought to ally with other human factions, this material could prove instrumental in exposing An Qi’s crimes.
For Wen Xin, it was an unexpected boon.
He continued reading.
The truth lay like a diseased crop: its above-ground stalks shone bright and golden, but beneath the surface, its roots were rotten to the core.
Xin Nuannuan’s journal was like a relentless spade, digging deeper and uncovering the putrid, bloated roots, revealing the sordid darkness of the past.
When Xin Nuannuan realized something was amiss with the experiments, she didn’t approach Dr. An Qi immediately. Knowing his unshakable authority within the team, confronting him would only tip him off.
Instead, after calming herself, she confided in the one person she trusted most within the team—Wen Guoqing, Wen Xin’s father.
As it turned out, Wen Guoqing harbored similar suspicions. After all, the deranged behavior of the test mice was too blatant to ignore—one would have to be blind or mad to miss it.
Unlike other team members who chose to feign ignorance, Wen Guoqing quickly reached a consensus with Xin Nuannuan: they had to stop the research.
At the time, neither of them realized the ultimate product of their team’s research was a virus straight out of science fiction—the zombie virus. Nor were they aware that Dr. An Qi had elevated his authority to the point of turning the entire research team into his puppets.
Before the couple could fully implement their plan, their actions caught the attention of other researchers, who promptly reported them to Dr. An Qi.
The journal entries ended abruptly here, as did the experiment records.
It seemed the couple fell under An Qi’s suspicion and were reassigned, no longer involved in the project.
Wen Xin sighed softly.
As he was about to close the folder, he noticed another page tucked at the back.
It wasn’t part of the research logs—it was a personal diary entry from Xin Nuannuan, written in cryptic phrases.
“I inadvertently discovered its existence. It turns out the archaeological team didn’t just uncover hazardous materials—they found it! That conniving old wolf An Qi is hiding far more than he’s letting on!”
“But what exactly is it? An alien, an ancient being, or a ghost? What’s even more incredible is that after countless millennia, it retains a clear consciousness and logical reasoning.”
“Only I can see it and hear what it says.”
“It said that humanity’s attempt to steal its treasure will come at a devastating price. If it speaks the truth, then An Qi’s current madness will unleash an unimaginable catastrophe on humanity! I seem to glimpse the future, and I can’t stand idly by.”
“My hatred for An Qi’s greed grows with each passing day, but I can’t confront him. If I do, the little truth I’ve uncovered will be buried forever. Recently, I’ve heard that the research has hit another insurmountable bottleneck. Could it have something to do with its appearance?”
“Guoqing believes this matter has concluded and doesn’t know I’m still investigating. I must endure this alone and keep both him and Jinfeng out of it.”
“In the end, I took a desperate gamble and formed a contract with it. To maintain secrecy, only it and I know the contract’s details.”
Xin Nuannuan didn’t elaborate on the psychological toll she bore, nor on the misunderstandings and doubts she faced. She left only a resigned remark:
“I don’t know if I’ve made a deal with the devil, but when demons cloak themselves in human skin, how can ignorant and powerless humans hope to fight back?”
“I know I won’t live long. Perhaps I’ll regret this decision—or perhaps I won’t.”
These revelations were beyond anything Wen Xin had anticipated!
He didn’t even know what it was. Desperately, he flipped through the remaining pages, hoping to find details about the contract his mother had formed with it. But the final page was undoubtedly Xin Nuannuan’s last message.
Standing nearby, Yuan Yanzhong rubbed his forehead, his mind conjuring a hazy vision.
In a bright room, a faceless woman sat on a chair, lovingly stroking her pregnant belly. Her voice, weary yet resolute, rang out:
“It’s all right. My children will carry on my will.”
“Even if they don’t, countless humans will rise, like wild grass in summer—unbreakable, unburnable, always returning with the spring breeze.”
It took Wen Xin a long moment to calm his emotions and regain his composure.
Clenching his fingers to steady himself, he selected parts of the data and journal, then whistled softly toward the sky.
Flap, flap.
The sound of wings came from above. A mutated white dove descended onto Wen Xin’s shoulder, tilting its head as its glossy black eyes regarded him curiously.
Wen Xin gently scratched the dove’s cheek and folded the papers into an envelope, handing it over.
The C-grade mutated dove had once served under Ah Jiu. With its ability to temporarily block detection signals, it was an exceptional courier for messages and documents. Since their parting in City Rose, it had stayed loyally by Wen Xin’s side—a trustworthy ally.
“These documents are crucial,” Wen Xin instructed. “Make sure they reach your city lord and are released at the appropriate time.”
The white dove cooed softly, grasped the envelope in its claws, and flapped its wings as it ascended into the sky, soon disappearing above the city.
While some of the documents had been sent out, Wen Xin kept a portion for himself as a safeguard.
Under the watchful eyes of Yuan Yanzhong and Xiao Qi, Wen Xin exhaled lightly.
From the current evidence, it seemed that his mother, Xin Nuannuan, had failed to stop the development of the zombie virus back then. She might even have been ostracized by her research team as a result. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have left the project so dejectedly, opting to start a new life with Wen Guoqing in entrepreneurial pursuits.
But the question remained: after deciding to oppose An Qi, what had his mother done next?
Wen Xin’s gaze instinctively returned to the group photograph.
His eyes first landed on his father. At that time, both his parents had been young, their faces carrying a youthful softness. Wen Guoqing’s eyes were fixed on Xin Nuannuan with such unguarded love and focus that it almost overflowed from the image.
His mother, on the other hand, was meeting his father’s gaze while simultaneously glancing toward the camera.
She wasn’t the gentle or demure type; her facial features were bold, her contours striking. Her confident, spirited eyes made her face appear particularly sharp and commanding. When she faced the camera, she radiated an almost arrogant determination, as though she could conquer anything beneath her feet.
It was an irrepressible vitality.
Wen Xin felt a swelling in his chest, an inexplicable sensation that compelled him to touch the spot over his heart.
There, nestled in the inner lining of his clothes, lay the mysterious vial Wen Jinfeng had risked everything to have delivered to him.
Yet, no matter how many theories Wen Xin entertained, none could be confirmed—not unless he could rescue Wen Jinfeng from First Base or confront Dr. An Qi, who was equally privy to the truth.
“Who exactly is this it?” Wen Xin murmured to himself.
“Wen Xin…” Yuan Yanzhong’s voice was laced with complexity, as if he were on the verge of sharing fragmented memories. But before he could continue, a loud explosion echoed from the distance.
What was that?
Wen Xin reacted swiftly, locking eyes with Yuan Yanzhong and Xiao Qi before scaling to higher ground.
From his elevated position, he looked toward the source of the noise—and saw people. Suspended midair without any visible flight devices.
They were Espers.
But even Espers couldn’t evade gunfire or cannon rounds indefinitely, much less expose themselves so blatantly in such vulnerable positions.
Wen Xin’s brows furrowed slightly. Before he could say more, a sharp, crackling noise swept through the city. The broadcast system, which had been blaring alarms, abruptly went silent.
The city’s magnetic field had been disrupted, rendering the auto-targeting systems of heavy weaponry useless.
There was no doubt—the intruders came with malicious intent!
