For a long time, rumors about whether Wen Jingfeng was alive or dead stirred unrest. Li Yongming firmly believed that if his superiors were present, the traitors wouldn’t have had the chance to act.
As Wen Jingfeng’s younger brother, Wen Xin’s concern for his elder brother was no less than anyone else’s. At yesterday’s emergency meeting, he refrained from asking about Wen Jingfeng’s whereabouts, fearing it would only cause panic and chaos.
Seeing Li Yongming’s worried expression, Wen Xin comforted him, “Although I don’t know what situation my brother is in right now, don’t worry. The fact that I could show up here proves that he anticipated City A’s situation.”
“You know him. He’s a meticulous person and wouldn’t easily put himself in danger.” Wen Xin smiled confidently, his gaze resolute. “And as his only family, I will never let anything happen to him.”
Reassured by Wen Xin’s solemn promise, Li Yongming finally relaxed. With a respectful bow, he took his leave.
Before this, Wen Xin had entrusted a mutant pigeon to deliver research data to City Rose in advance. With Li Yongming’s competence, it took less than five days for the truth about the zombie virus to spread among the survivor groups.
The so-called saviors turned out to be the culprits of their suffering. Who could accept such a cruel twist?
Doubts and accusations erupted everywhere.
As people thought about the deaths of their loved ones and the hardships they had endured, all caused by someone’s machinations, their anger and hatred surged like a tidal wave, unstoppable and uncontainable.
The atmosphere among the survivors plummeted to freezing levels. Any mention of First Base in public would provoke heated arguments, even violent clashes.
City A’s base was the first human faction to confront First Base with demands. City Rose quickly followed.
While the suspicious crystal that Dr. An Qi had used rendered mutants unable to approach First Base’s territory, the factories and food production bases outside that range could not withstand the wrath of the S-tier mutants.
In response, central cities to the east, the Southern Free Legion, and many survivor organizations joined in condemning First Base.
Under mounting pressure, First Base finally broke its silence.
Their diplomats not only denied guilt but counterattacked, accusing City A of fabricating evidence. They claimed the research report’s author, Xin Nuannuan, was the former leader of Area A’s research group, who resigned after a grave experimental mishap. According to them, her notes about coercion were utterly baseless.
Unfortunately for First Base, people had long seen through their true nature. No one was easily deceived anymore.
Although many medical experts had perished during the initial fight against the zombie virus, leaving a significant technical gap, surviving professionals confirmed the authenticity of the data, ruling out any falsification.
At this critical juncture, Wen Xin called for a public trial, witnessed by multiple factions.
The world was shocked by Wen Xin’s audacity. Despite First Base’s overwhelming firepower and heinous crimes, no one had dared to challenge them as Wen Xin did.
First Base wasn’t about to take things lying down. They revealed a bombshell—that the whistleblower, Xin Nuannuan, was none other than the biological mother of Wen Xin and Wen Jingfeng!
As a former key researcher at the secret laboratory in City H, Xin Nuannuan’s reputation among outsiders was far from spotless.
Some questioned her integrity. If Xin Nuannuan had recognized the issues with the experiments early on, why hadn’t she made them public at the time? Now, with the situation spiraling out of control, every participant in the zombie virus research bore some blame.
This revelation cast doubt on Wen Xin’s position as well.
Mutants were a byproduct of the zombie virus research, and many overwhelmingly powerful S-tier mutants seemed to be particularly drawn to Wen Xin.
Could it be, some speculated, that Xin Nuannuan had manipulated the experiments to grant her son a unique ability to attract mutants?
Birds of a feather flock together!
First Base capitalized on these negative interpretations, painting Wen Xin as a primary target for criticism.
“Wen Xin isn’t anything like what they say! And his mother definitely isn’t either! I like Wen Xin—what does that have to do with them? Who gave them the right to interfere?!”
The little fox was fuming with rage after hearing the disparaging comments about Wen Xin.
Ah Jiu, the canary, noticed his bristling fur and quickly grabbed his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
The little fox turned back, his tone cold. “They love to gossip, don’t they? I’ll let them have their fill.”
Seeing that he was still rational, Ah Jiu released his grip and calmly said, “Don’t go overboard.”
With a snort, the little fox dashed off, disappearing in moments.
Ah Lü, the green viper, lounged nearby. It merely raised an eyebrow but made no move to intervene.
After all, it was a snake, not a human. It believed in settling scores. If one didn’t stand up for oneself, others might think they were easy prey.
The little fox could deal with the slanderers. Ah Lü was more concerned about whether Wen Xin would feel undue pressure from all the rumors.
The young man was no longer the naïve, tender youth he once was. He had learned to mask his feelings and keep a stoic expression. If Wen Xin were to become consumed by doubt, even those closest to him might not notice.
The more Ah Lü thought about it, the more frustrated it became. “If it weren’t for those cursed crystals, those vile rats at First Base wouldn’t even be our match!”
It hissed sinisterly, “Why not just figure out a way to lure them all out and eat them?”
Ah Jiu raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly would you do that?”
Ah Lü glanced to the left.
Ah Zi, the purple squirrel, was perched on the sofa, meticulously weaving a towel. Motionless, it resembled a fluffy, harmless plush toy.
But those who knew it understood the terrifying power hidden in those tiny paws.
“Ah Zi,” Ah Lü said, “Can you make a few more human missiles?”
“Your idea won’t work,” Ah Zi replied without looking up. “First Base has advanced anti-air systems. If there’s a missile attack, they’ll detect and intercept it immediately.”
Ah Lü opened its mouth to argue, but Ah Zi cut it off. “I already tried that before.”
Ah Lü fell silent.
Ah Jiu pinched the bridge of its nose. “You two are absolutely reckless.”
Despite their lengthy discussion, Wen Xin still hadn’t returned.
The group glanced around and spotted Lan Tuan, the little blue seal, lazily patting its belly on the balcony. The chaos of the outside world didn’t seem to disturb its sunbathing.
Ah Lü, who often clashed with Lan Tuan, couldn’t resist muttering, “That thing really knows how to slack off.”
Still, no one could deny that having such a calm presence in the house helped soothe the other companions’ anxieties.
Ah Jiu suddenly noticed someone was missing. “Where’s the little purple one?”
San San, the red panda, had only recently been born. It was even smaller than the little fox and far less powerful than the others.
But with a Tyrannosaurus hovering over their heads, the group had mellowed over time. They no longer demanded that San San grow strong. As long as it lived a safe and peaceful life, that was enough.
Not finding San San didn’t alarm Ah Lü or Ah Zi. Even though it lacked combat prowess, no ordinary human could harm an A-tier mutant. “Probably wandered off to play,” they guessed.
Meanwhile, San San stumbled out of the training room, wobbling like it had just been through hell. It furiously rubbed its nose.
Wen Xin scooped up the little one, gently ruffling its fur. “If it’s too hard, you don’t have to push yourself.”
San San curled up in his arms, shaking its head vigorously. Its small claws clung to his sleeve. “I’m not pushing myself—really, I’m not! Wen Xin, I want to help you. I want to help everyone.”
Wen Xin didn’t say much, merely scratching the chin of the little red panda. San San closed its eyes in contentment.
“Wen Xin, I’ve heard some things lately,” San San suddenly said.
“What things?” he asked.
The little red panda hesitated for a moment before blurting out, “When I first met you, I didn’t like you. You looked weak, like a frail scholar with a limp. Not strong at all!”
For a moment, Wen Xin didn’t know how to respond. He looked both amused and exasperated.
It wasn’t surprising. Mutants had an instinctive respect for strength. When Wen Xin first met San San, he had indeed been in a sorry state. That the little one didn’t like him back then was understandable.
“But,” San San continued, “I grew to like you because you made me something delicious that day.”
Waving its small paws, it tried to articulate its feelings. “You’re special—different from other humans. You’re someone we can trust. And I believe everyone else feels the same. It’s not because your mom injected you with some special serum. It’s because you’re you, and that’s why we like you.”
The little red panda was still learning human language. Its words were clumsy and its expressions somewhat awkward, but Wen Xin understood its meaning perfectly.
He knew that the doubts and criticisms swirling around him were entirely orchestrated by First Base. He dismissed them without a second thought.
What truly moved him was the genuine affection his companions expressed.
Wen Xin’s heart softened immediately. Unable to resist, he patted the little red panda’s head again and, with a deliberately exaggerated laugh, said, “Of course I know! I brought each of you home myself. If they think they can use such nonsense to sabotage our bond, they’re dreaming!”
Seeing that Wen Xin wasn’t upset, the little red panda brightened instantly, snuggling into his arms and rubbing against him affectionately.
The black dragon, Xiao Hei—otherwise known as Yuan Yanzhong—finally had enough. He grabbed the fuzzy ball by the scruff and set it down. “That’s enough. If you’ve rested, get back inside.”
The little red panda didn’t dare defy Yuan Yanzhong and reluctantly shuffled back into the training room.
Yuan Yanzhong turned to Wen Xin. “This kind of training is nothing for a mutant. If it masters the regimen, it’ll only grow stronger. There’s no need for you to coddle it.”
Wen Xin’s expression softened but remained firm. “My children—who else would care for them if not me?”
Seeing his heartfelt response, Yuan Yanzhong’s gaze flickered. Just as he was about to say something, his eyes sharpened abruptly. Without a word, he whisked Wen Xin away from the spot.
Wen Xin reacted quickly, adjusting to the rapidly shifting scenery. When they landed, his composure remained intact. Calmly, he turned to face the uninvited guest not far away.
“So, First Base has decided to stop hiding like a turtle. Is this your way of stepping out for some fresh air?”
The intruder, prepared to announce himself, choked on Wen Xin’s sharp remark.
After taking a deep breath, the newcomer forced a sinister smile. “First Base has always stood upright and fearless. While we do not accept a public trial, we’re not afraid of a face-to-face confrontation.”
“On one condition,” he added with an icy tone, “that the confrontation takes place in the First Base courtroom!”
