Nearly an hour had passed, yet the heated arguments at the trial showed no signs of abating.
Curiously, despite his mother’s name being repeatedly invoked during the debate, Wen Xin remained composed, calm as ever, showing no intention of speaking in her defense.
It was hard to tell if his rationality bordered on indifference or if it was simply a reflection of his cold demeanor.
However, the courtroom was not as impartial and just as it appeared on the surface. Many attendees harbored hidden agendas, with only a fraction of their attention focused on the proceedings. The rest was split between scrutinizing Wen Xin and Yan Zhongjie.
Every gesture or reaction from these two individuals became the immediate focus of everyone present. Even a slight lift of the head could be interpreted as laden with deeper meaning.
In truth, this was exactly how things were.
The leaders invited to the trial held perspectives vastly different from the indignant masses outside.
Three years into the apocalypse, the world’s power structures had undergone dramatic upheavals. Did these leaders care about the truth? Of course, they did. But if silence could be traded for a city’s worth of grain, most would gladly play deaf and blind.
Thus, their sole concern was who could lead them to ultimate victory.
What appeared as loyalty was, in reality, fickle opportunism.
There were exceptions, of course—genuinely loyal individuals like Wen Xin’s supporter, former lieutenant Li Yongming, and those who had allied with Wen Xin during the early post-disaster rebuilding in City G.
As the minutes ticked by, the initial enthusiasm and caution in the room gave way to weariness.
Some members of the Survivor Alliance grew increasingly perplexed as they watched the fierce courtroom debates.
One question lingered in their minds: why was Wen Xin, with the support of so many S-class entities, adhering to moral principles and engaging in arguments with First Base? He could have easily launched a direct assault to crush them.
True, First Base held tens of thousands of survivors hostage under the guise of “protection.” But in the chaos of war, how much could truly be safeguarded?
Another twenty minutes passed. The audience, fatigued by the unending debate, began to show signs of disinterest.
Suddenly, the defense representatives from First Base fell silent, their gazes seeking Yan Zhongjie’s approval. With his nod, they unleashed a shocking bombshell.
“We confirm Xin Nuannuan’s guilt because our investigators discovered additional personnel records at the epidemic prevention center!”
“These records indicate that two years after leaving her position to recuperate, Xin Nuannuan returned to the secret research facility as a team leader. Evidence shows her involvement at every stage of the project. If she was initially deceived, her subsequent actions—fully aware of the truth—were undoubtedly aiding and abetting the perpetrators!”
“Furthermore, Xin Nuannuan signed a consent form for an experimental procedure. The subject of this procedure was none other than the current Executive Officer of City G, Wen Xin!”
The courtroom erupted, the revelation crashing down like a boulder into a tranquil lake, sending waves of shock rippling through the audience.
“What did they just say?!”
“The claim that Wen Xin underwent secret modifications wasn’t just a fabrication by First Base? How could this be…”
“Could this explain why those S-class entities are so close to Wen Xin?”
The uproar grew deafening. Yan Zhongjie seized the momentum, raising his voice and casting a mocking glance at Wen Xin. “I must say, you have quite the ‘remarkable’ mother.”
Wen Xin’s reaction was peculiar.
As the room filled with questioning, envious, and astonished gazes, the young man showed neither shame nor embarrassment at having a deeply personal secret exposed.
Instead, his face bore a puzzled expression—one that anyone would wear upon hearing an earth-shattering revelation. Beyond that, he remained unmoved, as if the discussion centered on someone else entirely.
It was unnervingly calm.
In truth, a secret conversation was unfolding in a spectrum of bio-waves beyond the reach of technological surveillance.
“Wen Xin had surgery? When did this happen?”
“I consulted a doctor when he was injured and amnesiac. They found a surgical scar on the back of his head. It looks like he underwent brain surgery when he was very young, but he has no memory of it.”
“These people are ridiculous,” Lan Tuan scoffed. “They think we’d blindly follow Wen Xin just because of some chemical reaction from a serum? How could such a crude substance control the will of S-class beings?”
“It’s insulting,” Ah Lü chimed in.
“Absolutely,” Ah Jiu agreed.
The small creatures chirped their complaints, only to pause collectively.
Ah Lü spoke with pointed casualness. “So, using something like this to drive a wedge between us… First Base is truly despicable.”
“It’s such an obvious trap. Wen Xin wouldn’t fall for it, would he?”
“…”
No response came. Ah Lü hesitated before calling out, “San San, are you still there? Say something.”
San San, the red panda, was entirely focused on using its abilities. It took a moment before it let out an absent-minded “Huh?” Only after Ah Lü explained did San San realize the group had been probing for Wen Xin’s reaction to the courtroom revelations.
Wen Xin, wearing his earpiece, should have heard every word of the trial proceedings. San San tilted its head to observe Wen Xin’s calm expression. Tentatively, it said, “Wen Xin is searching for a path. He doesn’t seem affected.”
At least, he appeared that way.
“That’s good.”
The creatures collectively sighed in relief.
They weren’t inflexible—simply steadfast. Once they decided on something, it wasn’t easily swayed. Still, they knew humans were often far more fragile and sensitive.
The creatures were well aware that Wen Xin, who rarely revealed his emotions to outsiders, often visited mass graves where disaster victims were buried. There, he would sit silently for long stretches, gazing at the nameless mounds.
City H lacked certain mineral resources but was rich in gold deposits. Years ago, a gold rush swept through the area, and the city’s underground was riddled with privately dug mining tunnels. Most were discovered and filled in after investigations, but a few remained intact, though unused and forgotten over time.
Now, these hidden tunnels served as safe passageways for Wen Xin and his team to evade patrols and surveillance drones. As the group moved away from the city center, they relied on timing their movements and estimating directions to navigate the unmarked tunnels.
Because First Base had deployed devices to suppress bio-electrical waves, the farther they moved from the courtroom, the fuzzier San San’s ability to hear Ah Lü and the others became.
At one point, San San let out a small grunt and said to Wen Xin, “I can’t hear Ah Lü and the others anymore.”
Wen Xin’s earpiece also went silent.
The cacophony of arguments disappeared, leaving the dim tunnel shrouded in an unsettling silence.
San San grew nervous, but Wen Xin frowned and pressed his earpiece while scanning their surroundings. “This doesn’t seem right. We shouldn’t be out of range for the transmitter.”
He paced back and forth experimentally. Moving ten meters back, he could faintly hear some sound through the earpiece. A few steps forward, and it was gone.
There was a signal jammer nearby.
Judging by the precautions taken against both humans and mutants, Wen Xin felt almost certain they were on the right track.
Emerging from the tunnel, they found themselves in the yard of an abandoned farmhouse.
The place seemed untouched for years, its windowsills layered in dust, the surroundings eerily quiet. Using the wall as cover, Wen Xin surveyed the area. Sparse buildings dotted the landscape, and a modest health clinic stood not far away.
But something felt off.
The sky was crowded with surveillance drones flying in tight, frequent intervals. On the ground, however, there were no patrolling guards and hardly anyone in uniform. The disparity was glaring, a clear attempt at misdirection.
San San huddled nervously in Wen Xin’s arms, its small paws tugging at his jacket. “Wen Xin, I don’t like this place. There’s something underground that makes me very uncomfortable.”
“Underground?”
Wen Xin’s gaze shifted to the clinic. In its shadows, several figures loitered.
From the moment they approached First Base, San San’s instincts had been screaming for them to leave. The ominous feeling intensified now, like countless needles piercing its mind. With a pained whimper, it clutched its head. “Wen Xin, I can’t… I can’t take it anymore!”
Alarmed, Wen Xin quickly steadied the trembling creature in his arms.
He had seen how crystals affected raw mutants before. San San’s current state was alarmingly similar to the onset of a mutation crisis.
Without wasting a second, Wen Xin swiftly left the area to avoid detection.
“San San, are you okay? How are you feeling?” Wen Xin asked as he gently stroked the red panda.
Gradually, San San calmed down, wrapping its little paws around his arm for comfort. From their position, the clinic was still faintly visible. San San glanced at it fearfully but with growing certainty.
“The crystal… it must be down there. And your brother too.”
It hesitated before adding, “There’s someone else. His scent is different from before. I’m not sure it’s him…”
Although San San seemed much better, Wen Xin wasn’t taking any chances. He carefully checked the red panda for injuries, his meticulous attention making it purr contentedly and almost forget its earlier distress.
At San San’s words, Wen Xin’s expression hardened. “Who are you talking about?”
San San’s reply was hesitant but clear: “Dr. An Qi.”
Hearing the name, Wen Xin tensed, a mix of readiness and unexpected relief settling over him.
Last time, the rush of events gave Dr. An Qi a chance to escape. This time, Wen Xin was determined to settle things once and for all.
Placing San San gently on the ground, Wen Xin retrieved a micro-explosive from a portable weapons case and secured it to the farmhouse’s rear wall with duct tape. “San San, you should be able to sense where Xiao Hei and the others are. Listen carefully—once you hear the explosion, run straight to them as fast as you can.”
The change in the plan startled San San, who protested, “No! I can’t leave your side.”
“But you can’t come with me down there.” Wen Xin’s tone was firm, brooking no argument.
No matter how meticulous their planning had been, the reality of the mission always brought unforeseen complications. San San’s intense reaction earlier had made it clear: Wen Xin had severely underestimated the suppressive effects of the crystal on mutants.
Even the powerful S-class Yuan Yanzhong could barely survive a brief encounter with a crystal, vomiting blood and being left incapacitated. Wen Xin couldn’t risk exposing the smaller A-class San San to the same peril.
At the courtroom, the atmosphere shifted dramatically.
Out of nowhere, armed personnel swarmed the corridors through hidden passages, blocking all exits. The roar of warplanes filled the air outside as they streaked past like a hurricane. Their dark barrels surrounded the courthouse, sealing it off entirely.
Chairs scraped and clattered in the audience section as panicked attendees stood, shouting in alarm.
“General Yan! What is the meaning of this?!”
Though tensions with First Base were expected to escalate, no one had imagined they would make such a brazen move in front of so many witnesses.
The leaders of the various factions outside the base had their armed forces stationed a mere five kilometers away. Did Yan Zhongjie not fear retaliation from the combined forces?
Yan Zhongjie sat motionless, indifferent to the shocked and furious stares of the Survivor Alliance members. His staff, meanwhile, shed their earlier pretense of civility, advancing menacingly toward Wen Xin.
“Xin Nuannuan knowingly participated in the secret research project, despite understanding its consequences. The evidence is irrefutable! As her husband and cohabitant, Wen Guodong, president of Wen Pharmaceutical Corporation, couldn’t have been ignorant of her work. This implicates him in harboring her crimes.”
“Mr. Wen, we have evidence that suggests the Wen family was one of the masterminds behind the zombie virus. You’ll remain at First Base for further observation.”
Li Yongming immediately stepped out from the audience, positioning himself between the armed men and Wen Xin.
In response, the soldiers raised their rifles in unison, aiming directly at them. The acrid tension in the air was palpable, and sweat trickled down Li Yongming’s brow.
“Lieutenant Li Yongming,” Yan Zhongjie said calmly, “though you were never under my command, I’ve heard of your valor. You’re a brave man, and I’d prefer not to kill you. Why not cooperate?”
“Rest assured, we won’t harm Mr. Wen. We need him to uncover the truth and to rein in those lawless mutants.”
Li Yongming took a deep breath, slowly stepping aside.
Wen Xin remained seated, his expression inscrutable but far calmer than anyone expected under the circumstances.
Yan Zhongjie, however, was wary, suspecting Wen Xin had a hidden trump card. Yet it was hard to imagine any way Wen Xin could escape the overwhelming odds.
“Mr. Wen,” Yan Zhongjie asked with a smirk, “you seem awfully composed. Care to share what you’re thinking?”
He scanned the room. “I know you wouldn’t leave those S-classes behind. Where are they? And that Tyrannosaurus… every time I’ve seen it, it’s been clinging to life on an operating table or locked up quietly in a cage. I’d really like to see if it’s as mighty as the rumors say.”
Before he could finish, Wen Xin suddenly stood up, placing his forehead directly against the barrel of a soldier’s gun.
In that instant—or perhaps faster than that—those with the sharpest eyesight barely caught a shadow streak across the room.
When they snapped back to attention, Wen Xin was standing in the center of the courtroom. Around his feet lay a pile of rifles twisted into useless knots.
The armed personnel, stunned, stared at their empty hands, only to cry out in agony as sharp pain erupted from their chests, sending them collapsing to the ground.
“AAAAAAHHH!”
Blood pooled rapidly, staining the pristine marble floor.
Amid the sea of astonished stares, “Wen Xin” rotated his wrists, as though the attacks he’d just unleashed were nothing more than a minor warm-up that left his joints slightly stiff.
“My human once told me that speaking recklessly in ignorance is foolish.”
“Wen Xin” lifted his gaze, his golden eyes glinting with cold malice. The room’s temperature seemed to plummet to freezing as he locked his chilling stare on the now-pale Yan Zhongjie.
“I forgive your ignorance.”
