Chapter 144: Later, Them

[1] Green Puff

Knowing that Wen Xin wasn’t afraid of snakes, the Scale-Tree Viper finally felt reassured enough to let its little ones approach the young man.

Ten minutes ago, the Scale-Tree Viper had been overjoyed.

It had lined up the little snakes in a row, guiding them one by one to Wen Xin and proudly introducing its clan.

Ten minutes later, the Scale-Tree Viper was full of black lines.

Grinding its fangs, it went forward to peel off the little snakes one by one from the young man’s wrist.

The baby snakes clearly liked the scent on Wen Xin’s body. Their big watery eyes stared up at him, and their tails brushed against his fingers reluctantly. But the next second they were swept up, kneaded into balls, bundled, and thrown out the door by a green fluffball.

The green fluff’s sharp little tail gave the door a “bang!” as it slammed shut, then shoved its big head against Wen Xin’s hand, speaking in a tone both aggrieved and domineering, “What’s so good about touching their scales? Touch me! I’m much prettier than they are!”

[2] Pink Puff

After the disaster ended, survivors in City B were received by the base. The little fox finally set down the heavy burden it had carried in its heart and thought it could relax and play.

But when it looked around, everyone else seemed to be busy.

Wen Xin and Yuan Yanzhong hardly needed to be mentioned—disaster relief alone kept them running non-stop.

The canary had to return to Rose City, the Scale-Tree Viper to the eastern regions, the purple squirrel had to liaise with the armory, and even the red panda had become a star scout in various expedition and rescue teams thanks to its keen nose.

Looking around, it seemed only the little fox was idle and carefree.

The fox grew dejected, and beneath the dejection there was a trace of loneliness. It thought of finding Wen Xin for comfort but accidentally overheard a conversation between him and Yuan Yanzhong.

Yuan Yanzhong, “Have you thought about how to arrange things for Xiao Qi?”

Wen Xin, “Not yet. I’m still considering. With Xiao Qi’s abilities, no matter where it goes it could achieve something great. The key is that whenever it uses its power, it also gets easily affected.”

Wen Xin rubbed his brow, “Even though An Qi has been dealt with, the problems people really face are far from solved—loss of loved ones, disability, food shortages… and winter is coming soon. Resentment will only grow stronger.”

Yuan Yanzhong understood, “So that’s why you refused to let Xiao Qi comfort the wounded.”

Wen Xin sighed, “Yes.”

“Back then, the research base’s people were greedy, making Xiao Qi absorb too much negative emotion all at once. As a result, it saw the ugliness of human nature too early, but it doesn’t necessarily know right from wrong, nor how to handle it.”

“When Xiao Qi first came home, this problem already existed. Later, when I met it again at the Idealist Church, its condition had worsened. That’s not a good sign.”

Wen Xin had originally wanted to keep the little fox by his side, to guide it properly, but he simply had no time.

The fox’s ability was special, even dangerous. If it were left to keep encountering the dark side of the world, sooner or later it would cause trouble.

Hiding behind, the little fox could sense Wen Xin’s feelings. It knew the young man didn’t despise it.

But at the moment it realized Wen Xin felt troubled, its ears drooped involuntarily and its eyes dimmed.

— Am I being a burden to Wen Xin?

Yuan Yanzhong glanced meaningfully toward where the fox was hiding, “Then just let it stay at home. Twists and turns like these aren’t for a little one to deal with.”

Wen Xin finally smiled, “True. Our little fox should just be happy, no need to worry about so much.”

At those words, the fox’s drooping ears instantly perked back up, and the whole puffball became spirited again.

— Yes, yes! No matter what, I can still stay by Wen Xin’s side.

That night when they got home, Wen Xin was surprised to find the little fox neither napping nor running out to play, but sitting properly on the sofa waiting for them.

Normally already obedient, tonight it seemed even better behaved—occasionally looking up at them during dinner, then quickly ducking its head with a silly grin, pretending to be carefree.

Seeing the fox so cheerful, Wen Xin didn’t ask further.

But the next morning, just as he was leaving, the fox ran to the door. Sitting there, its big eyes blinking earnestly, it said, “Wen Xin, Wen Xin, I’ll wait at home obediently for you. Come back early, okay?”

Wen Xin froze mid-step.

The fox tilted its head, not understanding, its voice carrying a hint of nervousness even it didn’t notice, “What’s wrong, Wen Xin?”

Wen Xin’s puzzlement was subtle.

He smiled, ruffling the fox’s head casually, “I just realized our Xiao Qi is too cute. I couldn’t help but take another look.”

Whenever he wanted, Wen Xin could hide his emotions flawlessly.

The fox noticed nothing, and was just wondering when Wen Xin crouched down.

Meeting its gaze, Wen Xin asked softly, “Xiao Qi, won’t you get lonely if you’re home alone?”

The fox looked back at the empty house and gave a little “hmph”, “A little.”

Then suddenly it leapt onto Wen Xin’s shoulder, rubbing against him willfully, “But if I had to use my power as often as back at the Idealist Church, I’d rather just stay home. Jiujiu and the others aren’t as free as me, hmph hmph hmph!”

Fluffy fur instantly filled Wen Xin’s neck, making him laugh, “So, if it’s a place where you don’t have to use your power too often, you’d be willing to go?”

“Don’t have to use my power often…” The fox tilted its head, thinking seriously, then tried to hide its loneliness with a cheerful tone, “But even if I don’t use it, I can still sense everyone’s emotions. I’d still be affected.”

At that, Wen Xin realized the fox’s sudden change in behavior came from overhearing his earlier conversation with Yuan Yanzhong.

He just stroked its head gently without saying anything.

That evening Wen Xin came home half an hour earlier than usual. Yuan Yanzhong was absent for some reason.

The fox was puzzled—normally the black cat stuck to Wen Xin like glue, perched on his shoulder without budging. But today they’d been apart for three whole hours.

Three hours!

The fox took the chance to roll around freely in Wen Xin’s arms, getting petted until it melted into a puddle, eyes half-closed in bliss.

Because Wen Xin had absorbed part of the black dragon’s power, his presence could soothe the chaotic mental energy of mutants, giving them heartfelt comfort.

To the mutants now, the young man was like a giant stalk of catnip.

The little fox inevitably got carried away, but when the door opened it grew anxious—the black dragon disliked Wen Xin carrying the scent of other mutants.

Fortunately, Yuan Yanzhong didn’t get angry after returning. He simply jumped onto Wen Xin’s lap, kneaded with his paws, then curled into a ball as usual.

Days passed like this. Wen Xin and the black dragon no longer had fixed hours for returning home—sometimes Wen Xin was early, sometimes Yuan Yanzhong.

But no matter what, one of them always came back soon to keep the fox company.

The fox was very content, though vaguely it felt this wasn’t right, since Wen Xin and Yuan Yanzhong must have been sacrificing their own time.

Caught in this conflict, after a week the fox finally couldn’t hold back. But before it could speak, Wen Xin took it to a new place.

— Hope’s Home.

Looking at the brand-new courtyard, Wen Xin picked up the fox and introduced gently, “This is a newly built orphanage, especially for children who lost their families in the disaster. For now it only accepts those two years old or younger, still in the age of innocence.”

As they entered, the fox was met with several pairs of clear, pure eyes.

Just as Wen Xin said, these children were blank slates, untouched by sorrow.

Thanks to strict oversight from Wen Xin and the black dragon, they were well cared for—plump, rosy, carefree smiles on their faces.

When the children saw the man and the fox, they all widened their eyes curiously.

A nanny was feeding sweet porridge to a toddler, who clapped happily. Meeting the fox’s gaze, the toddler’s eyes curved like crescents.

The little fox froze on the spot.

What kind of people had it encountered before? Greedy researchers, scheming managers, malicious armed forces, selfish cultists.

But in that instant, it was moved by the child’s pure joy, left utterly flustered, and looked to Wen Xin for help.

Wen Xin patted its head with a sigh.

“During times when ordinary people could barely fend for themselves, for these utterly helpless children—whose cries could even attract zombies—to survive, you can imagine how much effort their protectors gave. Calling it a miracle wouldn’t be an exaggeration.”

“They were truly great people.”

“And I admit, it’s partly my selfish wish too. I don’t want that effort to be wasted, nor do I want children once wrapped in love to grow up tasting only loneliness and pain. So with the Survivor Rescue Organization, we founded this orphanage.”

“But I still worry. Food and water may be secured, but the scars of the heart can’t always be guarded against.”

The fox seemed to realize something. Its heart pounded faster, and its paws shifted uneasily.

But behind it, unseen, its fluffy tail swayed excitedly.

“Xiao Qi.” Wen Xin finally lowered his head with a smile, asking solemnly, “Would you be willing to help them?”

[3] Golden Puff

By the time the canary learned that the little fox had become the spiritual healer of Hope’s Home, three weeks had already passed.

At that moment, he was wiping out remnants left behind by the First Base, his whole body bathed in blood, his face so dark and frightening that no one around him dared raise their head. His subordinates’ hearts were practically pounding out of their throats, terrified of angering this god of slaughter.

Then the messenger continued, “Executive Wen said that before long, he’ll come visit Rose City, check in on old friends. He hopes the city lord won’t find it a disturbance.”

In an instant, the icy gloom on the canary’s face melted away, and the unconscious smile tugging at his lips left everyone around him stunned.

The canary nodded, “Executive Wen is too polite. Please tell him Rose City is his home—he’s welcome back anytime.”

Thanks to this sudden turn of events, the subordinates who thought they’d be punished managed to escape unscathed.

After the internal purge was over, everyone couldn’t help discussing Wen Xin and his accomplishments.

“To dare face the First Base head-on… he’s bold and shrewd, but honestly, luck must’ve played the biggest part.”

One steward, who had once spent time in close contact with Wen Xin when he first came to Rose City, gave the speaker a strange look, “You think Wen Xin climbed to that position by luck?”

The man shrugged.

He didn’t dare say it out loud, but his expression was clear: running into so many S-class mutants—if that isn’t luck, then what is?

The steward chuckled twice, “I heard there’s an abandoned arena in Rose City. Want to go take a look?”

The man instantly refused, “No way. Don’t you know how many vicious mutants linger there? Even a few A-class ones. Going there is suicide.”

As soon as he said it, he caught himself, and under the steward’s meaningful gaze, he left in embarrassment.

Not long after, Wen Xin and Yuan Yanzhong came to Rose City.

The canary welcomed them warmly, “How long are you planning to stay this time?”

Wen Xin teased, “You make it sound like you’re trying to drive us away.”

“No, I only wish you could stay longer. It’s rare to see you,” said the canary.

They soon began talking about Xiao Qi’s work at Hope’s Home. The canary praised it—it was good, he said, since infants’ and toddlers’ hearts were pure, free of scheming, and the little fox could ease the grief of losing loved ones.

Wen Xin suddenly asked, “And you? How have you been lately?”

Without hesitation, the canary answered, “Not bad. The path I chose myself. No matter what the ending is, I’ve long been ready to bear it.”

Then he paused.

He didn’t fear death, and had never once regretted stepping onto this bloody road. Because only by holding power firmly in his own hands could he protect what he wanted to protect.

But he did worry—worry that if one day he met an accident, it would sadden everyone, would grieve the young man.

Yet Wen Xin didn’t avoid the heavy topic. He smiled lightly, “If that day really comes, you must remember—I’ll still be here. Everyone will still be here.”

The canary couldn’t help looking at him.

“You once told me Rose City is another home for me. Then I must tell you—we also have a home in G City. If you ever get tired, you can always come back and rest.”

Wen Xin ruffled the boy’s soft golden hair, just like back when he had encouraged him to take his first brave steps forward.

The canary went dazed.

He suddenly recalled that wretched past—in that survival-of-the-fittest research base, how many frail low-level mutants like him died without a complete corpse?

In the end, their bodies were either fed to other mutants, or tossed into the incinerator, turning into foul black smoke.

Once, he had cursed heaven’s unfairness. Now, he let out a relieved smile.

“Wen Xin.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I just suddenly wanted to call your name.”

The canary couldn’t hold back his grin any longer. He let himself smile freely, grateful for this twist of fate.

“And I wanted to tell you—I’m really lucky.”

[4] Blue Puff

With the First Base destroyed, the blue whale no longer had reason to stir up tsunamis.

Though it still kept some distance from humans as a species, it no longer forbade the sea clans from contacting them, and even tolerated human fishing in its territory.

Wen Xin brought the blue puff to visit the whale. Reaching the beach, he stopped for a few seconds.

Golden sunlight fell across the young man’s face, making him shine like light itself.

Yet he lowered his lashes instinctively, shadows falling across his eyes, clouding his expression.

The little walrus, usually lazy in the sun, was unusually alert now—because it was secretly staring at Wen Xin’s sunlit face.

It felt like it could never get enough of looking.

So the little walrus, keeping a close eye on Wen Xin, noticed the fleeting chaos in his emotions. After a moment’s thought, it understood.

The blue puff lifted its head, speaking as if offhandedly, “Wen Xin, lately I keep dreaming the same dream—I dream I died, and you were so sad, you hated the First Base even more.”

Wen Xin stiffened, his mouth opening unconsciously.

During his fusion with power, he had seen what the future would have been. He knew the walrus’s dream was in fact a tragedy that had already happened once.

What if that wasn’t a dream? He wanted to ask, but didn’t dare hear the answer.

Yet the walrus seemed to share his thoughts. It lifted its body, patting Wen Xin’s shoulder comfortingly with its front flippers:
“Actually, I think it wasn’t a dream either.”

Wen Xin’s throat felt cut by blades; even his voice came out raw, “It was my fault—I didn’t protect you.”

“Wen Xin, I’m so happy, really happy.” The walrus patted him again, cheerful. “Heaven really heard my wish, and let us reunite in a better future!”

“So, shall we go bask in the sun together?”

Wen Xin froze, then suddenly smiled, “Alright. Let’s go bask in the sun.”

[5] Purple Puff

Once things had mostly settled down, Wen Xin dispatched search teams into the research base, to seal and safeguard all the files. He wanted to prevent another heartless scientist like An Qi from using them for inhumane experiments.

The documents had to pass through Wen Xin and the senior survivor alliance first, before being handed to trusted researchers.

When those researchers saw the mutant data, flipping to the page on the purple puff’s experiments, they went pale with shock.

They pressed the administrator—where was this squirrel? They insisted such a dangerous mutant must be strictly contained, or disaster would follow.

The administrator, who knew the truth, could only give a complicated expression at their solemn words.

“In fact, this mutant has always been active within the alliance. You’ve all met it.”

The researchers’ eyes widened. They looked back down at the description:

This is an extremely ferocious mutant. Neither enticement nor coercion work—in fact, they only make it more violent. Its sense of vengeance is extraordinarily strong. Even after two years, it recognized a researcher who once dissected it, and tore him apart limb from limb.

Its base gene is squirrel. Pointed ears, red eyes, sharp teeth, bristling fur. Due to mutation, its fur appears purple. Most of the time it remains in a berserk state, standing up to 2 meters tall, weighing 6 tons. Attacks are primitive bites and rips, but with terrifying destructive force—able to tear through half a meter of bulletproof ceramic by hand.

Battle records: A-class mutant crocodile (dragged ashore and bitten to death, flesh exposed); A-class mutant tiger (jugular torn, liver eaten); A-class mutant antelope (throat ripped, body consumed)…

They couldn’t believe it. They’d met such a monster before—and survived? It felt like Death itself had spared them.

“There’s a squirrel mutant in the alliance? Which one?”

“Those few at the construction site moving cranes?”

“No! I think it’s—”

The administrator’s mouth twitched, and he introduced them to the little squirrel.

Even with repeated assurances that it wasn’t that ferocious, the researchers were still terrified when told they’d be meeting it.

Until, hearts in their throats, they finally saw—

A palm-sized, fluffy squirrel, sitting properly in the garden, knitting a sweater with great concentration.

Its big tail swayed happily, the half-finished sweater draped on the rack large enough to cover its whole body.

When it saw them, the squirrel neatly set the sweater aside and greeted politely, “Hello. I heard you wanted to see me?”

“……”

All the researchers instantly turned to stare at the administrator, faces filled with disbelief and shock, “Are you kidding me?!”

From that day onward, the little squirrel realized something: it hadn’t lost control in a long time.

It still remembered vividly how the First Base had branded it vicious and untamable. Thinking back, it felt a little wistful.

Wen Xin was pleased, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“…Yes.” The squirrel thought long and hard, then nodded seriously. “It is a good thing.”

Its spirits rose at once. Standing on a stool, it lifted the sweater against Wen Xin’s body, saying excitedly, “Quick, try this sweater on! See if it fits!”

[6] Purple Puff

As the only one in the family still stuck at Grade A, the little red panda had always felt tremendous pressure.

But by nature, it was timid and cowardly. If not for that day during the assault on the First Base, when Wen Xin nearly died right in front of its eyes, the little panda would never have been so desperate to grow stronger.

Who would have thought—upon learning that it was about to evolve, Wen Xin looked even more nervous than it was, as if he had once witnessed a tragedy before and did not want it to happen again.

The already busy young man became even more restless, yet somehow, amidst his tightly packed schedule, he still found slivers of time to take it to amusement parks, stroll through fields, climb mountains, play by the rivers, or cook lavish meals.

When the time for evolution drew near, soothing music, a safe environment, refreshing incense… everything Wen Xin could prepare, he had prepared. But when he looked at the little panda, he placed no pressure on it at all—only rubbed its head and said cheerfully:
“Come on, finish it quickly. Tonight we’ll have a feast.”

The little panda was moved to tears, and its heart brimmed with anticipation.

Every evolution of a mutant was a struggle against its own nature.

Some mutants had a savage nature, some a cold-blooded one. But the little panda’s nature… forbade it from biting, from killing—instead, it urged it to give up.

[Give up.]

The phantom suspended in the air gazed down at the struggling little panda with pity.

[That young man is already surrounded by powerful beings. Even if you succeed and evolve to S-rank, so what? You’re just one among countless mutants.]

[You’re different from the others. You only met Wen Xin halfway. You don’t have the same deep bonds the others share with him. Most of the time you fade into the background. Whether you’re there or not makes no difference.]

Its nature had voiced the hidden ache it had carried for a long time.

It was carefree, but not oblivious. Sometimes, watching Wen Xin interact with the other “dumplings,” it felt out of place—and so, little by little, it gave in to self-deprecation.

But Wen Xin never let it spiral into despair. He encouraged it to train, to discover and cultivate its abilities.

Now, it was no longer just an invisible little panda. It was the search-and-rescue team’s crucial ace—able to save lives, valued by everyone.

“I cannot fail.” The little panda lifted its head, staring straight at the phantom. It confronted its own cowardice with unmatched courage. “Even if I’m just one mutant among many, if I fail, Wen Xin will be heartbroken.”

*

On the day of the little panda’s evolution, the other dumplings all cleared time from their schedules. But they dared not get too close, afraid that conflicting auras would cause its failure.

Wen Xin comforted them, yet he himself could not stay calm, pacing outside the barrier.

Finally, a loud boom came from within. The youth and the dumplings turned at once—only to see a fluffy, grape-purple ball rocket into the young man’s arms.

It had… succeeded?

Sensing the new S-rank aura, the dumplings all sighed in relief.

Wen Xin stroked the little one’s head, just about to ask how it felt—when the small voice piped up coquettishly, “Wen Xin, Wen Xin, what’s for dinner today?”

Those wide eyes stared eagerly at him, brimming with impatience.

Wen Xin couldn’t help but laugh. Looking around at the dumplings, he said, “Since everyone’s here today, what do you want to eat? I’ll cook!”

“Hurrah!!”