Chapter 69
No one knew how Base One managed to simultaneously provoke both City A in the Northwest and Rose City in the West.
To the public, these three factions seemed to operate independently, with no apparent overlap or disputes.
Yet, when rumors began to swirl about the incident, both City A and Rose City expressed extreme innocence and bewilderment.
“What? Those three military factories belonged to Base One?”
“We had no idea!”
“The factories had no identifying marks whatsoever. Even the paint on the machinery had been completely scraped off—how was anyone supposed to recognize them?”
“Moreover, the people in the factories all wore masks, moved suspiciously, and stammered when questioned. Who wouldn’t assume they were an illegal armed criminal group?”
“If they weren’t dealt with quickly to protect the surrounding residents, it would have caused even more trouble. Are were supposed to just leave them there?”
“Still, we’re reasonable people. If Base One can provide compelling evidence proving the ownership of the factories and explain the purposes and distribution of the weapons batches, we’ll return all the confiscated items.”
“And if Base One is worried that we’ll seize the items, we can notarize the assets publicly after clarifications.”
These statements came from the spokespersons of City A and Rose City and were delivered with an air of sincerity and friendliness.
“If you claim those things are yours, just provide proof. Once you do, we’ll return everything and even make it public for everyone to see.”
“Otherwise, anyone could come knocking to collect debts without reason. How would that work?”
The public found this reasoning fair and impeccable, leaving no room for criticism.
But Base One was livid, almost to the point of breaking down in fury.
If the research inside the factories could be exposed to the public, why would they have hidden their ownership marks and scraped off the paint to erase all evidence of association?
Wen Jinfeng and Rose City were exploiting Base One’s inability to disclose the truth, brazenly feigning innocence!
Observers who examined the finer details of the incident sensed the brewing gunpowder-like tension spreading among the three factions.
They were terrified.
Each of these three powers was formidable and unyielding, commanding immense influence over their respective territories.
All signs pointed to an imminent clash.
However, what happened next shocked everyone.
—Base One chose to endure the provocations from City A and Rose City, remaining silent and passive.
What was going on?
Base One was incredibly frustrated—seething, even.
But the timing couldn’t have been worse. Inside the base, their team was fully committed to a highly critical research project.
During an internal meeting, Dr. An Qi issued a cold directive, strictly forbidding any disruptions that could jeopardize the experiment’s progress. Everyone was too preoccupied to deal with external disputes.
To make matters worse, winter had arrived in full force, with heavy snowfall blocking most roads and making travel nearly impossible.
No matter how much resentment they felt, Base One could only grit their teeth and swallow the bitter loss.
With meticulous care and rest, Wen Xin’s ankle injury had finally improved significantly. He could now walk without a cane.
Upon hearing news of Wen Xin in the eastern Central City, it didn’t take long for Wen Jinfeng to send a letter via courier.
As Wen Xin read the brief and aloof letter—colder and more concise than an official letter from City A—he muttered under his breath, much to the expectant courier’s surprise, “As expected, our relationship isn’t very good…”
The courier blinked. “?”
Later, when the courier relayed Wen Xin’s comment back to Wen Jinfeng, the man fell silent for a moment before letting out a cold laugh.
“So he’s sulking now? He doesn’t contact me first to say he’s safe but expects me to write him some heartwarming, 10,000-word essay expressing my undying brotherly love?
“Spoiled Brat.”
The next morning, the courier received an urgent delivery order.
The letter was unusually heavy, nearly half a centimeter thick. Wen Jinfeng’s aide, Li Yongming, handed it over with a complicated expression, urging the courier to deliver it as quickly as possible.
Motivated by triple the usual fee, the courier made record time, delivering the letter directly into Wen Xin’s hands.
Both Ah Lü and the red panda were curious about the contents of the bulky letter and crowded around Wen Xin to read it with him.
The opening was unexpectedly poetic, even sentimental:
“Oh, my dearest brother—”
Wen Xin: “…”
The two little ones: “…”
For a moment, Wen Xin didn’t even know how to react to the letter.
His instincts told him there was no need to continue—it was clearly not in Wen Jinfeng’s words.
And sure enough, as his gaze drifted downward, he saw the true author credited at the end of the letter:
“To My Dearest Brother, Károkachíf,” by Anonymous.
The bulk of the letter consisted of passionate declarations of brotherly love, seemingly copied from somewhere.
It wasn’t until the final page that Wen Jinfeng’s usual blunt, almost inhuman tone appeared.
A rough summary of his words read as follows:
“Although you are now a fully independent adult, both legally and biologically, as your older brother, I cannot ignore your crystal-clear yet fragile emotions. I hope you find solace in this utopia of flowery, superficial words.”
Ah Lü, having begun learning human writing, painstakingly deciphered the text. When it finished, it felt as though an overwhelming wave of sarcasm and mockery had nearly blinded it.
The green cat exclaimed in disbelief, “It’s quite impressive that your brother has lived this long without being beaten to death”
Wen Xin sighed helplessly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
He instinctively flipped back through the letter and noticed that the handwriting on the first dozen pages matched the last one. This discovery made him pause briefly.
Somehow, the emptiness in his heart felt a little less hollow, replaced by something inexplicably warm.
Memories of his recent time spent with Wen Jinfeng surfaced in his mind. After a brief moment of daze, his gaze softened.
Turning to the courier, Wen Xin said, “Please wait a moment. I’ll write a letter for you to take back.”
Not long after, Wen Jinfeng received Wen Xin’s reply.
By then, Wen Jinfeng had already regretted sending the sarcastic letter.
Due to delayed updates, he had just learned that Wen Xin had suffered a head injury leading to temporary amnesia later that afternoon. Wen Xin hadn’t deliberately left him in the dark about his whereabouts.
By then, the courier was already 20 kilometers away, moving at near-rocket speed.
Recalling the triple pay he had promised, Wen Jinfeng muttered, “…”
In short, he deeply regretted his actions and felt an overwhelming urge to slap himself.
Holding Wen Xin’s reply between his fingers, Wen Jinfeng treated it as if it were a ticking time bomb. He worried that Wen Xin might be so offended by his earlier words that he’d write to sever ties.
After a long moment of hesitation, Wen Jinfeng pinched his nose, bracing himself as he opened the letter.
To his surprise, Wen Xin’s tone wasn’t confrontational. Instead, it was about his recent experiences and how well he’s been cared for at the moment in a soft and playful tone as if saying: “Don’t worry about me. I’m doing fine here.”
Wen Xin even explained why he hadn’t immediately contacted Wen Jinfeng after ensuring his safety, ending the letter with:
“Thank you, Brother. I miss you.”
This time, Wen Jinfeng was silent for much longer than before.
Li Yongming entered to deliver official documents and overheard his superior muttering, “Smooth talker.”
The tenderness in Wen Jinfeng’s tone was so out of character that it sent a shiver down Li Yongming’s spine. He instinctively rubbed his arms, trying to ward off the goosebumps.
A few days passed, and Wen Xin’s injuries were fully healed. He could now run and jump without restriction.
The moment the doctor gave the all-clear, Wen Xin was overjoyed, leaping out of bed immediately.
He dashed to the training grounds and jogged to his heart’s content, exhaling a long breath as sweat dripped down his face.
Ever since the doctor warned him about the risk of permanent damage if his injuries weren’t properly treated, Ah Lü had been particularly strict, forbidding him from excessive movement and attending to him with an unrelenting regimen of medicinal food and tonics.
Ah Lü had provided round-the-clock, comprehensive care, leaving Wen Xin feeling as if he were glued to the bed. He had even considered protesting.
But whenever he tried to decline, Ah Lü would droop its ears and give him a pitiful look, stopping him in his tracks.
However, when Wen Xin saw himself in the bathroom mirror, he noticed that the once-defined muscles on his abdomen were now soft to the touch.
Wen Xin: “…”
It felt like he’d been struck by lightning.
In any case, being able to resume training brought Wen Xin a much-needed sense of security.
Ah Lü, unlike Xiao Qi, was a bit more thoughtful.
It told Wen Xin that after becoming a mutant, it gained immense strength, which was why it was able to enjoy a large house, countless servants, and loyal subordinates.
However, it explained that the diplomat’s lavish treatment of Wen Xin had nothing to do with Ah Lü.
“It’s because of your reputation, Wen Xin,” Ah Lü said. “You’re famous and respected. That’s why you’re treated this way.”
These words were no exaggeration.
In just a few days, the red falcons had apprehended over a dozen suspicious individuals lurking near the villa district. How these intruders managed to evade the guards’ patrols to sneak in was anyone’s guess.
Most people lacked such skills, so the gates of the villa district were practically overrun with visitors attempting to meet Wen Xin under various pretexts.
After the eastern region made a public display of its high regard for Wen Xin, Rose City followed suit with its own declaration. This only fueled the public’s curiosity, sending speculation about Wen Xin’s true identity to its peak.
Among the suspicious individuals were spies sent by various factions. Even with Ah Lü’s status as a formidable S-ranked mutant, such situations couldn’t be entirely prevented.
At first, Ah Lü maintained its composure.
After all, its strength ensured that those who came were respectful, and no one dared act out of line.
But soon, Ah Lü found itself unable to stay calm.
Admiration for the strong was a universal instinct. It could understand humans wanting to catch a glimpse of their idol, Wen Xin, after hearing his stories.
But why were mutants showing up asking to be adopted by Wen Xin?!
Ah Lü was furious. “Do you all lack claws and teeth? Why are you asking a human to take care of you? Where is your mutant dignity?”
Most of the mutants were small cats or dogs, naturally fond of humans, which emboldened them to approach.
Now, however, they were cowering, curling themselves into tight little balls, their wide eyes brimming with tears.
One of them stammered in response, “B-because… everyone says that it’s not the mutants who make Wen Xin strong. It’s meeting Wen Xin that makes the mutants stronger. So, we thought… we’d give it a try…”
The rumor had clearly spiraled into absurdity.
Ah Lü wanted to snap, Nonsense!
Mutant strength came from hard work and natural talent. Without dedicated effort, relying on shortcuts or wild ideas would lead nowhere.
But then it paused.
Like itself, Xiao Hei, Ah Jiu and Xiao Qi…
Ah Lü’s disdain froze into awkward silence.
Because it suddenly remembered a living example that it couldn’t refute: Ah Jiu, the canary.
Before meeting Wen Xin, Ah Jiu had only been C-ranked. Without Wen Xin’s guidance, even after evolving to a fully matured form, it would have barely reached B-rank at best.
And then there was Ah Lü itself.
If Wen Xin hadn’t arrived at the critical moment of its evolution, would it still be standing here now?
Ah Lü looked down mechanically at the small animal mutants.
They had clearly gone to great lengths to present themselves, their fur meticulously groomed to a silky smoothness, their appearance adorable and endearing.
Each one looked like the kind of creature that could melt a human’s heart on the street, stopping them in their tracks.
Ah Lü: “…Hiss.”
This was a serious problem.
Originally, influenced by Xiao Hei, Ah Lü thought that as long as Wen Xin was happy, it wouldn’t matter if a few more mutants joined the family.
Snakes didn’t get jealous. Snakes were open-minded.
But then it imagined dozens, even hundreds, of cats or dogs vying for Wen Xin’s attention, crowding around him, leaving Ah Lü with only a few precious seconds.
Ah Lü’s scales bristled in alarm.
With a shiver of determination, Ah Lü immediately summoned its subordinates and got them to swiftly pack away the stray mutants and get rid of them.
This was merely a temporary fix.
Sooner or later, Wen Xin would leave the villa. Ah Lü couldn’t keep him confined forever.
Central City was teeming with mutants. What would happen if Wen Xin were one day surrounded by them?
Ah Lü racked its brain, agonizing over how to stop Wen Xin from bringing more mutants home.
Meanwhile, Wen Xin approached Ah Lü with a request: he wanted to leave.
The Eastern Central City was clearly a prosperous hub, evident from the unrestricted distribution of relief supplies at the information centers.
This prosperity wasn’t the hollow facade seen in other bases, where they were just putting up a show. The Central City was built on a foundation of abundant resources and robust military strength.
Despite being governed by mutants, Central City had preserved human civilization to a greater extent than most places.
Wen Xin marveled at this anomaly but had no time to delve into an investigation.
Having learned Ah Jiu’s whereabouts from Ah Lü, he prepared to depart for Rose City to find the canary.
Patting Ah Lü’s head, Wen Xin said, “Knowing you’re safe puts me at ease. But the others’ whereabouts are uncertain, and I need to ensure their safety.”
Once he gathered all his little cubs, he would figure out how to get everyone to coexist together, restoring peace and stability to the world. That would be his goal moving forward.
Ah Lü, upon hearing Wen Xin’s decision, blurted out without hesitation, “I’m coming with you!”
Wen Xin, taken aback by Ah Lü’s impulsiveness, asked, “What about your work?”
The eastern region needed an S-ranked mutant to maintain order. What would happen if Ah Lü left and enemies attacked?
Ah Lü replied nonchalantly, “It’s fine. I don’t really do much anyway. As long as everyone knows I’m alive, that’s enough.”
This thoughtless statement left Wen Xin momentarily stunned, then deep in thought.
On the day of departure, Wen Xin donned a mask, packed snacks for the red panda and Ah Lü into the car, and glanced back from a secluded corner.
The city gates were the most chaotic part of Central City, with a constant flow of outsiders entering and leaving, creating a mix of all sorts.
Wen Xin noticed a refugee, much like the ones he’d seen on his first arrival, with a dark expression. The man stealthily reached for another person’s backpack.
Before he could succeed, a red falcon perched on a telephone pole let out a sharp cry, startling the thief into withdrawing his hand.
Wen Xin took in the scene, reflecting on it with a sense of realization.
If Xiao Qi maintained order within the Idealism Sect by addressing the emotional needs of its followers, then the eastern region upheld its order through sheer, absolute power.
*
Vroom—
The roar of the off-road vehicle’s engine broke the silence as it sped toward the western region, a place known for its chaos and savagery.
was that a shade in the last paragraph :’))