Chapter 80
The little fox, who was lively and energetic in front of Wen Xin just moments ago, was now stiff as a board.
Its gaze darted to the ground and shifted left and right but stubbornly avoided looking behind Wen Xin.
For some unknown reason, the boy standing behind them had stopped in the inner court’s corridor, silently observing the small fox that didn’t dare meet his eyes.
Wen Xin squatted down and gently patted the little fox on the head. “Weren’t you asking where Ah Jiu was? Why don’t you go over?”
The little fox looked up at him with wet, glistening eyes.
Wen Xin spoke softly, encouragingly. “He told me that he didn’t blame you for what happened back then.”
The canary, overhearing Wen Xin’s gentle tone, pressed his lips together silently.
He had known about the visitor’s arrival ten minutes earlier. To ensure no one took advantage of the situation to harm Wen Xin, he had temporarily set aside his work to check the situation.
As he approached, he happened to see a pink figure darting across the rooftops, rolling around excitedly in the snow as they neared Wen Xin and his companions. The snow stuck to its fur, and after a moment, it shook itself clean, revealing the soft, fluffy pink underneath. It looked like a strawberry-filled mochi with its filling spilling out.
When the canary saw this scene, his first reaction was not to call out but to swiftly step behind a pillar to hide.
Sensing something, the little fox glanced back but only caught sight of a red-painted column.
The canary hesitated, unsure whether to meet the fox or not. Leaning against the column, he struggled with his tangled emotions before ultimately retreating to his room. Once there, he transformed back into his human form and hurried back to the corridor.
But by then, the little fox seemed to have lost its courage.
The canary didn’t know whether to laugh or fume. Standing still, his gaze turned dark as he gave the trembling pink fluff a death stare.
He decided he would wait for ten minutes. If the little fox didn’t come over by then, he would leave without another word.
One second, two seconds, three seconds…
It didn’t even take ten seconds. The pink fluff hesitated, its paws taking cautious, anxious steps forward until it finally stopped in front of the canary.
The boy remained still, so the little fox mustered its courage, extending its paw to tug at the hem of his pants.
“Ah Jiu, long time no see.”
The canary looked down at it.
But faced with the boy’s cold expression, the little fox instinctively shrank back, taking a deep breath to gather its courage before pawing at him again.
“…Ah Jiu, why aren’t you saying anything?”
Through the fabric, the touch of the fox’s paw was neither painful nor itchy, yet it managed to wear down the walls the canary had erected around his heart.
Still, forgiving the little fox outright seemed too easy.
Just as he planned to let it stew a little longer, he noticed Wen Xin’s expression. The young man, who had seen through his pettiness, gave him a disapproving glare.
The canary: “…”
Defeated, he bent down slightly. Like back in the base when they used to cuddle for warmth, he picked up the little fox and held it close.
He had to admit, the moment his hands sank into its soft fur, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.
The little fox, reassured by this gesture, replaced its nervousness with uncontainable excitement. It squirmed in the canary’s arms, flipping over to face him, its eyes lighting up.
But before it could say anything, the canary’s sharp gaze swept over it, and he asked a question that cut like a blade.
“What happened to the thing I gave you?”
The pink fluff immediately froze again, stiff as a board.
After a long pause, under the boy’s increasingly dangerous gaze, it stammered out, “I was afraid of losing it if I brought it with me, so I left it in City B.”
The canary’s expression eased slightly.
Still, after a moment of hesitation, the little fox confessed, “It’s just that… it’s changed a tiny bit. You won’t mind, will you?”
The canary’s face turned stony. “…”
Judging by the fox’s near-tears look, the “tiny bit” must have been more like “a whole lot.”
The canary almost laughed out of sheer anger.
That feather was something he cherished deeply. Even he couldn’t bear to pluck one from himself for safekeeping. Out of the two he possessed, one had been given to the little fox. And it had ruined it.
Grabbing the little fox by the scruff of its neck, his tone turned chilling. “Don’t even think about asking for another one from me.”
The little fox whimpered: “QAQ.”
Though it had finally reconciled with the canary, it had immediately angered him again. Its ears drooped, and it looked despondent.
But Wen Xin, standing nearby, could tell that while the canary appeared angry, his tone had lost much of its earlier detachment.
He stepped forward to ease the tension with a smile. “Alright now, do you all enjoy standing out in the snow to chat? Let’s head inside.”
Although the canary and the others weren’t afraid of the cold, they didn’t relish standing around in the wind either. At Wen Xin’s suggestion, they followed him indoors.
The pink fox gathered itself again and began chattering aimlessly, trying to mend its friendship with the boy.
“Ah Jiu, when did you come to City Rose?”
“Ah Jiu, did anyone bully you when you first arrived? I can help you get even.”
“Ah Jiu, Ah Jiu, Ah Jiu…”
Ah Lü and San San, perched on Wen Xin’s shoulders, couldn’t help but twitch their mouths as they watched the little fox’s eagerness to please.
Wen Xin, however, grew more amused the longer he observed them. His gaze lingered on the little ones, and a faint smile played on his lips.
It had been a long time since he’d felt such warmth and liveliness.
This was nice.
With the little fox joining their group, Wen Xin and Tang Qi’s otherwise monotonous training sessions became much more lively.
The reason? The pink fluff held a grudge against Ah Lü for its habit of picking it up and shaking it, and now it was determined to challenge the green bundle to a duel.
Ah Lü was more than eager to accept.
It was naturally combative—otherwise, it wouldn’t have relentlessly provoked Xiao Hei in the past, losing every time but always returning for more.
Since evolving to its complete form, however, the gap between it and other lower-tier mutants had become glaringly obvious. Subordinates who had once been respectful now threw themselves face-first to the ground the moment they saw its evolved form.
No exaggeration—it had heard an audible thud the first time this happened. Upon closer inspection, the subordinate’s hardened skull had cracked the floor, nearly creating a hole.
Ah Lü: “…”
Forget about fighting; it was now cautious even about speaking loudly, afraid of accidentally emitting an aura that might send its faint-hearted followers into cardiac arrest.
As a result, it hadn’t had the chance to enjoy a proper fight in ages.
It gladly accepted the pink fluff’s challenge and suggested the underground training arena as the venue.
When Wen Xin heard about this, his interest was piqued. He became as eager as if he were the one rolling up his sleeves to join the fray.
But it didn’t take long for him to realize that his presence seemed to be… in the way.
Whenever he was nearby, the two creatures would constantly glance at him, holding back their strength.
From the doorway, Wen Xin could see the two fluffballs tangled together but frozen mid-action. What had been a heated fight quickly devolved into a scene from a cute pet video. They retracted their claws and fangs, tails swishing back and forth as they playfully batted at each other.
Wen Xin: “…”
Honestly, even the stray cats he’d seen fighting in the wild were more intense than this.
With no other choice, he decided to forgo his rare chance to spectate the lively scene.
It worked out, though, as Wen Xin had been planning to take Tang Qi on a field exercise in the coming days, which conveniently left the arena free for the creatures to unleash their full potential.
What Wen Xin didn’t know was that as soon as he and Tang Qi stepped out, Ah Lü and the pink fluff changed the venue.
The reason was simple: having an all-out brawl in the training ground was a terrible idea. The sheer scale of their power could easily level a city or even a nation.
If they lost control and reduced the training ground to rubble, indirectly collapsing the manor, the canary would probably combust on the spot, metaphorically turning into a flamingo out of sheer rage.
Not to mention, they’d be out of a place to stay, and keeping it from Wen Xin would be impossible.
The two conspirators huddled together and unanimously decided to take their match to the Minotaur Arena.
It was spacious, steeped in a bloody, dark atmosphere perfect for battles. Moreover, it was a legitimate venue for fighting, with bonuses for the victor.
Absolutely perfect.
And so, the Spider Queen—who had just been granted permission by the canary to return home to prove herself—suddenly received news that her beloved arena had been trashed by two fluffballs.
The spider: “…”
All eight of her eyes twitched in unison.
She abandoned the servant reporting the incident and dashed to the arena in a frenzy.
What awaited her was a gut-wrenching scene.
The arena’s ceiling had been blown off, and most of the structure had been destroyed from within.
Exposed wires crackled with purple and white sparks. Dirt and debris were scattered everywhere, and a row of spiked seats had been ripped from the ground, tilting haphazardly. Thick, gray dust billowed from the shattered stone walls.
The two culprits, clutching their winnings, were already strolling off nonchalantly.
Having fought to their hearts’ content, they felt utterly refreshed, without a hint of remorse for the destruction they’d caused.
After all, the arena’s rules clearly stated: if you have the strength, you’re free to let loose.
They had, of course, held back somewhat—at least they hadn’t demolished the entire arena or accidentally harmed any other mutants.
Thinking about it, they couldn’t help but praise their own kindness.
Long after the fluffballs had left, many spectators remained hiding under the seats, their limbs trembling.
Though uninjured, they seemed emotionally scarred, clutching their heads and shaking like leaves, their eyes darting in terror.
Those who could still move stumbled and scrambled out, fleeing in utter disarray.
The scene, with snow falling from the sky above the ruins, exuded a strange, melancholic beauty.
Staring at the once-magnificent structure now reduced to rubble, the Spider Queen let out a heart-wrenching scream.
“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”
Meanwhile, far outside the city, San San twitched its ears involuntarily.
“Wen Xin, did you hear some kind of scream?”
Tang Qi turned his head toward City Rose, his expression puzzled. “I thought I heard faint sounds of fighting earlier—like they were coming from the city.”
Human ears couldn’t pick up the frequencies of the Spider Queen’s anguished screams.
But Wen Xin could hear the earth-shaking commotion caused by the two creatures’ fight.
He didn’t know that they had switched venues and gone to the arena, so he couldn’t help but worry whether the canary’s manor might collapse from the vibrations.
Wen Xin maintained a calm demeanor as he replied, “We’re far enough from City Rose that no matter how loud it gets, the sound won’t reach us.”
Unless, of course, it was a clash of two S-class mutants.
Tang Qi nodded. “Makes sense. Must’ve been my imagination.”
He turned his attention back to the mutated plant they had finally managed to take down, shuddering slightly. “I’ve never seen a plant like this before. It’s horrifying.”
Wen Xin used a stick to prod the plant’s leaves, revealing a half-eaten, bloodied arm.
Beneath the arm, the plant’s roots were covered in clusters of strange, translucent red sacs that looked like frog eggs. The sacs pulsed with blood vessel-like veins, and if one stared long enough, small movements could be seen inside.
Compared to this grotesque scene, the half-eaten arm didn’t seem quite as terrifying anymore.
Looking at the red sacs, Tang Qi felt a wave of trypophobia rise within him. “There’s definitely something off about this thing. We’d better not touch it.”
Wen Xin nodded. “Agreed. But we can’t leave it here either.”
He walked back to the car and retrieved half a bucket of gasoline, carefully dousing the plant before tossing a lit match onto it.
As the flames ignited, the sacs on the roots seemed to twitch slightly.
When the fire began to roar, the sacs reacted to the heat, writhing frantically as they abandoned their camouflage.
Tang Qi’s eyes widened. “They’re alive!”
Wen Xin shouted suddenly, “Get back!”
Even as he spoke, one of the sac-like fruits broke free from the roots, landing on the snow. Its surface began to shrivel visibly, but at the same time, appendage-like tendrils emerged, springing toward Tang Qi with a deliberate motion.
Wen Xin reacted instantly, shoving Tang Qi aside and swinging his stick to swat the fruit back into the fire pit.
The fruit spasmed twice in the flames before going still.
Tang Qi sat stunned in the snow for a second before scrambling to his feet, swearing under his breath. “That thing is terrifying! Who knows what would’ve happened if it touched me? Good thing you caught it in time.”
Despite the heavy snowfall, the plant’s foliage remained lush and vibrant, brimming with unnatural vitality.
Cautious by nature, Wen Xin had noticed something was off before getting too close, so he had stopped to test the plant. Sure enough, the mutant had disguised itself as an edible wild plant and had lashed out with whip-like vines when provoked.
It had taken both of them—along with San San—several magazines of ammunition and a hard-fought battle to finally subdue the monstrous plant.
They hadn’t expected its fruits to pose such a strange and deadly threat.
Frowning, Wen Xin had a foreboding sense of trouble. “I’ve never encountered a mutant plant with such extreme physical alterations before. Do you have any record of this kind of thing?”
San San shook its head.
Tang Qi furrowed his brow. “Me neither.”
Mutants generally refer to both mutated plants and animals. However, most attention was focused on mutant animals because plants were rooted in soil and couldn’t easily move.
This physical limitation often left their attack methods simplistic—either lashing out with vines or swallowing prey whole, like a Venus flytrap.
Moreover, they were especially vulnerable to fire; even the faintest ember could expose their camouflage.
Dangerous mutants like this plant were unheard of, even in Tang Qi’s dreams.
Wen Xin nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll report this to the city lord when we return.”
Food shortages during winter often drove people to leave the city in search of wild game, like rabbits or sparrows that hadn’t mutated.
Even a simple notice could help people stay vigilant.
Before leaving, Wen Xin poked at the fire pit with a stick, making sure all the fruits were burned to ash with no survivors. Only then did he cover the remains with snow and mud.
As they ventured further into the free hunting zone, they didn’t encounter any more peculiar mutant plants.
Soon enough, Ah Lü and the others arrived, unable to rest easy knowing Wen Xin was accompanied only by San San and Tang Qi.
Wen Xin had taken on a task before setting out this time.
It was said that a cunning mutant had been spotted near the free-hunting zone.
The creature wasn’t particularly strong—only rated as a B-class.
However, it exploited the free hunting zone’s “kill or be killed” rules, prowling the boundary to force humans who strayed too close into its territory, leading to numerous tragedies.
Only a mutant could deal with another mutant.
But no mutant would ever be so benevolent as to help humans solve their problems.
Desperate, several scavenging teams had pooled their money to hire a well-equipped hunting squad.
They hadn’t expected the job to be accepted by just two people.
Someone in another scavenging team seemed to recognize Wen Xin and was visibly shocked. “Mr. Wen, what are you doing here?”
Wen Xin glanced at him, finding his face somewhat familiar.
After a moment’s thought, he remembered—the man was one of the manor’s servants.
Wen Xin gave him a brief nod in acknowledgment. “I’m here for the task. What about you? No work today?”
His tone was casual, like chatting with a neighbor.
The servant tried to suppress his excitement. “Today’s my rotation for rest. I just came out with the others to see if we could scavenge something to eat.”
Then, growing anxious, he shuffled closer to Wen Xin and whispered, “With your status, how can you be out here? It’s so dangerous! If the city lord finds out, he’ll surely be worried.”
Wen Xin shook his head. “It’s fine. The city lord knows I’m here.”
Still uneasy, the servant kept urging him, “I’m serious, this place is too risky. You should head back.”
When Wen Xin arrived in City Rose, his identity wasn’t exactly a secret. After all, the little creatures constantly called out his name, making it nearly impossible for anyone not to notice.
Anyone with even a bit of intelligence could deduce Wen Xin’s identity, especially when considering how much extra care the canary gave him.
At present, the destruction of the First Base, surrounded and attacked by multiple factions, had forced its leadership to remove the massive bounty on Wen Xin. Those who had been frantically searching for him across the world had finally calmed down, if only slightly.
While the bounty had been rescinded, Wen Xin’s reputation remained intact—and had only grown, spawning various mythical versions of his story.
Given such circumstances, were there still people with ill intentions toward Wen Xin?
Plenty—far too many to count.
Once, during dinner, Wen Xin had called out someone for gossiping behind his back.
Surprisingly, this didn’t make him less liked. Instead, some people felt closer to him.
Perhaps it was because Wen Xin chose to share his food with them rather than waste it.
Or maybe it was because, while he got angry, he didn’t resort to cruel measures. That lack of distance made him seem less like a lofty figure and more approachable.
Humans are inherently contradictory creatures.
“Don’t worry,” Wen Xin reassured the servant. Then, turning to the people at the front of the group, he asked, “Was it you who posted the task?”
“Yes.”
The tone was somewhat curt.
Wen Xin paused, his expression calm. “Can you tell me where the target is?”
No one answered.
One scavenger team leader exhaled heavily, eyeing Wen Xin and Tang Qi from head to toe. Judging by appearances alone, he couldn’t gauge their abilities.
Behind him, the scavengers began whispering amongst themselves.
“Didn’t we say we’d hire at least a dozen people? What’s this, just two?”
“Might as well buy a dozen incendiary bombs instead.”
“No, better to stock up on food. That way, we wouldn’t have to risk coming out here or worry about being killed by that mutant.”
“Damn it, can we get our money back?”
The leader gave them a sharp look. “Shut up.”
For the scavengers, the servant’s presence indicated a higher social standing. Since he addressed Wen Xin as “Mr. Wen,” it was clear the man wasn’t ordinary.
Even so, the small number of people on Wen Xin’s team left them uneasy.
No matter how strong a human was, there were limits to what they could do without external tools. Seeing how lightly equipped Wen Xin and Tang Qi were, the scavengers felt a mix of frustration and regret, like they’d wasted their money.
To them, the task being accepted seemed like an exception made purely due to Wen Xin’s elevated status—possibly because there was a 10% advance reward, even if the task wasn’t completed.
Unwilling to let it go, the scavenger leaders scrutinized Wen Xin and Tang Qi, trying to find signs of exceptional ability.
What caught their attention instead were the oddly colored little creatures following Wen Xin.
Suddenly, the scavengers’ attitudes shifted. Their tone became more respectful.
“Are these your helpers? Could you share what level they are?”
The pink fluff, noticing the change in their demeanor, grinned. “We’re very strong.”
The green bundle chimed in, “A B-class target is no big deal for us.”
The pink fluff added, “But we already fought earlier, so now we’re too tired to move.”
The green bundle lazily said, “We’ll decide whether to help depending on the situation.”
Listening to this, the scavengers felt like they were on a rollercoaster. Veins throbbed on their foreheads as their frustration grew.
Apparently, the little ones, drunk on their earlier victory, had started teasing the humans.
Wen Xin, exasperated, flicked each of them on the forehead with his finger.
Turning back to the scavengers, he said apologetically, “My friends can be a bit mischievous. Please excuse them. Rest assured, since I’ve accepted the task, I’ll complete it properly.”
The scavengers reluctantly agreed. “Alright.”
They began gathering their equipment, but Wen Xin surprised them by telling them not to follow.
Faces darkened across the group.
One of the leaders, visibly enraged, could no longer hold back his frustration. “That mutant killed one of our key members! We spent everything we had to post this bounty, determined to see it through no matter the cost!”
“I don’t know what kind of connections you used to take this task, but this isn’t a game. Take it seriously!”
Wen Xin held back the fluffballs, and then calmed the leader, who had grabbed his collar. Meeting his gaze, Wen Xin replied sincerely, “I understand.”
When Wen Xin had first seen this task posted among the countless others at the bounty office, it had immediately caught his attention.
What drew him wasn’t just the high reward, enough to sustain a group of ten through the winter, but the sense of tragedy behind the job.
For scavengers, survival came first. To abandon that mindset meant something truly devastating must have happened.
That was why, for the first time, Wen Xin had leveraged his status to claim the task himself.
The whispers and skepticism about Wen Xin had already spread during his visit to the task office. Most people didn’t know his true identity, but that didn’t stop them from mocking what they saw as his overconfidence.
Wen Xin wasn’t interested in proving anyone wrong. He simply pursued what he wanted to do, unbothered by doubts or criticism.
He lightly patted the scavenger leader’s trembling wrist, his calm tone carrying a reassuring undertone. “If you’re worried, how about helping me retrieve something from the car?”
Originally, Wen Xin had planned to confirm the task’s location before retrieving the equipment.
At his suggestion, the scavengers exchanged glances, their skepticism still evident, but they followed him to the car.
When they reached it, their jaws collectively dropped.
This wasn’t a car—it looked more like a mobile armory!
Under the astonished gazes of the dozen scavengers, Wen Xin greeted San San, who had stayed behind in the car, and began pulling out the necessary equipment.
Handing items to Tang Qi while equipping himself, Wen Xin moved efficiently. Just as he was about to close the car door, the leader called out urgently, “Wait! Hold on a second!”
Turning back, Wen Xin saw the man pointing inside the car, his voice trembling with excitement.
“That rocket launcher—it looks powerful! Shouldn’t you take it with you?”
“It’s a hassle to reload, and it’ll slow us down. Plus, it’s too conspicuous and might scare off the target.”
The leader licked his cracked lips, struggling with his composure.
To be fair, none of them had ever seen such an impressive arsenal before. The sheer sight of those pitch-black weapons was overwhelming.
Wen Xin noticed the fleeting greed in the leader’s eyes, but the man quickly shut his eyes tightly, suppressing the emotion.
“With an arsenal like this, I believe you’re no ordinary person. Please, go ahead. We’ll watch over things here for you.”
Wen Xin nodded in acknowledgment and gave the little fox a pat, instructing it to stay behind with San San to guard the car.
Soon, Wen Xin, Tang Qi, and Ah Lü entered the target area, following the directions provided by the scavengers.
Not having to join the battle, the rest of the group immediately retreated to a safe distance.
Lacking binoculars, they crouched behind makeshift cover, squinting to catch glimpses of the figures in the snowstorm. They could only vaguely see Wen Xin’s agile silhouette as he directed Tang Qi, engaging the mutant in battle.
The scavengers’ hearts seemed to rise and fall with the movement of the two figures.
Every time Wen Xin narrowly dodged an attack, their collective breaths hitched, and their nerves tensed.
Amid the tension, a scrawny man with sharp features tried to sneak toward Wen Xin’s car when no one was paying attention.
He didn’t get far before the leader brought a shovel down on his leg.
The man fell with a yelp, clutching his injured leg as he flailed in the snow. Panicked, he rolled over to face the leader, whose expression was dark and foreboding.
“I was just trying to help!” the man stammered, scrambling to explain. “They’re struggling out there, so I thought I’d go support them!”
He hesitated, then added with more confidence, “There are only two of them, and that green creature isn’t even helping. How can they possibly win?”
The leader said nothing, his silence betraying his own uncertainty.
At that moment, a scavenger monitoring the battle let out an excited shout. “He hit it! He hit the mutant!”
The leader whipped his head around, and sure enough, he saw the ferocious mutant slam into a tree amidst the swirling snow.
Though his connection to Wen Xin was tenuous at best, the leader couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. “He landed a hit! That’s all we need—a good hit!”
Moments earlier, Wen Xin and Tang Qi had been dodging frantically, a sight that made the spectators’ hearts clench with worry.
The leader continued, his voice spilling out in a rapid stream. “If they can find a weak spot, they’ll have a chance. Even if they can’t kill it, they can at least escape!”
One of the scavengers chimed in, “Yeah, but they’re pushing their luck. If that green creature isn’t going to help, why didn’t they bring us along? Surrounding the mutant would’ve guaranteed its death!”
Another muttered, “They barely found a weak spot, and now the mutant’s on guard. Who knows when they’ll get another opening?”
“Not to mention, it’ll take dozens of bullets to penetrate that thing’s hide. This is a huge mess!”
As they grumbled, the observer monitoring the fight let out another incredulous shout.
“He hit it again! Another hit!”
So quickly? Another already?
The leader grabbed the scrawny man by the collar and flung him aside, making sure he wouldn’t try anything else with the car. Then, unable to resist, he turned his attention back to the battlefield.
Wen Xin had already emptied one magazine. Using the trees as cover, he moved swiftly and systematically, targeting the mutant’s weak points.
Yes—weak points.
In the brief moments of combat, Wen Xin had discerned that the mutant’s back and side abdomen were as tough as steel, but there was a particularly soft spot on its central abdomen.
Sliding through the snow, he kicked up a flurry of white powder. As the mutant lunged and missed, Wen Xin locked eyes with it, his gaze sharp and resolute.
Raising his gun, he fired off another burst.
Out of ten bullets, at least nine struck the mutant’s body.
A B-class mutant wasn’t invincible, and the sustained assault forced it to stagger back.
It tried to shield its vulnerable spots, but as it twisted to the side, a tiny patch of its unarmored abdomen—no larger than a fingertip—became exposed.
It was an almost nonexistent flaw.
But Wen Xin’s eyes flashed coldly, and as he pulled the trigger, blood sprayed into the air.
“He hit it again! Another direct hit!”
“Damn, who is this guy? How can he move and shoot so quickly?”
“Oh my god, this guy…”
Who is this guy?
For a moment, countless words of praise flashed through the minds of the scavengers, but they were too stunned to articulate them clearly.
As everyone held their breath, anticipation rising, thinking Wen Xin would seize this opportunity to finish off the mutant—he stumbled.
Something underfoot tripped him, and he pitched forward, landing hard on the ground with a sharp thud.
“Damn it!!”
The scavenger team instantly jumped to their feet, their scalps tingling with panic.
It was too late to save him. They shouted at the top of their lungs, disregarding the risk of revealing their location.
“Run! Get up and run!”
“Dammit, run, you idiot!”
How could this happen? How could he slip at such a critical moment?
The servant’s heart seemed to stop, his vision going black. All he could think was: It’s over. The city lord is going to raze this place to the ground.
The team leader took a deep breath, turned swiftly, and grabbed his crude firearm, hurriedly loading ammunition.
His hands trembled along with his racing heart, and his teeth clenched tightly as he tried not to imagine the blood-soaked scene that might follow. “What’s happening? Did the mutant get him?”
But there was no response—an eerie silence had enveloped the group.
It was as if everyone was frozen in place.
Frustrated and fearful, the leader barked, “Say something! Is he dead or not?”
Suddenly, the sound of gunfire rang out in the snowstorm—sharp and relentless, a far cry from the desperate, final cries of someone cornered.
The leader jerked his head up.
To his disbelief, the mutant, which should have been the hunter, poised to kill the fallen youth, was now ensnared in a trap.
Earlier, Wen Xin had drawn the mutant’s ire while directing Tang Qi to hastily set up the trap. Though crude and rushed, it had worked.
To ensure the mutant couldn’t escape, Wen Xin hadn’t held back, unloading multiple magazines into its weak points.
The dozens of gunshots pierced through the icy wind, their deafening roars resembling the call of trumpets heralding dawn.
The scavengers had assumed the green creature might intervene—it didn’t.
They had feared the young man would be killed—he wasn’t.
The miraculous conclusion left the onlookers dumbfounded, their astonishment echoing even through the snowstorm.
After the battle, the scavenger team moved in to clean up.
The way they looked at Wen Xin had completely changed. Gone was the earlier doubt, replaced by awe, admiration, and deep respect.
Wen Xin bore several injuries from the fight.
Three of the team leaders approached, offering to help treat him, but he waved them off.
“In this freezing weather, exposing a wound might only make it worse,” he explained.
Realizing he had a point, they didn’t press further.
With the task completed, Wen Xin and his companions prepared to leave.
The mutant that had terrorized the area was dead, and the other two scavenger teams began packing up, faces bright with renewed hope.
Only one team leader lingered, staring blankly at the mutant’s corpse, a dazed and somber expression on his face.
Wen Xin gave a brief warning. “The commotion just now was loud. There’s no telling if other mutants in the hunting zone might have been drawn here. It’s best to leave quickly.”
The leader nodded absentmindedly.
Wen Xin was about to board the car when he paused, turning back to shout, “Happy New Year.”
The words startled the leader awake.
Images of family reunions during past New Year celebrations flashed through his mind—memories so distant they felt like they belonged to another lifetime.
But the youth’s bright and heartfelt greeting brought those memories back to life.
“Happy New Year!” the leader shouted back. “And… and…”
He hurried a few steps closer, his flushed cheeks uncertain if they were from the cold or excitement.
“Thank you. Really, thank you!”
Tang Qi had already slid into the driver’s seat. Glancing through the frost-covered window, he saw the scavengers waving and shouting their thanks and New Year wishes toward them.
He blinked, then turned to Wen Xin. “Is it New Year’s already?”
Wen Xin replied, “A few days to go.”
Tang Qi groaned. “Great. I didn’t make it back home to have New Year’s Eve dinner with my parents. They’re going to be furious.”
“Did you let them know before you left?” Wen Xin asked.
Scratching his nose sheepishly, Tang Qi admitted, “I left them a note saying I was going to turn myself in and couldn’t face them anymore. I told them not to visit me in jail and hoped the patrol guards would stop them from trying.”
“In their eyes, I’ve always been a model son. If they find out I joined the Reality Sect, they’ll probably break my legs.”
Wen Xin, remembering his initial shock at meeting Tang Qi in the Minotaur Arena, couldn’t help but shudder.
Had he not intervened back then, he might never have seen his friend again.
“Staying safe is all that matters,” Wen Xin said with feeling.
Tang Qi nodded. “Yeah, staying safe is what counts.”
While tending to a scrape on his arm, Wen Xin glanced at the little fox. “Did anyone try to approach the car earlier?”
“There was one, but the big bearded uncle stopped him,” the fox reported from its perch on Wen Xin’s seat. “I could feel he was tempted by the gear inside—tempted enough to consider stealing it. But in the end, he didn’t make a move.”
Wen Xin hummed, unsurprised.
Ah Lü suddenly piped up. “Wen Xin, do you like humans a lot?”
Tang Qi, usually quiet during these exchanges, perked up slightly, listening intently.
Hearing the question, Tang Qi couldn’t help but twitch his lips. “Dear mutant friends, let’s be clear: Wen Xin is a living, breathing human being. How could he not like his own kind?”
Ah Lü scoffed. “And yet, humans haven’t exactly held back from killing each other, have they?
“Even without personal gain—even at their own detriment—humans will harm their own kind. And they do it with enthusiasm.”
Tang Qi opened his mouth to retort but realized he couldn’t argue against that.
Wen Xin chuckled lightly. “Yes, I do like humans.”
Parents who refused to abandon their children, children who clung to their parents.
Strangers who reached out to help the downtrodden before disaster, heroes who stood up in the face of crisis.
A husband, skeletal from hunger, still saving the last bite for his wife.
A wife who stayed by her gravely injured husband’s side, refusing to leave.
Even the scavengers, who had defied their survival instincts and risked their lives to avenge their loved ones.
Wen Xin liked humans like that.
Sensing his mood, the little fox perked up its ears. “Then, do you like mutants?”
Wen Xin didn’t hesitate. “I do.”
Ah Lü snorted softly, then asked, “What if the ones causing trouble weren’t mutants but humans bullying mutants? Would you deal with them?”
“If I had accepted a task to do so, yes.”
The little fox wagged its tail, energized. “Then, Wen Xin, do you like flowers?”
“I do.”
“Do you like trees?”
“I do.”
“What about lakes, mountains, oceans, the sky…?”
Wen Xin smiled gently, answering patiently, “I like all of them.”
When others answered questions like that, it might have sounded perfunctory.
But the little fox could feel Wen Xin’s emotions and knew each response was genuine.
Ah Lü, having recently learned a new phrase, decided it fit Wen Xin perfectly. “A philandering human.”
Tang Qi nearly spat out a mouthful of water. Defending his friend, he exclaimed, “That’s called being compassionate! Do you know what compassion means?”
The car, filled with laughter, made its way toward the brightly lit City Rose.
This year had been one of profound sorrow for everyone.
The apocalypse had displaced countless families, the snow burying the unclosed eyes of the dead. Entire species of once-vibrant life had vanished.
And yet, with the arrival of the New Year, even the poorest households found a way to buy a piece of red paper or cut out a scrap of red fabric. On it, they would write the character for “fortune” and paste it upside-down on their doors, praying for bad luck to vanish and blessings to come swiftly.
The fluffballs, aware of the holiday’s importance to humans, whispered amongst themselves, brainstorming how to celebrate it properly.
Even the perpetually busy canary set aside two days from his packed schedule.
Wen Xin, for his part, had prepared gifts for his cubs as well.
You can’t talk mutants do the same thing, and eat each other!