Chapter 162
“Yan Ya, what’s wrong?”
Li Sinian stopped in his tracks and turned his attention to the holographic video, mirroring his wife’s focus.
Earlier, most of his attention had been on Xue Wei, with a portion drawn to the crimson tiger cub. Now, noticing his wife’s unusual reaction, he began observing the other children.
Soon, his gaze landed on a little girl sitting beside Xue Wei.
The girl was adorable, with beautifully groomed ash-blond curls. A few small braids were tied at the back of her head, and a sunflower hairpin adorned the side of her hair.
She sat next to Xue Wei, smiling as she ate her meal. The warmth of her expression seemed capable of melting anyone’s heart. Even the ever-stoic and battle-hardened Li Sinian felt a certain part of his heart soften.
If his younger daughter were still alive… she might have been just as sweet as this little girl.
But she never had the chance to see the world or feel his love as a father. She had been taken from him far too soon.
The thought of his lost daughter left a bitter ache in his chest. Forcing himself to look away, his gaze shifted to the boy sitting next to the little girl.
The boy and girl seemed very close.
From their similar hair color, feline ears, and faintly resembling facial features, it was evident they were siblings.
The boy sat upright, exuding a calm and composed demeanor. Yet, whenever his gaze fell on his sister, his expression softened, and he would occasionally tend to her needs with practiced care.
Watching the siblings interact, Li Sinian felt his heart skip several beats.
He realized what Yan Ya had been fixated on.
These two siblings—their hair and eye colors—were strikingly similar to those of the children they had lost. Even their facial features, though the video wasn’t crystal clear, bore faint resemblances.
“Yang Yang… Tian Tian…”
Li Sinian murmured the nicknames of their lost son and daughter. Standing beside him, Yan Ya trembled.
She turned to her husband, her voice trembling with shock and elation. “You think they look alike too, don’t you? They’re Yang Yang and Tian Tian, aren’t they?”
Seeing her so emotional, Li Sinian quickly pulled her into his arms. Her health was still fragile, and the rigors of interstellar travel had left her further weakened.
Her outburst snapped him out of his own daze. Looking at her hopeful face, he gave her a wry smile and said, “Yan Ya, their ages don’t match.”
It had been ten years since they lost their children.
The older of the two children in the video didn’t appear to be even ten years old, let alone the younger girl, who looked like a toddler.
His words brought Yan Ya back to reality. She turned her gaze back to the holographic image, staring at the two children.
Her rational mind told her these couldn’t be her children. Yet, deep within her soul, an inexplicable voice cried out in desperation:
They are my children!
They must be my children!
Yan Ya’s face was filled with pain and sorrow. She bit her lip hard, but suddenly, as if noticing something, she pointed at the holographic screen and exclaimed, “Look at that boy! His tail!”
Li Sinian followed her gaze and saw a thin tail extending from the boy’s back, with a tuft of fur at the tip.
The fur at the tip had a distinct red hue—an unmistakable feature of a Red-Tailed Lion.
“They share the same bloodline as me, the Red-Tailed Lion! They’re siblings, with the same hair and eye color. Even their features faintly resemble yours…” Yan Ya listed her observations one by one, her eyes reddening with emotion.
“They are our children! I’m sure of it! There’s no way this could be a coincidence!”
For years, she had searched the galaxy for any siblings that matched the criteria, and never once had she found a pair like this.
How could it not be them?
Li Sinian listened to her reasoning and stared at the two children on the screen, his heart pounding. But in the end, his rationality overcame his emotions.
“I want to believe they’re Yang Yang and Tian Tian too, but their ages don’t match,” he said softly.
It had been ten years since they lost their children.
The older boy in the video didn’t look older than ten, and the little girl appeared to be no more than a toddler.
Hearing this, Yan Ya calmed down slightly. She turned back to the video, staring intently at the two children.
Her rational mind told her they couldn’t be her children. But deep in her soul, an insistent voice cried out in desperation:
They are my children!
They have to be!
Yan Ya’s face crumpled with sorrow as tears streamed down. Then she looked at her husband, and her voice trembled with a mix of hope and doubt.
“You’re right… but what if? What if they really are ours?”
Li Sinian sighed and pulled her into his arms, gently patting her back.
“We’ll go to the nursery. Once we see them, we’ll find out the truth,” he said soothingly. “And no matter what, the truth will come to light.”
Even if they weren’t biologically his children, Li Sinian had already made up his mind. He would adopt them, along with Xue Wei.
He would bring these children home and raise them with care.
Yan Ya leaned into his embrace, tears flowing uncontrollably.
She understood her husband’s concerns. The greater the hope, the greater the heartbreak—something she had experienced time and again over the years.
Still, she couldn’t help but hold on to the fragile hope in her heart.
When the aide returned, helping Wen Yan carry out their luggage, Yan Ya had composed herself, though her reddened eyes betrayed the fact she’d been crying.
Wen Yan looked at her uneasily.
Yan Ya offered a small, reassuring smile before lowering her gaze to the little girl standing beside Wen Yan.
The girl appeared to be around seven or eight years old, about the same age as Xue Wei. She already displayed prominent beast-like traits—not only did she have two semi-rounded black ears, but the hand her mother held had transformed into the paw of a panda.
The Giant Panda, also known as the Iron-Eating Beast, was renowned for its resilience, much like the Red-Tailed Lion. While the lion excelled in offense with explosive power, the panda was known for its endurance and ability to withstand blows.
Even at her young age, the girl’s pronounced beast-like features indicated a serious berserk condition as well as an extraordinary bloodline potential.
With proper training, this child could undoubtedly grow into a formidable warrior.
Her personality seemed bright and cheerful. Standing confidently by her mother’s side, she showed no fear as she smiled at the couple.
“Hello, Uncle and Auntie,” the girl greeted sweetly.
Yan Ya’s heart melted instantly. Losing her children had left her unable to resist the charms of young ones. Seeing this girl brought out her maternal instincts in full force.
“Hello, Qian Qian,” Yan Ya replied warmly. “We’ll be in your care for the time being.”
“Okay!” Qian Qian nodded enthusiastically. “My mom and I will count on you to take care of us, but if you need help, just ask me! I’m super strong!”
Yan Ya couldn’t help but laugh. This little one truly had a way with people.
The little girl worked hard to present herself, and the way she subtly moved in front of Wen Yan, shielding her mother with her small frame, was truly heartwarming.
She must be trying so hard to impress others to protect her mom, Yan Ya thought.
Yan Ya’s smile grew even softer. “Alright, Auntie understands.”
Standing beside her, Wen Yan also showed a rare hint of a smile. For someone who had long withdrawn from social interactions, this moment was unfamiliar yet comforting.
“Wen Yan, can I call you Yan Yan?” Yan Ya asked.
Wen Yan was taken aback for a moment, but she nodded shyly.
“Do you know if there’s a large shopping center nearby?” Yan Ya asked.
“I think I know where one is,” Wen Yan replied.
“Let’s go together then!” Yan Ya said with enthusiasm. “Before we head to Prison Star, we need to prepare more for the kids!”
Having seen the video earlier, Yan Ya couldn’t stop thinking about the nursery’s barebones environment. The idea of children relying primarily on nutrient cubes for sustenance tugged at her heartstrings.
Although she had already arranged for some gifts to be delivered, she now felt they were far from sufficient.
We need to buy more—fill the space rings to the brim! If the rings run out of space, she resolved to buy even more rings. The children must have plenty of supplies!
Wen Yan found her reasoning convincing. She had already learned that Universal Credits and her local currency were useless on Prison Star—everything depended on points to exchange for resources.
Since she and her daughter were committed to living on the star, it only made sense to stock up.
Thus, the group boarded their small ship and set off for the nearest large shopping mall. Before leaving, they intended to prepare as thoroughly as possible.
*
One week later.
Prison Star, Base 24
In the nursery’s greenhouse, Cen Liang, Wu Yunqin, and the other researchers stood in awe, unable to speak as they gazed at the fully matured mutant garlic in its nutrient substrate.
This mutant garlic had successfully developed five cloves.
The team’s next task was to carefully separate these cloves without damaging the original plant, effectively turning one mutant garlic plant into five.
Both Zhuang Shisong and Wei Ming were present for this pivotal moment.
Over the past two weeks, the dense blood mist surrounding the base had kept them from visiting the nursery. Instead, they had stayed in the greenhouse, dedicating themselves to researching the mutant garlic.
Everyone now understood: the key to driving away the blood mist and restoring life and order to the base lay in this mutant garlic.
News of the garlic had spread beyond Bases 24 and 26, reaching other bases as well. Wu Yuan (Director Wu) now received daily calls from people probing for information.
Initially, she responded politely, but over time, she grew tired of their probing and dismissed them outright.
There was a certain satisfaction in seeing those who had once looked down on Base 24 now groveling for her attention. Even when she was curt, no one dared complain.
Recently, Director Wu had been in a fantastic mood, her cheerful demeanor lifting the spirits of everyone in the greenhouse. She treated her staff with a warmth that bordered on indulgence.
Of course, she knew precisely who was responsible for this turn of fortune.
And, of course, there’s no such thing as a completely airtight secret. Though travel was restricted, communication over the network remained unaffected, so the news about the green space cultivated by Caretaker Su in the eastern section of the base quickly spread.
Director Wu didn’t even want to question the logic of this anymore. As far as she was concerned, Caretaker Su was simply extraordinary.
After all, if someone could single-handedly deal with over a hundred monsters—a feat that defied all logic—what else could possibly be considered impossible?
She was itching to investigate this green space herself. If it weren’t for the critical stage of the mutant garlic’s development, combined with the dangers of venturing outside, she would’ve been there already, conducting her research.
Naturally, Zhuang Shisong and Wei Ming felt the same way.
They hadn’t forgotten Caretaker Su’s words about evaluating their performance before considering them as students.
Now, with the mutant garlic finally maturing, their thoughts were already wandering back to the nursery.
Both of them were brimming with questions—like, if the mutant garlic had a consciousness, would separating it into five plants divide that consciousness as well? Would these five new plants maintain a subordinate relationship with the original, or would they become entirely independent entities?
Their curiosity was nearly unbearable.
After a brief discussion, they reported to Cen Liang and, armed with garlic-scented spray for protection, left the greenhouse that afternoon. Eventually, they managed to catch the hover bus.
As soon as they boarded, the strong smell of garlic hit their noses.
The hover buses were now sprayed daily with garlic-scented repellents, and the maintenance team had devised a method to ensure the scent lingered in the cabin all day long.
While this made trips safer, it was a nightmare for anyone who disliked garlic, as almost every building in the base now reeked of it.
Fortunately, both Zhuang Shisong and Wei Ming had spent so much time in the greenhouse that they were entirely desensitized to the smell.
They rode the hover bus in high spirits, disembarking at the nursery’s station. Following their usual route, they headed toward the nursery building—only to sense something unusual halfway there.
Both men abruptly stopped as they stepped onto what seemed to be a patch of purified land.
The area, roughly ten meters in diameter, was free of blood mist, yet oddly, there was no trace of garlic scent either.
What was even more astonishing was the absence of the metallic flooring that typically covered such spaces. Instead, the soil had been freshly tilled, and tender green sprouts were pushing their way out of the earth.
Had the nursery’s grounds become too small for Caretaker Su to fully showcase his talents?
But then, considering the ever-expanding green space to the east of the base, this didn’t seem all that surprising anymore.
It’s said that individuals with plant-based bloodline abilities prefer to live in natural environments. The metallic aesthetic of the base must feel rather stifling for Caretaker Su.
Wei Ming and Zhuang Shisong lingered in the green patch for a moment, examining the growth of the sprouts. Finding each plant thriving, they marveled once again before continuing toward the nursery building.
It was mid-afternoon, and the young cubs had just finished their lessons in literacy. Now, they were engrossed in their individual training routines.
Among those with the most noticeable changes in their curriculum were Ran Lie and Rong Heng.
Both had successfully progressed beyond the initial stage of mental technique cultivation. Now, they needed to pair it with physical training for optimal results.
By the pool, on a cleared patch of land, a red-haired, red-eyed boy was practicing a martial art that Su Ci had promised to teach him: Vajra Palm.
Although Ran Lie had only recently started learning the form and was still working on mastering the basic movements, his punches already carried an impressive force, exuding vigor and strength.
Zhuang Shisong and Wei Ming paused to watch for a moment. Feeling the tangible energy from his punches, they exchanged glances before tacitly agreeing to avoid disturbing him. Quietly, they walked around the nursery building to reach the green space from another side.
However, as they turned a corner, their steps faltered.
Not far ahead, a boy with lion ears and a lion’s tail sat cross-legged on the ground. His hands moved in intricate, mystical gestures.
Directly in front of him lay something unusual—a small sword.
Both Zhuang Shisong and Wei Ming, being from agricultural families with a background in ancient culture, recognized it at once.
This was an ancient cold weapon from centuries ago. Long obsolete, such swords hadn’t been seen for countless years, not even in historical films.
Where on earth had this young lion cub found such an artifact? And what was he doing with it?
As they curiously observed, the sword—barely the length of an adult’s forearm—suddenly floated into the air, as if animated by its own will.
With a flash of brilliance, the small sword darted through the air, performing agile maneuvers.
In a dazzling display, the blade suddenly plunged into the base’s metal wall. The very same metal that could withstand laser gunfire was now pierced by this small, ancient weapon, which embedded itself deep into the wall with frightening ease.
