Chapter 41
Su Ci watched as Number Two walked ahead.
Apart from his two short, rounded ears covered in thick brown fur, his slender tail peeked out from his clothing, swinging gracefully in the air with the characteristic agility of a feline.
The fur on his tail was short and dense, not long and fluffy like Number Eight’s, but it looked soft—almost irresistibly so, as if it was made to be petted.
Who would imagine that such a seemingly harmless tail could smash a dent into solid metal flooring?
“Let’s go, time to get off,” Gu Qingchen reminded from the side.
Su Ci pulled his gaze back and nodded, gesturing for Gu Qingchen to go first. Then, he disembarked with A-Yan, his little shadow, trailing close behind.
By the time Su Ci returned to the nursery facility, having been delayed at the plantation and the Medical Purification Department, it was already past lunchtime. The cubs had finished eating and returned to their rooms.
The two guards assigned to protect Gu Qingchen had already taken the teleportation platform ahead of them and were waiting at the entrance.
When they spotted Su Ci and Number Two approaching, their eyes still betrayed amazement, clearly recalling the scene they had witnessed earlier.
The group entered the nursery facility building.
As expected, the nanny robot 4586 immediately voiced its disapproval of Su Ci’s frequent absences. But upon seeing Number Two, its demeanor shifted entirely.
Its glowing “tearful” electronic eyes gleamed as it grabbed the boy’s arm with its mechanical appendage. In a voice that was unnervingly sweet and expressive, it exclaimed, “Number Two, you’re finally back! 4586 missed you so much!”
Its exaggerated gestures and dramatic delivery made it seem almost too human.
Number Two frowned deeply.
He could barely tolerate 4586 and wanted to snap at it, but…
Looking at the pitiful expression on the nanny robot’s face, even though he knew it was merely programmed that way, the boy couldn’t help but feel a little moved.
4586 had managed to survive the longest among the robots in the nursery facility. Despite his increasingly frequent berserk episodes, this robot had always somehow escaped destruction.
He briefly thought of 4583.
The image of that robot being smashed to pieces against the wall by his tiger tail flashed through his mind.
Number Two pressed his lips tightly together.
Perhaps this robot before him was the only being left in the world that treated him wholeheartedly, even if it wasn’t truly alive.
In the end, the boy didn’t pull away from 4586’s mechanical arm.
“Number Two, are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?” the nanny robot asked gently. Its attitude toward him remained consistent, unaffected by the fact that he had destroyed 4583.
“I’ll prepare some food for you, okay? Look at you, so thin—it’s heartbreaking!”
As the robot’s words grew increasingly sentimental, Number Two finally couldn’t stand it anymore and withdrew his arm. This time, he used skill rather than force, avoiding damaging the robot.
Despite this, 4586 looked at him with its smiling electronic eyes, patiently waiting for his response.
Number Two gave a small nod, managing a quiet “Mm.”
“Yay, that’s wonderful!”
Receiving this acknowledgment, the nanny robot practically beamed. “I’ll prepare a delicious and hearty lunch for my darling Number Two right away. Number Two, why don’t you wait in the dining room for a bit, okay?”
Its soft, cheerful voice carried a warmth that could soothe anyone, making it feel like a true homecoming.
“Okay.”
The word slipped out of the boy’s mouth before he realized it. He blinked, startled, and then noticed Gu Qingchen’s astonished and somewhat disbelieving expression.
Number Two’s initial reaction was irritation, but he quickly suppressed it. Instead, he rolled his eyes at Gu Qingchen.
Just as Gu Qingchen braced himself for the boy to lash out, Number Two merely gave him a disdainful glance, stuffed his hands coolly into his pockets, and headed toward the elevator as if he really was going to wait in the second-floor dining room.
To be honest, Gu Qingchen was more than a little confused.
As mentioned before, he had plenty of opportunities to interact with the cubs, and in his impression, Number Two was like a walking powder keg, always ready to explode without even needing a spark.
This calm demeanor? It was almost unheard of!
Could it be… that Number Two had managed to control his bloodline and maintain clarity and rationality? If so, that would be amazing news!
While the cubs weren’t allowed to leave Prison Star, they weren’t prisoners.
If they could stabilize their bloodline abilities and no longer exhibit aggression by adulthood, they could take up positions in the base or even join the military.
With enough military merits, applying to leave Prison Star and live elsewhere wasn’t entirely out of the question.
Gu Qingchen’s gaze shifted to Su Ci, eager to share his thoughts. But then he noticed…
“Where is he?”
Looking around, he realized the caretaker was nowhere to be seen.
*
Inside the elevator, Su Ci leaned lazily against the wall, waiting for the doors to close. Just as they were about to seal shut, they reopened.
Two fluffy, rounded ears appeared in his line of sight. Su Ci blinked and lowered his gaze slightly, locking eyes with the red-brown tiger eyes of the small boy.
Number Two froze as well.
When had this new caretaker slipped into the elevator?
He hesitated in place until Su Ci’s smooth, languid voice broke the silence.
“Are you coming in?”
Hearing that voice again brought Number Two’s thoughts back to the Medical Purification Department’s hall. He hadn’t forgotten—it was after hearing this voice that his consciousness had returned.
He glanced at Su Ci. Aside from the man’s overly attractive face and laid-back posture, he couldn’t see anything particularly special about him.
Ordinary, weak, and almost invisible.
Not sensing any threat, Number Two didn’t bother answering. He walked straight into the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor.
However, as the elevator doors closed, Number Two’s brow furrowed. His tiger tail twitched restlessly behind him.
He felt an intense gaze.
Number Two turned to Su Ci, but the caretaker wasn’t looking at him. Su Ci seemed entirely unaware, casually watching the numbers light up above the door.
Yet the sensation of being watched didn’t fade.
What was going on?
Was there something else in the elevator besides the two of them?
Number Two’s nerves tightened. His heightened senses were sharper than ever, a new experience since the usual burning pain in his body had subsided. His mind felt clearer, his instincts keener.
Earlier, with Gu Qingchen, he had managed to control his emotions and not lash out—a feat that had been unimaginable for him in the past.
But now, he had done it.
In truth, Number Two didn’t enjoy fighting weaker opponents. There was no challenge in it, and in his rational state, he felt no interest at all.
This newfound clarity and heightened perception… it felt amazing!
He clenched his fists, hoping this state would last a little longer, while remaining on high alert. The fur on his tail bristled slightly as he scanned his surroundings for any unusual movement.
Meanwhile, A-Yan, nestled beside Su Ci, silently observed Number Two’s reaction.
He didn’t realize that it was his own gaze that had drawn Number Two’s attention. Watching the boy’s bristling tiger tail, A-Yan couldn’t help but think of Number Eight’s wolf ears.
Soft, fluffy, and very comfortable to touch.
A-Yan tilted his head upward, looking at the round ears perched on top of Number Two’s head. His black-red eyes revealed a hint of regret.
He was still too short to reach Number Two’s ears. The boy was quite tall—almost as high as the caretaker’s shoulders.
Then, the regret in A-Yan’s gaze transformed into pure envy.
When would he grow as tall as Number Two? Or even as tall as Number Eight? If he could reach that height, he wouldn’t need the caretaker to lift him onto the hover bus every time.
As A-Yan continued to observe him, Number Two’s nerves grew tighter. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but the feeling of being watched seemed to linger on his back and head.
Was someone studying him, trying to find his weakness?
The boy, who hadn’t even broken a sweat when fending off guards earlier, now felt cold drops of sweat trickling down his forehead.
Glancing at the oblivious and calm caretaker standing nearby, Number Two found himself unsure whether to envy him. Being a dull-sensed, ordinary human certainly had its advantages.
Ding—
Finally, the elevator doors opened. What had been less than a minute felt like an eternity to Number Two.
He stepped out, but just before leaving, his steps faltered.
In his mind, he heard it again—the voice that had pierced through the cage built by his raging bloodline power at his most desperate moment. It had reached him in the depths of his consciousness, bringing him back.
Though it may have been unintentional, it had undeniably helped him…
Clenching his teeth, Number Two turned back to the elevator, looking at Su Ci.
“Do you want to come to the dining room with me?”
Even though he was trying to extend an olive branch, his tone was sharp and abrasive, as though challenging someone to a fight.
Su Ci raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Why go to the dining room?”
“To eat, of course,” the red-haired boy replied impatiently.
Ah, what an irresistible invitation… but Su Ci ultimately declined.
The thought of the cubs’ gelatinous meat dishes was enough to make even his usually insatiable appetite disappear.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Su Ci said, shaking his head.
The quick, straightforward rejection immediately darkened Number Two’s expression.
He hadn’t expected his first attempt at kindness to be met with such indifference.
“Suit yourself!” the boy snapped, throwing out the words before stomping out of the elevator.
As the doors closed, Number Two realized the uncomfortable gaze he’d felt earlier had vanished.
So there had been a third presence in the elevator, besides him and the new caretaker.
But who—or what—could it have been?
A monster from the red mist hiding in the nursery facility? Or… another possibility suddenly occurred to him.
Could it have been the elusive Number One he’d never met?
*
Watching the elevator doors close, Su Ci rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then he glanced down at the child beside him and reached out to ruffle his hair.
Startled by the gesture, A-Yan tilted his small head up and blinked curiously at Su Ci.
“Number Two may have noticed you,” Su Ci said.
Really?
A-Yan replayed Number Two’s earlier bristling tail in his mind. It had seemed a bit unusual.
So was Number Two afraid of him? Because he’d sensed his presence but couldn’t see him?
But how had Number Two detected him? He hadn’t spoken or touched him—he had only… stared.
“Sensitive individuals can sense when they’re being watched,” Su Ci explained patiently, looking at A-Yan. “And in your semi-spiritual state, your presence is stronger now.”
A gaze, when concentrated, could become tangible.
Even Su Ci himself liked to use his eyes for spellcasting. It was a precise and soul-power-efficient method, though it required considerable skill.
For him, though, it was as effortless as breathing.
“You’ll need to keep that in mind,” Su Ci warned, his tone slightly stern.
A-Yan nodded solemnly.
He was still too weak. If others—especially the monsters in the red mist—could detect his presence through his gaze, he might end up in danger.
The thought left A-Yan feeling a little dejected.
When would he be strong enough to protect the caretaker? Although… it didn’t seem like the caretaker needed his protection at all…
*
Su Ci brought A-Yan back to the dormitory.
The little spirit plant in its dirt-filled jar, which had been so lively and full of energy before he left, now looked wilted and listless.
“Hungry… hungry…” came its faint, pitiful cries.
Su Ci, who had planned to eat lunch, sighed and went over to water and fertilize it first.
Sprinkling milky white solid fertilizer granules into the soil, he watered them with spirit water until they dissolved and seeped into the dirt.
But even after the care, the plant still weakly repeated, “Grow… grow… grow…”
It showed none of the enthusiasm it usually had after being watered and fertilized, when it would cheerfully shout slogans about breaking through its skin to grow.
Su Ci frowned slightly as he stared at the jar of soil for a moment. Then, as a test, he took out a bottle of multipurpose nutrient solution and carefully added a single drop to the little spirit plant.
The moment the drop hit the soil and began to seep in…
“Ohhhhhh—Yay!”
The little spirit plant’s energetic voice burst forth again, its lively chants echoing through the room: “Grow! Grow! GROW GROW GROW!”
However, Su Ci narrowed his eyes. For the first time, his typically calm and gentle black eyes reflected a trace of anger.
So, he’d figured out the problem. This finicky little thing—
Was being picky about its food!
This behavior was stepping right into caretaker Su’s no-nonsense zone. His gaze darkened, his aura intensifying, and his expression grew so stormy it seemed to cast a shadow over the room.
The once-exuberant spirit plant must have sensed something. Its chants began to trail off—not in a drawn-out, weak way, but in a manner that could only be described as… sheepish?
Su Ci, who had been contemplating how to discipline the picky eater and correct its bad habits, suddenly paused in thought.
Could this finicky little thing, beyond its usual demands for food and water, now sense its environment?
He frowned, deep in thought.
As he’d noted before, a spirit plant sending out signals to its surroundings was simply an instinctive form of expression—a basic cry for help or complaint. It wasn’t supposed to be capable of actual interaction with the outside world yet.
But if this little thing could now pick up on his emotions and react with guilt, that meant it was showing real progress.
At least it was genuinely growing.
This realization softened Su Ci’s slightly angry expression.
While its pickiness was undeniably irritating, the fact that the multipurpose nutrient solution was effective was a relief.
If the spirit plants could grow faster and begin feeding spiritual energy back into the earth, it would be a significant step toward improving the land’s deteriorating condition.
Besides, today he’d not only received nearly 200 points and two large bottles of nutrient solution from Zhuang Shisong, but he also secured the ability to purchase more from him later, saving considerable points in the future.
Calculating it all, supporting these two spirit seeds through germination and their seedling phase should be entirely feasible.
After doing the mental math, Su Ci felt much better.
As if sensing this emotional shift, the little spirit plant’s voice regained its cheerful energy.
“Yay!”
“Grow, grow, grow! GROW GROW GROW!”
Its happy chants now sounded almost like a song, leaving Su Ci slightly exasperated.
Fine.
Even if it was picky, it wasn’t refusing the solid fertilizer entirely. After all, if he were forced to eat unpleasant food, he wouldn’t be particularly thrilled about it either.
Besides, what was the point of arguing with a spirit plant whose consciousness wasn’t even fully developed yet?
Having convinced himself, Su Ci decided to let it go and ignore the finicky little plant. Just as he turned his attention elsewhere, a strange aroma wafted into his nose.
Gurgle.
The hunger in his stomach reminded him it was time to eat. Following the enticing scent, Su Ci walked to the kitchen.
There, he saw A-Yan standing on a stool by the stove, holding an open can in his small hands, tipping its contents—chunks of meat—onto a plate.
A can?
After A-Yan emptied the meat onto the plate and set the can aside, Su Ci walked over and picked it up to examine it.
Barbecue-flavored chicken can.
Su Ci noted that it was made with barbecue sauce or seasonings—the same kind used in the potato chips he liked. The aroma was rich and appetizing. He hadn’t realized that such seasonings could be added to canned chicken as well.
He asked A-Yan, “Did you take this out of the spatial button?”
The fifty boxes of assorted cans had all been stored in A-Yan’s spatial button.
A-Yan noticed Su Ci approaching. He looked up at the caretaker and, upon hearing the question, obediently took the spatial button from his pocket and held it out to return it.
This was something the caretaker had entrusted him to safeguard, so now it was time to give it back.
However, Su Ci didn’t take it right away. Instead, he asked, “You can use this spatial button now?”
A-Yan nodded. His small hand brushed over the spatial button, and another can of chicken appeared in his hand.
The child’s movements were still clumsy and awkward. Even so, managing to figure it out in such a short time was already an impressive feat.
The action seemed simple, but it involved a fundamental understanding of spiritual perception—or mental strength—and the ability to manipulate it.
Su Ci recalled that even the most gifted human geniuses needed at least a full day to grasp this skill. In interstellar society, this topic was part of a curriculum that took an entire academic year to teach.
Those children had top-notch teachers guiding them every step of the way, feeding them the essentials hand-in-hand, enabling them to master it so quickly.
By contrast, A-Yan had only received a few pointers from Su Ci before being left to practice on his own. Essentially, it was like being left to fend for himself. That made his progress all the more remarkable.
A hint of satisfaction flickered across Su Ci’s face. Then he watched as the child set the can on the counter and once again extended the spatial button to him.
A-Yan’s clear gaze was full of trust and dependence. Despite holding an object brimming with valuable resources, there wasn’t a trace of greed in his expression. It was as if… earning a single approving glance from Su Ci was more important to him than the spatial button itself.
Su Ci gazed at A-Yan, opening his mouth as though to say something. In the end, he remained silent, simply reaching out to take the spatial button from the boy’s palm.
The spatial button was finely crafted, resembling an ordinary button with a slight protrusion in the middle and a small hole for threading.
A-Yan watched the caretaker curiously, observing as he studied the button. Then…
The young man’s slightly messy short hair began to emit a faint golden glow. In A-Yan’s stunned gaze, the strands seemed to float gently in the air.
Bathed in this soft light, Su Ci’s eyes turned a pale gold, and his entire being radiated a divine, otherworldly aura.
Then, one of Su Ci’s strands of glowing hair suddenly broke loose, drifting gently through the air before settling in his palm.
As if in response, the divine golden light faded from his body. His hair and eyes returned to their usual deep black, warm and serene. Yet, the miraculous scene that had just unfolded etched itself firmly into A-Yan’s memory.
It felt so familiar… A-Yan stood frozen, lost in thought.
Meanwhile, Su Ci picked up the strand of hair.
Unlike his other hair, this strand hadn’t returned to its dark color. It remained softly glowing with a faint golden hue, slightly curled, and as fine as thread spun from gold.
Despite its delicate appearance, it was one of the strongest materials in existence. Even Su Ci himself would struggle to break it using brute force alone.
Holding the strand of hair between his fingers, Su Ci silently murmured a spell. The golden strand transformed into a slender braided cord.
He threaded the cord through the tiny hole of the spatial button and leaned forward, tying it securely around A-Yan’s neck.
A-Yan froze, his small body stiff and motionless.
He felt the strand of hair brush lightly against his cheek, and the familiar comforting aura of the caretaker enveloped him, lingering at the tip of his nose.
In that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Lowering his head, A-Yan stared at the spatial button now hanging from his chest, swaying gently. He became acutely aware of the sound of his own heartbeat.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
It wasn’t a strong heartbeat, but it felt as though it was beating for only one person.
Su Ci deftly tied the cord into an elegant, intricate knot. Satisfied, he stepped back slightly, observing how the spatial button rested perfectly on A-Yan’s chest—not too high, not too low.
He nodded with approval. “This is yours to use for now.”
With his hair strand and the spell he had just placed on it, the button was now protected. Unless an exceptionally powerful cultivator came along, no one could damage or remove it—not even A-Yan himself.
At the same time, the protection would partially absorb any harm directed at A-Yan, shielding him from injury.
