Chapter 77
In the depths of his consciousness, within the crimson flames that engulfed his prison, the young Crimson Flame Tiger lay sprawled on the ground, his body wracked with burning agony. Weak and trembling, he forced his eyes open.
Number Two had never felt this exhausted.
He was utterly spent, his will stretched to its limits. He didn’t know how long he had been struggling against the flames. The endless torment made him want to give up.
He knew this time was different from his past berserk states. He was already teetering on the edge of a precipice. If he fell any further, he would lose himself completely.
But…did he regret it?
In the haze of his suffering, Number Two remembered the moments before he succumbed to his bloodline’s rage. Despite the pain, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
No, he didn’t regret it.
He had saved Number Seven, and even that reckless wolf pup.
For the first time, he had used his strength to fight against an enemy far more powerful than himself. For the first time, he had protected someone else. This was the kind of battle he had always dreamed of.
The thought of returning to his previous life—of existing in a fog of uncontrollable violence—was unbearable.
But this…this one act of defiance, this single use of his bloodline’s power, felt worth it.
He was at his limit, though. He could feel it. His body in the physical world had likely fully transformed, becoming the Crimson Flame Tiger in its entirety.
Would he be able to escape?
Maybe.
In the brief moments when he still retained some control, he remembered the invincibility of his tiger form. The Crimson Flame Tiger feared neither storm nor snow. It was the nemesis of creatures like the giant spider. If it had managed to get past the gates of the base, then the chance of escaping was still within reach.
Number Two was certain that his beast form, with its overwhelming power, could survive even in the perilous blood mist. Not even the monstrous spider would stand a chance against it.
This thought, faint as it was, gave him some measure of comfort amidst the torment.
The only regret he held was not being able to truly witness his transformed self—a mighty Crimson Flame Tiger, fierce and unstoppable, cutting down his enemies with majestic strength.
Even though he often despised the flames that tormented him, deep down, he couldn’t help but yearn for the strength they represented.
The searing blaze roared louder, consuming him. His consciousness began to blur and drift, his mind drowning in the fiery torment.
But just as he was about to succumb entirely to the haze, he heard it—a voice.
Calm and steady, the voice cut through the flames, speaking words he couldn’t understand.
Yet, as he listened, a strange thing happened. The fiery torment that had shredded his fragile consciousness began to recede, and his mind grew a little clearer.
Disbelief surged within him at first. But then, the boy’s indomitable will seized this faint glimmer of hope.
He clung to the sound, his heart burning with stubborn defiance.
Yes, it hurt. Yes, he was tired of the relentless fire.
But he wanted to live.
He had to live!
He wanted to see the world outside.
He wanted to fight, to do something meaningful.
He didn’t want to die—not like this, crushed by the very bloodline power that should have been his strength.
He refused to accept it.
In the midst of the blazing inferno, the young Crimson Flame Tiger once again planted his four limbs firmly on the ground. With a fierce roar of defiance, he faced the endless sea of crimson fire beyond his cage.
As he stood, unyielding in his determination, the flames that had been consuming him began to falter and retreat.
Step by step, the young tiger inched forward, dragging his cage away from the edge of the abyss. Step by step, his form began to shift and change until the flames enveloped not a beast but the figure of a boy once more.
He reached out, his hands gripping the bars of the cage tightly, his human consciousness clawing its way back to dominance.
And yet—
Thud.
The boy collapsed onto one knee.
Before him, the seemingly infinite sea of fire stretched endlessly into the horizon.
Despair filled his gaze.
He couldn’t escape. He no longer had the strength to press forward. Worse still, he couldn’t even discern the correct path to freedom.
Was it truly impossible? Why…?
Why, after trying so hard, had he still ended up facing failure?
What had he done wrong to deserve this unrelenting torment?
The boy, who had always struggled forward on his own, suddenly found himself longing—desperately—for guidance.
Would someone—anyone—reach out to him? Would anyone help him, pull him from this hell?
Faces from his memories flickered in his mind.
But they all disintegrated into ashes, devoured by the relentless flames.
He had no parents, no mentors, no companions.
No one could help him.
He had only himself to rely on—always himself.
At just over ten years old, the boy was fierce and unyielding, yet so achingly alone.
Lost and unable to find his way, he could only tread this burning path, his spirit growing dimmer with every step.
Slowly, he sank to the ground, feeling the last ember of his will extinguishing.
“Embrace this power, sense it, and control it.”
The voice reached him again, faint yet steady.
Embrace it…was it speaking of the Crimson Flame’s power? Sense it, control it… Could he truly do that?
Cornered and with no other options, the boy resolved to gamble everything on this last chance.
Perhaps it would bring even more suffering.
Or perhaps…it would be his rebirth.
Closing his eyes, he stopped resisting the Crimson Flame’s searing embrace.
The pain surged back, sharper and more agonizing than ever. He screamed, his cries raw and piercing.
The blood that trickled from the corners of his eyes evaporated almost instantly in the heat.
It felt as though his very soul was being consumed by the blaze.
But then—
Another force appeared, unfamiliar yet potent.
It was pure and powerful, imbued with vitality and a healing energy that worked to mend the damage inflicted by the flames.
The process remained excruciating, but the boy’s cries gradually subsided.
His breathing steadied as the foreign energy sustained him, bolstering his faltering spirit.
Through the agony, a fragile yet undeniable sense of control began to bloom.
With a flick of his finger, the blanket that had fallen to the floor gently floated up and settled over the boy’s fur-covered body.
The thick, soft fur covering the boy was a stark reminder of how far he still had to go to fully suppress the power of his bloodline.
However, Su Ci wasn’t in a rush. These things took time, and progress—however incremental—was still progress.
Standing back up, Su Ci stretched lazily and turned to the thoughtful little boy beside him.
“What are you thinking about?” Su Ci asked, the faint smile lingering on his lips.
“I…” A-Yan hesitated, tapping his fingers against his chin as his silver-white ears twitched.
He glanced back at the boy on the bed, then looked up at Su Ci. Finally, he pulled out his notebook and quickly wrote:
“I wonder if I can change my ears to look like his.”
Su Ci raised a brow, amused.
A-Yan, eager to explain, quickly scribbled a few more words:
“You seem to like touching them a lot. If I can grow round ears like his, would you like that more?”
Su Ci chuckled softly and crouched to meet A-Yan’s eye level. Reaching out, he gently pinched one of A-Yan’s pointy ears.
“Your ears are fine just the way they are,” he said. “They suit you.”
A-Yan blinked, his red-black eyes wide, and then he broke into a smile, his ears perking up happily.
“Don’t worry about what others have or what you think I like,” Su Ci added, his tone calm and reassuring. “You don’t need to change yourself for anyone, not even me.”
A-Yan nodded earnestly, the notebook clutched to his chest.
Satisfied, Su Ci straightened up and glanced once more at the sleeping boy on the bed.
“Let’s leave him to rest,” Su Ci said.
A-Yan followed him out of the room, his thoughts still spinning.
Once they left, silence descended over the room.
The boy on the bed stirred faintly, his ears twitching at some phantom sound. Though still deep in slumber, his body unconsciously curled further under the blanket, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.
The soft warmth enveloping him felt oddly comforting, a sensation he couldn’t remember experiencing before.
The quilt disappeared and reappeared, now carefully draped over the boy.
After completing this, Su Ci sent another command to 4586, instructing it to deliver a new set of juvenile clothes to Room Two. Then, taking A-Yan along, he swiftly left the room without a trace.
Now that the base’s AI was covering for him, Su Ci no longer needed to restrain himself from using his abilities in private, which was certainly much more convenient.
He and A-Yan arrived at the nursery hall, leisurely strolled out together, and walked away.
At first, A-Yan wondered why they didn’t simply teleport to the land behind the nursery. But upon stepping outside and spotting members of the operations team inspecting the perimeter walls, he understood the reason.
“Caretaker Su.”
Yan Ping, who had been examining the nursery’s surroundings, noticed Su Ci’s figure, paused briefly, and walked over.
Su Ci nodded, sensing the change in how Yan Ping addressed him but not minding it.
Even if Captain Yan Ping had deduced something, what did it matter? With the base AI as his backer, Su Ci temporarily had no reason to worry about his identity being exposed.
“Nothing unusual happened at the nursery last night, right?” Yan Ping asked, his gaze fixed on Su Ci with a probing look.
Su Ci knew Yan Ping’s suspicions were likely related to Luo Shengfei’s suspension and investigation, which were quickly rescinded. Additionally, Yan Ping must have discovered that most of the surveillance footage from the nursery last night was inaccessible.
But what did any of that have to do with Su Ci?
Su Ci calmly replied, “I went to bed early last night, so I don’t have much of an impression. Did something happen?”
Yan Ping smirked faintly. The absence of problems was precisely what made the situation odd.
Luo Shengfei leaving his dorm to rush to the nursery during a dangerous time like the arrival of the Blood-Red Frost was suspicious in itself. What’s more, Yan Ping had received a notice this morning from the base AI about investigating Luo Shengfei. Although the notice was later revoked, Yan Ping had never encountered such a scenario before.
After talking with Luo Shengfei, Yan Ping led a team to the nursery to investigate. While they did find something, it wasn’t quite what Yan Ping had imagined…
He pointed to the land behind the nursery building and asked, “Was that area your doing?”
Su Ci admitted frankly, “Yes, with Xiao Luo’s help.”
Yan Ping frowned. “It doesn’t meet safety regulations. Exposing the soil like that significantly increases the concentration of pollutants…”
“Oh? So you’ve detected a rise in pollutant levels?”
Yan Ping paused.
That was precisely what made it strange.
Despite the significant patch of land behind the nursery being opened up, covering at least a hundred square meters…
Based on past experience, the pollutants in the soil of this prison planet would typically volatilize quickly, raising the concentration of airborne pollutants to a measurable level in a short time.
However, despite being here for quite a while, the monitoring equipment hadn’t sounded any alarms. At first, they thought the monitors were malfunctioning, but after calling in technicians to repair them, they found that wasn’t the case.
Although a few monitors were damaged by the Blood-Red Frost, there were still some functioning normally.
Moreover, Yan Ping himself could feel that the pollutant concentration in the nursery hadn’t increased. On the contrary, being in this courtyard gave him a rare sense of ease and comfort—an unusual experience on this prison planet. The last time he felt this way was yesterday, during his visit to the plantation…
Additionally, Yan Ping had consulted the base AI and learned that Su Ci’s actions were in compliance with the regulations. Although he didn’t have the clearance to know who approved the operation, he couldn’t find grounds to criticize it.
Yan Ping looked at Su Ci and ultimately sighed, saying, “I hope you can truly bring some change to the nursery.”
Su Ci shrugged slightly, pretending not to understand what Yan Ping was implying.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll get back to work.” With that, he headed toward the land behind the nursery building.
Yan Ping didn’t leave but followed him.
In a low voice, Yan Ping said, “Last night, the nursery’s surveillance footage recorded murmurs similar to those during the Blood Rain incident, as well as eerie laughter…
“We can preliminarily confirm that it’s a type of creature we’ve never encountered before. The malfunctioning surveillance footage must have been due to interference from this creature…”
“Captain Yan Ping, what are you trying to say?” Su Ci stopped and turned to him.
“I’ve already asked the nanny robots. Other than the absence of Juvenile Number Four last night, none of the other children in the nursery were harmed. However…”
“What about Number One?” Yan Ping asked, his concern evident. “That child is invisible to others. If he were in danger…”
Walking beside Su Ci, A-Yan couldn’t help but glance up at Yan Ping, and Su Ci smiled faintly.
“No worries, he’s right here with me,” Su Ci said.
Yan Ping froze for a moment, then instinctively looked down. This time, he accurately located A-Yan’s position—because they had walked onto the soft earth, where a shallow footprint marked the spot where A-Yan stood.
“That’s good,” Yan Ping said with relief.
“And one more thing,” Su Ci added. “His name is A-Yan now, not Number One.”
Yan Ping froze again, recalling the fleeting encounter he’d had with the child. As he looked at the peculiar caretaker before him, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion.
“Did you name him?” Yan Ping asked.
“Yes,” Su Ci nodded.
“That’s a good name,” Yan Ping said, his stern expression finally softening. “You’ve put thought into this.”
Noticing the persistent seriousness in Yan Ping’s expression, Su Ci decided to reassure him, given how much he seemed to care for A-Yan. In a gentle tone, he said, “Captain Yan Ping, you don’t need to worry about that creature anymore.”
Hearing this, Yan Ping’s brow twitched.
“What do you mean?” he pressed further.
However, the slender young man before him, so dazzling it seemed all light was drawn to him, simply curved his lips into a faint smile. Without offering any further explanation, he turned and strolled away with an unhurried gait.
His attitude was clear—don’t ask, because even if you did, he wouldn’t answer.
Yet, Yan Ping’s ability told him that this caretaker… he wasn’t lying.
So, something really had happened at the nursery last night, hadn’t it?
But it had already been handled?
Yan Ping stared at the youth’s retreating figure. In the end, he retracted the step he had intended to take forward. A part of him felt relieved that he hadn’t clashed with Su Ci earlier.
Although he still didn’t know who this youth truly was or why he had disguised himself as a caretaker to come to this prison planet, there was one thing he was certain about.
At the very least, they weren’t enemies.
This wasn’t just intuition; it was also because of the changes the youth had brought to the nursery in just a few short days.
When “interrogating” Luo Shengfei, the boy had shared all his thoughts with Yan Ping, including his shifting perspective on the young creatures at the nursery.
Yan Ping had been surprised. As soon as he arrived at the nursery, he went to the activity room to see for himself. The scene of the young ones interacting with each other deeply moved him.
As the captain of the operations team, he had spent years cleaning up messes at the nursery and was quite familiar with the young ones there.
Even after handing the responsibility over to Xun Xiaoyu of the second team, he frequently kept tabs on the nursery’s situation.
Unlike many others, he didn’t fear these children or resent them. He mostly felt a mix of pity and frustration. But now… it seemed like there was hope for their improvement.
This was genuinely a source of great relief!
And the one who had brought about such significant changes was this seemingly frail yet enigmatic caretaker.
How could someone like that be an enemy?
Yan Ping stood there for a while before finally turning to leave. He then gathered all the team members still searching for clues around the nursery and instructed them to patrol elsewhere.
“Captain, I…” Guan Zhishu seemed to have made a discovery. She was standing near the corpse of a giant spider and, if she moved closer…
But Yan Ping waved her off.
“Let’s go,” he said, switching his communicator to privacy mode and speaking to her in a low voice. “Withdraw all surveillance and investigations into the nursery. As for the anomalies we’ve uncovered… destroy them.”
“In the future, apart from routine patrols, there’s no need to assign more personnel to monitor the nursery.”
Guan Zhishu was visibly puzzled. “Captain, why? According to our investigation, this Caretaker Su does seem to have some issues…”
“Even if he really does have some issues, it’s not our place to intervene,” Yan Ping said sternly.
His expression was serious. “The land he opened behind the nursery was approved by the base AI. However… there’s one more thing you might not know.”
He lowered his voice cryptically. “Before we arrived, he went to the research institute and successfully brought back Number Four from Dr. Ren.”
Guan Zhishu gasped, a realization dawning on her.
This Caretaker Su… it seemed he really did have a significant background! Otherwise, how could someone still in their probationary period dare to confront a senior researcher and actually succeed in reclaiming someone?
She quickly composed herself and nodded. “You’re right, Captain. The matters at the nursery are no longer something we can interfere with.”
The operations team’s duty was to safeguard the base. As long as this probationary caretaker posed no threat to the base, what did his background or peculiarities have to do with them?
“Good. Come with me to the plantation,” Yan Ping said.
After leaving the nursery, Yan Ping stepped onto a hovercraft and called Guan Zhishu to join him as they headed toward the plantation.
Based on what happened last night, the peculiar, ever-stinking garlic sprout in the plantation, which seemed to grow more pungent by the day, might just be the key to defending against monsters during the next bout of extreme weather.
*
Behind the Nursery Building
A-Yan was busy digging holes with a small shovel.
Su Ci glanced at the departing figures of Yan Ping and Guan Zhishu before turning back to the boy crouching beside him. “So, how does it feel to be cared for?” he asked.
A-Yan paused mid-action, thought for a moment, then shook his head.
He didn’t know how to describe his feelings. There was some joy, of course, but not overwhelmingly so. However… his impression of Captain Yan Ping had definitely improved.
Su Ci had only asked out of curiosity. Watching the boy, he couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle his furry ears.
A-Yan grinned, then lowered his head again, focusing on digging and planting seeds with renewed vigor.
He planted the seeds from the spirit water canister without hesitation, following his instincts.
Yet, as soon as the seeds were buried, they emitted waves of joyous emotions. They almost seemed to encircle the two tiny spiritual buds already in the soil.
The lazy little sprout remained oblivious to its new companions, but the delicate one seemed more motivated, its energy radiating with greater intensity. A-Yan could distinctly feel a pure energy emanating from the tiny sprout’s leaves.
Whenever this energy spread, the Star Chain Fruit vines nearby would noticeably become more vigorous.
As for the seeds A-Yan had just planted, they seemed to be adapting to their new environment and showed no special signs—yet.
A-Yan diligently continued his work. After planting the seeds, he began watering and fertilizing them with care.
Su Ci watched for a while before stretching lazily and standing up. He strolled leisurely to the front yard, where he casually waved his hand to lift the illusion spell he had cast over the giant spider’s corpse.
As he gazed at the spider’s remains, sliced into pieces by wind blades and scattered across the ground, Su Ci fell into thought.
Barbecued spider… might that be worth a try?
