The sound of dense, tangled vines growing over everything drowned out all other noise. Bi Lanxing braced himself against Lu Yan, kneeling with his back slightly arched. Closing his eyes, he clenched Lu Yan’s hand tightly as his palm pressed down on the detonator’s button.
By detonating first, the thickness of the vines might just withstand the initial blast. Bi Lanxing had already mapped out an escape route in his mind: as long as they could survive this explosion, he could still lead Lu Yan to the deep reservoir behind the preparation room.
Suddenly, a malicious, flippant remark brushed past their ears: “Killing him is as easy as flicking a finger. You two better not go down.”
Through a tiny gap in the vines, Bi Lanxing saw a pair of slender hands, the knuckles cracking as they were flexed. On the ring finger was a sapphire wedding ring shaped like a fish.
Bai Chunian wore a black combat uniform; his gun holster hugged the contours of his thigh muscles tightly. He removed his gloves and loosened the Dead Sea Heartstone collar that was constricting his neck.
The dense vine net was severed by a single stroke of the blade. Lan Bo, holding the water-hardened steel dagger in his mouth, dragged the two of them out from under the machete that Gagantel had raised high.
Bi Lanxing was still barely able to stand and follow, so Lan Bo picked up Lu Yan in a cradle hold, found a safe spot to lie down, and curled his tail to serve as a pillow for Lu Yan.
A strong, oppressive pheromone scent of brandy gradually filled the air, radiating outward from Bai Chunian as the center, At the same time, Lan Bo released a soothing pomegranate rose pheromone, forming a barrier around Bilanxing and Lu Yan. This protected them from having their glands damaged by the oppressive pheromone, as Bai Chunian’s white lion glands exerted a certain degree of species and rank suppression on them when fully released.
Gagantel’s swing missed its mark, and the heavy, blunt blade carved a deep gash into the ground, with cracks spreading six or seven meters.
He, too, sensed the white brandy’s oppressive pheromones and turned his head sluggishly toward Bai Chunian, his lifeless, pitch-black eyes staring at him like an abyss.
Though Gagantel’s cognitive abilities were limited, he could clearly discern who posed the greatest threat to him on the battlefield. He immediately locked onto Bai Chunian as his target, dragging his blunt blade as he advanced toward him, step by steady step. The blade scraped against the ground, its screeching sound making one’s molars ache.
With every step Gagantel took, the oppressive pressure he exuded grew stronger. His pheromone was that of the giant flower; a stench of rotting corpses, accompanied by an intense sense of oppression, spread out in all directions.
Bai Chunian didn’t pay him any mind right away. Instead, he walked over to Lan Bo. Lu Yan rested her head on Lan Bo’s shoulder, her blood-stained hands clutching Lan Bo’s wrist as if grasping a lifeline. The little rabbit’s body was burning with fever; her calf felt as if the bone were broken, and she kept it suspended, afraid to touch the ground, her fragility and vulnerability laid bare before everyone.
Lan Bo made an exception and allowed the filthy little creature to suckle his soothing pheromones a little longer.
Bai Chunian crouched down and began examining his leg bones starting from the ankle. It appeared to be only soft tissue contusions, but as he checked the injuries on his leg, Lu Yan coughed a few more times, coughing up several clotted blood clots.
Bai Chunian frowned, wiping the blood residue from Lu Yan’s cheek with his thumb. He slipped his hand inside Lu Yan’s combat uniform and felt his way upward along the ribs, section by section.
Lu Yan flinched and mumbled that he was cold.
“Ugh.” The more he assessed the extent of the injuries, the more sour Bai Chunian’s expression grew.
Once he’d finished checking Lu Yan’s condition, Bai Chunian pulled Bi Lanxing in front of him, gave his bandaged wrist a light squeeze, then cast a quick glance at the slash wound on his chest. He pressed his fingers lightly against the surrounding bones and asked, his eyelashes lowered, “Does this hurt?”
Bi Lanxing drew a soft breath. “A little.”
“Hmph.” Bai Chunian snorted coldly, patted his abdomen with the back of his hand, and gritted his teeth. “You’re getting too big for your britches, my deputy captain. I’ll deal with you later.”
“Yes.”
Lu Yan struggled to grab Bai Chunian’s pant leg and tugged gently. Soothed by Lan Bo’s calming pheromones, his wounds didn’t hurt as much as they had just moments ago.
Bai Chunian bent down again, hands in his pockets, and smiled faintly. “Come on, call me ‘brother’—I’ll let you vent.”
Lu Yan buried his face in Lan Bo’s chest in a huff and muttered under his breath, “What are you so cocky about…? Have you forgotten when you were being chased and beaten by a J1-level degenerate-stage bee test subject…? An A3-level mature-stage zombie test subject… I’d like to see how you’d handle that.”
“Did I even step in that day?”
Lu Yan stared blankly, recalling the day of the aid mission at the International Prison and the pastry chef’s deterioration. All along, Bai Chunian had remained strictly in a commanding role within the team, rarely needing to use any of his abilities. As fellow members of the Alliance, they actually knew the least about Bai Chunian.
Gagantel’s footsteps finally closed in to a dangerous distance. Veins bulged in his hands as he gathered strength to swing his blunt blade, and his pace shifted from a slow shuffle to a swift charge.
Bai Chunian turned around, hooked his fingertips onto the hidden clasp of the Dead Sea Heartstone collar around his neck, and gave it a gentle tug. The clasp snapped open and fell to his feet.
An unprecedentedly overwhelming aura surged from his body. Only by increasing the release of Bai Cimei’s soothing pheromones was Lan Bo able to protect Bilanxing and Lu Yan from harm.
With Lan Bo using his aura to block the pressure, Bilanxing and Lu Yan were unable to personally sense the magnitude of the pressure generated by the oppressive pheromones emanating from Bai Chunian.
Upon the appearance of this forceful aura, Gagantel’s charge came to an abrupt halt. Gripping the hilt of his bludgeon with both hands, he fixed Bai Chunian with a piercing stare from his two pitch-black eyes.
Bai Chunian, hands in his pockets, walked slowly toward Gagantel.
With every step Bai Chunian took forward, Gagantel took a step back.
By the nature of lion prides, the pride leader is usually leisurely and lazy, neither hunting nor working. But the moment an intruder encroaches on the territory or injures a cub or a lioness, it immediately enrages him. For a lion, such a direct affront is intolerable.
Lan Bo had been closely monitoring Bai Chunian’s emotions. Although Bai Chunian appeared as gentle as ever on the surface, he was actually already in a state of rage.
Young, impetuous alpha beasts—especially lions—are prone to losing control and going on a killing spree; they must be kept firmly in check.
Lan Bo handed Lu Yan to Lanxing. The Dead Sea Heartstone collar that had fallen to the ground melted into flowing black water, gradually forging itself into an intricately patterned chair beneath Lan Bo. Lan Bo rested his hands on the armrests to watch the battle, his fingertips tapping lightly.
The Dead Sea Heart Rock flowed toward Bai Chunian, rising from beneath his feet to form four thick chains. These chains fastened themselves to Bai Chunian’s wrists and ankles, restricting his range of movement to a very small area—he could not move his limbs significantly.
The Dead Sea Core Rock spread across the ground, tracing a circle that enclosed Bai Chunian and Gagantel at its center. The black circle slowly rose, and the impenetrable Dead Sea Core Rock expanded into a hemispherical, pitch-black cage, trapping the two in darkness and completely isolating them from the outside world.
Until the situation inside gradually became invisible, Lu Yan grew anxious: “ “Lan Bo… what do you mean by restraining him… aren’t you afraid Brother Chu will get hurt?”
Lan Bo leaned back in the Dead Sea Core Rock chair hovering above the ground, calmly gazing at the hemispherical barrier as he said indifferently, “If I release the chains, not even ten Gagantels would stand a chance.”
Lu Yan was speechless.
Bi Lanxing opened his mouth slightly and asked softly, “White Lion A3, Special Operations Test Subject No. 9100, codename ‘Divine Messenger,’ maturity level 9—is that correct?”
Lu Yan asked with a heavy heart, “Why can’t I let go?”
The sounds of combat, their scent, and the blood on their bodies had attracted far too many zombies trapped inside the factory. As night fell, growling, stiffened infected creatures poured in from every nook and cranny of the dark factory.
Lan Bo’s tail tip lifted slightly before slamming heavily onto the ground. A high-voltage current erupted from the ground in a spiderweb pattern. In an instant, the zombies surrounding all conductive objects were instantly incinerated into ash, and a foul stench mixed with the smell of burning flesh filled the air.
“Letting go means saying goodbye forever, and I can’t bear that. Like a candle, once it burns out, it’s over—there’s no going back.” Lan Bo lowered her gaze, tears glistening in her sapphire eyes. “Our lifespans are too different. While he’s still alive, I’ll protect him with all my might.”
“I—I want that too.” Lu Yan rested his hand on Bi Lanxing’s shoulder, barely able to stand, yet his mouth still spouted bold declarations that didn’t match his haggard appearance.
Lan Bo raised an eyebrow slightly, making Lu Yan feel so uncomfortable that he lowered his head and muttered, “What are you looking at? Can’t I just say what I want?”
“Huh.” Lan Bo chuckled.
The two froze for a moment. Lan Bo rarely smiled; most of the time, he wore a cold, stern expression. Unless Bai Chunian was by his side, he showed no warmth to anyone.
Lan Bo opened his palm, and a blue-glowing jellyfish floated in the air. It swam through the air, drifting to Lu Yan’s ankle. Its tiny tentacles wrapped around Lu Yan’s foot, causing a stinging sensation like a weak electric current, before the jellyfish merged into him.
Lu Yan immediately felt his injured leg ease considerably; he no longer had to stand on tiptoes, afraid to touch the ground.
“Otherwise, he’ll come out and check on you first.” Lan Bo casually pinched Lu Yan’s fluffy, drooping ears. “Little bunny.”
Lu Yan felt embarrassed. He lowered his head, unable to meet Lan Bo’s gaze or look at Bi Lanxing. He hadn’t fully processed that forced kiss just moments ago, but now that the memory slowly came back to him, he suddenly didn’t know where to put his hands.
Bi Lanxing reached out to steady him, but Lu Yan quickly pulled his hands back, hiding them behind his back, his rabbit ears covering his face.
Lan Bo propped his chin in one hand, watching the two kids bicker, and asked, “Do you need a marriage certificate? I’ll go snag a couple for you.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Lu Yan blurted out, “ “We’re not old enough yet! They won’t issue us a certificate.”
Bi Lanxing’s expression suddenly became quite interesting. So the clumsy rabbit had actually thought this through on his own?
“That’s not a problem.” Lan Bo’s water-steel dagger in his palm transformed into a pistol, spinning on his index finger. “With this, they’ll issue anything.”
Lu Yan was speechless. He couldn’t hide or run away; he just wanted to find a crack in the ground to crawl into.
Bi Lanxing stood behind Lu Yan, gently resting his chin on Lu Yan’s head. He used his hands to cover Lu Yan’s eyes with his two rabbit ears, letting out a soft chuckle that Lu Yan couldn’t hear.
No sound could be heard within the space shrouded by the Dead Sea Heartstone. The pitch-black, hemispherical surface rippled faintly, as if viscous waves were engulfing a drowning man.
As time ticked by, zombies with a faint mental connection to Gagantler surged forward in wave after wave, but every time they drew near, Lan Bo simply raised her fishtail to subdue them with high-voltage electricity.
As with any glandular system, each evolutionary stage represented a quantum leap in power. This was the first time Lu Yan and Bi Lanxing had observed an A3-class test subject in combat at such close range; it could only be said that the title “special operations weapon” was well-deserved.
The stillness of the Dead Sea persisted for ten minutes.
“He should be done venting by now.” Lan Bo rose to his feet; the Dead Sea Heartstone chair beneath him transformed into a stream of pitch-black water, flowing across the ground in his wake.
The inky waves on the surface of the hemispherical barrier settled, parting to reveal a narrow, pitch-black slit. After Lan Bo entered, a trickle of blood plasma carrying a putrid stench seeped out from within the slit.
Lu Yan couldn’t help but peer inside, but was pulled back by Bi Lanxing’s vines; he raised his hand to shield his eyes.
Only after Lan Bo entered this dark, enclosed space did the faint blue glow emanating from his body illuminate the cramped area, making him resemble a floating blue lamp.
Bai Chunnian’s position hadn’t changed; he still stood where he had been, his hands and feet shackled by the Dead Sea Heart Rock chains. However, his combat suit was soaked through with sweat and blood, his eyes filled with sapphire blue, the whites of his eyes gone. The white lion’s ears and fangs remained extended, and a snow-white lion’s tail was held high, swishing defiantly.
Scattered at his feet were fragments of cracked, zombie-green flesh and broken bones.
“Xiao Bai,” Lan Bo called out to him. Bai Chunian’s body stiffened momentarily, and his tail slowly drooped, retracting into his body until it vanished.
Only then did Lan Bo approach him, pulling him into his arms and gently stroking him.
Bai Chunian obediently followed Lan Bo as he crouched down, sitting on the ground with his head nestled against the crook of Lan Bo’s neck. Under Lan Bo’s touch, the lion’s ears hidden within his hair vanished, his pupils shrank to their normal size, and he came to his senses.
“I know you’re still upset about Pearl. It’s good to let it out.” ” Lan Bo wrapped his arms around him, kissing the side of his neck to soothe him. “You’re such a good boy. You’ll have everything you want in the future.”
Bai Chunian’s tense body finally relaxed. He wrapped his arms around Lan Bo’s waist, buried his face in his chest, and took a deep breath.
“Don’t do this. It feels like I always come across as so immature in front of you.” Bai Chunian sniffed quietly. “But I’m hurt. Why can you be so cold? Do you even have a heart? Or do you just not have one at all?”
“A heart that’s been around for two hundred and seventy years is bound to be hardened. Yours is still tender, so it hurts easily.”
“Because Pearl came from you, I care about her so much. “I feel like I’m so close to the home I want, yet no matter how I reach out, I can’t grasp it.” Bai Chunian sat on the ground, his hands and feet still shackled, staring wearily at the floor. “I burned down the cultivation base and killed the researchers who performed your surgery, but now new ones keep popping up. I can’t kill them all—no matter what I do, they never end. How can there be so many of them…? I’m going to wipe them all out.”
It was the first time Lan Bo had seen him look so disappointed and helpless; it made her want to lay every good thing she had right before him, just to spare him this pain.
“You’re always fixated on what you can’t have,” Lan Bo said, resting her hand gently on Bai Chunian’s nape. “A few years ago, at the training base, you wanted to leave, so I sent you out. You resented me, yet you missed me. Later, you said that if you loved someone, you should stay with them—you wouldn’t come back with me, so I’d stay with you. Now I’m right here, and yet you’ve started looking toward the next thing. What you want is all very important, but desire and greed are human vices—you’re already tainted by them without even realizing it. I’ve been watching over you; I thought this was what you meant by ‘family.’”
Bai Chunian stared at him blankly.
“You must cherish it,” Lan Bo said, lowering his eyelashes; the soft glow of his scales illuminated his gentle profile. “Just as I cherish you.”
Bai Chunian unconsciously glanced downward to the left. Lan Bo’s words had registered in his mind, and he was silently weighing them in his thoughts.
Suddenly, Lan Bo leaned in, tilting his head to Bai Chunian’s neck, and kissed his skin—not biting down, but simply sucking until a red mark appeared.
That gentle kiss, however, sent a jolt through Bai Chunian. He wanted to throw himself into Lan Bo’s arms, but the chains suddenly tightened, restraining his hands, and two red marks were left on his wrists.
Lan Bo saw a fleeting glimpse of sadness in Bai Chunian’s eyes. From childhood onward, Little Bai had always been treated roughly by all sorts of people, yet he still whispered sweet nothings of affection in Lan Bo’s ear. And Lan Bo had actually believed those words of “love”—that he loved being disciplined, loved being restricted. Perhaps it could only be interpreted as a hollow fear of abandonment.
Indeed, while other Envoys received familiars that enhanced them, he alone received one that bound and restricted him—born in a cage, never to know freedom until death.
Lan Bo snapped his fingers lightly. The chains snapped and fell from Bai Chunian’s body, retracting to his neck and transforming back into a collar.
Lan Bo straightened up. Under his control, the scattered remains and shattered bones of the Gagantel were brutally absorbed by the Dead Sea Heartstone, as if they had never existed. He had long been accustomed to cleaning up the mess left by the young Alpha when he occasionally turned ruthless; he even felt it was his duty—much like washing his lover’s soiled underwear—a deeply satisfying act that fed his desire for conquest.
Bai Chunian sat on the ground, shifting his position to cross his legs. He rested his wrists loosely on his knees, his two fangs peeking out from his slightly parted, thin lips, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at Lan Bo.
Lan Bo raised his hand to shield Bai Chunian’s eyes, which had finally brightened, bent down, and whispered, “Are you going to use that look to act like an elder in front of them later? Tone it down—save it for me.”