“Don’t follow me!”
In the wide corridor, the clack of military boots echoed sharply. Lu Xunzhi frowned, his voice low and harsh as he scolded the girl who wouldn’t leave his side.
The girl looked up at him and shook her head firmly.
She had finally sensed the aura of her little one, and she hadn’t yet confirmed whether the human in front of her was indeed her child. How could she leave?
Lu Xunzhi felt a headache coming on. To rescue this little species, he had just broken open her cage, and after she leapt out, she had jogged right behind him. He assumed she was looking for her own kind, yet she had stayed behind him, following step by step.
He did not want a burden, especially one who was a species. Even though she was one of the rescue targets, that did not stop him from despising her kind.
“Stay where you are if you don’t want to die!” Lu Xunzhi snapped.
Normally, when he wore that cold expression, no one dared to breathe heavily in his presence, yet this little being tilted her head, emerald green eyes wide, and asked in a soft, sweet voice, “Are you going to hit me?”
Then she scrunched her nose. “You can’t hit me.”
Lu Xunzhi found it ridiculous. He couldn’t hit her?
There was no denying that the little being was stunning. Standing quietly, she looked like a porcelain doll, her skin snow-white and translucent, as if a pinch might draw out water.
But Lu Xunzhi would not be fooled by her beauty like some foolish men. He snorted, yet unexpectedly found himself staring into her eyes.
Suddenly, he realized her eyes were strikingly similar to his own. Except for the emotions they held, it was almost like looking in a mirror.
Unexpectedly, her furrowed brows annoyed him.
That thought soured his mood further.
All species had innate abilities, varied and strange—some brought luck, others enhanced combat, and some were deceptive.
Lu Xunzhi suspected the little one was using deceptive power on him. He sneered, “Why can’t I hit you? Last warning: stay put if you don’t want to die!”
The girl kept watching him. Her reflection in her eyes showed his own figure, tinged with sadness and a gentle, almost motherly patience.
Realizing this, Lu Xunzhi’s expression darkened. He was about to abandon her when she suddenly said, “How can my little one hit mommy?”
The corridor fell into an eerie silence. Lu Xunzhi narrowed his eyes, dangerous, and the two daggers at his waist vibrated as if ready to draw and slice Pu Xin’s delicate throat.
Some words were untouchable, sacred to him.
His spiritual energy surged violently, making the daggers tremble harder. Pu Xin sensed his dark mood and lifted her hands to grasp the hilts of both daggers.
Lu Xunzhi froze.
The brutal spiritual energy was suddenly enveloped by a soft, soothing aura, as if he were back in his mother’s embrace, warmth and acceptance easing every emotion.
If there had been doubt before, the shared aura made Pu Xin certain: Lu Xunzhi was indeed the little one who had secretly grown up, though she didn’t understand why he had become human.
Lu Xunzhi stiffly lowered his head. Pu Xin pressed her lips into a smile, holding his sleeve with her thumb and forefinger. She whispered softly, “Little one, I am mommy.”
Her eyes seemed to glow. They flickered with a light that begged him to call her mommy.
Lu Xunzhi felt absurdity wash over him.
This little species had to be insane.
As he was about to brush her off, an extremely dangerous aura suddenly approached from the side. Without thinking, he grabbed Pu Xin’s waist, pulling her into his arms and retreating quickly.
Silver metal walls cracked under jade-green vines as several men in Federal Security Bureau uniforms slammed into the corridor, debris flying, their violent auras pressing forward.
Pu Xin clutched Lu Xunzhi’s collar.
The mission leader, Fang Jing, crashed beside him, struggling to stand. His voice was formal, he said, “Why are you so slow?”
“You’re so useless,” Lu Xunzhi shot back.
Fang Jing, not wanting to waste time, calmly removed his glasses and wiped them, saying, “The idiots at the underground auction tried to destroy the species, but the purple mandrake struck back. We ran right into it.”
Species were divided into two types: gentle, with strong affinity but low attack, and violent, extremely aggressive.
“How is there a violent species here?” Lu Xunzhi asked, placing Pu Xin behind him. He noticed Fang Jing glance at the little one.
“Probably a genetic mutation. Be careful, it’s an S-class purple mandrake. The basement species have mostly become its food,” Fang Jing said, adjusting his glasses as his team stood and charged at the massive green vines.
Abilities surged. Chaos erupted again.
Lu Xunzhi pressed the little one back, asking, “Found a weakness?”
She stubbornly clutched his sleeve, trying to look. He held her down, her small hands pressing as if a child prevented from seeing something exciting.
Fang Jing shook his head. “The purple mandrake has only existed theoretically. This is our first encounter.”
The battle ahead was reaching a critical stage. The basement was massive, giving the purple mandrake plenty of room to move.
Before the twenty-meter-tall plant, humans seemed insignificant. Even with their abilities, the Bureau could not match the plant’s regenerative speed.
Its sap was toxic; contact could corrode flesh instantly, rivaling corpse-dissolving fluid.
Fortunately, it had not flowered. Otherwise, the pollen, even through protective gear, would slowly corrode anything within fifty meters.
Lu Xunzhi quickly assessed and commanded, “Cancel the original plan. Let the hunting team take position immediately.”
Killing it outright wasted potential research value.
Fang Jing frowned but did not oppose. He communicated a change in mission orders.
Lu Xunzhi pushed the little one toward the wall, warning sternly, “Don’t run off.”
He drew his two daggers and advanced at the purple mandrake. Debris could not hinder him. A heavy stomp lifted wind, and Bureau members flanked him.
Leaping, his daggers trailed silver light like falling stars.
The striking beauty of the daggers brought devastation. Vines sliced, briefly stiffened, then snapped from the root, crashing heavily.
The damaged mandrake swung the remaining vines to strike. Fang Jing fired, golden bullets cutting through, releasing silver arcs of electricity.
Silver and purple intertwined like fireworks in the sky.
The mandrake shivered, its leaves raised, the bud quivered, yet it was not burned—stimulated, its petals began to open.
Fang Jing’s pupils contracted. “Stop it! It’s trying to ripen the bud!”
Lu Xunzhi caught a returning dagger. Vines swelled, sprouting green thorns, dragging pits and trenches along the floor.
Leaves shielded the bud, making further attacks nearly impossible.
The hunting team had not arrived, and the purple mandrake was spiraling out of control. Fang Jing racked his brain, looking for a way to breach the vines and leaves. Then a flash of pale green caught his eye.
The girl walked barefoot over the rubble-strewn floor, her pale feet stark against the uneven ground. Silver chains clinked melodically like wind chimes.
She suddenly stopped.
Fang Jing was stunned, secretly wanting to kneel and put shoes on her.
Lu Xunzhi, entangled with the mandrake, saw her and roared, “Are you crazy? I told you not to run!”
Pu Xin looked up, seemingly unaffected by the crushing vines beside her.
She was too far to hear him but felt his concern, smiling, and touched the nearby vine.
Bureau members froze. The purple mandrake’s surface was mildly corrosive, able to peel skin, yet Pu Xin gently stroked it, her voice soft and sweet: “It’s not dangerous. Don’t be afraid.”
At that moment, everyone thought the little species was insane.
Then something incredible happened.
The violent purple mandrake, touched by Pu Xin, behaved like a furious tiger subdued by its mother. Vines curled down, leaves softened and drooped.
Electric arcs around the bud disappeared. The petals, previously unopened, now had a small tear, looking pitiful.
Lu Xunzhi watched in shock. Pu Xin laughed softly, stroking the terrifying thorns as if petting a kitten. Even small branches extended to her hand.
She giggled at the tickle. The mandrake shrank gradually to the size of a palm, dropping with a soft thud.
Fang Jing immediately used a containment box to cover it.
Pu Xin looked curiously at him, then had her hands shackled again with a silver chain, more ornate than the first.
For her, it remained harmless.
She tugged at it with curiosity. Lu Xunzhi exploded, “Fang Jing! What are you doing? Titanium chains are for violent species! Using them on normal species can cause irreversible damage!”
Fang Jing pushed up his glasses. “She is not a normal species. I need to study her abilities.”
Calming a violent species had never been done before. Mastering her power could allow the Bureau to handle violent species without suppression, saving manpower and resources.
Lu Xunzhi remained silent, knowing all this, but—
Fang Jing left no room for hesitation. Politely, he said to Pu Xin, “Sorry. Until we understand your abilities, you must wear the titanium chain. It won’t harm you if you don’t use your power. We need your help; please cooperate.”
Pu Xin paid no mind to the chain. She absent-mindedly nodded, emerald eyes fixed on Lu Xunzhi, who frowned and looked away.
She thought naturally: The little one seems shy.