For the Red Scorpion Pirates, this scene was nothing short of terrifying. Their starship suddenly went completely out of control, as if some invisible hand had taken over the system. Shouts of panic echoed through the corridors.
Even the deputy commander on the left, the one with the gold-rimmed glasses, was facing the same nightmare.
The ship’s system had gone haywire—spiraling downward while a twenty-second self-destruct countdown flashed across the main console.
Amis froze for half a second, then panicked. She scrambled to override the system, fingers flying across the controls, desperate to take back command. But every line of code he entered came back with the same mocking message—‘error, error, error’.
Seeing the chaos, the deputy commander shoved Amis aside and took over himself. His hands moved so fast they blurred, and at the very last two seconds of the countdown, the self-destruct was finally canceled. The ship stopped its deadly fall just in time, steadying itself once more in the void.
He had barely regained control when the comm unit crackled to life, a cold, commanding voice cutting through the static:
“What’s going on?”
“Our system has been hacked,” the deputy replied, voice tight. “The ship has entered into a crash-and-detonate sequence.”
He glanced around, and it all clicked—the reason behind the fury in their leader’s tone. Several of their ships had already been shot down earlier. Now, after this system breach, there were barely five pirate ships left flying. Three of those had arrived later as reinforcements. Of the ones that had been chasing Ji Chenxi’s crew, only his own ship and another—manned by the tech team—were still intact.
Scorpion’s grin was twisted and cold. All this loss just to kill a barely grown “kitten”? No wonder that man was hell-bent on wiping him out. If that kid ever got the chance to grow, he’d be unstoppable.
“Send more men,” Scorpion said, his tone sharp as a blade. “We have to finish this before their backup gets here. Leave nothing behind.”
The deputy immediately relayed the order. His crew scattered to carry it out. But before he could end the transmission, the voice on the other end spoke again.
“Zuo Xian,” the leader hissed, “our system gets hacked, and you didn’t even notice?”
Cold sweat trickled down Zuo Xian’s back. He knew what was coming next.
“Can’t even handle something this small,” the voice said, icily calm. “Tell me, what use do I have for you?”
Zuo Xian’s glasses slipped down his nose, but he didn’t dare adjust them. He swallowed hard and said, “Rest assured, sir. I’ll clean this up completely.”
“Two hours,” the man replied flatly. “If it’s not done by then, I’ll handle it myself. But when I’m done, there won’t be a deputy named Zuo Xian left in the Red Scorpions.”
The line went dead.
Zuo Xian wiped the sweat from his temple, barking orders to his men as they prepared to descend onto a small, unexplored planet nearby.
*
Meanwhile, with Ji Chenxi’s crew—
When their ship dropped onto the little planet, Ji Chenxi had already suited up in full protective gear. Riding the ship down wasn’t an option—the vessel had taken too many hits earlier, and dropping from that height meant certain explosion. Jumping off and landing independently was the only way to survive. He just had to pick the right spot to land.
Ji Chenxi quickly assessed the ship’s condition. Judging from the damage, there was no way it would hold out much longer. He turned to the others and said, “Get ready to drop.”
Without a second thought, he hit the release and leapt straight out into the clouds.
Shadow’s eyes went wide. “What the hell—?!” They were still way too high up. From this height, even if you didn’t die, you’d probably end up half-broken.
But right after that, the ship’s true owner jumped too, just as fearless. And then Bai Han—the female beta—followed suit, calling back before she jumped, “You two better hurry! The ship’s going to blow in thirty seconds!”
Shadow cursed under his breath. “Shit!”
Ji Chenxi didn’t have time to worry about the rest of them. The moment he’d opened the hatch, the world outside hit him hard—a freezing, biting wind that cut straight through his suit. Still, he didn’t hesitate for even a heartbeat before diving down.
The pull of gravity was brutal. The air whipped past him, cold and sharp, burning against his skin. His whole body was caught between fear and thrill—it was a rush he’d never felt before, so raw and real, completely different from the intensity of pheromone clashes.
The speed made his head spin, a dizzy haze creeping in, but passing out now was not an option.
He forced himself to stay alert. The fall was fast—so fast that, within seconds, he could already make out the landscape below: rolling slopes, dark forests, patches of swamp, glimmering lakes, and distant mountains dusted with snow.
That snowy mountain range looked like the perfect landing spot. Too bad it was way too far. He’d never reach it.
Water, then? Looked tempting, but he quickly ruled it out. Landing in open water was dangerous—you couldn’t see what was underneath, and if he lost control, he might not make it back to shore for hours, if at all.
After weighing his options, Ji Chenxi decided on the forest. He angled his body into the wind, gliding as best he could, guiding his descent. When the trees rushed up to meet him, he bent his knees just before impact and crashed into the top of a massive canopy, snapping branches left and right.
A silver chain whipped from his waist, wrapping around a thick trunk. The weight of his fall snapped it clean a second later, but it slowed him enough that by the time he hit the ground, the damage wasn’t catastrophic.
He rolled instinctively, nimble as a snow leopard, tumbling once before landing on his feet.
First thing he did was check his body—just some sprains and bruises.
“Not bad,” he muttered, shaking his head a little to clear the dizziness.
He released his spiritual beast, letting it scout the surroundings while he took a short breather. Reaching up, he plucked a stray blade of grass tangled in his hair.
No serious injuries, but yeah… the pain was still very real.
Ji Chenxi had always been a bit afraid of pain — even the smallest ache could feel a few times worse to him.
He paused just long enough to catch his breath, then quickly moved out of the area. He’d pulled one last trick on those Red Scorpion bastards, but the hack couldn’t reach every ship. The newer ones had stayed completely untouched, which meant it wouldn’t be long before someone came down here to search for survivors. He needed to find a place to hide — somewhere quiet, somewhere safe.
His snow leopard might be a little timid, but that just meant it was extra cautious. The big, lazy cat led the way, moving through the undergrowth with careful, quiet steps. Ji Chenxi followed close behind — until the leopard suddenly turned back, padded up to him, and crouched low, clearly telling him to get on.
He reached out and patted its massive head, smiling faintly. He knew exactly what it was thinking — his ankle was slightly twisted, and the cat wanted to carry him. “I’m heavy,” he said softly. “You just lead the way.”
But the snow leopard wasn’t having it. It nudged him insistently with its head, practically saying, ‘Either get on, or we’re not going anywhere.’
In the end, Ji Chenxi gave in and climbed onto his two-hundred-plus-jin feline.
The big gray-white cat moved like it had a destination in mind. Every so often, it’d pause, sniff the air, and adjust its direction, weaving smoothly through the forest with powerful, graceful strides.
Ji Chenxi didn’t know where it was leading him — not until a faint scent drifted past his nose. Sharp, clean, with a hint of bitterness… the unmistakable smell of tequila.
“Chi Zhuo?” he murmured, his brows knitting.
That scent shouldn’t be in the air unless—
He frowned. Chi Zhuo wouldn’t release his pheromones so carelessly. Which could only mean one thing: ‘he was injured’. The smell must be leaking from his blood.
Ji Chenxi thought for a moment. When he’d fallen, he’d had the snow leopard’s enhanced agility to soften his landing. But Chi Zhuo… his spirit form was a snake. A giant one, sure—but still, a snake. If he’d dropped from that height, with a body built like that, fragile bones and soft organs… he’d be lucky if he didn’t end up with half his insides shattered.
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
