Not long after the two of them left, a large group arrived at the scene. They faced the ground littered with bodies, and a young man with a smirk shook his head.
“Zuo Xian really wasted all these years climbing up to this spot… and now, the whole army’s wiped out.”
The young man looked sharp—handsome, wearing a leather jacket covered with studs, two sharp-looking lip piercings glinting at the corners of his mouth, and a black tattoo wrapped around his neck. He gave off a rebellious vibe, yet when he spoke so disrespectfully about the Deputy Leader of Red Scorpion, no one dared to argue.
A middle-aged man with an air of authority sighed, a little helpless.
“He’s your senior, after all.”
Whether he truly was a senior didn’t really matter, but Zuo Xian had been someone he’d worked with for years, and there was still a hint of old camaraderie between them.
The young man chuckled at the gentle reprimand. “Most of them died at the hands of Mamba. Only Amis got a clean strike right to the neck artery—looks like the little kitten’s teaming up with Mamba.”
After a quick assessment of the scene, he continued, “The blood’s still warm. They couldn’t have gotten far. We can just follow the trail of pheromones. That drug they used… it was strong. Originally, we split into two teams: one to deal with Mamba, one with the little kitten. Didn’t expect the two of them to end up together.”
“The two of them joining forces makes things complicated. Our time’s running short.”
“Not necessarily, Captain,” the young man said with a grin. “The little kitten’s intel is definitely off. With our original forces, we might not have been able to catch him. But now that he’s with Mamba… maybe we won’t even need to lift a finger. He’ll probably die in Mamba’s hands. That snake’s deadly.”
He laughed to himself, the sound echoing off the dead bodies.
Scorpion gave a low hum, exuding authority without a hint of anger. Still, he felt a flicker of unease. This new recruit on their star pirate ship had a streak of madness that was hard to contain—like holding a double-edged sword.
But the young man seemed oblivious, analyzing the scene on his own. “Tsk tsk… Mamba really went all out, huh?”
Instead of immediately joining the team to track Chi Zhuo and Ji Chenxi, he started moving based on where the bodies lay. There were no Black Mamba bites, meaning most of them had died from their necks being snapped. Some, of course, were killed by their own weapons.
He moved and thought at the same time, starting off slightly awkward but quickly picking up pace. To the others, his steps seemed almost uncanny, strange in rhythm.
Stopping after a turn, his face showed genuine astonishment. “Unbelievable… in such a short time, it almost seems like he wasn’t even affected by the pheromone confusion. We used so many banned drugs back then… could it be they haven’t even kicked in yet?”
When he reached the spot where Zuo Xian had fallen, the young man casually twisted his own neck, as if mimicking something—and the direction of that motion lined up not with Amis’s body, but with Zuo Xian, who had been lying beside him.
Ignoring Zuo Xian completely, he stepped forward, following the faint traces of crushed grass until he came to stand beside Amis’s corpse.
After pausing for a moment, the young man summed up. “Looks like the pheromone chaos still worked… though Mamba and the little kitten teamed up. Not bad, actually, for a pair working together.”
He casually patted his hands. “Let’s move. It’s getting dark.”
The young man walked a long stretch before suddenly remembering something. He called back to the middle-aged man behind him: “Captain, if you please.”
Scorpion’s heart sank further, though his face remained calm and friendly. “Just by looking at the positions where they died, you could trace Chi Zhuo’s movements. Vice-Captain Ge, you’re quite the talent.”
“That’s only because the Captain has an eye for talent. Picking me out from a bunch of drifters… Captain, you’ve always been my patron. Without you, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Every moment of these past two years, I’ve been grateful for you.”
The young man smiled so widely that his eyebrows nearly disappeared.
*
Meanwhile, under the setting sun, Chi Zhuo and Ji Chenxi were quickly searching for a relatively hidden place to spend the night.
With Chi Zhuo’s pheromones drifting like they were, even finding a safe spot wouldn’t keep them hidden for long. But they did notice one thing: as the sun dipped, the surrounding air suddenly grew much colder.
It wasn’t just normal evening chill. The temperature plunged from a comfortable twenty-something degrees straight down into the teens—and still seemed to be falling.
Dangerous night conditions were fast approaching.
By the time the last sliver of the sun disappeared, the outdoor temperature had dropped to just a few degrees. A simple jacket was no longer enough to keep out the cold.
Even a light breeze made Ji Chenxi shrink his neck. He quietly tucked his head behind Chi Zhuo and his long hair for warmth.
Noticing the small movement, Chi Zhuo coldly reminded him, “Watch the path.”
“I am,” Ji Chenxi replied quickly. “Keep going, nine o’clock direction. My spiritual scan picked up a spot that looks good for shelter—about five, maybe six kilometers ahead.”
The sudden chill was unbearable for Ji Chenxi. He didn’t have a snow leopard’s thick, warm fur. The protective suit offered some defense against harsh environments, but the earlier descent had already worn it down. As someone who got cold or hot easily, Ji Chenxi buried his face into Chi Zhuo’s shoulder again, planning to alert him only when they reached an obstacle.
“Your spiritual form is a snow leopard,” Chi Zhuo reminded him.
Even with a beast king from a freezing land as a spiritual body, this guy was still colder than him.
“The snow leopard gets cold too,” Ji Chenxi said. “Besides, I don’t have its fur or thick fat to block the cold. So I’m cold.”
Chi Zhuo stopped and gently set Ji Chenxi down from his back.
Ji Chenxi’s eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t even complained about the other’s pheromones leaking out, yet somehow that person was already struggling with him first.
Before Ji Chenxi could react further, Chi Zhuo had already taken off his protective jacket and draped it over Ji Chenxi’s head. Only his eyes were visible now, and they widened even more. His long, slender eyes—normally sparkling when he smiled—almost looked like cat eyes from the surprise.
The familiar scent of tequila hit him instantly, wrapping Ji Chenxi in it completely.
It was the smell of another alpha, too strong and intoxicating. Ji Chenxi nearly felt his head spinning from the alcohol scent alone.
“Alright, shouldn’t be as cold now.”
Chi Zhuo, having fully endured the biting wind, seemed completely unaffected by the cold. He crouched down again, signaling for Ji Chenxi to climb up.
Ji Chenxi tightened the protective jacket around him. “Hey, why are you suddenly so considerate? I’m flattered, you know.”
“I just suddenly remembered that Your Highness is a delicate little rose.”
Ji Chenxi laughed. “You know, if I get mad, I could just run off with your jacket all by myself.”
“Don’t believe it.”
The smile on Ji Chenxi’s lips widened. He knew Chi Zhuo believed it—he was just daring to gamble.
Those who accomplish great things are often gamblers.
“Well then, thank you for your kindness, Brother Chi Zhuo,” came a voice as sweet as honey.
“Mm, come on, climb up. If we find a place out of the wind, it’ll feel much better.”
Ji Chenxi stopped trying to read Chi Zhuo’s thoughts and didn’t refuse the obviously warmer jacket.
Once the oversized jacket was over his head, all he had to do was close the hem, and most of the cold was kept at bay.
His eyes swept over Chi Zhuo with a mix of amusement and something more complex. Without thinking too much, Ji Chenxi climbed onto his back again, leaving only his eyes visible to guide the way.
The cold wind cut across them like a sharp blade, stabbing the skin with every gust. Bone-chilling and merciless, nature made humans feel small and helpless.
Chi Zhuo’s body, in that extreme cold, turned icy. At that moment, he seemed more like a cold-blooded creature than even his own snake. Ji Chenxi silently spread himself out as much as he could to shield them both and calmly gave directions, his voice steady despite the cutting wind.
He now felt like he was being carried around on the back of a giant block of ice.
After some time, the two of them finally reached the spot Ji Chenxi had spotted. It truly was a perfect place to shelter from the cold.
It was a cave—not particularly large, but enough for the two of them to hide inside and block the biting wind.
Ji Chenxi looked around the cave, then directed Chi Zhuo to another spot. Once there, he had Chi Zhuo move a huge stone while he gathered a bunch of dry branches, letting the snow leopard guide him back.
Back in the cave, Ji Chenxi measured the cave’s entrance and cut the stone to fit. By now, he could feel Chi Zhuo’s heartbeat racing faster than usual, and his muscles trembled slightly.
Waiting any longer could cause some frostbite.
Once the stone was cut carefully but not rushed, Ji Chenxi quickly sealed the entrance. After a moment of thought, he left a small gap to let some air flow.
With most of the cold blocked out, the remaining chill became far more bearable.
Ji Chenxi draped the protective jacket he had been wearing over Chi Zhuo again.
The jacket, warmed by his body, settled over Chi Zhuo, who let out a quiet “Mm?”—a sound of slight confusion.
“Your pheromones are too strong. I can’t get comfortable.”
Ji Chenxi had now arranged the dry branches into a thick pile suitable for a fire, but when he tried to light it, it wouldn’t catch. He gathered some smaller, easy-to-burn twigs, and this time the fire took easily.
He placed the lit sticks onto the larger pile and held out his cold hands to warm them. The snow leopard, sensing its master’s chill, pressed closely against Ji Chenxi and tried to wrap its long tail around his hand—but Ji Chenxi pushed it away.
“Careful, you’ll burn your fur.”
The warm jacket carried little of the rose scent, but a faint, lingering fragrance remained. Chi Zhuo, already able to make out a soft glow and human figure in the dim light, said, “Third Prince.”
“Hm?” Ji Chenxi replied casually, generously letting Chi Zhuo share a portion of the snow leopard’s warmth.
Feeling the furry warmth close, Chi Zhuo continued the sentence he hadn’t finished earlier. “I just realized… you’re actually pretty gentle.”
“Huh?”
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