Chi Zhuo didn’t flinch. He simply asked, “Still going to fight?”
Ji Chenxi said nothing. He pulled back the dagger that had been aimed at Chi Zhuo’s neck, its cold, deadly gleam now harmless.
His action alone had already made his stance clear. Like a coiled snake that had almost strangled him, Chi Zhuo released his hold and casually fixed the broken hand.
Breaking a hand and setting it back in place was a painfully slow process, but the person in front of him didn’t even flinch.
“Your Highness’s foot doesn’t look injured at all.”
Ji Chenxi replied with a faint smile, “And your eyes don’t look blind either.”
Chi Zhuo sneered.
Ji Chenxi didn’t respond with a sneer this time. Instead, he rubbed his neck. Fighting was fun, sure—but the pain was real. And long hair got in the way during close combat.
After sharpening his senses to scan the surroundings, Ji Chenxi was certain that the noises were made by humans. Whoever it was probably had already detected the pheromones Chi Zhuo was leaving behind.
This guy was like a walking, talking GPS.
Chi Zhuo’s expression shifted slightly. Their spiritual forms were engaged in battle too, but now, the fierce snow leopard in front of them was… licking the black mamba. That made things difficult for Chi Zhuo, who relied on his connection with the black mamba to sense the area.
The intimate sensation of the snow leopard’s tongue made him immediately sever his link with the mamba, but the tingling, almost numbing experience hit him before he cut it off. His face flushed a strange shade of red, and even his fingers trembled slightly.
Ji Chenxi was busy observing the distance and hadn’t noticed Chi Zhuo’s odd reaction. He nodded at the snow leopard, knowing the human couldn’t see it, and added casually, “Detox the snow leopard for me.”
He sounded confident, but inside, he was still worried Chi Zhuo wouldn’t comply. Earlier, the snow leopard had been bitten while hugging the man, and repairing the spiritual beast’s damage took a lot of energy.
No response came. Ji Chenxi glanced at Chi Zhuo and noticed his strange expression. He quietly stepped back and asked, “What’s wrong? Feeling unwell?”
Chi Zhuo didn’t answer him. He simply detoxed the snow leopard with precise efficiency.
“You’re so weird sometimes,” Ji Chenxi complained.
Technically, he was the last person who should say that. Chi Zhuo shot back, “And you’re not?”
Ji Chenxi wasn’t exactly acting without reason. He was unpredictable—warm and tender when he needed you, calling you ‘brother’ at every turn, but once you crossed his boundaries, he struck first without hesitation.
*
This little planet was huge, and only a few people had come here. They explored in pairs, tracking the group’s movements.
One pair—a man with a bushy beard and another with a hooked nose—happened to be scouting nearby. At first, they hadn’t expected to run into anyone. But then, a faint whiff of pheromones in the air gave them pause.
The two exchanged a glance. They didn’t dare move forward recklessly. Once they were safely in their mechs, they cautiously headed in that direction, sharing the group’s location with the others at the same time.
The commotion they made was hard to miss. They were confident they could fire a photon cannon before being discovered. Yet the reality was that near a massive tree thick with pheromones, there were broken branches and signs someone had moved through—but no person in sight.
Had they run?
The hooked-nose man was extremely sensitive to smells. Speaking through comms to the bearded man, he said, “Cheng, they probably didn’t get far. The scent’s still strong.”
As he spoke, he moved toward where he felt the scent was thickest. Sure enough, a patch of grass rustled—not like it had been stirred by wind.
Found them.
He didn’t fire the photon cannon carelessly, not wanting to alert whoever was hiding in the grass. But the cautious hooked-nose man completely ignored the fact that the man on the other end of the comms hadn’t responded for a while.
As an A-level alpha, he felt a cold gust on his back and instinctively tried to pull back to fight—but there was no one behind him.
Confused, he realized too late: his mech’s arm had been ripped off from behind with brute force.
“Here you are!” A young man’s cheerful voice rang from the rear of the mech.
He’d been exposed.
Before the hooked-nose man could send a distress call over the public channel, a black mamba, thin as a strand of hair, suddenly struck, sinking its fangs into his hand.
That one exclamation mark was all the distress message ever became. His arm stiff and throbbing with pain, the hooked-nose man barely managed to send that single symbol before the mech’s door inexplicably swung open.
From a distance, a tall alpha in black stared blankly, while another, more familiar and strikingly handsome youth climbed effortlessly onto the mech.
His gaze lingered for just a second on the man struggling under the neurotoxin, then Ji Chenxi shifted his attention to the mech’s holo-screen.
That single exclamation mark had already caught the attention of the Red Scorpion Star Pirate gang. People were asking what had happened.
Ji Chenxi didn’t type a reply himself. Instead, he moved the man’s hand across the holo-screen and efficiently sent a message:
[Nothing. Accidentally sent it. Just smelled some pheromones, didn’t see anyone, probably ran off.]
On the public channel, some people cursed the man for scaring them, while others warned caution.
Sliding the mech’s controls with the man’s hand, Ji Chenxi planned to get down from the mech. Then he noticed a private message from someone labeled with a pet name:
[Really just an accident?]
[Ignore those idiots’ filthy words.]
Ji Chenxi paused, then mimicked the man’s tone and sent a reply:
[Just had bad luck—got bitten by a snake, that’s why I sent it wrong. Don’t know if it’s poisonous. Bring me some antidote, okay?]
After sending it, Ji Chenxi didn’t look for a reply. He searched the mech, found a healing spray, and then climbed down.
“We need to go. They’ll probably notice something’s wrong soon and come with a big group.”
“Your Highness… you want to come with me?”
Good question. Right now, the fact that the two of them hadn’t started fighting again was already a small miracle. Going together would feel completely unsafe—like a sword hanging over your head.
Ji Chenxi barely hesitated. “Of course not.”
The lame beauty mounted his snow leopard and disappeared into the depths of the forest, while Chi Zhuo stayed behind for a moment, frowning slightly. He probably hadn’t expected someone who had once wanted to cooperate with him to now refuse so easily.
After pausing, he finally moved off in a direction completely different from Ji Chenxi’s, guided by the black mamba snake.
Parting ways—may each survive as best they can.
No two people can have that many coincidences without intention.
Ji Chenxi leaned forward on the snow leopard, one arm hooked around its neck to avoid falling while it ran, the other hand occasionally patting its head.
The terrain looked a bit like a primeval jungle, but unlike a normal jungle, it was eerily quiet. Too much quiet made the heart race, and along the way, there were no signs of any life forms inhabiting the planet.
After putting enough distance between himself and the danger, the snow leopard slowed.
Ji Chenxi straightened, releasing some spiritual energy to sense the surroundings, looking for a place with water that could also offer cover.
Once he found a spot, the snow leopard started moving again, taking him exactly where he had sensed.
He used his light-brain to check the water source. Once he confirmed it was safe, he found a corner to sit down, lightly shaking the spray in his hand before misting it over his twisted ankle and the few bruises from earlier.
The snow leopard had swept the area clean with its massive tail, but even so, sitting there made Ji Chenxi sigh—everything still felt dirty.
When life and death are on the line, that doesn’t matter. But in downtime, he couldn’t sit still.
He finally took off his gloves and washed his hands properly, taking the chance to rinse the snow leopard’s tail too.
His spiritual beast’s blue eyes widened slightly, staring at him, probably wondering why he suddenly grabbed its tail and dunked it in water.
“Maybe I should wash the whole of you, huh, Bao Bao? What do you think?”
The snow leopard: “…”
Just moments ago, it had been clinging to Ji Chenxi. Now it leapt lightly to the side, nimbly avoiding his hand.
*
Finding someone on a huge planet wasn’t easy, even for Zuo Xian himself.
Luckily, someone in their scouting team soon picked up the scent of pheromones. The hint of tequila—there was no mistaking it—belonged to the person from the Chi family. So the news about his unstable pheromones recently was true.
Especially when that single exclamation mark popped up, Zuo Xian’s eyes darkened slightly. He not only notified the people already on the planet but also reported to their team leader, requesting reinforcements.
Beside him, Amis quickly said, “Deputy Leader, he said in the team channel that it was sent by mistake.”
“Sent by mistake?”
“Yeah… he also said he only smelled the pheromones, didn’t actually see anyone.”
Zuo Xian thought briefly, but he still issued the order to continue the pursuit.
“Deputy Leader, what if there’s really no one there?” Amis showed Zuo Xian his chat log with the hooked-nose man.
Even Zuo Xian hesitated for a moment, but he quickly gave the command again: “Go. Keep sending him messages. Let’s see if he replies.”
Once they reached the coordinates, Zuo Xian didn’t care whether the two were alive or not. He used the pheromone detector to trace Chi Zhuo’s movements.
“Deputy Leader, isn’t our main target the Third Prince? Why are we making such a fuss over someone named Chi Zhuo?”
Zuo Xian seemed somewhat satisfied with his subordinate and elaborated: “The client is paying to have the Third Prince killed. Chi Zhuo is the one our team leader wants dead.”
Even mentioning Chi Zhuo made Zuo Xian wary. The mess with his unstable pheromones had some involvement from the Red Scorpion—they’d sold some banned drugs to that side. Though they were only peripheral in the whole affair, he had already heard rumors that everyone involved in that plan had paid a heavy price. Who knew when it would be Red Scorpion’s turn?
Two hours of a death march order left Zuo Xian no time to waste. Following the pheromone trail, he pressed on.
The scent of blood spread fast. Once Ji Chenxi caught the faint trace in the air, he grabbed the filtered water he’d prepared, waved at the snow leopard beside him, and prepared to leave.
Back on the starship, Ji Chenxi had already sent a distress signal. No matter the delay, someone would reach him before morning.
To conserve some energy, Ji Chenxi planned to ride the snow leopard.
But just as he started moving, the snow leopard sensed something and slipped sideways into a dense bush. Dust-covered branches jutted right in front of Ji Chenxi, making his brow twitch.
After a few rounds of jungle exploration like this, he was pretty sure his little germophobia could be cured for good!
By the small forest stream, the dark-haired, cold-faced man quietly reached the water’s edge, washed his wounds, and only withdrew his hand once the blood had stopped flowing.
Ji Chenxi held his breath, shrinking his presence as much as possible, waiting for the man to leave.
Unfortunately, while he had hidden himself, he hadn’t tucked away his snow leopard in time.
The snow leopard leapt down from the tree, shook its massive head, and curiously stared at the black mamba. The snake, too weak to resist, hooked its tail around the snow leopard’s paw, looking rather pitiful. And the big cat got even closer, stretching out a paw to bat at the snake.
Chi Zhuo’s expression barely changed at the sight of the snow leopard. He used the snake’s sensing ability to locate the cat, then approached it and gently patted its head with his uninjured hand.
“Where’s your master?”
Hidden in the bushes, a certain master waved at his snow leopard.
“Bao Bao, come here.”
Chi Zhuo followed the voice and looked, slightly surprised, at the silver-haired beauty.
There was no spark in those eyes—but Ji Chenxi managed to read a few other meanings into them.
Bao Bao—sounds just like “baby.”
Who names a powerful alpha’s spiritual beast something like that?
Hiss… why does it feel a little embarrassing?
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)
