AMTPA Chapter 19

The bitter cold wasn’t bothering just Ji Chenxi and Chi Zhuo. Before night fell, a young man in the long line of people absentmindedly rubbed the lip piercing at the corner of his mouth. “Captain, maybe we should wait until dawn to find them,” he suggested.

 

His suggestion was quickly shot down.

 

“Deputy Ge, we don’t have much time.”

 

When Scorpion said this, he emphasized the words “Deputy Ge” with sharp precision, a clear reminder of who was in charge.

 

He’d never worked alongside this guy before. All he’d seen were the flashy results the young man delivered. But now, seeing him up close, it was obvious—this person didn’t even seem to acknowledge the captain’s authority. Some might admire that kind of wild independence, but for Scorpion, who held absolute control over the Red Scorpion Star Bandits, it was a bad sign.

 

Even after being contradicted, the young man’s lips curved upward, the smile wide, almost unnervingly so.

 

“I get what you mean, Captain, but the snake’s pheromones have weakened a lot with this cold air. Finding them isn’t going to be easy.”

 

“Even the most precise instruments can’t find someone whose pheromones are out of control?”

 

“And it’s so cold now. Even if we use the instruments, the guys won’t last long out here.”

 

“Then wear protective suits,” Scorpion said, his tone brooking no argument.

 

The young man shrugged helplessly. “Fine, as you wish.”

 

No one else voiced any opinion, though soon enough, complaints bubbled up. It was unbearably cold. The wind didn’t feel like wind anymore—it cut like icy knives. Many had frozen hands and feet, gasping for air, and their pace naturally slowed.

 

Normally, Scorpion might have walked alongside them, but he couldn’t stand this cold either.

 

The half-century-old captain had already climbed into his mech early on, taking the co-pilot seat and letting the others scout ahead. Sitting next to him wasn’t Deputy Ge, but another subordinate who was more handy with the controls.

 

The young man stayed outside, though he didn’t look upset. He tightened his protective suit and addressed the one holding the pheromone detector. “Can you keep going? If not, hand me the detector.”

 

“Deputy Ge,” the man said gratefully, quickly passing over the device.

 

The young man, exuding an intense, almost dangerous aura, glanced at the erratically spinning pointer and finally understood why the group was moving so slowly. It wasn’t just the cold—the freezing air almost blocked the scent entirely. Even the most advanced detector couldn’t pin down Chi Zhuo’s location.

 

Seeing the group moving at a snail’s pace, Scorpion inside the mech snapped in a cold voice, “What are you all doing?”

 

As the absolute ruler of the Red Scorpion Star Bandits, his words carried weight. The frozen, reluctant bandits ahead immediately quickened their pace.

 

The young man stared at the erratically spinning detector and said to the person beside him, “Let’s go.”

 

The companion quickly realized that this wasn’t the aimless wandering from before. This time, the young man was moving with purpose.

 

The observer whispered, “Deputy Ge, did you sense the pheromones?”

 

“No! I’m taking you to a place suitable to rest.”

 

The man’s eyes widened in shock.

 

“Relax. On nights this freezing, even the mamba and the little kitten will find a place to rest. If we wandered around blindly, we might freeze to death before even finding them. It’s better to wait until dawn, when Chi Zhuo’s pheromones can be tracked properly, before making a move.”

 

*

 

The night in the icy land was unbearably cold. Even with the fire going, Ji Chenxi could feel the chill gnawing at him.

 

The snow leopard, bundled up almost like a giant plush toy in Chi Zhuo’s arms, twitched, trying to climb out and warm Ji Chenxi, who was clearly more sensitive to the cold.

 

Ji Chenxi, noticing the movement, reached toward Chi Zhuo’s head to check that it was still warm and alive. Satisfied, he pulled back his hand and signaled the snow leopard to stay put.

 

A soft “mew” slipped from the snow leopard’s mouth, so gentle it stole the last bit of majesty and dominance from the beast king.

 

“I’m actually okay,” Ji Chenxi said.

 

Of course, that wasn’t the answer the snow leopard wanted. It tightened its hold on Ji Chenxi’s hand.

 

Ji Chenxi stayed silent for a moment, then shifted Chi Zhuo’s head off his shoulder, added a few more logs to the fire, and stacked the remaining dry branches next to himself.

 

As gravity pulled downward, Chi Zhuo’s head leaned slantwise against the icy cave wall.

 

Ji Chenxi wrapped his arms around Chi Zhuo’s waist from behind, letting most of Chi Zhuo’s head rest on him, turning the nearly frozen man into a human heater. Ji Chenxi hugged him tightly—after all, the wall was ice, and he himself was cold—so that Chi Zhuo could stay warm in his final moments, radiating a bit of leftover heat.

 

Once he had him held, Ji Chenxi rested his own head on Chi Zhuo’s shoulder. He glanced at the snow leopard, still staring at him, and, with a little shared understanding, said, “Okay, I have a hug now too. He’s warm.”

 

The large gray-white snow leopard wagged its fluffy tail, clearly satisfied with the outcome.

 

Ji Chenxi then pulled his head back from the sick man’s shoulder. Holding someone even larger than himself wasn’t particularly comfortable, and he could clearly see Chi Zhuo’s glands.

 

Chi Zhuo hated wearing the restraint ring, and had never worn one since they met. From Ji Chenxi’s angle, he could watch the swollen red gland, constantly releasing pheromones so thick it made him feel like he was soaking in wine.

 

At first, Ji Chenxi just looked, but he couldn’t resist reaching out to gently poke the warm, delicate spot.

 

It was hot, soft, and fragile.

 

Ji Chenxi had never touched anyone’s glands before. After the first poke, he couldn’t resist trying again, and the scent of tequila grew even stronger.

 

If an omega or a beta had done this, it would probably have counted as teasing.

 

The novelty of the act made his heart skip a beat. He noticed that the skin at the back of Chi Zhuo’s neck seemed a little redder. That small change made Ji Chenxi extend his icy index finger to gently explore the spot. But before his hand could reach the gland, the person he was hugging—like a giant human heater—shifted slightly.

 

Ji Chenxi leaned closer to check and saw Chi Zhuo’s brows furrowed, his expression clearly uncomfortable.

 

For once, Ji Chenxi felt a pang of guilt and withdrew, no longer daring to move carelessly.

 

He had stopped, but the one he was holding stirred slightly, tilting his head.

 

The angle was awkward—just at Ji Chenxi’s neck. The warmth of Chi Zhuo’s breath against his skin felt strangely intense, the heat even leaving his neck a little damp.

 

Glancing down and confirming Chi Zhuo hadn’t truly woken, Ji Chenxi gently adjusted him, then closed his eyes again to rest. Every time the fire burned down, he added a few more dry branches.

 

Time passed like this for quite a while. Ji Chenxi guessed it must be around four or five in the morning. Judging by the daytime temperature and the sun, it should be light in about an hour. Darkness was about to fade.

 

Ji Chenxi relaxed slightly. It looked like the protagonist wasn’t destined to die—there was still hope.

 

He reached out and touched Chi Zhuo’s forehead. The high fever had dropped significantly; after a whole night of burning, the fever had gone down on its own.

 

Pleased, Ji Chenxi nodded. “When you wake up, don’t forget to thank me properly.”

 

The snow leopard seemed proud, swishing its tail gently as if claiming some credit.

 

It was a rare experience. Ji Chenxi hadn’t expected to save someone he had once wanted dead.

 

His lighthearted mood didn’t last long. He quickly sensed someone approaching.

 

Using his spiritual powers, he picked up signals from afar. It wasn’t just a few people—it was nearly a hundred.

 

Ji Chenxi quickly retracted the spiritual energy he had projected, his gaze sharpening, a strange look in his eyes.

 

In that instant, he felt as if someone had noticed his spiritual presence.

 

Elsewhere, about two kilometers from Ji Chenxi and Chi Zhuo’s hiding spot, a young man in the large approaching group, his face pale, let out a dangerous smile. “Found them.”

 

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