A Guide to Raising Snake Spirits - Chapter 37

The Guide watched helplessly as the shape of an anaconda’s head gradually emerged from the Sentinel’s naked waist and abdomen. It pushed out from beneath the skin, creating a distinct bulge as the brownish-green tip of the anaconda’s snout began to take form.

Mizuki (Nozomi): “…”

Baishi Qing hadn’t been wearing clothes this whole time, but Mizuki hadn’t paid much attention to that because of the snake tail.

Now that the Sentinel was about to separate from the anaconda, wouldn’t his lower half be…

Mizuki suddenly realized the situation and turned pale with shock.

He grabbed the piece of cloth from the counter and rushed to wrap it around Baishi Qing’s waist.

As his fingertips brushed the soft fabric, Mizuki remembered what he and the Sentinel had just done under this very cloth. His face flushed red, but he pretended nothing was wrong.

Mizuki pulled the cloth around the Sentinel’s waist, covering any potential “scenery” that might be exposed.

Starting from the head of the anaconda, the separation happened bit by bit. The mental spirit thrashed and struggled as Baishi Qing emerged like a merman shedding a serpent’s tail for human legs.

When the separation was complete, the long-absent anaconda slithered out from under the Sentinel’s “apron,” affectionately nuzzling the Guide’s calf and bumping its head against Mizuki’s hand.

Baishi Qing, wearing the makeshift “skirt” the Guide had hastily wrapped around him, stood with his lean upper body bare. The skin on his abdomen where he had been fused with the anaconda was as smooth as ever. He stood barefoot on the polished floor of the research institute, seemingly unfazed by the situation.

Mizuki, practicing “see no evil,” turned away to rummage through a corner cabinet. “Doesn’t this observation room have a single scrap of clothing? Let me find something for you…”

In reality, Mizuki had already felt the Sentinel’s firm muscles and had even performed a preliminary marking, but for some reason, he still felt inexplicably awkward.

When the person standing there naked is perfectly composed, it’s the bystander who ends up feeling embarrassed.

While the Guide was turning the room upside down, the anaconda remained inseparable from his feet, forming a solid wall of snake coils that blocked his path.

“I found a set of…”

Just as Mizuki pulled out a set of clothes to hand to Baishi Qing, he was tripped by the anaconda. He stumbled as he turned, and his face came into direct, intimate contact with Baishi Qing’s bare, firm chest.

Baishi Qing placed a hand on Mizuki’s waist to steady him and didn’t let go even after the Guide had regained his footing. Heat radiated through the thin layer of clothing to the Guide’s waist.

***

Mizuki strongly suspected this was a coordinated crime between the Sentinel’s spirit and the man himself.

The Guide straightened up and slapped the clothes into the Sentinel’s arms.

“It probably belongs to some researcher who left it here. See if you can fit into it.”

While Baishi Qing was getting dressed, Mizuki secretly pulled out his mini terminal to message Bian Mengmeng.

He had the map of the institute Bian Mengmeng had sent him saved on the terminal, but the problem was that Mizuki didn’t know which building they were currently in, and Baishi Qing likely knew even less.

Liu Cang had provided technical support, and the mini terminal had been modified by him. He had even set up a group chat.

Mizuki decided to throw the question to them.

[Mizuki: I found Baishi Qing, but there’s a problem.]

[Bian Mengmeng: You finally showed up! My god, it’s been days.]

[Mizuki: I don’t know which building number this is.]

[Liu Cang: Time for me to step in, hehe. Your location is Building 12.]

[Bian Mengmeng: Ah! I’m right here.]

[Mizuki: Baishi Qing has been injected with a bomb. Mengmeng, can you handle it?]

Before Bian Mengmeng could reply, Liu Cang typed out three question marks.

[Bian Mengmeng: …Let me think, maybe. But I’ll need equipment. Meet me on the fourth floor.]

“What do we do next?”

The dressed Sentinel approached again.

With Baishi Qing himself on his left and the clingy mental spirit on his right, Mizuki was completely sandwiched.

The Guide glanced down.

The original owner of the clothes was much smaller than Baishi Qing. The pant legs were a bit short, revealing the Sentinel’s sturdy ankles, and the shirt was left with the top two buttons undone.

“Come here.”

Mizuki beckoned and fastened the top button for Baishi Qing, then used their connection to adjust Baishi Qing’s tactile sensitivity.

Because of their hypersensitive touch, Sentinels usually wore specially made clothes to reduce the mental burden. Since they didn’t have that option now, the Guide took over the management of Baishi Qing’s senses.

The connection also had advantages during combat. Sharing senses was like having an extra pair of eyes and ears, allowing the Guide to lead the Sentinel to perform ten times better than usual.

“Let’s get out of here first.” Mizuki quickly made several hand signals, a set of secret code used in the Tower to avoid enemy eavesdropping.

The message the Guide conveyed was: [Go to the fourth floor, Mengmeng is there.]

“And then there’s this guy.”

Mizuki pointed to the sensor next to the door.

“This should be a pressure door. If we destroy the circuit, it will open automatically.”

After Mizuki finished speaking, he made another subtle signal between the two of them.

It was a warning to stay alert.

Baishi Qing nodded.

Even if he hadn’t learned the code, he could sense the Guide’s intentions through the mental link.

The degree of perception after bonding is related to compatibility. With the level of compatibility between Baishi Qing and Mizuki, after a permanent bond, they would likely be able to converse directly in their minds.

Mizuki stood by the door, pressed against the wall, within reach for Baishi Qing to support him. The Guide had already summoned his Black Mamba, which remained in a semi-transparent state, lurking in the shadows of the corner.

Baishi Qing clenched his fist and struck. Under the Sentinel’s heavy punch, the fragile sensor was as weak as paper, emitting a sizzling sound of electrical current as the door opened.

The Guide held his breath and looked into the hallway.

But there was no dozen-man squad or hail of bullets as Mizuki had expected. The hallway was empty, and Instructor Zhang was no longer there.

However, just as Mizuki was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the Sentinel’s ears twitched like a cat’s. He lunged forward, shielding Mizuki’s head as they dodged a volley of fire from a robotic camera.

The tranquilizer darts hit the equipment in the lab, causing a series of explosive shattering sounds as debris fell to the floor.

Through the gaps in Baishi Qing’s embrace, Mizuki saw two rows of gun barrels emerging from the previously smooth hallway walls, their dark muzzles pointed directly at the observation room door.

Without hesitation, the Sentinel hoisted Mizuki onto his shoulder with one hand and leaped gracefully, clearing the second wave of fire.

Baishi Qing moved so fast that all Mizuki could hear was the rushing wind. His vision blurred, and in an instant, the observation room door was out of sight.

Mizuki never expected to get “motion sickness” from a person. Being on the Sentinel’s back felt like being on a galloping cheetah, but Mizuki was being carried upside down.

The last time Baishi Qing had carried him like this was during the “Ghost Hunter” game. The physical sensation in reality was much stronger than in the game, and Baishi Qing’s speed was much faster than when he was the civilian “Bluestone,” meaning the jolting sensation was even more intense.

With a pained expression, Mizuki patted Baishi Qing’s back. Understanding the signal, the Sentinel shifted him from his shoulder to a horizontal carry, dodging a row of tranquilizer darts during the transition.

Baishi Qing moved as if no one were there, though indeed there were no people, only cold gun barrels relentlessly spraying ammunition at the Sentinel and Guide.

It wasn’t immediately clear where the passage to the upper floors was, and the elevator required an employee access card.

Baishi Qing simply put Mizuki on his back and smashed through a window with his shoulder, choosing an alternative route by climbing the exterior wall.

Was the surface of the institute building too smooth with no handholds? It didn’t matter. The Sentinel used his physical strength to gouge holes in the outer wall with his bare hands, leaping several times until he carried the Guide into the fourth floor.

Mizuki couldn’t help but marvel; Sentinels were truly weapons of war chosen by the heavens. After all that exertion, Baishi Qing’s breathing wasn’t even labored.

Bian Mengmeng was cautiously exiting a laboratory when she came face-to-face with Baishi Qing and Mizuki as they crashed through the window. Her expression was absolutely priceless.

Stunned, she said, “Uh… your way of entering is…”

“Move.”

Mizuki didn’t have time for small talk because he caught a glimpse of mechanical guards starting to appear on the fourth floor.

While Mizuki had the luxury of a “first-class seat” on the Sentinel, Bian Mengmeng was simply grabbed by the scruff of her neck by Baishi Qing as they vaulted over the guard robots.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Bian Mengmeng shouted repeatedly. “It’s right here!”

Baishi Qing braked hard. Bian Mengmeng used her access card to swipe the door open, and the three of them burst into the lab, shutting the gunfire and attacks outside.

“Wait a second, let me adjust the equipment.”

As soon as she entered the room, Bian Mengmeng rushed to an extremely complex-looking machine, her fingers flying as she operated it with agility.

The few dozen seconds Mizuki spent waiting for Bian Mengmeng to finish felt as long as a century.

She let out a long sigh and stopped.

“Done! Baishi Qing, lie down on it.”

The machine’s table was icy and its lines were hard, and the bright surgical lights triggered some unpleasant memories for the Sentinel.

But Baishi Qing, showing no emotion, unbuttoned his shirt and sat directly on the table, moving without hesitation as he lay down.

However, Baishi Qing’s hand touched something completely different from the experimental table, a soft and warm hand.

Mizuki had taken his hand.

Baishi Qing looked up at Mizuki. The black-haired Guide smiled at him, and seeing the hum of the machine starting up, the Guide withdrew his hand.

Bian Mengmeng explained to Mizuki, “First, we scan the injection site, then we fire an energy wave to destroy the sensor before we can take it out.”

“But this is the first time I’ve operated this machine…” Bian Mengmeng said, her confidence lacking as she glanced cautiously at Mizuki. “I’m not sure if it will be successful.”

“It’s okay, just give it a try,” Mizuki comforted her.

The scan results confirmed what Instructor Zhang had said: a miniature bomb was attached to Baishi Qing’s heart, rising and falling with the Sentinel’s heartbeat.

Bian Mengmeng lowered her head and began typing furiously on the keyboard again. “Wait a moment, let me confirm the bomb model.”

Beads of sweat were starting to drip from her forehead in anxiety.

Mizuki felt his own heart pounding, yet Baishi Qing’s heart rate on the screen was stable, remaining at around 55 beats per minute.

Although the process of disarming the bomb sounded simple, the bomb moved with the heartbeat. It required precisely destroying a sensor less than a millimeter in size without damaging the Sentinel’s heart.

“Yeah, it’s a standard model, no other complex designs. We can follow the process I just described,” Bian Mengmeng wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Next, try to keep Baishi Qing’s mood stable, don’t let there be any large fluctuations.”

Mizuki didn’t say anything specific; sometimes telling someone not to be nervous has the opposite effect.

The Guide simply stared unblinkingly at the screen in front of Bian Mengmeng, while trying his best to relax so his tension wouldn’t affect the Sentinel.

The AI automatically calibrated to the frequency of Baishi Qing’s heartbeat, firing an energy wave at the exact moment his heart beat.

Mizuki couldn’t tell if it was successful or not, so he could only stare at Bian Mengmeng, waiting for her to speak.

Bian Mengmeng let out a long breath, her hands trembling slightly as she leaned against the table.

“It’s done. We just need to take it out now.”

A mechanical hand held a long needle-like object with a micro-gripper at the tip. The device inserted the needle into Baishi Qing’s chest.

The black-haired Guide watched the machine intently, frowning until the tiny bomb was finally pulled away from the Sentinel’s heart. Only then did he break into a smile.

“I think I’ve reached the end of my rope with this job.”

Once the procedure was confirmed finished, Bian Mengmeng sat on the floor without regard for her image, her face screaming “mentally exhausted.”

“But it doesn’t matter! Anyone who wants this job can have it. I don’t want to be a lab worker anymore, I’m going back to the image design career I love!”

Baishi Qing sat up from the experimental table and re-fastened his shirt buttons.

With the Sentinel’s crisis averted, Mizuki felt like planning something else. He scanned the laboratory.

“I have an idea,” the Guide suddenly said with a bright smile. “How about we blow up the institute?”

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