A Guide to Raising Snake Spirits - Chapter 38

“Blow up the institute?” Bian Mengmeng scrambled up from the ground. “My god, I never even dreamed of not only resigning but sending my workplace into orbit.”

Mizuki Xi raised an eyebrow. “One word: yes or no?”

“Yes!” Bian Mengmeng was fired up, but then a problem occurred to her. She hesitated. “How do you plan to do it? Our institute has a high-tech fire suppression system.”

“I have a way.” Mizuki Xi pointed at the wall.

Bian Mengmeng looked confused. “The wall?”

“Exactly. Look at all those retractable turrets on the corridor walls. Where do you think their ammunition comes from?” Mizuki Xi smiled. “There must be energy conduits and ammo reserves hidden inside those walls.”

Bian Mengmeng clapped her hands, her eyes lighting up. “Right! Because of all the experimental equipment, our fire system uses dry powder and foam instead of water.”

“But wait,” she added, “what about my colleagues if we blow the building?”

“That is a problem,” Mizuki Xi agreed. “Didn’t you say there’s a fire alarm system? We’ll make a little noise first, trigger the alarm, and let the researchers evacuate.”

Bian Mengmeng worried, “I’m afraid a standard alarm won’t be enough to clear everyone out…”

“Hmm… how about we get Liu Cang to help?” Mizuki Xi thought of the perfect candidate.

Mizuki Xi: Is there any way to hack into the institute’s fire alarm system?

Liu Cang: What do you want with a fire alarm?

Mizuki Xi: We’re going big. You in?

Liu Cang: You had me at ‘going big.’ I’m in. But I need you to give me an interface from your end.

Mizuki Xi: What kind of interface?

Liu Cang: Anything that connects to the institute’s internal network.

Mizuki Xi: Mengmeng and I will figure it out.

By now, the living staff in the institute should have realized that mechanical guards were useless against a monster like an S-rank Sentinel. Mizuki Xi didn’t know if they were planning something else.

With time pressing, Bian Mengmeng began coordinating with Liu Cang on how to get him connected. Meanwhile, Mizuki Xi and Shiraishi Qing started researching explosives. The Sentinel simply followed the Guide’s lead, striking wherever he was told.

Under Mizuki Xi’s direction, Shiraishi Qing dug his fingertips into the seams of the wall. He peeled back a sheet of metal as if it were paper, revealing layers of circuitry and pipes.

“Let me see.” Mizuki Xi held an emergency flashlight he’d swiped from the lab in his teeth and peered into the hole. The tangled maze of wires was dizzying, but the Guide handled it with practiced ease.

“Do you know how to do this?” Shiraishi asked.

Mizuki Xi took the flashlight out of his mouth, illuminating the interior with one hand while keeping his eyes fixed on the wires. “I learned a bit while piloting starships. If something small breaks, I can fix it myself so I’m not just drifting through space waiting to die. Here, be careful when you pull this out.”

Mizuki Xi pointed to a box hidden beneath a mess of wires. He even dug out a pair of insulated gloves for Shiraishi, guiding him to carefully extract the box and place it on the floor.

They repeated this process, tearing off several more sections of wall. Once the Sentinel had finished scavenging the corridor side of the lab, Liu Cang successfully took over the fire alarm system. He sent a triumphant message to the group.

Liu Cang: I guess nobody expects someone to hack the fire alarm. No defenses at all. Easy as pie.

Mizuki Xi: Nice work.

Mizuki Xi: Wait for my signal, then open all the valves on the sprinklers.

Liu Cang: OK.

Using the materials available in the lab, the three of them cobbled together several improvised explosives.

“I think tearing off wall panels is too slow,” Mizuki Xi said, standing up and looking at the bombs on the floor.

“Maybe we should place them on the load-bearing walls?” Bian Mengmeng suggested. “I don’t have the blueprints, but I can guess where they are. That way, we only need a small amount of explosives.”

Shiraishi Qing added, “We can find a way to use the energy lines inside the walls, too.”

For many researchers inside the institute, today was “spectacular.” Whether they were conducting experiments, recording data, or just staring at a terminal to slack off, every researcher was suddenly assaulted by the blaring fire alarm and drenched from head to toe in foam.

The air was immediately filled with interstellar profanity.

“For heaven’s sake! Did the institute cut the budget again and stop maintaining the fire system?”

“I always thought the fire system was just for show. I didn’t think it actually worked!” one unlucky researcher yelled, wiping white foam from his face. “Given how stingy this place is, shouldn’t it have been a fake decoration?”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” another researcher wailed, kneeling before her workbench. Her freshly prepared specimen was buried under foam. “It’s all ruined!!”

The ceiling sprinklers continued to pour, a white deluge drowning people and instruments alike. A somewhat rational researcher cupped his hands and screamed through the chaos, “Evacuate first! Forget the samples!” However, he inhaled a cloud of foam mid-shout, leading to a fit of earth-shattering coughing.

Waves of researchers began pouring out of the building. All of them were covered in white foam, grumbling to their colleagues as they swatted at their clothes.

Before the fire system had even been triggered, Mizuki Xi and the others had placed their explosives in the locations Bian Mengmeng mapped out. Now, the three of them were lounging on the rooftop, well out of range of the foam.

“How are we getting down?” Bian Mengmeng asked.

“Getting down is the easy part.” Mizuki Xi gestured toward the Sentinel with his chin. “Getting out of the compound is the real challenge.”

“Oh, right…” Bian Mengmeng remembered that their institute was in the middle of nowhere. Commuting relied entirely on shuttle buses. “Should we hijack one?” she asked tentatively.

“That’s the plan. But the vehicle systems won’t be as easy to hack as the fire alarm. Liu Cang might not be able to help much,” Mizuki Xi said. “We’ll have to see what our options are when we get down there.”

After ten minutes, no more researchers emerged from the building. Mizuki Xi stretched his neck and cracked his knuckles. “Time to start the fireworks.”

The researchers outside, just beginning to wonder if they could go back inside, were startled by a series of deafening explosions. Brilliant flames burst through the windows.

Rumble—!

“What???”

The building began to collapse inward, windows shattering in sequence. The researchers were knocked to the ground by the shockwave, curling up and covering their heads.

In the chaos, no one noticed a grey-haired Sentinel on the roof. He had a Guide tucked under his left arm and a female researcher gripped in his right as he leaped from the crumbling building.

Bian Mengmeng couldn’t help but scream. She squeezed her eyes shut against the whistling wind and the crushing sensation of weightlessness, her hands clawing at the air.

“Aaaaaahhh—!”

Mizuki Xi, however, let out a delighted laugh. He even had the presence of mind to turn off Shiraishi’s hearing while covering his own ears. Bian Mengmeng’s scream was swallowed by the roar of the building collapsing.

Shiraishi Qing bent his legs to absorb the impact, landing heavily on the ground and leaving two deep craters. He let go of Bian Mengmeng. As soon as she was free, her legs gave out and she sat down, gasping for air.

The Sentinel was far more tender with his Guide, supporting Mizuki Xi’s waist until he was steady. Mizuki Xi lowered his hands and rubbed his ears. A sharp ringing hummed in his head. He sighed.

“Maybe I went a little overboard.”

The black-haired Guide looked up to see Shiraishi staring at his lips, looking utterly confused as he tried to lip-read. Mizuki Xi laughed and toggled the Sentinel’s hearing back on.

Mizuki Xi was pulling Bian Mengmeng up, ready to start their car-theft plan, when he used the Sentinel’s ears to catch a humming sound from the sky. A sleek, cool black starship appeared, its rear hatch wide open. A figure with long, flowing hair stood at the edge.

Mizuki Xi narrowed his eyes, feeling a sense of recognition. He couldn’t see clearly at that distance, so he borrowed Shiraishi’s vision. The image appeared before his eyes with pin-sharp clarity.

In his shock, Mizuki Xi couldn’t stop himself from shouting, “Mom?”

The woman standing at the starship’s hatch had long, black hair blowing in the wind. she wore a sharp tactical suit and a pair of flashy brown sunglasses. She looked incredibly cool.

Mizuki Xi watched as she held onto the door frame with one hand while pulling a megaphone from behind her with the other. She brought it to her lips.

“Son—! I’m here to save you—!”

Her voice was so loud that even the researchers who had just been momentarily deafened by the blast could hear her.

“Oh, for crying out loud…”

Mizuki Xi didn’t dare look at Bian Mengmeng’s expression. He felt so embarrassed he wanted to find a hole to crawl into. He had a hundred things he wanted to say to his mother, none of them polite.

“Mizuki Xi, is that…”

“You heartless Tianyou Institute—give me back my son—!”

His mother continued her broadcast from the starship. The megaphone was shamelessly effective, ensuring the entire compound heard her.

Bian Mengmeng’s shocked face came into view. Mizuki Xi was numb, but he made a last-ditch effort to save his dignity. He answered decisively.

“That’s Shiraishi Qing’s mom.”

Yes. After all, she only said “give me back my son,” she didn’t specify which one.

Bian Mengmeng turned her stunned gaze to Shiraishi. The grey-haired Sentinel maintained his usual expressionless face. No shame, no joy, no indignation. Mizuki Xi relaxed; the Sentinel clearly had no objection to the lie.

His mother shouted a few more things like “You monsters!” and “How heartless!” before she apparently spotted them. The starship began to descend. Mizuki Xi prayed it wasn’t happening, but the ship drew closer, the wind from its thrusters whipping his hair and clothes, and chilling his heart.

The starship finally crushed a nearby cluster of decorative trees and landed beside them.

“Hi—!” His mother waved cheerfully. “I came to rescue you and Xiao Qing—!”

She took off her sunglasses, revealing grey-blue almond eyes. She scanned the three of them, seeing that aside from some dust, they were unhurt. Spotting a female researcher in uniform, she warmly grabbed the young woman’s hand. “Hello there!”

Bian Mengmeng was a bit overwhelmed by this beautiful, fragrant woman. she nodded repeatedly. “Ah, hello, ma’am. I’m Bian Mengmeng.”

Mizuki Xi screamed internally, No!, but his mother was already introducing herself.

“I’m Mizuki Xi’s mother, Yue Zhirong. You can call me ‘Sister’ if you like.”

Bian Mengmeng shot a confused look at Mizuki Xi. “Huh? But Mizuki Xi said you were Shi—”

Mizuki Xi heard the sound of something inside him breaking, but he forced a smile.

“Oh, did he say I was someone else’s mother?” Ms. Yue Zhirong laughed. “He’s done that before. Xiao Xi gets embarrassed easily.”

Bian Mengmeng nodded, still looking a bit lost.

“Let’s get on the starship first, then we can talk,” Yue Zhirong suggested.

Inside the starship, the four of them sat in two rows, facing each other. Mizuki Xi and Shiraishi were together, while Bian Mengmeng sat across from Yue Zhirong.

Mizuki Xi struck first. “…Didn’t Dad say you went on a long-term tour?”

“Well, when I heard my son had been snatched, I had to rush back from the ends of the earth,” Yue Zhirong laughed, giving a playful wink.

Mizuki Xi ignored the wink. “Wait, there are three other students who were supposed to be held at the institute. We need to save them before we leave.”

Bian Mengmeng spoke up softly. “If you mean Xiang Heng and the others, Teacher Qiu Shui already rescued them.”

“What?” Mizuki Xi asked. “When did that happen?”

Bian Mengmeng continued, “Pretty much right after we got separated. I didn’t have a chance to tell you, I thought you knew.”

Though the news came late, Mizuki Xi breathed a sigh of relief knowing his friends were safe. He looked around the starship, which clearly cost more than his family could afford. “What’s the deal with this ship?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Yue Zhirong said, clearing her throat as her expression turned serious. “First, let me ask—Xiao Qing, how is your body?”

The grey-haired Sentinel had been listening quietly from the corner. He looked up. “I’m fine.”

Mizuki Xi sensed his mother’s change in tone and stayed quiet, waiting to see what she would say.

“I’m sorry. To be honest, Mizuki Xi’s father and I recognized you from the very beginning,” Yue Zhirong said with a look of guilt. “But we never said anything.”

“Did you guess that your uniqueness had something to do with the Tianyou Institute?”

“I had a general idea,” Shiraishi Qing replied calmly.

“You were the child of our neighbors back then…” Yue Zhirong’s face showed a flicker of internal struggle before she glossed over that part of the past. “In any case, after you disappeared, your parents moved away. When Xiao Xi awakened, he lost his memories of you, and we never reminded him.”

Her face was etched with sadness and a lingering guilt. In reality, even without her saying it, Shiraishi Qing had already pieced together the truth from his fragmented memories.

Those parents, terrified of a son who had awakened as a Sentinel, had chosen to leave.

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