A Guide to Raising Snake Spirits - Chapter 44

Mizuki was utterly perplexed. “What does Xudian gain from doing this? Do you two seem like the type of people who could keep collaborating with someone who harmed your son?”

“It can’t be that he’s jealous of the high compatibility between me and Baishi Qing, right? But if he were jealous, why would he actively try to set us up, even at the cost of ruining his long-term plans?” Mizuki raised an eyebrow. “Xudian doesn’t seem like the type to act so emotionally.”

Guan Ziming crossed his hands, his face as somber as deep water. “Our guess is that he wanted to expose Xiao Qing to the research institute’s radar to bait out you, me, and your mother.”

“Your father is being too polite. Xudian simply wanted to force us into a direct confrontation with Fengyun Enterprises.” Yue Zirong’s lips curled into a disdainful smile.

“That guy deliberately nudged your relationship along. He knew that once Baishi Qing was taken, you would naturally go to save him, and their eyes would fall on you.”

As Yue Zirong spoke, the irony in her smile deepened.

“He used my son to set a trap for me. That way, even if we didn’t want to cooperate, we’d have no choice. He turned us into the blade in his hand. When you’re using a borrowed blade to kill, the blade’s own will doesn’t matter much.”

“But he clearly doesn’t know who Yue Zirong is.” She tossed her hair back, declaring boldly, “I’m not just going to save him, I’m going to do it with a bang.”

Mizuki, who had been “saved with a bang,” was speechless.

“Actually, Xudian probably isn’t a bad person at heart,” Guan Ziming said with a frown. “It’s just…”

“Sure, not bad at heart.” Mizuki leaned back against the sofa cushions, crossing his legs. His posture radiated disdain for his father’s assessment of Xudian’s character. “But he maliciously triggered a Sentinel’s frenzy. As a Guide doctor, does Xudian have no idea how much destruction a rampaging Sentinel can cause?”

Compared to Mizuki’s slumped posture, the Sentinel sat much more upright and was far more patient.

When he heard Guan Ziming say Xudian wasn’t a bad person, Baishi Qing didn’t even twitch an eyebrow.

Just as Guan Ziming opened his mouth to say something more…

“Guan Ziming.”

Yue Zirong called his full name slowly. Her tone was gentle and she was smiling, but the content made Guan Ziming break into a cold sweat.

“Are you daring to contradict your wife now?”

Guan Ziming shut his mouth instantly. Changing his tune, he nonchalantly steered the conversation back to their son.

“Based on these documents, we can probably reconstruct the situation at the time.” He pointed to the electronic screen still in Mizuki’s hand.

Mizuki: “…”

His parents really were a perfect match of “one thing overcoming another.”

The subject change was clunky, but his father’s next words were serious and effectively grabbed Mizuki’s attention.

Guan Ziming continued, “The Tianyou Institute wanted to further evolve special human subspecies. Beyond physical capabilities, they focused on spiritual and intellectual evolution. The details of their arrangements and operations are all written in there.”

His father’s intent was still for Mizuki to look at the data.

After exchanging another look with Baishi Qing, Mizuki opened the observation report. It condensed over a decade of Baishi Qing’s life, which had ultimately dwindled into cold data on an electronic screen.

The Guide skimmed through it, picking out key terms and summary phrases.

Even so, he couldn’t help but feel a stinging pain in his eyes from the cruelty written between the lines. It was shocking.

The goal of the research was to allow Sentinels to gain enhancements in certain areas through a spiritual fusion state. Baishi Qing was chosen because the success rate of fusion increases with larger-scale mental spirits.

The ideal scenario was for a Sentinel to freely control the fusion or separation with their spirit. To date, none had succeeded. Baishi Qing was one of the test subjects closest to success, achieving nearly 70% fusion, with separation and fusion being partially controllable.

However, a researcher’s note at the bottom read:

[Subject T-071 is unable to connect with or receive mental cleansing from most Guides. It is unclear if this is a natural ‘Dark Sentinel’ constitution or a variable caused by the experiments. Further observation is required.]

[Subject T-071’s mental domain is currently stable. However, at this rate, it is predicted that within two years, T-071’s mental domain will deteriorate to an irreversible state.]

“Therefore, once the experiments reached a certain stage, the Tianyou Institute would move to broader locations to continue. Most of these sites are remote, uninhabited desert planets,” Guan Ziming explained.

Hearing this description, Mizuki immediately thought of a planet that fit the bill. Wasn’t the desert planet from their graduation exam exactly like that?

Perhaps the institute had already been preparing to give up on Baishi Qing back then, which was why he had the chance to escape.

Now that the issues with Baishi Qing’s mental domain were resolved, the institute naturally didn’t want to let him go.

Mizuki: “…”

But Mizuki suddenly noticed something. Throughout the discussion with his parents, Baishi Qing acted as if the matter had nothing to do with him.

Whether they spoke of Xudian, who had caused his return to the institute, or the records of his past, Baishi Qing’s state of mind remained as calm as a still well.

Was this a good thing or a bad thing?

Truthfully, if Mizuki had experienced these things himself, he would feel at least some anger or hatred toward the institute. But Baishi Qing didn’t; it was as if he didn’t even care whether the institute faced retribution.

On the starship, his mother had mentioned Baishi Qing’s parents, but she’d stopped halfway. Mizuki still couldn’t remember exactly what happened; the Black Mamba still hadn’t spat back his memories concerning Baishi Qing.

He could only infer from his mother’s sorrowful and evasive reaction that Baishi Qing’s memories regarding his parents were likely not happy ones.

Was this his true nature, or had he lost the ability to perceive normal human emotions?

Being unable to feel pain or sadness might be a survival mechanism for a test subject, but emotions are a two-way street; one would likely be equally numb to joy and happiness.

The Guide instinctively glanced at the Sentinel. He wanted to find an opportunity to talk to Baishi Qing about this. Before Mizuki could think further, Yue Zirong’s terminal began to beep urgently, interrupting his train of thought.

A red light representing an emergency message blinked on her terminal.

She moved to an angle where the father and son wouldn’t be caught in the camera’s frame and answered the call.

Mizuki caught a glimpse of familiar red hair, it was the female general who had come to pick up Yue Zirong and them.

“Leader, someone from the Tower has found us.” The general spoke of an emergency, but her tone lacked any sense of nervousness.

Mizuki frowned. He had just learned that the Tower was involved in the institute’s experiments, and now the Tower was here. Was their reaction time really that fast?

“They found out too, didn’t they?” Yue Zirong’s expression remained unchanged. In this moment, she was no longer the youthful, giggling mother, but the leader of the Rebel Army, calm in the face of danger and the solid backbone of the base.

She pushed the father and son aside and spoke seriously to the video, “How many people?”

The general remained calm as she replied, “Only one. She’s a teacher from the Tower. We’ve intercepted her starship in the outer layer. Do you want to let her land?”

Hearing the general’s answer, Mizuki breathed a sigh of relief.

The situation was much better than he had imagined. At least it wasn’t the military from the Special Star coming to their door. For many reasons, he didn’t want to see his mother’s base engulfed in war.

“The other party contacted us through the public channel. She identifies herself as Qiu Shui and says she has two students here she wants to bring back.”

Yue Zirong caught her son’s involuntary expression and asked with a smile, “Oh, that sounds familiar. I think that’s a name you and Mengmeng mentioned.”

“If it’s not someone with the same name, then yes, she is Baishi Qing’s current homeroom teacher.” Mizuki’s expression was hard to describe.

“Let her land,” Yue Zirong told the general in the video. “You know what to watch out for.”

“Understood.” After the general responded, the holographic screen silently shrank into a line and vanished.

Yue Zirong rolled up her sleeves and laughed. “Since she’s looking for her students, it must be Mengmeng and Xiao Qing. In that case, I’ll have to meet her.”

“…In what capacity are you meeting her?” Mizuki followed his mother’s lead.

“Hmm, how about as Baishi Qing’s ‘half-mother’?” Yue Zirong said, playfully winking at Mizuki. “That should be a valid reason, right?”

Baishi Qing silently accepted this “bargain mother,” and through their mental link, he actually seemed quite pleased.

Mizuki: “…”

Mizuki really wanted to ask how exactly that was a valid reason. He and Baishi Qing… forget it. Mizuki was afraid his mother would open her mouth and say something even more shocking.

“Let’s go. Should we call Mengmeng too?” Yue Zirong asked Mizuki. “You decide.”

“Call her,” Mizuki waved a hand weakly. “Instructor Qiu Shui said she’s looking for two students. Mengmeng probably won’t say anything she shouldn’t.”

Qiu Shui’s arrival was completely unexpected to Mizuki. If Bian Mengmeng hadn’t lied, she shouldn’t have had a chance to send a message.

And since Yue Zirong’s army was able to escape the Special Star’s pursuit, they clearly had significant technological prowess. They weren’t exactly easy to track.

The process and purpose of Qiu Shui’s pursuit were even more baffling.

Yue Zirong received Qiu Shui in the drawing room.

When Mizuki and the others entered the room, Qiu Shui was dressed in crisp camouflage, standing with her hands behind her back looking at the view outside the window. When she heard them, she turned and offered a relaxed, kindly smile, showing no nervousness about being deep in enemy territory.

She was truly a gold-star, veteran combat instructor capable of rescuing three students from the research institute.

“Instructor Qiu Shui,” Mizuki called out first as a gesture of goodwill.

Qiu Shui acknowledged him, then smiled at Yue Zirong. “This must be your mother. You look very much alike, almost like you were cast from the same mold.”

“Xiao Xi has been in your care lately, Instructor Qiu Shui. He mentions you often, and so does Xiao Qing.” Yue Zirong returned the smile.

Mizuki finally knew where he got his talent for lying through his teeth; he got it from his mother. She clearly hadn’t even heard the name Qiu Shui before today, yet she spoke as if they were old acquaintances.

This conversation, if it happened at a parent-teacher conference or a dinner party, would be perfectly normal small talk.

But they were currently in a Rebel Army base. One speaker was a Tower teacher under suspicion of involvement in human experimentation with an unknown objective, and the other was a Rebel leader sworn to take down the research institute. They stood on opposite sides, chatting harmoniously.

Mizuki: “…”

The black-haired Guide was nearly suffocating in the awkward atmosphere, but the other Sentinel, who couldn’t read the room, didn’t seem awkward at all. He was present in the moment but couldn’t empathize with Mizuki’s distress.

Fortunately, the closed door of the meeting room opened soon after, breaking the stagnant air.

Bian Mengmeng arrived late, following one of Yue Zirong’s subordinates. She was pleasantly surprised but remembered what Mizuki had told her. She called out with a hint of hesitation, “Instructor Qiu Shui, why are you here?”

“Even if you’ve graduated, you’re still my student. Naturally, a teacher should come,” Qiu Shui said with a smile. “Furthermore, I would like to discuss a partnership with Leader Yue.”

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