A Guide to Raising Snake Spirits - Chapter 46

 “I’ll step aside, you two can perform a permanent bond on the spot for all I care…”

Nozomi didn’t pull away when Bairishi Qing took his hand, nor did he reject the Sentinel’s intention to follow him.

Perhaps Bairishi’s request to accompany him was born out of curiosity regarding Xudian, but Nozomi couldn’t detect a hint of curiosity in the Sentinel’s green eyes or the fluctuations of their mental link.

It was as if the emotions, thoughts, and manners the Sentinel displayed were merely tools to maintain the stability of his current life. When Xudian was right in front of him, Bairishi would evaluate whether the Guide doctor posed a threat; once Xudian had fled, the Sentinel simply stopped caring about him.

***

Teacher Qiushui stayed for only two days. Under Hana’s arrangement, she toured the base and negotiated cooperation methods before taking Bian Mengmeng back to the Special Star.

Nozomi didn’t participate much in their discussions, and Hana didn’t assign him any tasks. Implementing these plans involved tedious, minute details that Nozomi found utterly uninteresting.

Once Qiushui and Mengmeng left, the Guide suddenly felt bored and dragged Bairishi out to find something to do.

“Come on. I asked my mom, and the base training ground has a firing range. Real guns are way more exciting than holographic games.”

Hana, having come from a military academy, had clearly invested heavily in the range, which featured over a dozen individual stalls separated by partitions.

At this hour, there were only a few scattered people. Staccato cracks of gunfire echoed through the hall. Nozomi grabbed two pairs of safety goggles and earmuffs from the public lockers by the entrance.

“Have you learned the basic movements?” Nozomi asked as he handed the gear to the Sentinel.

Bairishi: “I’ve had a little contact with them in the past.”

The black-haired Guide thought for a moment, still worried that the Sentinel might use improper form and hurt himself. He pulled out a training pistol, holding the barrel and pointing the grip toward Bairishi.

“Let me see your grip?”

The Sentinel took it.

The Guide studied him for a moment and stepped in to correct him. “Keep your arm a bit flatter here, relax your shoulders, don’t press your thumb there, it’s easy to bruise yourself from the recoil…”

At this point, Nozomi remembered Bairishi’s hobby of clawing through walls and paused.

He wasn’t even sure if a small pistol bullet hitting the Sentinel directly would do anything, let alone the recoil. His warning was technically redundant, but Nozomi was stubborn, so he insisted on finishing his sentence.

“…It hurts a lot if your thumb web tears.”

The Guide wasn’t about to admit that he had suffered that exact injury himself. The first time he fired a gun, the recoil had bruised his shoulder so badly he couldn’t lift his right arm for three days.

In his peripheral vision, Bairishi caught the reflection of his own silhouette in the Guide’s goggles.

“Okay.”

As the Guide gave his explanation, his posture was almost like a half-embrace. His hands occasionally brushed against Bairishi’s arms and shoulders.

With the Guide’s movements, the scent of lemon pheromones and fresh shampoo drifted over, finding their way to the Sentinel’s nose.

Bairishi’s expression remained unchanged, though his lips pressed together in an unnatural line. He held the position Nozomi had corrected and fired his first shot.

A translucent screen in the top right corner displayed the result in real-time. He hadn’t missed the target; it was roughly an eight.

Nozomi smiled. “You really have handled a gun before.”

The Guide stood by with his arms crossed, watching Bairishi fire a few more rounds. His form was fine, and he successfully hit a ten, so Nozomi moved to the adjacent stall to practice himself.

Since becoming a teacher, Nozomi’s time at the range had decreased, and his hands were itching for some action.

The black-haired Guide wore transparent goggles and soundproof earmuffs. His tear mole and gray-blue eyes were hidden behind the reflective lenses, concealing the sharp intensity of his gaze and leaving only his sleek jawline and beautifully shaped lips visible.

However, the seriousness on his face was evident even from just his lower features.

Nozomi had only fired a few serious shots and was just warming up when he felt two taps on his shoulder.

Wearing soundproof earmuffs, he couldn’t hear footsteps at all and was completely unguarded.

The person tapped him with such force that Nozomi’s shot nearly hit Bairishi’s target in the next stall. Not only that, but the pressure was considerable. Pistol recoil needs to be dissipated through the shoulder and core muscles; because of the interruption, the recoil wasn’t handled well, and Nozomi’s right wrist throbbed with a faint ache.

“Tsk.”

Nozomi clicked his tongue in annoyance. He knit his brows, a surge of irritation rising as he turned around.

“Who is it? Don’t you know to stay away from someone’s stall while they’re firing? If you’re looking for a death wish, don’t drag others into it. Go back and retake your firearms license.”

The person who had tapped him was a somewhat delicate-looking young man. Thin eyebrows paired with narrow eyes gave him a slightly prickly aura. He wore a choker around his neck but no goggles or earmuffs.

The pheromones he wasn’t bothering to suppress told Nozomi he was a Guide.

Nozomi had assumed his mother mostly recruited regular people, but on second thought, most test subjects were Sentinels, and wherever there were Sentinels, there were Guides. He just didn’t know where Hana had found this one.

The man’s mouth was moving, but because the earmuffs were so effective, Nozomi couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

“Hello.”

Nozomi pulled off his earmuffs, and those two words drifted into his ears.

The other man was smiling. Nozomi was impatient, but it was hard to snap at someone being polite, so he asked back somewhat cordially, “Is there something you need?”

The man asked, “Are you two a bonded pair? I haven’t seen you around the base before.”

Nozomi: “?”

How bizarre.

The man had rushed in without any safety gear, and Nozomi thought he was going to say something important, but he just asked that? It was so ridiculous he actually laughed.

“Who are you, and what does that have to do with you?”

Nozomi rotated his uncomfortable wrist, asking back with an amused scoff, “That’s not a valid reason to tap my shoulder while I’m firing, is it?”

In the next stall, Bairishi Qing had put down his training gun at some point and now stood silently by Nozomi’s side.

Nozomi caught a glimpse of the Sentinel and saw that his expression was dark and somber, standing guard like a protective deity.

“I’m sorry.”

After offering a reasonably friendly apology, the man continued.

“Actually, I saw you two chatting at the entrance just now. I want to learn how to shoot, too. Could you teach me?”

Nozomi: “…”

This person’s train of thought jumped a bit too fast.

If this were a newcomer asking normally while Nozomi was idle, he would have been happy to help, but right now he just thought this guy was a bit “off.”

“I don’t have time, I’m busy. Go find someone else.” Nozomi arched an eyebrow. “Besides, why should I teach a stranger whose name I don’t even know?”

Nozomi had inherited his mother’s round almond eyes, but because of his gender, they were slightly narrower. Usually, he was too lazy to open them fully, giving him a bit of a foxy look, but now that he was annoyed, his eyes had rounded significantly.

“My name is Mu Xiabing.”

The stranger introduced himself.

What kind of logic was this? Did he think knowing his name meant they were acquainted now? Nozomi felt like a physical question mark was hovering over his head.

He really needed to go back and ask his mother if she was going senile, keeping people like this on the base. Nozomi had assumed that if they weren’t elites, the people on his mother’s base would at least be vetted, normal individuals.

“Whether your name is Mu Xiabing or Mu Dongbing is none of my business.”

Nozomi simply slotted the training gun back into its holder, picked up his earmuffs and goggles, and said flatly, “No time means no time.”

Mu Xiabing was persistent. “I’ll pay you double the market rate for your lesson time.”

Nozomi: “…”

What, was he a gun-for-hire now? But the immediate offer of money piqued Nozomi’s curiosity.

“Double isn’t enough,” the former flight instructor, who used to live on a fixed salary from the Tower, said solemnly. “My rates aren’t that low.”

“Five times then.” Mu Xiabing raised the price without blinking.

Nozomi’s interest flickered out. He didn’t lack money and didn’t mind a windfall, but Mu Xiabing’s way of speaking was too strange. He was like the type of person whose intelligence wasn’t quite right but could manage daily life, so he was mistaken for a normal person.

He was either too rich to care or too poor and making empty promises. Nozomi wouldn’t fall for the latter, and as for the former…

…He was afraid that taking a fool’s money would shorten his own lifespan.

Meeting the stranger Guide’s unwavering gaze, Nozomi gave a half-hearted, somewhat conscientious warning. “You should find someone to ask about the rules before entering a firing range. No one pays compensation for accidental injuries here.”

Having said that, Nozomi took Bairishi Qing’s arm to leave, but to his surprise, the other man blocked their path.

Nozomi: “?”

The strange Guide named Mu Xiabing turned to Bairishi Qing and said, “What’s your name? Let’s exchange contact info.”

Nozomi was actually moved to laughter by the sheer audacity. This Guide’s detour was certainly long; after all that circling, it turned out he was hitting on Bairishi Qing.

If someone didn’t know better, seeing Mu Xiabing back-and-forth with him for so long, they would have thought Mu Xiabing was interested in him.

The gray-haired Sentinel was indeed handsome, with sharp brows and starry eyes that fit Nozomi’s aesthetic perfectly. Now that he had shed his haggard look and dark circles, he was looking more and more presentable.

Back at the Tower, Bairishi had been in a special Sentinel class. They only had mixed classes for joint courses like Mental Defense, so he’d had very little contact with Guides other than Nozomi.

Only now did Nozomi realize that the Sentinel was actually quite popular.

Nozomi crossed his arms, waiting to see how Bairishi would handle it.

But he hadn’t even held the pose for two seconds before his arm was pulled down.

Bairishi, eyes fixed forward and without saying a word, pulled him right past Mu Xiabing.

Nozomi tilted his head slightly, appearing to avoid Mu Xiabing’s angry glare, but in reality, he was stifling a laugh.

He didn’t know why, but he found it hilarious and felt a sudden urge to tease Bairishi some more.

“Hey! Why are you ignoring me? I’m an S-Rank Guide! You two aren’t permanently bonded, I can smell it!” Mu Xiabing protested indignantly, even reaching out to grab them.

Nozomi twisted away, dodging Mu Xiabing’s hand. He stopped in his tracks and turned around.

“I don’t care what rank you are. Can you even match with him? If you can match, I’ll step aside, you two can perform a permanent bond on the spot for all I care.”

Nozomi wasn’t speaking entirely out of impulse. No one knew better than he did just how narrow Bairishi’s mental matching range was.

And so what if he was an S-Rank Guide? Nozomi, a Double-A, walked tall in the Tower. Even if he were a D-Rank Guide, Bairishi only had him as a matching partner, and mental strength didn’t stop Nozomi from being an exceptionally elite pilot.

As it turned out, the one who panicked before the stranger was the Sentinel himself. Through the mental link, waves of pure rejection came through, even a momentary surge of intense bloodlust that startled Nozomi.

Seeing Bairishi’s extremely hostile gaze turn toward Mu Xiabing, Nozomi tried to intervene. After all, a bloody mess on the firing range wouldn’t look good.

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