Raising the Top Alpha as a Beta - Chapter 5

Si Ye sprinted all the way back. As he reached the Nest Silk Factory Community, the first thing he hit was the thick, cloying scent of Alpha pheromones. Betas were insensitive to pheromones and couldn’t identify the emotions they carried, but when the smell was this overpowering, it meant only one of two things: either they were in heat, or they were out of their minds.

From a distance, Si Ye spotted several familiar faces. These Alphas were notorious thugs in the neighborhood, showing up every now and then to “visit” the Nest Silk Factory Community under the guise of collecting protection money. He shoved his bike into the shed and ripped a rusty support bar from the frame in one fluid motion.

The convenience store stall had been smashed to pieces. Aunt Dunzi sat amidst the wreckage, wailing in despair. Comrade Zhang Dunhao was already bleeding from a cut, clearly no match for the towering Alphas opposite him.

Si Qing was locked in a heated argument with them. The Alphas, however, couldn’t be bothered to listen. Seeing she was blind, one of them impatiently shoved her aside. In that split second, a small, thin figure lunged from the shadows, clutching half a broken beer bottle. He drove it viciously into the Alpha’s leg!

The Alpha roared in pain and delivered a brutal kick to the Little Cub’s stomach, sending him flying.

“Fuck! It’s a little beggar!”

“Motherfucker, you dare stab me? Kill him!”

The Alphas swarmed forward. Before the Little Cub could even recover from the excruciating pain, his vision was already eclipsed by a dark cloud of bodies. Fists and kicks rained down on him like hail. He raised his thin, frail arms in a futile attempt to protect his head. A dark shadow flashed before his eyes, and he felt certain he would die here today.

Just as he thought it was over, a dull thud echoed from above. An Alpha clutched his neck and collapsed.

Si Ye was ruthless and merciless. He swung the spiked iron bar viciously at the Alpha’s nape, tearing away a chunk of flesh and skin. The man writhed on the ground like a loach, howling in agony as he held his throat.

“It’s that damn kid again!”

These thugs were nothing more than newly adult societal scum. Even they felt a flicker of dread when faced with a formidable young delinquent. Normally, a Beta who didn’t even reach their shoulders wouldn’t be considered a threat, but they had already experienced Si Ye’s brutality once. This kid fought with a reckless abandon, as if he had no concept of fear in his very bones.

With Si Ye’s support, Dunzi regained his confidence. He grabbed a weighing pole and charged forward, stabbing it into someone’s stomach.

The sounds of clashing bodies, screams, and cries merged into a chaotic mess. The Little Cub, dazed and disoriented, tried to push himself up, only to feel his hand covered in warm, sticky blood from his nose.

Ultimately, he was lifted into a pair of lean, strong arms. The man carried no pheromones that offered any comfort, but his heartbeat was powerful and steady. Fearing abandonment, the Little Cub clutched the man’s clothes at his chest, finally drifting into unconsciousness.

During his slumber, the Little Cub had a long dream.

The vast villa was deathly still, faintly smelling of decay. The second-story attic had its windows perpetually closed. Starving, the Little Cub climbed the stairs and saw a woman in the bedroom, her back to him.

Her face was pallid, the sunlight streaming through the skylight unable to bring her even a hint of warmth. She turned, saw the Little Cub, and murmured, “Why are you still here?”

The Little Cub instinctively opened his mouth and uttered a short syllable: “Ma…”

The woman’s expression instantly twisted into a grimace. She rushed forward and shoved the Little Cub down the stairs: “You shouldn’t be here! Get out! Run!”

The Little Cub lost his footing and was horrified to find the stairs behind him seemed endless. Darkness devoured him from all sides as he fell, struggling instinctively. After an unknown amount of time, the woman’s screams ceased. The Little Cub opened his eyes to see her lying lifelessly at his feet, her face turned an ominous shade of ashen gray.

Overwhelming grief eclipsed the terror in his heart. He finally managed to utter that single syllable: “Ma… Mama…”

A pair of hands reached out from the darkness and hoisted him up. A man’s ice-cold voice rasped in his ear, “Your mother’s dead. You don’t have a mother anymore.”

Those words were like a sinister prophecy. After that, countless fists and kicks, accompanied by the man’s vile curses, rained down on him day after day:

“Now your whole family can see how you’ve looked down on me!”

“You short-lived bitch! Your company is all mine now!”

“You bastard brat! You dare cry one more time, and I’ll kill you!”

The suffocating scent of the man’s leather-like pheromones pinned him to the floor, leaving him unable to move as he retched in waves of nausea.

This nightmare-like existence filled the young boy’s short life. The woman’s final, piercing scream still echoed in his ears: Run! Get out of here!

It took him a full two or three days to complete this desperate feat, draining him of all his strength and energy. In his haste, he had acted on impulse, bringing only his resolve to escape. He never thought to pack food or supplies. After struggling to survive for several days, he was finally picked up by a stranger.

At the time, he didn’t yet know to be wary of unprovoked kindness. He followed the man, eating and drinking well for a week, before being suddenly taken to a hospital. There, they drew several vials of his blood for gland matching.

The vigilance etched into his bones finally flared. Sensing danger, he took advantage of the hospital’s chaotic crowd to steal the clothes of a child in the next bed. After a quick disguise, he escaped once more.

This time, he was far more cautious. Like a small animal scavenging in the city, he shunned all contact and only ventured out at night to find food.

Occasionally, when approached by strangers with unclear intentions, he would pretend to be a child with parents, stealthily trailing middle-aged couples to borrow their authority.

He could read maps slightly but had forgotten how many places he’d visited. He had fled when the weather was still cold, yet now, with summer nearly over, he still hadn’t found a place to call his own in this vast, indifferent world.

He had been in this city for over a month and had already figured out which streets were best for scavenging food. But summer was brutal. After several sudden downpours, he came down with a severe cold. Combined with the burning ache of hunger in his stomach, his head spun and his vision blurred.

Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He reached out and stole a steamed bun.

His first theft was clumsy. He was quickly discovered and given a brutal beating. Fortunately, he had already stuffed the bun into his mouth, so they couldn’t take it back. A sharp pain shot through his arm. He tried to lift his left hand, only to realize with horror that he had no strength left.

Now he couldn’t even scavenge for trash.

After several more days of starving, the Little Cub finally arrived at a dilapidated residential area. Gazing up at the still-azure sky in the distance, he thought, I’m probably going to die.

He didn’t quite understand death, so he wasn’t particularly afraid. He simply clutched his last half a steamed bun, deciding to die with a full stomach.

However, before he could finish the bun, a fierce-looking teenager burst into the carport.

Relying on the experience he’d gained from traveling south and north for over half a year, the Little Cub instantly judged that this person was trouble.

He quickly stuffed the bun into his mouth, only to find that the teenager had no intention of snatching it. Instead, the youth waited for him to finish eating before speaking.

The man was asking about his arm.

The Little Cub didn’t let down his guard. Not until the teenager grasped his injured arm, and with a sharp crack, a pain like a whip lashed through him. His mind went blank, and he could only wail in instinctive agony.

When the crying stopped, he discovered his arm was healed.

He lingered in the carport for a moment, dazed and slow to react, before the thought finally dawned on him: in this sweltering, humid summer, he might not die after all.

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