Chapter 48.1

The second round of recruitment concluded with Mu Ling hiring thirty-one new staff members: thirty animal caretakers and one veterinarian.

The veterinarian would start within a week, while the caretakers were set to begin the next day. However, they couldn’t assume their duties immediately after onboarding—several days of intensive training were necessary first. Consequently, Mu Ling planned to increase visitor capacity starting from September 25th.

Since tickets were sold through pre-order, she needed to inform the public three days in advance. She decided to make a video announcement.

*

September 22nd, 10:00 AM

In the residential area of Planet 917, gunfire echoed ceaselessly through the cold air. Mixed within were the screams of men and women, alongside the ferocious roars of beasts.

A thunderous roar erupted from a giant white tiger clad in armor. Its vital areas—head, chest, and belly—were securely protected by the plating. Crimson-stained fangs still held remnants of mutant beast flesh as it lunged forward, sinking its teeth into the throat of a struggling mutant wolf.

“Bang!” Another gunshot rang out, and the wolf went still.

“Ice Cream, release!”

At its master’s command, the white tiger reluctantly loosened its grip, tongue flicking across its teeth to taste the wolf’s still-warm blood.

The master uncapped a small bottle of nutrient water, holding it upside down like a nursing bottle to feed the tiger.

As the tiger gulped down the water, another support team arrived.

A soldier in green military uniform carried a petite Persian cat on his shoulder. The cat gracefully leapt down, carefully navigating past the fierce tiger and the dead mutant wolf before darting into one of the dilapidated shacks nearby.

This was the poorest district on Planet 917, where the most destitute residents made their homes in ramshackle shelters.

The Persian cat halted before a wooden cabinet and softly meowed, glancing back at its master.

The soldier followed, weapon ready in one hand while carefully opening the cabinet door with the other.

Inside, two trembling young girls clung tightly to each other, their frightened eyes fixed on the stranger.

The soldier lowered his weapon and reported through his communication device: “Search team in Sector C has located two surviving children. Repeat, two surviving children found in Sector C.”

Simultaneously outside, the tiger’s master reported while feeding his beast: “Clearing team in Sector C has neutralized a high-level infected wolf. Repeat, one high-level infected wolf neutralized in Sector C.”

Since the outbreak of the mutant beast tide, Planet 917 had been under martial law. Nearly two months had passed, yet the clearing operations were far from over.

*

At the command center, Colonel Yin Lingyun, overseeing the cleanup and rescue operations across the slums, listened to the reports and responded gravely: “Proceed further.”

He studied the monitors displaying live feeds from the soldiers’ body cameras, observing the situation in real-time.

A deputy commander nearby remarked, “We’re still short on warbirds. If we had enough War Birds, these search missions would—”

The deputy stopped abruptly, nudged by a lieutenant beside him.

Realizing his mistake, he glanced awkwardly at his superior. “Boss, I didn’t mean—”

Yin Lingyun remained expressionless, hands on his hips, eyes fixed on the screens. “It’s fine.”

The lieutenant pulled the deputy aside and whispered harshly, “Why bring up warbirds? You know how sensitive this is for the boss.”

“I just slipped up,” the deputy lamented. “Back when Tayun was here, we never struggled like this. Now we’re doing blind sweeps, and this huge slum area has become so much more dangerous.”

The lieutenant sighed. “The boss has already requested reinforcements. They’re transferring some warbirds from other military districts. For urban clearing operations, warbirds are still the most efficient.”

The deputy pressed his lips together. “Borrowed birds won’t work as well as our own—it’ll take time to build coordination.”

“What else can we do? Stop mentioning Tayun. He’s been retired for over a year, and every mention just upsets the boss more.”

“I know. I’ll stop.”

Despite their whispered conversation, Yin Lingyun heard every word.

Forcing himself to focus, he returned his attention to the monitors.

Just then, a soldier entered briskly, speaking softly: “Colonel, Federation headquarters has sent a file. Please access your light brain to retrieve it.”

After entering the war zone, personal light brains were confiscated for security reasons. Even Yin Lingyun, as a senior officer, had to comply.

He entered the adjacent room, located his light brain among the others, and powered it on. Navigating to the communications hub to await the file, he noticed something unusual—a chat group titled “One Big Happy Zoo Family” mixed among his professional channels, marked with 99+ unread messages.

Had someone renamed one of his work groups?

Curious, Yin Lingyun clicked in, his brows furrowing immediately.

He didn’t recognize this group or remember joining it. The member list included military titles—Colonel Val, Lieutenant Hermann, General Milo, Commander Duan—but none of the names were familiar.

The group was currently active:

Commander Duan: [Pictures of Qilin, Pimi, and Lightning] “Took these this morning when Director Mu was feeding them. Help yourselves, fellow zoo members.”

Colonel Val: “@Commander Duan Bless you! Qilin has fewer bandages today.”

Commander Duan: “@Colonel Val Yes, Director Mu says all bandages can come off in a couple days.”

Lieutenant Song: “@Commander Duan Is Pimi really adjusting well to the animal dormitory? I’ve been watching visitor videos since it moved in two days ago, but it seems isolated, always in corners. Should Director Mu return it to the vet station?”

Commander Duan: “@Lieutenant Song Director Mu says Splendor is gradually integrating. It’s not being isolated—just naturally cautious about approaching others. Should improve in a few days.”

Lieutenant Hermann: “@Commander Duan Has Lightning’s damage value decreased recently? Director Mu tests daily but only publishes monthly. I’m quite anxious.”

Commander Duan: “@Lieutenant Hermann They do test daily, but it’s done at the vet station. Only Magic gets tested at the entrance where I can see. Can’t watch other animals’ tests without being staff. Don’t worry though—Lightning seems fine, fights with Tayun every day.”

Tayun?

Yin Lingyun’s deep eyes fixed suddenly on those two words, his lips pressing into a thin line. Was this someone’s cruel joke?

The chat continued flowing:

Commander Duan: [Pictures of Magic teasing little wolf, spraying water, getting treatment, sleeping, eating winter melon] “@Lieutenant Hermann See? Lightning is healthy and playful.”

Lieutenant Hermann: “Where? I only see Magic.”

Commander Duan: “When Magic teases the little wolf, Lightning’s black leg is visible in the lower left. During the water spray, that black mass on the cat tower is Lightning. During treatment, look at the tree crown—Lightning’s in the nest, eyes showing.”

Lieutenant Hermann: “…”

Lieutenant Hermann: “Hard to see clearly, but thank you. From the leg position, Lightning must have been running. From the cat tower pose, must have been grooming. Those eyes in the tree—vertical pupils mean it was relaxed.”

Commander Duan: “@Lieutenant Hermann I’ll take more pictures of Lightning after the 3 PM viewing.”

Lieutenant Hermann: “@Commander Duan Thank you so much!”

Colonel Val: “@Commander Duan Could you capture more of Qilin too? Much appreciated.”

Lieutenant Song: “@Commander Duan And more of Pimi? Many thanks.”

General Milo: “@Commander Duan Could you photograph Moonlight? Project Special’s been so busy since the zoo opened—haven’t seen Moonlight in ages.”

Commander Duan: “@General Milo I can’t see it either.”

General Milo: “I understand. Thank you anyway.”

“Buzz buzz buzz.”

The file transfer notification pulled Yin Lingyun from his daze.

Seeing ‘transmission in progress’ at the top of his screen, he took a deep breath and continued viewing pictures shared within group chat.

He thought he must be seeing things—in Commander Duan’s series of elephant photos, he spotted Tayun:

When the elephant played with the little wolf, Tayun perched on its head. When it sprayed water, Tayun took flight. During treatment, Tayun stood on a young woman’s shoulder, affectionately rubbing against her ear. While the elephant slept, Tayun roosted on its head. As it ate winter melon, Tayun pecked at the fruit too.

Was that really Tayun?

It had to be—he’d raised Tayun for eighteen years.

How could he mistake his own son?

But… hadn’t Tayun received the wing-softening injection? Hadn’t he vanished without trace into some unknown zoo?

Why was the Tayun in these photos living among elephants, tigers, lions, leopards, and wolves?

Why could it still fly?

What happened? What exactly had happened?

His fingers hovered over the screen, rapidly typing a message, when a new link appeared in the chat.

Colonel Val: [Video link] “Just found this—Director Mu posted a new video.”

His fingers froze. Pressing his lips together, he clicked the video first.

The opening frame captured a pair of keen golden eagle eyes.

Staring at those familiar eyes, Yin Lingyun’s own eyes widened, his breathing growing labored.

Tayun—it really was Tayun!

Then a woman’s voice came from the video: “Young Master Tay, could you play by yourself for a bit? Your servant needs to record something.”

The camera pulled back, revealing Tayun perched on a slender woman’s arm, which trembled slightly, obviously having supported the massive eagle’s weight for some time.