Chapter 50.1

At half past midnight, Mu Ling was woken by her light brain’s ringing.

Still groggy from sleep, she answered the call and made her way downstairs to the veterinary station.

As soon as she entered, she heard the fox’s low growls, punctuated by sharp “gah.. gah” cries.

Xiang Bie was at the medicine cabinet, preparing medication. Upon seeing Mu Ling, he pursed his lips and said, “It woke up crying, but I didn’t want to sedate it right away.”

As he spoke, he took out two types of sleep aids. Both were medications that Moonlight usually took; they were harmless and could relax the mind, mainly helping with sleep.

Mu Ling shook her head. “What works for Moonlight won’t work for Lingren. Lingren metabolize common anesthetics too quickly, and ordinary sleep aids would be ineffective. Let me check on it first.”

When she entered, she found the snow-white fox pacing restlessly in its cage, three discarded bandages scattered on the floor.

All four of its paws were injured. Though Mu Ling had dressed the wounds earlier, the fox had torn off most of the bandages, likely from discomfort.

Frowning slightly, she stood at a distance, observing the fox.

“Gah!”

The white fox noticed her immediately, retreating warily to a corner. Its body faced her as it bared sharp teeth in a hostile snarl. “Gah!”

“How strange,” Mu Ling muttered, her brows furrowing.

Xiang Bie entered, noticing her reaction and about to ask what she’d discovered.

But then Mu Ling remarked with wonder, “How can it look so beautiful even when angry?”

Xiang Bie: “…”

He gave her an expressionless look and said coolly, “Should we just let it keep crying?”

“It’s in an acute stress response,” Mu Ling said, rolling up her sleeves. She squatted down to be level with the white fox. “Let’s see if we can calm it down.” She called out gently, “Lingren, Lingren.”

The fox retreated further until its hindquarters pressed against the wall, its whole body trembling as it glared at her with fierce, frightened eyes.

“Huh,” Mu Ling observed, noting its flattened ears and quivering limbs. “It seems… afraid of me?”

She looked up at Xiang Bie. “Why would it be afraid of me?”

Xiang Bie glanced between the fox and Mu Ling. “Animals naturally fear creatures larger than themselves.”

“No,” Mu Ling said with certainty. “Other animals might, but not war beasts. Qilin, Lightning, Qingjiao, Pimi, moonlight, Tayun, Magic—every S-class retired war beast I’ve encountered has initially shown hostility or wariness towards me but never fear. They’re born to be strong. Their training from birth teaches them to face challenges head-on. They don’t fear death, much less enemies. But Lingren being afraid of me… this defies its very instincts.”

Xiang Bie considered. “Perhaps it’s because of the gunshot?”

Mu Ling shook her head. “When I first met Lightning, I shot at a hyena right in front of it. Lightning wasn’t frightened. You’ve pointed a gun at Tayun too, but it didn’t fear you. They’re war beasts—they’re used to gunfire.”

Xiang Bie tried again. “Maybe they’re not scared if you miss, but scared if you hit?”

Mu Ling shook her head once more. “When Qingjiao first came down from the mountains, Brother Wei shot and hit it. Yet Qingjiao never feared him.”

Something felt deeply wrong to Mu Ling—Lingren showed too many anomalies. She decided, “It’s been crying for a while. Let’s try getting some nutrient water and food into it. Brother Xiang, could you prepare a meal? I need to check Lingren’s records again.”

Xiang Bie nodded and went to prepare the food and water. Meanwhile, Mu Ling accessed the veterinary station’s computer to pull up Lingren’s files.

The records were sparse: entry date, initial injury assessment, service history including assigned planets and units, owner information, and medical records.

Earlier in her dormitory, Mu Ling had reviewed these files but had focused mainly on the medical records. Now, her attention caught on a detail she’d overlooked—under “Donor” was listed “Federal War Beast Center.”

“Brother Xiang,” Mu Ling said, an uneasy feeling washing over her, “do you know who Lingren’s owner is?”

Xiang Bie, carrying the prepared food and water, walked over and looked at the display screen before falling silent

Mu Ling watched him expectantly.

After a moment, he spoke solemnly, “If the War Beast Center handled the transfer, it means its owner wasn’t able to personally oversee its retirement.”

Mu Ling’s heart sank.

Unable to oversee its retirement? What did that mean?

Her throat tightened. “They weren’t… killed in action, were they?”

Xiang Bie replied quietly, “I wasn’t in charge when Lingren arrived, so I’m not certain. I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

Mu Ling nodded absently, then took the food and water into the enclosure. She placed them by the cage door before quickly retreating outside to monitor through surveillance.

Though she’d intended to watch Lingren’s reaction to the food, the camera angle first showed her moonlight’s enclosure.

The white bear was in its usual corner, its teddy bear abandoned near the front of the cage. It lay flat like a bear pancake, forepaws wrapped tightly around its head.

“What the heck? Why is Moonlight sleeping like that? It’ll hurt its neck! No, wait—it’s not sleeping, it’s still moving!”

As Mu Ling muttered this, Xiang Bie observed the white bear on the screen and remarked, “It was acting strangely earlier.”

Mu Ling turned to him. “What happened?”

“It seems… offended by Lingren’s presence,” Xiang Bie said.

Mu Ling: “…Huh?”

“Check the earlier footage,” Xiang Bie suggested.

Mu Ling pulled up a second screen. Around midnight, she witnessed the chaos that had unfolded in the medical ward. Her expression fell.

“Maybe,” she offered guiltily, “Moonlight just doesn’t like ducks?”

Xiang Bie gave her a withering look.

Mu Ling: “…”

“Gah! Gah!”

Now certain the humans had left, the white fox resumed its anxious pacing and crying, completely ignoring the food and water.

Simultaneously, Moonlight grew more agitated, struggling to cover its head with its clumsy paws. Finally, it stood upright on its hind legs, lumbered to the bars, and began pounding them while snarling at the fox.

The metallic clanging echoed through the station as the bear roared, “Grrr! Grrr!”

Startled by the sudden outburst, the white fox tucked its tail but answered with defiant, increasingly hoarse cries, “Gah! Gah!”

“Oh my god!” Mu Ling rushed in to intervene.

At her entrance, the white fox immediately shrank into its corner, while Moonlight abruptly stopped. The bear glanced at her, then quietly picked up its food bowl in its mouth and stared at her expectantly.

Mu Ling: “…”

She couldn’t help but laugh. Avoiding Lingren’s cage, she approached Moonlight and crouched down. “Are you trying to show me how well-behaved you are?”

The bear adjusted its grip on the bowl, making sure it was secure in its mouth.

Mu Ling reached in and gently tugged on the bowl. Moonlight released it willingly, then licked its nose.

Taking advantage of its calm state, she quickly reached out to pat its paw. The bear flinched and pulled back slightly but stayed within reach.

“Don’t be upset, Moonlight,” she said softly. “Lingren is just in pain, like you were when you first arrived. Remember? If you sleep, you won’t hear it. Or I can stay here with you tonight. How about that?”

Her gentle voice soothed the bear’s agitation.

It sat down, and in doing so, its paw naturally moved out of Mu Ling’s reach.

The bear looked at Mu Ling’s empty hand, hesitated for a moment, then shuffled forward slightly to offer its paw again.

Mu Ling chuckled softly and resumed stroking its paw while looking back at the white fox across the way.

The fox was still calling out, its whole body shaking, with fresh blood seeping through its bandaged wounds.

Deciding it was time for action, Mu Ling left to prepare a high-dose sedative. Xiang Bie watched silently as she worked.

“The external wounds aren’t severe,” she explained, “but its psychological state is concerning. I’d hoped to wait until tomorrow for a mental evaluation, but that’s not an option now. If it won’t calm down, we’ll have to sedate it for the assessment.”

Loading the sedative into a tranquilizer gun, she handed it to Xiang Bie. “I’ll distract it while you take the shot from behind. Don’t let it see you—that would only frighten it more.”

Xiang Bie nodded, checking the gun carefully.

As Mu Ling headed back, she picked up a small stuffed dog from the office desk. Since more animals had joined the Zoo, she’d filled the place with these plush toys—they were everywhere now.