Chapter 59.2

When discussing the deaths of the poachers, the two zookeepers showed no emotion. Their tone was cold. For those who work with animals, any death is regrettable—except for poachers. In their case, “They deserved it” was all that needed to be said.

Mu Ling, already aware of the poachers’ fate from the news, frowned and asked, “Don’t you have footage of that incident?”

She knew that Changshan Zoo was equipped with comprehensive satellite surveillance, supplemented by holographic monitoring. Theoretically, they should have had a full grasp of everything happening in the zoo.

Feifan’s keeper sighed, “The satellite signal in that area was jammed. The poachers came prepared.”

Mu Ling fell silent, then speculated, “Could it be that Feifan sensed the aura of a Mutant beast and went to investigate?”

The zookeepers shook their heads. “Unlikely. The footage shows no reaction from the other warbeasts in the park. Only Feifan suddenly ran over. The military suspects either a coincidence or that Feifan detected the poachers and attacked them. After all, baboons are highly intelligent animals, and Feifan is an S-class Purple Lightning Baboon. Years ago, the Veterinary Association released a report stating that the intelligence of Purple Lightning Baboons is equivalent to that of a seven-year-old human child.”

Mu Ling asked again, “What did the poachers themselves say?”

The keeper sneered, “They made up nonsense, claiming they were beaten by our staff. But our staff only found them three hours later.”

The military had investigated Feifan’s disappearance for a month without results. Mu Ling knew she wouldn’t uncover anything by simply asking a few questions. She turned to Lieyan’s keeper, “How is Lieyan doing now?”

Lieyan’s keeper gave a bitter smile and pulled out some photos. “This is Lieyan. You tell me—does it look like it’s doing well?”

Mu Ling swiped through the photos. The first few seemed fine, but in the later ones, Lieyan appeared progressively thinner. Its once-vibrant fur had dulled, and even the flame-like red tuft at the tip of its tail now looked ashen.

The caretaker explained, “It wasn’t this bad before, but ever since Feifan disappeared, Lieyan’s condition has deteriorated. I heard that when your Bi Ke Zoo found Feifan and Lieyan in the mountains, Lieyan was trapped in branches. Feifan refused to leave it, so your staff brought them both here.”

Mu Ling hadn’t known this. Neither Brother Xiang nor Wei had mentioned it. Looking at the photos of the desolate Scarlet Flame Monkey, she said sincerely, “It seems Lieyan and Feifan were very close. I’d like to see Lieyan. Could I?”

The keeper hesitated before saying, “I can take you to see it, but there’s no guarantee it will show up. It’s grown increasingly sensitive, and I don’t dare get too close for fear of stressing it further.”

“Thank you so much,” Mu Ling said quickly.

After reporting to their superiors, who likely consulted with Director Tian, they received permission and a vehicle was dispatched to take them.

An hour after entering the park, Mu Ling separated from the main group and followed the keepers to another part of the forest.

Although they called it a forest, it was nothing like the mountainous terrain of Bi Ke Forest. The area was a vast plain with only gentle slopes that posed no challenges for their hover vehicle.

On the way, the keepers shared more about Feifan and Lieyan. When they arrived, the vehicle slowed down. Lieyan’s keeper pointed ahead. “There are no other animals within a two-to-three-kilometer radius here. We can’t go any closer; if we do, Lieyan might sense us and flee.”

Mu Ling nodded and gazed out the window.

The keeper handed her binoculars. “Lieyan usually likes climbing that tallest tree. You should be able to spot it with these.”

Mu Ling focused on the enormous, lush tree in her view, but saw no sign of the Scarlet Flame Monkey.

They waited for about an hour, and as noon approached, Lieyan still hadn’t appeared.

Feifan’s keeper, who now tended to other baboons, needed to leave. With only one vehicle, if he left, Mu Ling would have to go too.

Understanding they had already gone out of their way to help, Mu Ling nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

Before leaving, she glanced at the large tree one last time and suddenly saw something dart by.

“Wait!” she exclaimed, staring intently.

It was indeed a monkey, with a patch of dull red fur at its tail tip.

It was Lieyan.

Unaware of the humans in the distance, Lieyan slowly climbed the tree. When it reached the first branch, it paused, panting heavily before continuing upward.

Its movements were laborious, a stark contrast to the agility monkeys typically displayed.

When it finally reached the third branch, it stopped, standing unsteadily on two legs. Holding onto the trunk, it let out a long, mournful cry toward the west.

“Oo-oo!”

The sound echoed through the open forest, haunting and sorrowful. Watching it, Mu Ling felt a pang in her heart. She asked, “Is it calling for Feifan?”

The keeper nodded. “When Feifan was here, although they lived in different areas, it would always respond when Lieyan called. They’d meet occasionally, but because Feifan’s nerves were severely damaged, it sometimes couldn’t control itself and would hurt Lieyan. So, it generally stayed away unless Lieyan called for it.”

The other keeper added, “I heard that Lieyan was actually rescued by Feifan. During a mission, Feifan found a baby monkey hiding in a tree hollow after its mother had been killed by a Mutant beast. Feifan coaxed it out with gentle calls. When its owner saw it was a Scarlet Flame Monkey, he had it evaluated by the Warbeast Academy. With its B-class potential, it was accepted into the academy. During that time, Feifan’s owner often brought it to visit Lieyan.”

“So Feifan practically watched Lieyan grow up,” Mu Ling said softly.

She looked down at Lingren in her arms. The little warbeast seemed captivated by Lieyan’s cries, staring intently out the window.

Mu Ling stroked Lingren’s fur. The bonds between warbeasts could run deep, much like the relationship between Lingren and Loyalty.

“Oo-oo!” Lieyan called out again, its voice echoing forlornly. For the past month, no matter how many times it called, Feifan never answered.

“Wo-wa, wo-wa, wo-wa, wo-wa!”

Meanwhile, in a laboratory within an old factory in Four-Bay Star’s Southern District, a man in a white coat slammed the door to the containment room shut, shouting, “Why can’t we just silence that baboon? It screams nonstop—do you know how annoying it is?”

Behind the soundproofed door, the cries were muffled. Another scientist replied coldly, “Watch your words. If Luo’en hears, you’ll be in trouble.”

“Let him hear!” the first man snapped. “Does he think he’s still a colonel in the Beast Taming Army? He’s nothing but a rat in hiding now. Just because he got plastic surgery and changed his face doesn’t change that he’s a traitor. Traitors like him disgust me most.”

“Enough!” a female doctor monitoring cells barked. “We’re all in this together now. What’s the point of this useless talk? Focus on how we’re going to relocate.”

The hot-tempered man sneered. “Focus on what? Hasn’t Colonel Luo’en thought of a good idea? He dares to use unproven drugs – what did he say? There are six animals on the starship. Although the drug only has a 20% success rate, as long as one animal mutates, once the mutant beast reaches Four Bay Star, it will cause large-scale chaos. Then he’d blend in with the zoo exchange delegates, manipulate public opinion, create panic. The zoo directors would rush to evacuate their animals from Four Bay Star. In the chaos of mass evacuation and disrupted transport routes, we’d slip away with the baboon.”

“But what happened? The plan sounded perfect until a hamster mutated and was immediately killed. Didn’t he know there were warbeasts aboard? Hadn’t he infiltrated that exchange meeting? Did he do any proper investigation? Ha! Not only did he fail to investigate, he ran faster than anyone at the sight of the warbeasts!”

The others couldn’t stand listening anymore. His daily negativity had become insufferable. “Just focus on feeding the baboon. Why all these complaints? This is an S-class warbeast—do you realize how rare that is? Luo’en won’t let anyone near his mastiff. All our hopes rest on this baboon. Getting it back to Shenwang Star is what matters—internal conflicts are pointless.”

The agitated man shouted again, “How do we get it back? Easy to say! I told you we shouldn’t have knocked out those poachers. We should have let them hunt, let them create chaos on Four Bay Star. We could have escaped in the confusion. But no, he had to meddle—what did their poaching have to do with us? If anything, we benefited from those poachers. Without knowing their plans, how else would we have gotten this baboon?”

His repetitive complaints fell on deaf ears. Seeing himself ignored only fueled his anger, and he began attacking everyone indiscriminately, calling them traitors willing to bow to a Beast Taming Army officer, questioning their backbone.

While they argued outside, in the containment room, the horse-faced baboon had fallen silent. Its keen eyes fixed on the keys lying on a table beyond its cage. After carefully surveying its surroundings, it climbed to the ceiling, skillfully lifted the ventilation cover, and peered inside.

“Wo-wa,” it called softly into the duct.

Soon, a tiny kitten appeared, stumbling along. The old factory’s overgrown exterior made it a perfect shelter for stray cats, who often hid their kittens in the ventilation system while hunting.

This wasn’t the kitten’s first visit. As soon as it appeared, the Purple Lightning Baboon retrieved a piece of feed from its bowl, climbed back up, and offered it to the kitten.

After struggling to finish one piece, the kitten found no more. This was unusual—normally, there would be plenty to eat.

“Meow,” the hungry kitten called to the strange creature that looked neither horse nor monkey.

The baboon picked up the kitten, let it smell another piece of feed, then precisely tossed the food onto a nearby table. It followed by gently placing the kitten there too.

Though nervous in the unfamiliar setting, the kitten caught the scent of food and quickly ate it.

Before it finished, another piece landed near the keys. The kitten hurried over and continued eating.

Gradually, the Purple Lightning Baboon guided the kitten to play around the keys. Once full, the kitten treated the flying feed like a laser pointer’s red dot, unable to resist pouncing after each piece.

Finally, the keys clattered to the floor. The baboon quickly grabbed more feed, continuing to toss pieces near the keys. Within twenty minutes, they were within its reach.

Using its long tail, it snagged the keys, manipulated them with nimble fingers, and unlocked its cage.

After freeing itself, the baboon returned the kitten to the ceiling with extra food, replaced the ventilation cover, and moved on all fours to the main door, preparing to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

The Veterinary Association had certified that the Purple Lightning Baboon’s intelligence matched that of a seven-year-old human child.

But they hadn’t dared reveal that an S-class Purple Lightning Baboon’s intelligence actually exceeded that of a nine-year-old human child.

Especially not one that had received specialized training since infancy.