Chapter 92.1

“That’s good, that’s a relief!”

Mu Ling immediately let out a huGusgh of relief!

If Brother Xiang really was a fugitive from the law, she truly wouldn’t have known what to do.

Xiang Bie watched her expression of post-crisis relief, his face remaining cold as he continued staring at her.

Now that the weight was off her mind, Mu Ling was back to her cheerful self. But when she turned her head, her upturned smile immediately dropped. She asked cautiously, “Is there… something else?”

Xiang Bie’s expression darkened. “No other questions?”

Mu Ling: “……”

Xiang Bie: “…………”

Indeed, she really didn’t have any!

Xiang Bie turned back to feeding Magic grass, no longer wanting to speak.

Mu Ling looked at his back silently for a moment before saying, “Brother Xiang, actually, you’ve already given me the answers to some things. Didn’t you say before that your name means ‘parting with the past’ and ‘not looking back’?”

Xiang Bie paused, turning to look at her.

Mu Ling smiled. “So I really don’t have any questions anymore. Everything is very clear now.”

You must have experienced something very difficult, which is why you gave up the honor of being a Marshal, changed your identity to become another person, and are living the simplest, most ordinary life. You don’t want to mention your past anymore; you don’t want to look back. So why should I dig into your wounds by prying?

Perhaps because Mu Ling’s tone was so earnest, Xiang Bie studied her for a long moment.

Afterwards, he nodded.

Seeing that he wasn’t pressing the issue anymore, Mu Ling said, “Let’s just focus on the present. I won’t treat you differently because of your former identity. We’ll continue to interact just like before, okay?”

Xiang Bie looked at her, his eyes gradually softening. “Okay.”

Mu Ling nodded. “Then after you finish feeding the grass, remember to sweep the ground, change the water in the tank, and scrub the tank as well.”

Xiang Bie: “…”

After the glass door closed again, Xiang Bie watched Mu Ling’s departing figure, his brows suddenly furrowing deeply.

Why did he feel that her repeated emphasis that the past wasn’t important and only the present mattered was because she feared he would rely on his former Marshal’s glory to avoid work? Was she specifically reminding him that now he was nothing special, and as long as he hadn’t broken the law, he would have to work until old age?

After feeding the last bit of grass to the impatient red terror elephant, Xiang Bie resignedly picked up the broom and began sweeping the scattered grass fragments from the ground.

A while later, Wei Li snuck in stealthily and asked in a low voice, “Brother Xiang, did the Director just interrogate you?”

Xiang Bie replied coldly, “No.”

Wei Li frowned. “Then why did you talk for so long? Brother Xiang, don’t hide it from me. The Director must have pressured you.”

Xiang Bie: “…”

Xiang Bie didn’t want to talk to him; he still had to go scrub the water tank.

Wei Li was particularly anxious. “It’s over, it’s over. Does this mean we can’t stay at Bi Ke Zoo anymore? Will the Director kick us out? Did she hint at anything like that?”

“No,” seeing Wei Li was genuinely too anxious, Xiang Bie had to explain, “She said everything will remain as usual.”

Wei Li’s eyes brightened. “Really? Everything as usual? So either she hasn’t discovered it, or she already knows but has a kind heart and doesn’t discriminate against you for being a former Marshal and me for being a former Lieutenant Colonel?”

Xiang Bie: “…”

Discriminate…

Wei Li sighed again. “Actually, I was just young and ignorant when I became a Lieutenant Colonel. Now it’s like I have a permanent cyber record, and I have to walk on eggshells everywhere I go…”

As he spoke, Wei Li looked toward Xiang Bie again, “But if we’re talking about who’s worse off, Brother Xiang, you’re in a tougher spot. Your level was higher than mine, so you’d better be even nicer to the Director from now on. Never make her angry—you have to do everything she says. Otherwise, if she gets upset and reports us, we’ll have to flee for our lives!”

Just thinking about possibly returning to those days of living in fear, hiding from place to place, made Wei Li miserable. He shook his head, put his hands behind his back, and slowly left the glass enclosure.

Xiang Bie: “…”

Xiang Bie almost laughed from frustration.

At first, Wei Li was genuinely worried about being driven away.

It wasn’t until the next day, when the Director still had him order and stock goods as usual, didn’t revoke his general manager position, and didn’t skimp on his chicken leg when eating boxed lunches after work, that Wei Li finally believed the Director truly didn’t intend to make things difficult for them.

Wei Li finally relaxed, and his mood visibly brightened.

*

The opening of the War Beast Daycare stirred up some excitement on the StarNet, but since there were only two animals, the buzz was limited.

However, what puzzled netizens was that even though they had asked the keepers, both the Snow Bear “Killer” and the Nine-Spike Boar “Devourer” were adult War Beasts, so why was this place called a War Beast Daycare?

It sounded like a place for raising young beasts.

Mu Ling happened to see this comment and replied online: [Because every War Beast is a baby!]

Immediately, netizens commented under her reply.

[Hahaha, so that’s why. Yes, yes, of course all War Beasts are babies! And where babies live is a daycare. That makes perfect sense!]

[You have time to reply but not to post videos? Update! Update! Update!]

[The Director has been quite productive lately. Instead of asking for updates, I want to know when we’ll get the damage values of other War Beasts?]

[I’m more curious about the War Beast daycare clearly having ten glass enclosures, but when will the remaining animals be available? I have tickets for the day after tomorrow, will I be able to see new animals?]

Seeing this reply, Mu Ling frowned. During mealtime, she asked Wei Li, “Brother Wei, can the A-class Desert Stallion from Jiama Star’s Jiama Zoo arrive today?”

To avoid being overwhelmed, they had arranged for war beasts to arrive at one- or two-week intervals. The Nine-Spike Boar had already been here for over a week, and both the Snow Bear and Nine-Spike Boar were improving daily, so they had arranged for the next war beast to come. But the Desert Stallion that should have arrived two days ago still hadn’t shown up.

Jiama Zoo said that both the owner and the Stallion had already boarded the starship, but the ship had probably encountered a meteor shower, causing the delay.

But even with a delay, it shouldn’t be this long.

Now that the Director knows his weakness, Wei Li no longer complained about his general manager position being like a janitor’s. As soon as the Director gave an order, he immediately stopped eating and quickly took out his light brain to contact Jiama Zoo.

Seeing him like this, Mu Ling didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Eat first, a few minutes won’t make a difference.”

Wei Li hurriedly said, “This humble servant, Wei Li, swears loyalty to Your Majesty! I would gladly lay down my life—what’s skipping breakfast compared to that?”

Mu Ling: “…”

Wei Li’s call went through, but no one answered. He frowned, took a bite of his meat bun, and muttered, “What’s going on?”

Mu Ling asked, “Are you calling the Desert Stallion’s owner?”

“Yes,” Wei Li said. “Last night, Jiama Zoo gave me the owner’s contact number, but no one answered when I called last night. I thought they might be asleep and didn’t notice.”

Mu Ling frowned. “Try calling again later, and keep an eye on it.”

Wei Li said, “Okay.”

For the entire morning, Wei Li was busy with matters in the service area, and in the meantime, he also communicated with the transport team. When he finally had free time again and called back, the call had changed from unanswered to powered off.

Who turns off their light brain?

It’s not like they’re military personnel—why shut down a light brain for no reason?

Just as Wei Li was feeling suspicious, he saw a news alert pop up at the top of his light brain interface.

Wei Li’s expression changed after just one glance. The news headline read: [U33 Starship Missing for Over 39 Hours, federation Bureau Says Investigation Has Been Launched.]

U33 Starship—wasn’t that the ship from Jiama Star to Shenwang Star?

Wei Li’s expression darkened. He made calls while walking toward the animal dormitory.

When Mu Ling heard the news, she was changing Jingang’s bandages with Dr. Burey.

“Missing?” she repeated, looking up.

Wei Li said, “Yes, the news is out, and it’s already the top trending topic on StarNet. In the comments section, some people say they encountered rebels, others say space pirates, but the official news states that U33 disappeared near a meteor shower, so it’s possible it was hit by meteors. They don’t rule out the possibility that the ship crashed and everyone perished…”

Mu Ling’s expression turned grim. She asked, “Does Jiama Zoo know about this?”

“I just called to ask, and they just found out too. Now they’re in complete chaos.”

Mu Ling sighed. At times like this, there wasn’t much they could do except say, “Let’s keep monitoring the situation.”

Perhaps because a missing starship was such a significant event, under constant pressure from netizens and families, the government issued the latest announcement in less than 12 hours, stating that the starship had not been destroyed by meteor impacts, as all planets near the meteor shower had been searched and no ship debris had been found.

When this news came out, netizens and families all breathed a sigh of relief. It was good that the ship hadn’t been destroyed, meaning people were still alive. But where had the starship gone?

By early the next morning, the topic had grown from a few trending searches yesterday to occupying the entire top twenty trending list, all with related terms.

On the third and fourth days, interest continued to increase.

By the fifth day, just as netizens were about to completely criticize the government for not finding people yet, a new announcement finally appeared. It stated that U33 Starship had been found on Nurhar Star. The ship had made an emergency landing and suffered extensive damage, and the military was making all efforts to rescue passengers.

After that, the announcements were mostly good news.

[Five hundred people had been rescued.]

[One thousand people had been rescued.]

[All passengers and crew, totaling 3,091 people, had been rescued—386 with minor injuries, 103 with serious injuries, and no deaths.]

[The President had arrived at Nurhar Star to personally express concern for the injured citizens.]

At this point, the matter seemed to have reached a positive conclusion. Everyone was grateful that nobody had died—that was the greatest fortune in an unfortunate situation!

Just when everyone thought this incident was finally over…

“Nurhar Star” again topped the trending searches.

The headline read: [EMERGENCY! Large Numbers of Mutant Beasts Discovered on Nurhar Star, All Planet Entry and Exit Points Sealed!]

Mu Ling looked at this trending search, then at the comments section that instantly exploded, fell silent for a moment, and turned to look at Brother Xiang sitting beside her.

Xiang Bie was also looking at his light brain. Seeming to notice Mu Ling’s gaze, he calmly said, “A trap.”

Mu Ling remained silent.

Xiang Bie looked at her. “The U33 Starship was bait. The target is the President. It’s too obvious.”

Yes, it was indeed too obvious—the suspicious disappearance, the timing of the disappearance just as public patience was about to run out. Even if just to appease public sentiment, the President would inevitably need to personally visit Nurhar Star to show concern. And this was the underlying objective.

Mu Ling looked at Brother Xiang beside her. She had researched the “Marshal Xiang” and naturally discovered his relationship with the President’s wife… He was the President’s wife’s nephew, which meant the President was his uncle-in-law…

“You…” Mu Ling tried to say something.

Xiang Bie turned off his light brain and stood up. “I’m going to patrol the mountain.”

With that, he walked out.

Mu Ling watched his retreating figure, then looked back at her light brain, her expression growing colder.

She didn’t understand matters of state or power struggles among those in high positions. She only knew that Nurhar Star was now experiencing the same thing as Xuangu Star a year ago—a man-made mutant beast tide.

Many people would die…

*

The blood-red Desert Stallion raised its high hooves.

Its black mane shook violently in the night wind.

“Neigh!” It let out an angry snort, representing warning and threat.

“Stomp, stomp!” The Desert Stallion kicked away the body of a mutated dog. When the mutated dog turned to bite it, it kicked again, sending the dog flying to the roadside. Then it galloped over and stomped on the dog repeatedly until it was reduced to a pulp.

One mutated dog was dead, but in the pitch-black night, more mutated beasts lurked in the shadows.

Suddenly, a moderately infected cat with six legs descended from above. With its shrill cat cry, it jumped onto the Desert Stallion’s back, about to bite through its flesh!

The Desert Stallion sensed the enemy on its back and began thrashing wildly, trying to throw the enemy off.

But the mutated cat’s claws had already dug into its flesh. The Desert Stallion let out a high-pitched neigh, and the next second…

“Bang!” A gunshot rang out from behind.

Fresh red blood flowed from the mutated cat’s body. It immediately fell to the side with a thud, landing on the ground.