After the destruction of the Qilin headquarters, the residual radiation levels were extremely high.

On the way there, Song Jin pulled a small metal sphere from his pocket and tossed it to Li Xiao: “Keep this.”

Li Xiao, steering with one hand, caught it effortlessly: “What is this?”

“Radiation shield.”

“What else do you have in your pockets?”

“That’s not how the question game works,” Song Jin said, chin propped on his hand, looking lazily out the window.

Li Xiao: “…” Why does that sound so familiar?

Li Xiao tucked the device into his breast pocket: “Am I the only one who thinks we’re friends now?”

Song Jin wasn’t buying it at all: “Yes, you are.”

Li Xiao: “…” The brat is throwing a tantrum again.

There was some intelligence he couldn’t share—partly because it involved Danshi internal politics, and partly because he didn’t have enough evidence to form a coherent picture himself. Despite their temporary partnership, they stood on opposite sides of the Saint-Ya and Danshi conflict; they weren’t true confidants who could share everything.

The Qilin’s landing pad on either side of the massive crater was littered with modified fighter jets and three large transport ships, now mangled and covered in a thick layer of dust from the Raven’s bombardment.

Seeing Qilin remnants moving nearby, Li Xiao lowered their hovercar, steering toward the newly discovered underground base. He parked the car near a mountain of metal scrap; the beat-up vehicle looked like just another piece of discarded debris.

After walking for a while, they met up with the covert guards. “This way,” a guard signaled, leading them through the scrap heap. Another guard, disguised as a worker, helped his companion heave a heavy steel plate aside, revealing a gaping hole underneath.

Li Xiao crouched to examine the material. It was clearly different from the surrounding junk—high-end, stealth-capable military-grade metal, rarely seen on the open market. “If it hadn’t been blown open here, our portable detectors wouldn’t have picked up the space below,” the guard whispered.

The space below was significant. They rappelled down. “We’ve confirmed the sensors here were fried by the electromagnetic pulse,” the guard said, leading them forward with a flashlight.

The space was metallic and about ten meters high, stacked with wooden crates. Song Jin pried one open with his military knife; it was filled with neatly arranged bullets. He picked one up to inspect under the flashlight.

“Qilin’s armory?”

Li Xiao leaned in. There were no serial numbers on the casings, but the craftsmanship was excellent—far beyond what a back-alley factory could produce. “This is on par with our Saint-Ya military factories,” Song Jin said, holding the bullet to Li Xiao’s face. “Is your Danshi ‘black market’ work really this good?”

Li Xiao played dumb: “I don’t know anything about this.”

Song Jin put the bullet back: “I hope you really don’t.”

Passing through the 1,000-square-meter warehouse, they found a dozen similar rooms filled with ammunition and firearms. Li Xiao picked up a laser composite rifle—a KT936, a new model just released by the Nanming division of the military factory last year. It hadn’t even been fully distributed to their own garrison bases yet, yet here it was in a bandit’s nest.

Song Jin’s flashlight beam swept across the gun: “Are all Danshi people like you—acting like pigs to eat the tiger?”

Li Xiao turned to him: “Do I?”

“Don’t you?”

“Tigers aren’t as fun as lions,” Li Xiao replied, walking ahead.

Song Jin: “…?”

The scale of this armory was massive, far exceeding what a rogue organization should possess. Li Xiao suspected the base had multiple levels. Suddenly, Li Xiao stopped, grabbing Song Jin’s arm. They heard footsteps and dove into a nearby storage room, extinguishing their light.

A few minutes later, light appeared in the hallway. Two young Betas strolled by.

“Good thing the Raven didn’t find this place, or they would’ve cleaned it out!”

“Their gear couldn’t detect this!”

“But everyone on the surface is dead; Qilin is finished.”

“Someone’s going to come looting in a couple of days. Old Zhou and the others are already talking about running.”

The first Beta looked around like a thief: “Let’s run too! Steal some stuff, sell it, and we never have to be flunkies again!”

“Are you crazy? They aren’t blind!”

“What about the blood? Stuff it in your pockets, they won’t notice!”

The companion’s eyes lit up: “Let’s go!”

Li Xiao followed them through the corridors, his navigation intuitive. How can he track them so accurately just by sound? Song Jin wondered. No wonder he ended up half-dead from the sonic boom.

Feeling a piercing gaze, Li Xiao tilted his head: “Are you cursing me?”

Song Jin raised an eyebrow: “You’re too sensitive.”

When the footsteps stopped, Li Xiao signaled a halt. Ahead, the Betas opened a heavy metal gate. Inside, large storage tanks were visible. “It’s freezing here!” one Beta shivered, climbing a ladder. “Hurry!” His companion climbed up, pulled out a storage case: “We’re rich! So many blood bags! One each?”

The first Beta shoved three bags into his clothes. Before they could climb down, Li Xiao and the guards moved in, rendering them unconscious in a heartbeat. Song Jin picked up a discarded blood bag. Compared to the high-quality weapons, these were cheap, substandard—like something bought from a scrapyard.

“Boss, the tanks over here are just bulk blood!” a guard reported.

Song Jin walked over. The three-meter-high tank was full, the red liquid frozen into a massive lump. “Same here!” another guard reported. Out of ten tanks, only the first one had been bagged.

Li Xiao walked into a small inner storage room filled with empty reagent tubes. “These tubes cost a fortune. Even if they just filled them with water, the price would skyrocket.”

Song Jin picked one up. It was indeed refined. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m just curious,” Li Xiao said, looking at him. “Why are you risking so much for this blood?”

Song Jin countered coldly: “I’m also curious why your hearing is better than anyone else’s.”

“Born with it.”

“Really?”

Seeing Song Jin’s “I-don’t-believe-a-word” look, Li Xiao chuckled: “Why would I lie to you?”

“I’ve been lied to by you plenty.”

“Actually, if you just said, ‘I won’t let you see him if you lie to me,’ I might consider every answer carefully.”

“No need,” Song Jin threw the tube back. “I have plenty of ways to make you tell the truth.”

The little Golden Lion’s pride is higher than the sky, Li Xiao thought, stifling a laugh. “I look forward to it.”

Just before leaving, Li Xiao noticed something odd on the wall. He knocked on the metal plating. “A hidden compartment?” Song Jin asked.

“Yeah.” Li Xiao felt around, pushed a spot, and heard gears turning.

The wall opened to reveal a cold-storage room with two reagent tubes on a shelf, labeled N1926.

“The same label,” Song Jin observed. He scanned the shelves and realized every layer had trace markings of removed labels. “Did the guy named Jin say the Fierce Tiger was at N1926?”

“Yeah, their ‘New Blood’ is probably this.”

Suddenly, a bright light hit Li Xiao’s face. He turned away, shielding his eyes: “Cut it out.”

Song Jin stood tall, pointing the flashlight directly at Li Xiao’s face, his expression cold: “You were so far away just now—how did you find the hidden compartment?”

Li Xiao realized he was being questioned for “leading him.” He pushed Song Jin’s hand down: “Suspecting me of setting a trap?”

“Ever since you appeared on that landing pad, I’ve had to suspect you.” Song Jin pulled his hand away. “From my perspective, shouldn’t I?”

Qi Ge and Li Xiao could both see invisible devices; Qi Ge could control people with pheromones—maybe Li Xiao could, too. They acted like they weren’t on the same side, but who knew? If they pointed the finger at Qi Ge and Li Xiao acted as the “witness,” they could gain his trust, get close to the King, and seize control. Danshi had been making small provocations for decades. If Song Jin wasn’t careful, he’d be inviting a wolf into the house.

Li Xiao guessed Song Jin’s inner monologue. “Am I really that untrustworthy?”

“A scummy face, a mouth full of lies—what’s trustworthy about that?”

Li Xiao was amused: “Which part of me is scummy?”

“The expression right now is very scummy.”

Li Xiao: “…”

“If I’m so scummy, why do you keep staring at my face?”

Song Jin snorted: “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Li Xiao: “…” He doesn’t even deny staring?

“If you’re so worried,” Li Xiao handed him the reagent, “you could tell him my name. Maybe you’d get your answer.”

Song Jin frowned, watching him leave. Does his brother know who Li Xiao is?

Three days after Li Xiao was attacked by Qi Ge, he still hadn’t appeared. The rumors on the military school forum were spiraling out of control, claiming Li Xiao had been severely injured.

In the Q303 examination room, Da Bei tried to deliver food again, only to be blocked. His suppressed emotions finally boiled over. “How is he?!”

Jiang Hao blocked the door: “My brother says he’s dizzy and nauseous; he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“I just want a peek!”

Jiang Hao looked expressionless: “My brother hasn’t washed his hair. He doesn’t want to be seen.”

Da Bei: “…??” Not washed his hair?!

Students peering from the hallway: “…” Is this a ‘God-level’ idol’s baggage?

Soon, Meng Tao and Zheng Lin showed up with a group of exchange students. “He’s too sick to wash his hair? That sounds serious!” Meng Tao said, sounding fake-concerned. “We have a school doctor with us; let him examine Li Xiao.”

The situation was tense until a cold voice cut through: “It’s noisy as hell.”

Song Jin appeared at the end of the hallway, radiating a “don’t mess with me” energy.

“They just want to visit,” Qin Le, the student council president, said, trying to mediate.

“Visit?” Song Jin sneered. “He had no interest in Li Xiao before, but now that he’s sick, he’s had a change of heart?”

Meng Tao ignored him and gestured for the Danshi doctor to move forward. Zheng Lin shoved Jiang Hao aside and flung the door open. The room was empty.

“Where is he?!” Zheng Lin shouted.

“Probably the bathroom,” Jiang Hao mumbled.

“Using the bathroom and folding the blankets this neatly?!” Meng Tao stormed in, slamming the table. “Did he sneak out? Doesn’t he know exchange students aren’t allowed to leave?”

Da Bei rushed in, frantically looking for him—nowhere.

“He’s in my room,” Song Jin said impatiently, gesturing for the doctor to follow.

The door to Song Jin’s room opened. Li Xiao was leaning against the headboard, reading a book. He wore a white shirt, unbuttoned at the chest to reveal his collarbone, with a military jacket draped over his shoulders. His hair was messy, and he looked incredibly languid and carefree—a stark contrast to his usual sharp appearance.

The students gathered at the door: “…” Is this the ‘can’t see people’ look? He looks like a heartthrob!

Song Jin noticed the students staring, and a strange, irritated feeling rose in his chest. “They’re worried about you,” Song Jin said, sitting on the bed and pulling Li Xiao’s collar shut. “Don’t catch a cold.”

Li Xiao felt the pressure and thought: Is he trying to strangle me?