Chapter 190: Extra 5 – Parallel World (END)
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
An urgent document marked in red was placed on Lin Xu’s desk by a pair of hands. Lin Xu lowered his head, his gaze serious as he read the battle report in his hands. He held a pen, circling and annotating points on the report, various data sheets scattered across the table.
Out of the corner of his eye, Lin Xu glanced past the desk’s edge and saw the person who had delivered the document still standing there. Without looking up, he said, “You may go back to work now.”
Lin Xu’s secretary and bodyguard, Xiao Wang, stepped forward after Lin Xu spoke and gestured for the man to leave.
“Director Lin, this document is urgent. Could you please review the contents first?” the man insisted, standing his ground. Surprisingly, Xiao Wang didn’t pull him away. Lin Xu’s pen paused. His lips tightened briefly out of the other two’s sight. When he looked up, a gentle and friendly, yet slightly tired smile appeared on his face.
“You are…” Lin Xu studied the man’s white coat and the badge on his chest. “From the Biological Research Group?”
“Yes, yes,” the man met Lin Xu’s kind eyes, suddenly a bit uneasy. “I’m Yan Yuan, assistant to Chief Medical Officer Meng Zhenhua of the Biomedical Team.”
Lin Xu took the thick manila envelope, opening it while asking, “Are you encountering some issues? It seems urgent.”
“Yeah… it’s about funding and space.”
Lin Xu’s hand stopped as he opened the envelope. He looked at the young researcher again. “I thought there was a set procedure for applying for research funding and space. Besides, the Chief Medical Officer just received new funding two weeks ago.”
Yan Yuan nodded. “That’s right, but this time it’s special. Our field team captured a new mutant creature. The Chief believes it’s very valuable for research.”
“Can’t you clear out some of the previously collected mutants to make room for it?”
“Not big enough…” Yan Yuan added, “It’s really valuable. Director Lin, we discovered its blood doesn’t cause infection or mutation. It might be the breakthrough we need to find an antibody to the zombie virus.”
Hearing that, it indeed sounded valuable. Lin Xu glanced at the requested research funding. Luckily, it was still within an acceptable range.
“How much space do you need?”
“Five hundred square meters, preferably with a ceiling height of thirty meters.”
Lin Xu raised an eyebrow. He almost laughed to himself—where in the base would he find that kind of space? Then Yan Yuan spoke the next sentence, and Lin Xu finally relented.
“We caught a dragon.”
Lin Xu wanted to see this so-called “dragon,” so Yan Yuan led him all the way to the outermost high wall of the base, where Meng Zhenhua and his team were already observing the situation below.
“Director Lin,” Meng Zhenhua greeted him. He didn’t need to explain anything further because as soon as Lin Xu turned his head, he saw it—beyond the high wall. A dragon. A real dragon. Lin Xu gripped the railing, unable to suppress his astonishment. It was a silver-white dragon, with two great wings unfurled behind it, the very image of the Western dragons from legends.
Because there was no suitable facility to contain it, the field team had been forced to restrain the dragon’s four limbs and neck with thick iron chains, then drive massive steel spikes through its wings, pinning them deep into the ground.
The blood on its wings had already dried. The dragon roared furiously at the humans, thrashing against its restraints.
“This…” Lin Xu stared at the dragon without blinking. “What animal could it have mutated from?”
The creature’s body was sleek and powerful, its silver-white scales shimmering with a pearlescent sheen. What a beautiful dragon.
“We’re not sure yet,” Meng Zhenhua admitted. “It might have come from a lizard, or maybe a snake, but with its size… neither of those match up.”
“I see…”
Meng Zhenhua glanced at Lin Xu and noticed he was already lost in staring at the dragon.
“Director Lin, can we proceed with the experiment? About the funding and space…”
The mention of funding rang in Lin Xu’s ears, snapping him out of his daze. This was the apocalypse, not a fairy tale. “Proceed… go ahead.”
He lowered his lashes, thinking over the more pressing issue of space. “Finding an open structure thirty meters tall will be difficult.”
“If necessary, twenty meters will do,” Meng Zhenhua offered. “We can figure out a way to keep it down.”
“There’s an abandoned warehouse behind the base,” Lin Xu said. “It should be enough. I’ll assign it to your team. Funding won’t be an issue either, but you’ll need to handle cleaning, utilities, and setting up your equipment yourselves.”
“Good, good, that’s perfect,” Meng Zhenhua replied quickly. The two discussed further details, neither noticing that the furious, struggling dragon had suddenly gone quiet the moment it saw Lin Xu. When they finished, Lin Xu left with Xiao Wang in a hurry. He still had a mountain of work to handle—stepping out for a few minutes of fresh air had been enough.
The moment Lin Xu’s figure disappeared from the high wall, the dragon became restless again. A week later, Lin Xu finally found the time to check on Meng Zhenhua’s progress with the experiment. The warehouse had been roughly modified. Countless iron pillars reached from floor to ceiling, forming a massive cage that kept the silver dragon trapped inside.
A row of square windows lined the upper walls of the warehouse, letting in natural sunlight during the day to reduce the need for electric lighting. Over the past week, the dragon had calmed down somewhat. But whenever researchers came near, it still bared its teeth and let out threatening roars from deep in its throat.
The dragon’s sharp fangs glinted as its massive body shifted into an aggressive stance, looking every bit as fierce as one would expect. And yet, Lin Xu still couldn’t help but think: What a beautiful dragon.
In the apocalypse, most mutant creatures were grotesque, their forms warped and unpleasant to look at. But this dragon was the opposite—its beauty was something no human brush or digital model could ever capture.
As the dragon sparred with the researchers in a battle of patience and will, it suddenly tilted its head. Its gaze shifted, landing on Lin Xu. The rage in its golden eyes eased, its pupils dilating. It pulled back its fangs and let out a low rumbling sound.
“Houuuh…”
Seeing the dragon suddenly quiet down, Lin Xu paused mid-conversation with Meng Zhenhua and instinctively stepped closer. At first, Meng Zhenhua followed him. But when Lin Xu was about to cross the safety line, Meng quickly reached out and grabbed his arm. “Director Lin, that’s dangerous.”
“Mm.” Lin Xu didn’t argue and stayed where he was.
“Wuuuh…” The dragon seemed a little disappointed. It lowered its head slightly toward Lin Xu’s direction. Because of its towering height, Lin Xu had to crane his neck to meet its gaze.
Slowly, the dragon lowered its massive head until its scaled cheek pressed against the iron bars, rubbing lightly.
Its head was only about half the height of a person when lowered to the ground. When its golden eyes blinked up at Lin Xu, there was something unexpectedly obedient—almost pitiful—in its gaze.
The dragon nudged the bars again. Lin Xu… Lin Xu felt something strange. The dragon didn’t look like a terrifying beast anymore—it looked like a big dog begging to be petted. He couldn’t help but take a step forward.
“Director Lin!” Meng Zhenhua called sharply from behind. Lin Xu hesitated for a moment, but the dragon only blinked its eyes again and gave a soft, almost playful flap of its wings, stirring the air without a hint of aggression.
Lin Xu moved closer. When he finally stood before the bars, only an arm’s length away from the dragon, it nudged the iron railing once more. Lin Xu raised his hand and placed it just above the dragon’s eye, feeling the smooth, cool surface of its scales. Beneath the hardened exterior lay powerful, spring-like muscle. He gently stroked it. The dragon closed its eyes and let out a sound of contentment, its breath warm and steady.
The researchers standing behind the safety line were stunned. Was this really the same ferocious, violent beast? After playing with the dragon’s head for a while, Lin Xu finally remembered why he was here and turned back to business. “How is the experiment progressing?”
Meng Zhenhua sighed. “We’ve only just started. We managed to draw its blood for analysis, but that’s about it. Its scales can’t be pierced or removed. Our weapons are useless against it. Needles don’t go in, anesthetic gas doesn’t work—it seems it can just stop breathing altogether.”
He hesitated, then added, “We also tried electric shocks. They seemed to have an effect, but for any real results, the power required would drain the base’s entire supply. We didn’t dare push it further.”
Lin Xu’s expression grew serious, and his hand, which had been stroking the dragon, stilled. “So what you’re telling me is that right now, you can barely keep it restrained. You don’t have an effective way to control it, and there’s no way to kill it either?”
He turned to Meng Zhenhua. “An unkillable creature… that’s dangerous. Are you sure you want to keep it in the base?”
Meng Zhenhua hadn’t expected Lin Xu’s shift in attitude. One moment, he was treating it like a well-behaved dog, and the next, he was ready to throw it out. Beads of sweat gathered on Meng’s forehead as he hurried to defend his case.
“No, no, that’s not necessary. It hasn’t shown any intent to harm humans. That, along with the fact that its blood isn’t infectious, is something we’ve never seen in any mutant creature. This is a monumental discovery. We have to keep it.
“It might even hold the key to humanity’s future.”
“We can’t afford that kind of risk,” Lin Xu replied.
The weight of those words silenced every researcher present. Only Meng Zhenhua continued to argue, his voice tight with desperation. Then Lin Xu felt something brush against his palm. Startled, he glanced down and saw the dragon gently nuzzling his hand. It let out a low, almost pitiful whimper and slowly lowered itself closer to the ground, as if to show it meant no harm. Its golden eyes shimmered with something almost… pleading.
Lin Xu stared into those eyes, momentarily dazed. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Doctor Meng… do you think a dragon could be tamed? Like a dog?”
Meng’s lips moved wordlessly before he finally managed a hesitant response. “Humans spent thousands of years domesticating wolves before they became dogs. That kind of instinct was carved into their genes through countless generations of selective breeding. But… if you just mean training a single dragon, without altering its genetics…”
He hesitated, then nodded slightly. “It might not take that long.”
Lin Xu considered that for a moment. His hand rested on the dragon’s eyelid. The dragon obediently closed its eye, letting him touch it without resistance.
“Keep it,” Lin Xu said at last.
“Watch it closely.”
—
In the days that followed, Lin Xu visited the dragon from time to time. Sometimes it was late at night, long after he’d finished his day’s work. By then, most of the researchers had gone home.
At first, Meng Zhenhua left a few people behind to ensure Lin Xu’s safety, but the dragon never once acted aggressively toward him. Eventually, Lin Xu insisted they go rest, telling them he could handle it alone.
He never stayed long. Just a few minutes to stroke the dragon’s head before returning to his duties. Meng Zhenhua later reported that the dragon had grown even calmer. He was still trying to figure out how to extract a scale for study, convinced that if they could understand its composition, they might be able to craft weapons from it.
Then Lin Xu suddenly thought of something. “The dragon… What does it eat? And what’s its gender?”
He realized he’d never seen it fed, no matter what time of day he visited. There was nothing in the expense reports about food either. And unlike the cages of other mutant creatures, the warehouse didn’t stink of uncleaned waste—the air inside was always fresh.
“It doesn’t seem to eat,” Meng admitted, though he didn’t sound entirely certain. “But after observing it for several days, that’s the conclusion we’ve come to. As for gender… we haven’t found any reproductive organs. Or excretory organs either…”
Lin Xu raised an eyebrow. Meng added quickly, “If anything, I think this just further proves it… it doesn’t eat people.”
…Fair enough. Lin Xu didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he pinched the dragon’s nose lightly before asking, “What about crystal cores? Other mutant creatures feed on those.”
“We haven’t tried that yet.” Meng smacked his forehead, suddenly energized. “Good point. I’ll get some cores and test it.”
Lin Xu glanced at his watch. He really should have been heading back to work. But then he looked at the silver dragon again. Maybe… he could stay a little longer. Ten minutes later, Yan Yuan and Meng Zhenhua came running back, carrying a box of crystal cores.
“I’ll do it,” Lin Xu said. He picked up one of the cores and crouched down by the railing, holding the crystal in his palm and extending his hand toward the dragon’s mouth.
Meng Zhenhua held his breath, almost afraid to watch. No matter how tame this dragon seemed, it was still a wild beast. Lin Xu’s fist was barely the size of the dragon’s eye. With his hand open like this, the creature could easily swallow his entire arm in one bite.
In Meng Zhenhua’s memory, Lin Xu had always been an exceptionally cautious man. Yet here he was, taking risks every time he stood in front of this dragon. Lin Xu was nervous too. He could feel a faint shiver running down his spine. The dragon blinked, then opened its mouth slightly. Its tongue swept across Lin Xu’s palm, curling the crystal core into its mouth. Then it lowered its head, nuzzling against Lin Xu’s arm with a soft rumble.
Lin Xu slowly exhaled in relief. He picked up a few more crystal cores and fed them to the dragon—but not too many. Mutant creatures could draw energy from crystal cores, but for safety’s sake, they wanted the dragon to remain in a weakened state.
From then on, every time Lin Xu came to see the dragon, he would bring a small allowance of crystal cores. Sometimes he hand-fed it. Other times he tossed the cores into the enclosure, and the dragon would tilt its head back to catch them.
But whenever it moved too quickly, the stakes in its wings would tear open its wounds again, and fresh blood would drip down, turning dark brown against the floor.
Meng Zhenhua’s expression grew troubled. The next time Lin Xu came, he found that they had removed the stakes from the dragon’s wings.
“Is that safe?” Lin Xu asked.
“No problem,” Meng Zhenhua replied. “It hasn’t shown any signs of trying to escape or attack anyone.”
It was almost as if the dragon had grown accustomed to being caged, fed, and stroked—content with this strange, quiet routine. Lin Xu nodded without comment and continued feeding the dragon. Meng Zhenhua, watching from the side, picked up a crystal core and tried tossing it the same way.
The crystal core bounced off the dragon’s back. The dragon didn’t catch it. Instead, it turned toward Meng Zhenhua and let out a deep, earth-shaking roar.
“Roooar—!”
Meng Zhenhua stood there speechless, ruffling his thinning hair in exasperation. Meanwhile, Lin Xu couldn’t help but laugh. Lin Xu’s work had grown busier and busier, and he only had time at night, every so often, to visit the dragon.
When he was with the dragon, he could put aside all his work and worries. In the empty, deserted warehouse, he simply petted the dragon’s head and held its claws. One time, he had been so exhausted that he sat down on the floor, leaned against the railing, and fell asleep. When he woke, he found the warehouse had fallen into darkness.
He forced his eyes open, and when the blurry haze in front of them cleared, he noticed a shadow on the ground in the distance—shaped like a pair of bat wings. Beyond that shadow, the beams of outdoor spotlights spilled through the windows.
Lin Xu sat within that shadow, having slept peacefully there for a long while. He studied the edges of the darkness, as if realizing something. He turned his head and, sure enough, saw it.
The dragon had spread its wings wide, shielding him from the light outside. The pale glow outlined the dragon’s sleek form, shimmering across its silver-white scales like scattered diamonds rolling over polished metal.
“Thanks,” Lin Xu said. The dragon rumbled, “Hrrr–woo!”
It flapped its wings and turned in circles, clearly delighted. Lin Xu chuckled. The white light fell across his face, softening the sharp lines of his brows and eyes until they seemed gentle.
But then, his smile faded into a slight frown. He looked at the dragon and asked, “Can you actually understand me?”
The dragon stopped circling. It squatted down and tilted its head at him, looking entirely innocent. Lin Xu’s suspicion deepened. He tried another question. “Would you ever attack me?”
The dragon blinked, then lowered its head and pressed it against the railing, rubbing as though asking for a pat. Lin Xu frowned faintly, walked around it, and didn’t give in.
“Wooo…” The dragon’s gaze followed him, its golden eyes fixed on Lin Xu’s back. It rose to its feet, calling out in anxious little growls as he walked farther away. Lin Xu ignored it. Then, a moment later, the dragon heard the iron door of the cage open. It froze. Lin Xu stepped inside and swung the door shut behind him.
Now, he stood once more in the dragon’s shadow. The difference was that there was no barrier between them anymore. At any moment, this massive creature could crush him like an insect in revenge for being locked in here, treated like a pet.
The dragon slowly turned its head toward him. Its breath rumbled like a war drum before battle, like distant thunder rolling through the mountains. On ordinary nights, Lin Xu could fall asleep to that sound. But now, standing unprotected before the dragon, he felt as small and exposed as a fool worshiping a beast far larger than himself. His heart pounded so hard it seemed to echo in his chest, merging with the dragon’s deep breaths until the sound was deafening—like cannon fire on a battlefield.
Lin Xu didn’t know why he was being so reckless. Not even fear could stop him from opening that cage. And worse… beneath the fear, something else stirred—an unsteady, dangerous excitement.
The dragon stood with its back to the light, its face hidden in shadow, its silver-white scales gleaming coldly like a mountain of snow on the verge of collapse. Lin Xu stretched out his arms toward it, his fingers trembling and icy.
Time seemed to slow. The dragon moved closer—slowly, deliberately—its breath brushing against his hair. Its massive head lowered until it was right in front of him. Then, with the slightest nudge, it knocked him backward. Lin Xu stumbled, falling hard onto the floor.
For a heartbeat, the world spun. Then something cold and enormous pressed against him. The dragon was rubbing its head against his chest. Lin Xu felt a little dazed from the impact, but he reached up and stroked its scales. “All right, all right. I get it,” he murmured.
The dragon stilled, blinking its golden eyes at him, his reflection caught in them. Lin Xu smiled, pushed the dragon’s head aside, and stood. After brushing the dust off himself, he walked past the dragon.
“Hrroo?”
The dragon twisted its neck to follow him. When it could no longer turn its head far enough, it dragged its massive, chain-bound body around, the clinking of metal echoing through the room.
Lin Xu raised a finger at it. “Stay.”
The dragon froze obediently. Lin Xu walked around, moving out of its line of sight. Suddenly, the dragon felt something brush against its tail. It couldn’t help but swish it, but then Lin Xu’s voice came from behind.
“Don’t move.”
The dragon stilled. It felt someone stepping on its tail, climbing upward, until the weight reached its back.
Lin Xu wanted to know what it felt like to stand on the dragon’s back. Since there was no good foothold on its sides or front, he had to circle around and climb up along its tail, gripping the scales for leverage. The dragon lifted its wings, creating a protective wall around him to keep him from falling from such a dangerous height.
Lin Xu wasn’t very good at climbing, so it took him a while to reach the dragon’s back. He drew a few deep breaths to steady himself before crawling forward, hand and foot, until he reached the dragon’s shoulders.
He lowered himself and wrapped his arms around the dragon’s neck. The dragon obediently lay still, flattening its neck and back so Lin Xu wouldn’t slip off.
Pressing his cheek against the finer scales along the dragon’s neck, Lin Xu whispered softly, his words meant for no one but the creature beneath him.
“Sometimes I wish I could be like you… grow a pair of wings and just fly away. But even if I did, where would I go? Being alone might be peaceful, but I’ve spent my whole life surrounded by people, starting things I’ve never finished. I don’t even know when it’ll all end.”
The dragon let out a low, rumbling whine. That was all it could do.
After climbing into the cage and touching the dragon for the first time, Lin Xu only grew bolder. Whenever the lab’s warehouse was empty, he would open the cage, step inside, and play with the dragon. Sometimes, the dragon would even roll onto its back, letting Lin Xu lie against its belly while it covered him with a wing like a blanket.
Listening to the steady rhythm of the dragon’s heartbeat, Lin Xu would quickly drift off to sleep. One day, Marshal Meng Zhenhua returned to the warehouse to retrieve a forgotten file and nearly fainted when he saw Lin Xu’s reckless behavior. He immediately dragged Lin Xu out of the cage and lectured him sternly about the lab’s safety protocols.
Lin Xu nodded and promised he would stop, but the moment Meng left, he slipped right back into the cage to play with the dragon’s tail again. Eventually, Meng went from horrified and anxious to completely numb.
That day, Lin Xu was in the cage feeding the dragon when Xiao Wang came running in, panting. “Chief Lin! Chief Lin!”
Lin Xu looked up at him.
“Sir,” Xiao Wang reported, “the convoy is ready, and the aerospace dock is cleared. We can depart for the Northern Region.”
“All right.” Lin Xu nodded, finishing off the last of the crystal cores in his hand. The dragon let out a mournful rumble. Lin Xu was halfway out of the cage when he heard it. He turned back, patted the dragon’s cheek, and said, “I’ll be gone for about a month. Be good while I’m away.”
He didn’t wait for the dragon’s low growls of protest and stepped out of the cage. Meng glanced at him. “Going to see Alfred Nobleson?”
“Yeah. You heard?”
“He’s been the Northern Region’s leader for a while now,” Meng Zhenhua said. “If we’re going to negotiate, I can only think of you. After all, the two of you have a history, which makes things easier. You’re mainly going to discuss the transoceanic shipping routes, right?”
“That’s right,” Lin Xu replied. “If we want to improve the exchange of information and supplies between regions, we need to rebuild the long-distance shipping lanes. But there are still plenty of mutated sea creatures out there. This trip isn’t just about transportation—I’m also planning to discuss clearing out those deep-sea mutations. Ideally, both sides will send water-type ability users. The current deep-sea thermal weapons are too slow underwater and not accurate enough.”
“Water-type ability users are rare.”
“I know,” Lin Xu sighed. “And they’re incredibly valuable. Without them, even getting uncontaminated drinking water is difficult for most bases. Convincing the Northern Region to send their water-types for combat will probably turn into another drawn-out negotiation. Speaking of which, I remember you submitted a research proposal once—something about deep-sea gene transplantation, wasn’t it? Allowing non-water-types to move freely underwater?”
As the two of them walked toward the exit, Lin Xu suddenly heard a loud crash from behind. He turned to see the dragon ramming its cage. He frowned and raised a finger to his lips. “Quiet. Stop that.”
The dragon’s breath came out in heavy bursts, as if it was trying to hold back a roar. Lin Xu turned away and continued walking.
Meng Zhenhua went on, “The deep-sea gene transplant project has been underway for some time, but there still hasn’t been a successful case. The rejection rate is too high, and the test subjects can’t survive it.”
“Then keep improving the technology,” Lin Xu said. “This line of research is too important to abandon.”
Meng nodded and walked him all the way to the base entrance, watching as Lin Xu climbed into the armored vehicle. The convoy escorted him down the mountain road. When Meng returned to the lab’s warehouse, the dragon was still ramming the cage. He immediately pulled the terrified researchers back from the enclosure.
“Chief Medical Officer,” one of them asked nervously, “what’s wrong with it?”
Meng thought for a moment. “Probably… separation anxiety. Just leave it alone for now. It’ll calm down on its own.”
– –
The convoy drove along the fortified road built by the Eastern Region base, cutting across the plains. Lin Xu’s armored vehicle was in the center of the formation, protected by four armored vehicles in the front and rear, and one on each side.
Xiao Wang handed Lin Xu a neatly organized stack of documents. Most of it was material Lin Xu had personally reviewed and compiled, complete with his handwritten notes. Only two sheets were new—fresh updates received just before departure.
The reports warned of renewed activity among mutated sea creatures in the open ocean. For safety, when Lin Xu’s flight landed at the Northern Region’s coastal airport, extra precautions would be in place. The Eastern Region had already replaced his passenger plane with a heavily armed transoceanic combat transport aircraft.
After reading the report, Lin Xu slipped the two sheets into his folder and opened his compiled notes. Before diving into them, he glanced out the window. The Eastern Region’s main base sat beneath Kunling Mountain. To reach the airport, they would have to cross the vast plains.
The convoy had already descended the steep mountain road and was now speeding across the flat highway at full throttle. Gray, lifeless scenery blurred past the windows. The nuclear winter clouds had never lifted, and it had been a long time since humanity had seen the sun.
On either side of the fortified road, high-voltage fences stood guard, keeping zombies and mutated creatures at bay. Beyond the fences, the soil was charred black—scorched earth left behind by countless bombings, with unnumbered bones buried beneath it.
Through the electric grid, far in the distance, the jagged outlines of the mountains faded as the convoy raced forward. On the horizon lay the ruins of old cities. Skyscrapers had collapsed into nothing but crumbling walls, and shattered glass towers reflected a cold, lifeless light.
The ring of overpasses around the city had long since fallen apart. Only two pillars remained standing, holding up a fractured strip of road that led nowhere.
Across the vast plains, only a few plants clung to life. And if a plant looked too perfect, too vibrant, it was usually a sign of danger—it was no ordinary plant but a mutated predator.
The land was silent. Not even the cry of a bird broke the stillness. Lin Xu found himself thinking of his silver-white dragon, ramming its cage in desperation as he left. Did the dragon want to fly? Could it even soar in such a sky, shrouded in endless gray?
The cabin was quiet, filled only with the roar of the wind and the steady hum of the engines. Those who traveled with Lin Xu often knew better than to disturb him. They kept their heads down, doing their jobs in silence. The oppressive stillness left Lin Xu alone with his thoughts.
A wave of unease suddenly washed over him. He couldn’t explain it. It was as if some unseen force was coiling in his chest, pressing down on him until he felt suffocated, lightheaded.
“Is the road ahead clear?” Lin Xu asked, his voice low. The soldier in the passenger seat checked the scanners. “Clear. No issues detected.”
Xiao Wang, noticing the tension in Lin Xu’s face, added quietly, “Stay sharp anyway.”
“Yes, sir!”
Lin Xu closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat, trying to steady himself and push down the discomfort. Half an hour later, Xiao Wang noticed how pale he’d become. Sweat was running down his face in steady rivulets. “Chief Lin,” Xiao Wang said worriedly, “should I get you some water? We’ve got motion sickness pills here, and your stomach meds, and painkillers if you need them.”
Lin Xu accepted the cup of water and waved off the rest. He didn’t take anything else. “Can you turn the air circulation up to maximum? I need some fresh air.”
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, worry creeping into his voice as he replied, “Sure. If you want, I can open a window a bit. Air pollution is low on this stretch, and it’s above ten degrees outside.”
“Open it a little,” Xiao Wang said.
The bulletproof window rolled down slowly, and a cold breeze rushed in through the gap. Lin Xu’s mind cleared just a little. He felt his tension ease slightly. The more relaxed he got, the more the next moment shocked him.
A rotting severed limb flew through the air and slammed hard against the window, splattering into a messy pulp. A few drops of blood splattered through the window gap—two of them hitting Lin Xu’s forehead. His eyelashes fluttered.
“Chief Lin, close your eyes! Don’t move!” Xiao Wang urged nervously. Startled, the driver slammed the window shut.
Lin Xu closed his eyes as Xiao Wang carefully wiped the blood from his forehead with alcohol. There were no wounds, but they had to prevent the zombie virus from entering through mucous membranes.
Suddenly, the driver slammed on the brakes. Gunfire and heavy shooting erupted ahead.
“What’s happening?” Lin Xu opened his eyes. The passenger radioed the front convoy, his expression tight with tension, nearly in tears. “It’s a zombie tide… we’ve run into a wave of zombies.”
Lin Xu ordered, “Notify the base and all checkpoints along the way to prepare defenses. Is the road ahead still passable?”
“There are zombies up front. The convoy behind reports mutated sand vines.”
Even on the roads, attacks by mutated creatures and zombies were common. These monsters could trample corpses piled by their companions to cross minefields and electric fences.
“It’s A-class mutated sand vines,” the passenger choked out. “One vehicle’s already been swallowed whole. Chief Lin, we can’t retreat. Our best chance is to push through the zombie tide and escape.”
“How’s the battle ahead?”
“There are likely hundreds of zombies attacking. The armored vehicles can hold out under their claws for now, clearing a path for you.”
Lin Xu closed his eyes. “Keep moving forward.”
The driver gritted his teeth and floored the accelerator. The vehicles ahead formed a protective escort, but the zombies surged like a tidal wave, fearlessly blocking the road, only to be repeatedly crushed by the armored cars.
One escort vehicle’s tire was bitten through by a zombie with only half its body left on the ground. The armored vehicle skidded, flipped, and smashed through the roadside electric fence. A surge of high-voltage current blasted out, electrocuting the vehicle and the swarm of zombies surrounding it into charred corpses.
Lin Xu gripped the armrest, his face grim. The driver expertly drifted the armored car to dodge zombies on the road. Up ahead, another armored vehicle was toppled by a horde of zombies working together. The driver sharply swerved right to narrowly avoid the overturned vehicle.
The flashes of violent scenes passed by, dripping with blood. Only one armored vehicle remained beside Lin Xu. The ground began to tremble. “Sand vines! The sand vines are attracted by the blood!” the passenger shouted.
Massive vines erupted from the soil the next moment, writhing like tentacles as they swept up zombies and crushed bodies from the armored vehicles, funneling them into the creature’s gaping maw.
The shattered armored vehicles exploded in midair, engulfed in roaring flames. But ordinary fire didn’t burn the sand vines—it only made them angrier. The vines, along with the pursuing zombies, surged toward the two speeding armored vehicles.
The last escort vehicle’s rear door swung open, and a machine gun mounted inside unleashed a hail of bullets into the zombies. Fire-type ability users tangled fiercely with the sand vines.
The suffocating pressure in Lin Xu’s chest tightened.
– –
Back in the lab warehouse, the dragon was still ramming its cage. Researchers struggled to hold its chains but were all knocked down. They realized in horror that if the dragon didn’t want to be bound, there was simply no way to lock it up.
A dragon could never truly be imprisoned. Unless, it chose to stay for its own reasons.
Heinrich didn’t know why he had suddenly left the ancient Earth expedition returning to the Marion Empire and ended up here. He couldn’t shift back into human form due to low energy. But when he saw Lin Xu, he stayed.
Lin Xu told him to remain quiet in the cage. Heinrich didn’t mind. He even thought it was nice—Lin Xu came often and had grown closer lately. Lin Xu was less afraid, even willing to rest by his side.
But certain words stirred Heinrich’s memory. Northern Region, Alfred Nobleson, negotiations, convoy.
He had glimpsed Lin Xu’s memories of the apocalypse via a mental energy link days ago. He remembered that it was during this journey that Lin Xu had been attacked by the zombie tide—and the tragedy had begun. No. Heinrich could not let it happen.
The silver-white dragon began to struggle fiercely. The researchers tightened the chains, but their strength was insignificant. The dragon roared in fury, dragging down everyone trying to restrain him.
Someone tried to nail the dragon’s wings with steel spikes, but the dragon batted them away with a swipe of its claw.
When the dragon spread its wings, it nearly blocked out the sky. It tore open the iron pillars overhead with its claws, then rammed the warehouse roof with its head. After only three strikes, the roof crumbled and collapsed.
With a powerful flap of its wings and a piercing roar, the dragon rocketed toward the gray, gloomy sky like a cannonball. Meng Zhenhua burst out of the warehouse, watching the base activate its defenses. Countless gun barrels mounted on the high walls targeted the silver-white dragon. If it attacked the base, the artillery would fire mercilessly.
But the dragon spread its vast wings and flew toward the distant plains without looking back.
Strong winds swept over its wings at high altitude. Heinrich heard people beside Lin Xu say they would be flying to the Northern Region. Guessing the airport would be built on the flat, open plains below Kunling Mountain, he soared in that direction.
Far below, he saw a plume of thick black smoke rising from the only road crossing the plains. The dragon folded its wings and dove toward the smoke.
– –
The escort convoy was almost entirely wiped out under the relentless assault of the zombie tide and mutated sand vines. The armored vehicle carrying Lin Xu was torn to pieces by the zombies.
Xiao Wang had his thigh bitten off. Spitting blood, he shoved his pistol into Lin Xu’s hand and pushed him away. “Lin… Lin, run… ah!”
Run? Where could Lin Xu possibly escape to? But the dying Xiao Wang had only that one desperate thought left. A zombie’s hand pierced Xiao Wang’s belly.
Panic flooded Lin Xu’s chest. His trembling hand raised the gun and fired three shots at the zombie attacking Xiao Wang. Bang—bang, bang—
The recoil stung his palm fiercely. The zombie’s head exploded into mush, but Xiao Wang’s life had already slipped away before the shots. Lin Xu had rarely—no, he had never faced zombies at this close range before. He had never needed to enter a real battlefield.
A raging force surged through his chest. Pain lanced through every limb and joint. Cold sweat poured down his skin, and his muscles began to spasm. Something was wrong… this was—
A zombie lunged at Lin Xu, its rotting face inches from his own, jaws wide and dripping. Lin Xu instinctively raised his arm to block the bite. It was the sign of an awakened ability. The zombie sank its teeth into Lin Xu’s wrist.
“Ah—” Lin Xu’s consciousness started to fade. He collapsed to the ground, his vision a swirl of gray clouds. The stench of rot and blood invaded his nose. A white blur streaked through the low clouds, coming closer. The wind howled over the land. The zombies howled up at the sky in fury.
At the last moment, Lin Xu caught sight of the dragon’s silver-white wings. The light of the sky shone through the translucent wing membranes.
He felt weight lift from him as the dragon kicked away the zombies clinging to his body. Its claws grabbed Lin Xu’s waist and hoisted him up, away from the stinking battlefield. Together, they soared into the sky.
One day later, at the Eastern Region’s main base. The rescue team returned with the remaining victims after the zombie tide had receded, along with the vehicle’s black box.
But the recording only captured events up to the armored vehicle’s overturn and explosion. Most bodies were mutilated, and some people were missing—almost certainly turned into zombies. Meng Zhenhua and the researchers spent eight hours identifying every corpse. Lin Xu was nowhere to be found.
When everyone heard the news, it became clear that Lin Xu had probably become a zombie. In human bases, zombification and death were treated the same. A zombified person had no memories, no consciousness. He was no longer considered a person and would be executed the moment he was discovered by humans.
Lin Xu’s colleagues fell silent upon hearing this. After a long pause, the leader spoke: “Comrade Lin Xu had no family or next of kin. No one will ask to see the body. There’s no need to tell everyone he’s zombified—just report that he was lost.”
“Comrade Lin Xu dedicated himself fully to the base and humanity. His death pains us all. I propose a three-minute moment of silence in his honor.”
– –
Lin Xu woke from unconsciousness to a gloomy day. He opened his eyes to see bare tree branches. A gust of wind shook a few dry leaves loose, and they drifted down. Leaves blanketed Lin Xu’s surroundings—but not beneath him.
Beneath him lay… a wool coat? Lin Xu hadn’t left wearing a coat. He moved his limbs and realized his clothes had been changed. The new set was clean and neat but smelled of old dust.
Slowly sitting up, he saw he was on a small hill in a lifeless field. The only tree behind him was dead. He rolled up his sleeve and noticed the zombie bite on his wrist was gone, but his skin had turned pale, veins visible beneath the surface.
Zombification… But Lin Xu still had his consciousness, could think clearly, was breathing, and his blood still flowed. Even more strangely, his chest and abdomen radiated a peculiar heat.
He should still count as a person. But who had brought him here? Was it… the dragon? Lin Xu struggled to recall the last moments before losing consciousness.
The crunch of footsteps suddenly caught Lin Xu’s attention. Unaware that his hearing had been amplified countless times, he instinctively turned cautiously toward the sound. The silver-white dragon appeared before him. Seeing Lin Xu awake, the dragon lowered its head and quietly watched him. Lin Xu sprang to his feet and stepped back several paces, putting distance between himself and the dragon.
The dragon let out a soft whimper, then suddenly raised its wings and used its claws to push something hidden beneath the wing toward Lin Xu. It was a pile of canned food. Mostly meat cans, along with some fruit. The cans were covered in a thin layer of dust.
Lin Xu was amazed. He hadn’t expected the dragon to recognize human industrial food products that didn’t even look like food. He guessed the dragon must have scavenged these cans from a nearby abandoned city, just like the clothes it had brought him.
He picked up one can and found it was sealed. Lin Xu thought he might need a can opener but couldn’t possibly ask the dragon to fly off and find one for him now. From where they were, Lin Xu couldn’t even see the shadow of the city.
He steeled himself and pressed down on the can’s lid. To his surprise, it popped open without any tools. Whether it was his abilities or the zombie transformation, his strength had somehow increased. But what exactly was his power?
Before he could figure it out, the aroma of meat wafted out of the can, stirring his empty stomach. The hunger was almost unbearable. Ignoring everything else, he tore open the can and devoured the contents greedily.
After eating five cans of meat and one of fruit, Lin Xu suddenly remembered the dragon beside him. He glanced over. The dragon was indeed watching him, blinking once when he noticed.
Lin Xu felt embarrassed by his messy appearance—his hands and face still smeared with meat juice. He had never been so desperate for food before. Zombie transformation… damn it.
“Is there a water source nearby?” Lin Xu asked the dragon, wanting to clean his hands and face. The dragon let out a long howl, then turned its head toward a direction. Suddenly, it scooped Lin Xu up with its claw, startling him. With a powerful flap of its wings, the dragon took off into the air. Wind rushed past beneath Lin Xu as they flew. After only a few minutes, the dragon began descending. When it landed, it carefully set Lin Xu down.
A stream flowed right in front of them. The water was clear and shallow—he could see all the way to the bottom. No sudden attacks by aquatic mutants to fear here. But it was impossible to tell if the radiation level in the water would be lethal. Lin Xu shook off the thought. If he was already nearly zombified, what did radiation matter?
Throwing caution to the wind, he squatted by the stream, scooped up a handful of water, and washed his hands first, then rinsed the grime from his face. The water was clear but ice-cold.
Lin Xu realized the temperature outside was probably no more than ten degrees, yet wearing only a single layer, he didn’t feel cold at all. Then he remembered the fully healed zombie bite. Reaching into the stream, he picked up a sharp-edged stone and dragged it across the back of his hand.
Pain flashed through him, making his eyes twitch. The dragon whimpered softly beside him. But within seconds, the wound began to heal with a faint tingling sensation.
Zombies didn’t have regenerative abilities. Could his power be rapid self-healing? Just as Lin Xu formed the thought, something unexpected happened. A small green sprout pushed its way out of the wound, tipped with tender reddish-purple leaves. Startled, Lin Xu quickly tore it off.
The wound closed completely the next instant. He rinsed the sprout clean in the stream and studied it carefully. It was, unmistakably, a plant. He might have awakened a wood-type ability. Self-healing was likely one aspect of it.
Could it also be the reason he hadn’t succumbed fully to zombification? Lin Xu stared into his reflection in the stream. His once-brown eyes were now shrouded in a misty gray haze—another trait of zombification.
But he also looked younger… far too young. Lin Xu stared at the face in the water, wondering if he even looked eighteen anymore. His thoughts drifted back to the dead tree on the hill.
A normal tree couldn’t have survived nuclear winter—most likely, it had been a mutated plant. But it had died, its leaves scattered around him, except beneath him.
It had died after Lin Xu had lain there, his head resting against its exposed roots, and then he had awakened his wood-type power. So what was his original ability? Fusion? Assimilation? The power to merge the traits of zombies and mutated plants alike?
Turning the idea over in his mind, Lin Xu tried to channel his wood-type ability. A green branch shot from his palm, piercing into the ground and tossing up dirt. The dragon reared back in alarm, its golden eyes wide with shock.
Lin Xu was no less stunned than it was. He spent the rest of the day experimenting, testing every way he could control his ability. By the time night fell, his strength was completely drained, his body weak and heavy.
He found a spot beside the dragon, leaned against its tail, and fell asleep almost instantly. The dragon curled its wing over him protectively, resting lightly while remaining ever alert for danger.
But the one who eventually woke up was a half-conscious Lin Xu. Lin Xu still seemed to be asleep, but his body burned with an unbearable heat.
He clung to the dragon’s cold tail, using its icy scales to cool himself down. But it wasn’t enough. He mumbled incoherently in his sleep, rubbing against it, his hoarse, sticky voice making Heinrich restless as well.
Heinrich held out for half an hour, but when Lin Xu bit down on one of his scales, Heinrich’s composure finally snapped. His control shattered in an instant, and he shifted back into his human form.
In his hazy state, Lin Xu only felt that the block of ice in his arms suddenly shrank and warmed rapidly. Frowning, he tightened his grip, holding it even closer. Then, something hot brushed against his face—pressing against him. Heinrich gathered Lin Xu into his arms. Lin Xu instinctively buried himself against him, and a sweet floral scent filled Heinrich’s senses.
Blooms had begun to sprout from Lin Xu’s shoulder. Spring had arrived—and trees needed to blossom and be pollinated. Lin Xu didn’t resist at all.
The next morning, Lin Xu was awakened by sunlight. In nuclear winter, it was rare for the sun to break through the radioactive haze and touch the ground. He basked in it, feeling the warmth soak into his skin. Even his breathing felt soft and languid—
Wait. No. Lin Xu’s eyes snapped open, and the first thing he saw was a cold, strikingly handsome face. Who was this? Why was there a man next to him? And why were they… lying together?
Startled, Lin Xu shoved the stranger away and scrambled back, only to be stopped by something. Wings. Dragon wings, stretching from the man’s back. He was… the dragon?
Heinrich stirred at Lin Xu’s frantic movements, opening his eyes to see Lin Xu’s panicked, defensive expression. Heinrich had finally held Lin Xu in his arms last night, but he’d forgotten to consider how he would explain any of this in the morning. Before he could speak, Lin Xu demanded, “Who are you? Let go of me first.”
The moment Heinrich folded his wings, Lin Xu bolted out of his arms, snatching up his scattered clothes and holding them in front of himself. “I… I’m your dragon,” Heinrich said, forcing himself to mimic the language he’d pieced together from Lin Xu’s memories.
Lin Xu stared at Heinrich’s sharp, handsome face. “Dragon… dragon?”
Heinrich pressed his lips together. “I have a name. You can call me Heinrich.”
“You can turn into a human?” Lin Xu was utterly stunned.
“When my energy is sufficient,” Heinrich replied. But then he noticed Lin Xu’s gaze shifting from his face downward— and only then did Heinrich realize he hadn’t put on any clothes after changing from dragon form.
Heinrich’s expression stiffened. He immediately unfurled his wings to cover himself and stood as if to leave, but Lin Xu grabbed his tail. “Where are you going?”
“I—” Heinrich coughed awkwardly. “I’m going to find some clothes.”
“Where?”
“There’s a city nearby.”
How far was “nearby”? Would he even come back? Lin Xu tightened his grip on Heinrich’s tail, not letting him leave. “No. Wait. You can’t leave me here alone.”
“I…” This time, Heinrich was the one surprised. Lin Xu wasn’t like this. Not the Lin Xu from three thousand years in the future, and not the commanding, unshakable Lin Xu from just days ago at the base. But this Lin Xu—clinging to him, refusing to be left behind—looked more like a frightened, cornered cat.
“Last night… last night…” Lin Xu tried to calm himself, but faced with such an incomprehensible reality, he couldn’t control the tremor in his voice. Everything around him made one thing painfully clear: “You… you’re my dragon. You can’t just leave me.”
Heinrich turned back to him, stepping closer. Lin Xu instinctively retreated, but forced himself to stop and stand his ground. Heinrich raised a hand, gently wiping away the tears that had slipped from the corners of Lin Xu’s eyes.
“I’ll change back into a dragon and take you with me,” he said softly. “All right?”
Lin Xu caught his hand and held it tightly against his chest. “Okay.”
The dragon spread his wings and took to the sky.
In the days that followed, Lin Xu and Heinrich wandered the wilderness together. Lin Xu spent the time mastering his powers and ensuring his partial zombie transformation would neither worsen nor infect anyone else. When he was certain, he returned to the Eastern Base with Heinrich. The sight of Lin Xu “back from the dead” left the entire base in stunned silence.
Meng Zhenhua immediately ran a full set of examinations and, once he confirmed that Lin Xu posed no danger, the leadership allowed him to resume his position. Back at the base, Lin Xu asked Meng Zhenhua to conduct tests on his fusion ability. Perhaps it could become the key to resolving the zombie virus crisis.
If infected individuals could live normal lives without posing a threat to others, then the zombie virus would no longer be terrifying. The preliminary results were promising. Meng Zhenhua said only that more time was needed.
Through it all, Heinrich stayed quietly at Lin Xu’s side. Lin Xu didn’t tell anyone that Heinrich was actually a dragon. Nor did he ask Heinrich about his past.
People simply assumed that the strikingly handsome man who followed Lin Xu everywhere must be his lover. Lin Xu never corrected the rumor. They did sleep together. But even Heinrich wasn’t certain what he was. A lover? A companion? A pet?
Sometimes, Heinrich wanted to tell Lin Xu everything. He wanted to tell him about the time travel. He wanted to tell him about their shared past. But every time the words reached his lips, Heinrich swallowed them down.
Would Lin Xu even believe him? And even if he did, what then? Wouldn’t it sound like a threat— The future you loved me, so the you of today should love me too?
Heinrich didn’t want that. So, he said nothing. Until one day, Lin Xu suddenly asked him if he wanted to register their marriage. Heinrich froze. “Marriage? Us?”
“Yes.” Lin Xu looked at him, blinking his gray eyes, almost like a cat. “You don’t want to? I love you so much… but do you not actually like me?”
“No— no, that’s not— I…” Heinrich realized that even after all these years with Lin Xu, he still hadn’t learned how to put his feelings into words. “I love you. Whatever you want… It’s fine.”
Lin Xu glanced at his watch. “The registry office hasn’t closed yet. Come on, I’ll take you.”
Later, after one of their nights together, Heinrich finally told Lin Xu everything. Lin Xu only snorted twice, assuming Heinrich was spinning some kind of sci-fi pillow talk, and fell asleep in his arms. Months later, during a high-level meeting, Lin Xu suddenly became nauseous—so badly that he collapsed.
The entire room erupted into chaos. They rushed him to the medical wing in a panic. But the doctors found nothing—until they called in Chief Physician Meng Zhenhua.
Meng ran a full-body scan… and came to a conclusion so unbelievable even he had to check it twice. Lin Xu was pregnant. Lin Xu sat in a daze as Heinrich helped him back to their quarters.
Heinrich was dazed too. “Back then, when you were a mermaid, you had a false pregnancy once—you laid an empty egg. I didn’t think your fusion with plant genes would make this possible… but I suppose it makes sense. Plants bloom. And they bear fruit.”
Lin Xu choked down some water to soothe his nausea and shot Heinrich a look. “You’re still clinging to your space story?”
“Lin Xu,” Heinrich said, staring straight into his eyes, “I’m serious. We met three thousand years in the future. In the galaxy.”
“The first time you saw me,” Heinrich added with a faint smile, “you mocked me mercilessly.”
Lin Xu blinked. “I was that bad?”
Heinrich’s smile deepened, warmth softening his sharp features. “This time, you won’t.”
Author’s Note:
This is a story of parallel worlds. In any given timeline, there is only one Lin Xu and one Heinrich. Don’t worry—Heinrich’s time travel didn’t leave anyone behind. The timeline he came from has already been frozen; it will not continue to move forward.
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