AMTPA Chapter 30

Under those strangely intense eyes, Chi Zhuo still felt the need to explain himself. “No, I think Bai Han saw you in danger and… led you toward me.”

 

“You mean she took matters into her own hands?”

 

“Your Highness, you’re a prince of the empire. We can’t just stand by and watch someone die. After all, we are good citizens of the empire, aren’t we?”

 

Ji Chenxi almost burst out laughing while fleeing. How could this guy say something like that with a straight face? Clearly, he wasn’t the only one with a skewed sense of self.

 

“Oh, really?” Ji Chenxi said, his voice layered with meaning.

 

“What do you think it was, then?”

 

The monsters chasing them had been blocked, and even the road ahead was being cleared. Ji Chenxi didn’t feel as panicked as he did before. He let out a soft laugh. “I don’t really think anything, after all, I’m not Brother Chi Zhuo. How would I know what’s going on in your head?”

 

Chi Zhuo didn’t respond. Whatever he said now might give Ji Chenxi something to confirm whatever thoughts were running through his mind.

 

“You’re not normal,” Ji Chenxi added on his own, even though Chi Zhuo didn’t speak.

 

Chi Zhuo paused for a moment, then acted as if he hadn’t heard it.

 

Ji Chenxi didn’t continue the small talk either. The lively energy between them from their first meeting vanished completely.

 

Chi Zhuo glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Noticing his gaze, Ji Chenxi lifted a corner of his mouth slightly, almost asking, ‘Looking at what?’ Chi Zhuo pulled his eyes away, and Ji Chenxi’s little reaction disappeared instantly.

 

‘Not normal?’

 

If anyone was truly “not normal” between them, it was probably Ji Chenxi.

 

Every time Chi Zhuo thought he understood a bit of him, he’d realize Ji Chenxi was like a deep, bottomless sea. On the surface, beautiful, pure, simple—but in truth, unfathomable.

 

After teaming up with Chi Zhuo, Ji Chenxi’s luck shot up like a rocket. Just moments ago, he had been down on his luck, and now, with Bai Han’s help, the two of them had stumbled upon a small weapons vault. The outer alloy door opened easily enough, but the inner layer—radiating a semi-transparent blue glow—was something even Bai Han, stationed outside, couldn’t hack.

 

It was a permission-based lock, not some simple password or facial recognition system. No wonder Bai Han hadn’t forced it open. Clearly, this was the type of door that would self-destruct if anything went wrong.

 

“Looks like we’ll just have to stare at it and dream,” Ji Chenxi muttered softly.

 

Chi Zhuo didn’t know much about this kind of tech. Seeing it wouldn’t open, he said, “Let’s try breaking it open with firepower. If that doesn’t work, we should move on to our real goal.”

 

“What’s the real goal?” Ji Chenxi asked, curious.

 

“This place is a lab for human modification experiments, Your Highness. What do you think our goal is?”

 

“Stealing research data? Or maybe taking some of their test samples?”

 

His words weren’t exactly graceful—steal, take—but Chi Zhuo still gave a small nod. “Pretty much. I’ve been keeping an eye on this lab since I came back. Didn’t expect to bump into Your Highness while checking it out.”

 

Chi Zhuo’s voice deepened slightly at the end. It wasn’t just that they happened to meet by chance—he suspected Ji Chenxi had orchestrated it deliberately.

 

Catching the subtle implication, Ji Chenxi offered a small defense. “First, it really was a coincidence. I’m not some all-powerful god who can track your every move. Second, since you were about to blast the door open anyway, why not let me give it a shot first?”

 

Doors like this, layered and permission-locked, were notoriously hard to open—but it just so happened that Ji Chenxi had just recently done deep research on this exact kind of system.

 

He activated his light-brain, and part of the device unfolded into a small mechanical spider. It crawled onto the narrow slot where clearance was scanned. As the two systems connected, Ji Chenxi began typing rapidly on the holographic screen projected from the spider’s back. A whirlwind of green code flickered across the display.

 

Chi Zhuo was already bracing himself to yank Ji Chenxi back the moment the vault blew up—but after only a few minutes of typing, there was a soft “ding.”

 

The faint blue light over the door vanished.

 

After the door opened, Ji Chenxi didn’t rush inside. The mechanical spider that had just crawled onto the glowing door dropped down, and as soon as it landed, it began crawling into the room. Sure enough, the inside wasn’t anywhere near as peaceful as they had imagined.

 

The little spider was immediately attacked by countless photon beams. Luckily, it was incredibly fast, sliding and dodging as the beams followed its every move. It spent nearly a full minute weaving through the attacks before the beams finally vanished.

 

The mechanical spider continued to move randomly inside, opening some weapon cabinets here and there, but no further attacks followed.

 

Ji Chenxi glanced at the person next to him. “You going in?”

 

Chi Zhuo didn’t answer—he just stepped forward.

 

This guy had some serious guts.

 

Ji Chenxi strolled in behind him, casually browsing for weapons that caught his eye.

 

There were plenty of high-damage weapons, but most were too bulky to carry easily. For convenience, weapon experts had designed a few that were powerful yet portable. The only downside? Expensive.

 

As Ji Chenxi expected, this lab, flush with wealth, was far more lavish than an ordinary one. Several weapons that caught his attention were laid out neatly, glinting under the light.

 

While picking their gear, the two of them also found a dust-covered mech.

 

It was gorgeous. Ji Chenxi couldn’t resist running a hand over it.

 

“I’ll drive,” he said, taking the initiative for once.

 

“Suit yourself.”

 

One took the main cockpit, the other the co-pilot seat, and together they maneuvered the mech, using its firepower to clear the way.

 

At first, the lab staff had intended to rely entirely on their skilled technician to handle them. But with Bai Han outside creating distractions, and Ji Chenxi inside, the technician was caught between two fronts, getting frustrated. They hadn’t used heavy weapons at first, mostly to avoid drawing attention from the outside arena.

 

But now, their lab was crawling with infiltrators, and if they didn’t deal with it quickly, things were going to get serious.

 

So from this point on, Ji Chenxi and Chi Zhuo weren’t just facing traps and combat-type mini-robots.

 

If they’d been in narrow corridors earlier, with countless enemies chasing them, Ji Chenxi might have panicked a bit. But now? They had firepower in spades.

 

All the fear before had come from being underpowered. With enough firepower, none of these things were a problem.

 

Ji Chenxi piloted the mech, sweeping everything in their path.

 

At first, Chi Zhuo offered some backup, but seeing that Ji Chenxi handled it effortlessly, he stopped assisting altogether. He bent over the light-brain device and, after a while, projected a map for Ji Chenxi.

 

He pointed at a red dot. “We go this way.”

 

Ji Chenxi acknowledged with a nod and steered the mech in that direction, keeping an eye out while probing a bit. “Chi Zhuo, are you here to take a look at human research too, so you came specifically to steal someone else’s findings?”

 

“No.”

 

Ji Chenxi waited for that denial, already guessing it would come. “Since it’s not to snoop on human experiments, I assume you didn’t just happen to stumble in here like I did and discover some big secret.”

 

It was obvious this wasn’t a coincidence. Unlike Ji Chenxi’s on-the-spot improvisation, Chi Zhuo had clearly scouted the place ahead of time.

 

“Since Your Highness already knows they’re doing human experiments, why don’t you try to guess what kind of human experiments they’re running?”

 

Those creatures were part human, part animal, with strange, bizarre appearances. Ji Chenxi had originally summed them up simply as monsters. Now, a little calmer, he could make some educated guesses. It was obvious these creatures were being modified in that direction.

 

“Almost all of those creatures are Alpha and Omega,” Ji Chenxi pointed out first.

 

“Mm,” Chi Zhuo acknowledged.

 

“It’s not too hard to guess. Mixing humans with animals isn’t because they had nothing better to do—ignoring robots to experiment on real people—it’s because they’re trying to boost their levels. A and O are the same in this regard. Almost only S-level or above can project their spiritual body for extended periods and even achieve fusion, while anyone below S-level might never see their own spiritual body in a lifetime.”

 

Chi Zhuo nodded in agreement, approving Ji Chenxi’s reasoning.

 

“So it’s obvious. Those creatures, looking like monsters, are actually in a state of spiritual body fusion. But clearly, raising AO levels isn’t easy. These are all failures. Among so many failures, even I can’t help but wonder if there might be one or two rare successes.”

 

Ji Chenxi wasn’t too surprised by this kind of experiment. Take robots, for example—even with the most precise eyes and design, the highest level they could reach was still just A. The gap between A and S might seem small on paper, but in reality, it’s a world apart.

 

Chi Zhuo nodded again. “You’re right. The lab’s main goal is indeed to create AO with S-level or higher.”

 

“So what’s your purpose in coming here?”

 

Even with that confirmation, Ji Chenxi still asked.

 

Chi Zhuo, being the only SSS-level Alpha, should find this kind of research beneath him. Even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t personally make the trip.

 

Ji Chenxi’s eyes narrowed slightly. Even if Chi Zhuo stayed silent and gave no answer, he was still confident in his own guess. “Your glands… no, I mean, it seems your strange pheromone issue started here.”

 

An Alpha shouldn’t crave the pheromones of another Alpha.

 

Maybe Chi Zhuo did want to kill him—it’s just that, right now, he couldn’t.

 

Chi Zhuo glanced sideways at him. “So Your Highness considers my desire for your pheromones… strange?”

 

“Oh? Not strange?”

 

Chi Zhuo didn’t answer directly. Instead, he said, “An Alpha doesn’t reject another Alpha’s pheromones. What do you think that means?”

 

“Obviously, one of the Alphas’ glands is malfunctioning,” Ji Chenxi said cheerfully.

 

Chi Zhuo let out a light chuckle, and after that, he went silent.

 

At first, Ji Chenxi kept piloting the mech without missing a beat. But after a while, a small itch of curiosity crept in—he wanted to know what Chi Zhuo’s silent chuckle meant.

 

Even knowing the other might be teasing him, Ji Chenxi couldn’t help but ask, “So what is the reason? Why?”

 

“Of course, one of the Alphas’ glands is malfunctioning,” Chi Zhuo replied, giving the exact same answer.

 

Ji Chenxi: “…”

 

Damn it!

 

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