AMTPA Chapter 29

Ji Chenxi had originally thought that, no matter what, anyone would at least get a little angry when embarrassed—but he never expected the other person to actually tease him back.

 

His eyes lifted slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper, letting the words float out like a soft breath: “So, Brother Chi Zhuo really likes me, huh? I’m… flattered~”

 

“You don’t look very flattered, Your Highness.”

 

Chi Zhuo’s tone was cold, his gaze flicking toward the space behind Ji Chenxi.

 

Ji Chenxi’s eyes curved into a grin. He tried to look genuinely surprised and touched, but honestly… getting things had always been second nature to him. Acting shocked over a gift or attention? Not exactly his strong suit.

 

After a short, half-hearted attempt, he just gave up and let it go.

 

“Looks like you couldn’t fool yourself this time.”

 

The airy, teasing voice drifted into Ji Chenxi’s ear.

 

“How do you know it’s a lie? I’m actually a rather reserved and shy person… not really the type to show my feelings,” he replied lightly.

 

Chi Zhuo fell strangely silent for a moment, then slowly said, “Your Highness’ sense of self is… unique.”

 

Ji Chenxi chuckled, about to fire back a reply, when the faint whir of the combat drones reached his ears. He clamped his mouth shut immediately, abandoning his teasing banter with Chi Zhuo. Turning to the light-screen interface, he started issuing multiple commands at once.

 

[Command intercepted!]

[Command intercepted!]

 

Two consecutive intercepted commands pinged back at him, making Ji Chenxi frown slightly.

 

These little combat drones may look round and harmless, but they packed a surprising amount of ammo inside. And once one of them detected a threat, it would inevitably trigger the surrounding defense mechanisms.

 

After failing multiple times to redirect the little combat drones, Ji Chenxi finally gave up on that approach. Instead, he decided to shield the small area they were in, hoping that when the drones scanned it, nothing unusual would be detected.

 

This was riskier than trying to reroute the drones—but his equipment just wasn’t up to the task, unable to break through the countless layers of protection surrounding them.

 

For now, he could only leave things to chance.

 

Though he said “leave it to chance,” Ji Chenxi’s mind was already running through the possibility of fighting the drones head-on. If he timed it right, the chances of survival were actually pretty high.

 

He formed words with his lips and asked Chi Zhuo, “Brother Chi Zhuo, going to be the hero and save the damsel?”

 

Chi Zhuo lowered his gaze to read Ji Chenxi’s lips clearly. His face remained calm as he replied, simply, “Don’t want to.”

 

Hah, what a cold, ruthless alpha.

 

To prevent someone truly heartless from acting suddenly and dragging him into danger, Chi Zhuo moved closer to Ji Chenxi and whispered by his ear, “Don’t move. As long as you stay still, nothing will happen.”

 

Warmth brushed past Ji Chenxi’s ear, sending a tingle down his spine. For a moment, he didn’t know whether to warn Chi Zhuo or just stay quiet. At the same time, he could see the carved rose more clearly than ever.

 

Carving was one of Ji Chenxi’s hobbies. With his excellent skill, he had created this rose in a single, flawless cut, connecting the last stroke to the very first.

 

It was a rose in full bloom—vivid, passionate, and beautiful. Right now, it looked as if the scar had just peeled away, revealing soft, pale flesh beneath.

 

In truth, Ji Chenxi’s first reaction upon seeing Chi Zhuo had been surprise. But almost immediately, his eyes were drawn to the rose, and he even felt the urge to reach out and touch the mark he had left with his own hands.

 

Just as Chi Zhuo had said, as long as the two of them stayed perfectly still, the little combat drones passed by as if there weren’t two living humans right there. Whether it was Bai Han successfully taking partial control of the drones or Ji Chenxi’s earlier commands finally taking effect, no one could tell.

 

Once that wave of drones moved out of range, the first thing Ji Chenxi did was reach out and poke the scar. He couldn’t resist a little self-praise: “A masterpiece.”

 

“Which just shows how terrible Your Highness usually draws,” Chi Zhuo quipped.

 

One round of self-praise was enough. Ji Chenxi didn’t continue the back-and-forth banter. Instead, he left the hidden door and planned to find another way out.

 

Chi Zhuo didn’t linger by the hidden door either. After the drones moved on, he came out alongside Ji Chenxi.

 

Earlier, Ji Chenxi had sent a message to the Emperor about human modifications in this place but hadn’t received any reply. Fearing the message might have been intercepted, he sent it again, this time phrasing it more cautiously.

 

Still, there was no response.

 

“Does that mean we can’t send messages outside right now?” Ji Chenxi asked, even though he had been planning to split ways.

 

“Pretty much. I haven’t been able to reach Bai Han either for a while,” Chi Zhuo replied.

 

Ji Chenxi nodded. “Then let’s go.”

 

Without waiting, Ji Chenxi started moving first. Chi Zhuo probably had his reasons for being here—he might have already scouted the area ahead of time. Following him would certainly be safer than going alone, but there were just too many unknowns with Chi Zhuo, and Ji Chenxi didn’t want to take that risk.

 

After all, he had bullied Chi Zhuo just yesterday—was this guy really going to be all friendly today?

 

The nicer Chi Zhuo acted, the more Ji Chenxi suspected something was up.

 

Once they split up, Ji Chenxi quickened his pace. Naturally, he triggered a few more traps along the way. One of them even released poisonous gas directly.

 

Holding his breath to push through, Ji Chenxi shook his head, trying to clear the slight dizziness that came from inhaling a bit of the poisonous gas.

 

After walking around for a while, he quickly realized something was off. At first, he had been running aimlessly, but later he consciously tried to retrace his steps—only to find the original path had silently changed.

 

This place probably had countless doors and passageways. Just by opening and closing a few doors, a simple path could instantly turn into a dead end.

 

It was like being trapped in a game of catch—the human version of a frog in a jar!

 

Ji Chenxi sneered, giving up on just running. Instead, he moved forward while trying to hack into the doors.

 

At first, the defenses seemed impenetrable. But as the unseen mastermind behind the doors clashed with some third-party force, tiny cracks began to appear. And those seemingly minor gaps were enough for Ji Chenxi to start opening door after door.

 

The first door he opened led to a storage room. Nothing useful inside, so he quickly closed it and moved on. The second door seemed to be a living space.

 

He wasn’t entirely sure. Sure, there was a bed—but calling it a living space felt wrong. The tiny room had twelve bunk beds crammed in, and the air was thick with a foul, stagnant smell.

 

The filthy room made Ji Chenxi hesitate—but his sharp eyes spotted two weapons far better than the little photon gun he carried.

 

Grimacing at the stench, he grabbed the two weapons.

 

Little did he know, his streak of good luck would end with these two weapons he had previously disliked.

 

The third door he opened revealed a small meeting room. A few people sat inside, arguing heatedly.

 

Ji Chenxi and the people inside froze for a second, staring at each other, before both sides acted.

 

With his twin guns ready, Ji Chenxi fired a few highly accurate shots, then dodged, quickly closing the door and slapping a few locks on it for good measure.

 

One failed strike didn’t bother him. He quickly attacked again—but luck wasn’t on his side this time. The fourth door opened into the room of a failed experimental subject, far worse than the third attempt.

 

When Ji Chenxi opened this room, it wasn’t lit like the others—but he still caught sight of countless green, glowing eyes, hungry and wolf-like.

 

This time, his hands moved even faster than before, trying to shut the door before the creatures lunged at him. But the mastermind behind this place seemed to realize he’d opened the room. Using their control over the base, they somehow prevented Ji Chenxi from closing the door. In the struggle, the system controlling the doors completely exploded.

 

Ji Chenxi thought these guys had to be insane—but by then, he had already run quite a distance.

 

Behind him, those green eyes were in hot pursuit. In the light, he could finally see their forms clearly. Some looked like pure monsters, others retained some human traits. Among them was even a beautiful woman who looked entirely normal, with striking blue eyes as clear and deep as the sea.

 

Her presence made Ji Chenxi hesitate to classify all the other deformed creatures as failed experiments.

 

Amid the chase, she ran fastest—and her face showed genuine fear, as if she was terrified of the monsters herself.

 

Ji Chenxi fired a few photon blasts behind him, deliberately slowing down a bit. The beautiful woman noticed the slight slowdown and gave a faint, human smile. But as she got closer, her mouth suddenly opened wide, and her face seemed to split—revealing a gaping maw that stretched across her entire face, filled with sharp, bloody teeth. She had obviously just had a meal.

 

Ji Chenxi, who had deliberately slowed, immediately sprinted even faster.

 

What the hell were these things?

 

Did anyone really need to research stuff like this?

 

He had originally hoped to use the earlier traps to take out some of the modified humans. But the mastermind had shut down all the traps, in the most disgusting way possible.

 

So Ji Chenxi kept running while opening doors along the way—maybe he’d get lucky and find an armory. Even if a monster appeared in a newly opened room, maybe this time it wouldn’t be hostile.

 

But today, Ji Chenxi’s luck was just terrible. Every room he opened was more absurd than the last.

 

He had no choice but to keep running while shooting at the monsters chasing him.

 

Because his luck had been so bad earlier, when he finally saw Chi Zhuo ahead, Ji Chenxi felt genuinely happy.

 

“Brother Chi Zhuo!”

 

The shout was way too cheerful, and it made Chi Zhuo pause for a moment. “What?”

 

“I’m calling you to run with me!”

 

Chi Zhuo didn’t immediately match Ji Chenxi’s pace. He glanced back and noticed a long, chaotic tail of monsters following him.

 

He released his spiritual form, enlarging it to hold back the bulk of the pursuing horde.

 

Meanwhile, Chi Zhuo himself caught up to Ji Chenxi, grabbed him, and guided him through a twisting path. Outside, Bai Han was essentially clearing the way for them.

 

Even though Chi Zhuo had said he couldn’t reach Bai Han, every stretch of the path they took seemed to change—walls became doors, opening new routes for them.

 

A door behind them forcibly stopped the monsters in their tracks. Chi Zhuo retracted his spiritual form and, during a brief pause while running, said to Ji Chenxi, “Let’s head for the armory first.”

 

Seeing how Chi Zhuo seemed to have people opening paths for every step he took, Ji Chenxi instantly understood why he’d run into him. He looked at Chi Zhuo with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

 

“You… specifically came to pick me up?”

 

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