Chapter 43: The Little Tyrant’s Peak Tea Skills
“Little Chicken… Brother~”
On the other side, Shěn Lín was calling out softly to Lì Héng, rubbing his fluffy head against the boy’s neck.
A thread of energy slipped into the edge of his consciousness sea. Seeing the reinforced, fortress-like walls, Shěn Lín couldn’t help but sigh in his heart.
It seemed Little Chicken Brother’s condition was worsening again.
He had never seen a consciousness sea as thick as a military bunker. It was so tightly sealed that he couldn’t find an entry point.
As expected of the galaxy’s only SSS-grade bloodline. Shěn Lín rarely encountered such a challenging case.
Little Chicken Brother’s illness was different from others.
Everything he did was while he was fully conscious.
When he attacked, his bloodline pressure was precisely controlled. The guards and servants only three meters away weren’t injured at all. That pressure was targeted solely at Tǎlǐ’ěr.
It was just that his bloodline energy was too volatile. Even a tiny leak had been enough to sink an island.
In the past, Shěn Lín hadn’t felt much about the stories of how terrifying S-grade beasts could be.
After all, he had four beasts in his own family.
He had seen his new family during their bloodline riots. Aside from getting bigger, fiercer, and losing their minds, there didn’t seem to be a huge difference.
Until now.
Seeing Little Chicken Brother use his bloodline to attack Tǎlǐ’ěr.
It proved the reality that a beast bloodline could truly blow up a planet.
No wonder everyone envied beasts and wanted to be them, even knowing the agony of the riots was a hundred times worse than for normal Beastmen.
Tossing this kind of power onto a battlefield was more lethal than a star-core bomb.
The first attempt to enter the consciousness sea failed.
Shěn Lín wasn’t discouraged; instead, he felt a surge of competitive spirit.
He curled his fingers around a strand of the boy’s red hair, playing with it. It was hot but didn’t burn.
Lì Héng’s body temperature was very high. Even through his clothes, one could feel the scalding blood rushing beneath his skin.
He rested his chin on Shěn Lín’s head, his expression calm. He didn’t look like someone suffering from the irritability of a fever.
Just holding the cub brought a long-lost sense of peace to his heart.
After three more failed attempts to enter the consciousness sea, Shěn Lín stopped pushing.
He felt that if he pushed any further, he might trigger an all-out defense from the consciousness sea.
Getting attacked himself wasn’t a big deal.
He had healing powers. Even if he got hurt, he’d heal instantly and wouldn’t feel the pain.
That was why the research institute had been so comfortable carving up his body in his past life.
He could heal others—both mentally and physically—and he could heal himself just as well.
But he was afraid that if he kept testing, it would trigger a backlash that would worsen the mania.
The only one who would suffer then was Little Chicken Brother.
Shěn Lín took a deep breath. More light bands appeared, their soft glow shimmering as they wove together into an oval cocoon, wrapping the two of them inside.
The bands spiraled around. A few detached from the main body and drifted around them.
“Little Chicken… Brother~”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t resist~”
“I’m going in~”
Lì Héng watched the light bands circling them like little puppies and found it novel. He reached out to touch one.
The light band quickly dodged. Lì Héng’s hand caught nothing as the band turned into particles and slipped through his fingers.
Shěn Lín’s eyes curved into crescents as he giggled, seemingly amused by Lì Héng’s actions.
“Can’t touch… they’ll… get angry~”
“Angry?”
“Mhmm~”
Shěn Lín nodded his little head, intentionally putting on a “fierce” face as he huddled closer into Lì Héng’s arms.
Lì Héng held him loosely, making sure he wouldn’t fall.
The milky voice sounded in his ear.
“They… aren’t happy~”
“The taste… is bitter~”
The cub’s voice carried a hint of mischievous pride.
Lì Héng could see through the act, but he didn’t expose him. He played along, acting surprised.
“Really?”
“Hmph~”
With a wave of his hand, the light bands dove into Lì Héng’s body.
Lì Héng immediately felt a wave of bitterness on his tongue.
But compared to the bitterness, he was more shocked to feel the old injuries in his body beginning to knit together.
Lì Héng had killed person after person since returning to the Empire, and assassination attempts followed him in waves.
Even with Sāng Hǔ and the guards, some still slipped through.
Lì Héng had to handle them personally.
Sometimes he was careless—for example, during an assassin’s self-detonation.
Even with a powerful SSS-grade bloodline, he would still be affected. He’d get a scratch or lose some skin.
Those people knew they couldn’t kill him; they just wanted to annoy him.
Since he was killing them off, they might as well struggle a bit, right?
The light bands moved through Lì Héng’s body, clearing out the pollutants clogging his blood vessels.
Finally, they emerged carrying a massive bag of “trash.”
Shěn Lín looked at it. It was a huge bag.
The light bands processed the trash on the spot.
Hazardous waste: Segmented, crushed, compressed, and incinerated into ash.
Recyclable waste: Sorted, processed, and absorbed to recharge the bands’ own energy.
Cleaning, recycling, and self-processing—it was a full-service line.
The previously dim bands brightened once more.
They were like fully charged robots.
They spiraled around the cub’s arm, affectionately nuzzling his fingertips.
Before Lì Héng could feel the changes in the rest of his body, the cub in his arms moved.
Lì Héng thought he wanted to get down and instinctively reached out to steady him.
Shěn Lín took the opportunity to grab his arm and stand up.
His chubby hand tapped Lì Héng’s temple.
Lì Héng didn’t move, letting the soft finger poke and prod his head.
The temple was a fatal spot for Beastmen.
Usually, a Beastman wouldn’t let anyone touch their temple—not even family or a partner.
But Lì Héng allowed the cub to touch him freely.
His expression was calm, placing his life entirely in the cub’s hands.
“Little Chicken… Brother…”
“Little Bear, what are you doing? Will it hurt your body? I’ve never felt this comfortable before; you’ve already done enough. Let’s stop, okay?”
Even though the cub was doing this for his benefit.
Lì Héng didn’t want him to take any risks.
Shěn Lín pouted, putting on an “I’m not listening” face.
Lì Héng took the cub’s small hand, rubbing the skin that was as smooth as jade.
“Little Bear, be good, okay?”
“No~”
Shěn Lín poked the temple again, his brows furrowed. “Here, hurts~”
Lì Héng froze.
The burning in his body was worsening, and his nerves were throbbing with pain, but it was within his tolerance.
He had been used to this pain since childhood.
He didn’t think it was much, but his heart felt a surge of warmth and secret joy.
The cub cared about him. He was even worried for him.
Shěn Zéjué’s words from yesterday had been like a dull knife, carving at his heart.
Especially after learning from Míxījié that the cub had gone to Tǎlǐ’ěr’s house to play.
Lì Héng hadn’t slept all night. He skipped his morning meetings, ignored his ministers, and rushed to the Federation.
If he didn’t see Little Bear with his own eyes, his heart wouldn’t be at peace.
Originally, he just thought the cub’s experiences were similar to his own. He was willing to raise him and give him a home, but he hadn’t expected to become so intertwined with him.
Just seeing the cub made his day feel full.
Having daily video calls with the cub and seeing that sweet smile made the mountain of paperwork seem less tedious.
He thought those days would continue until Shěn Zéjué appeared, being all cuddly and affectionate with the cub right in front of him. It made him inexplicably irritable.
If the cub made new friends, would he be forgotten?
Over time, would his existence fade until the cub forgot him entirely?
The thought made him anxious.
He left his ministers, threw away his crown, and flew to the Federation alone.
When he saw Little Bear being so intimate with someone else, a surge of nameless rage hit him. He used his pressure to crush the intruder without even thinking.
When he released that pressure, he hadn’t forgotten to shield the cub.
He pressed the little face against his chest, not wanting him to see his savage side.
He didn’t want the cub to be afraid of him or run away.
Then Hǎiwān Island sank, and they went to the starship.
The cub went into the medical room, choosing to stay with that outsider instead of him. He didn’t even look at him before closing the door.
In that moment, Lì Héng’s heart sank to the bottom.
Fortunately, the cub was just helping him heal.
When the cub openly displayed his special ability, he was both happy and worried.
Just like Shěn Zéjué, his first thought was to silence anyone who knew.
On the day the cub hatched, a strange power had appeared, effectively suppressing his own riot. He had suspected it then.
But that power was too incredible. Lì Héng didn’t want to believe a cub possessed it.
The second time, when he slept with the cub and woke up with his mania eased, the suspicion grew.
But he never spoke of it, nor did he investigate. He chose to hide it.
He was even afraid someone would notice the change in his bloodline, so he secretly had Sāng Hǔ bring him high-grade inhibitors to drink.
Until today, when the cub clearly showed his power.
Only someone who trusted him completely would reveal a secret like that without hesitation.
“Little Bear, it doesn’t hurt. You’ve done so much today; you must be tired. You need to rest. Your body is the most important thing.”
Shěn Lín looked a bit confused.
Huh?
He wasn’t tired at all. As long as it wasn’t a “stubborn” patient like Little Chicken Brother, he could handle twenty more like Tǎlǐ’ěr.
The red-haired boy pressed the cub’s hand against his face, looking up slightly. His stunningly beautiful face was revealed, his long eyelashes trembling.
“Little Bear, I was so afraid you wouldn’t talk to me anymore.”
His voice carried the unique magnetic tone of a boy transitioning into a young man, and it was slightly shaking.
Shěn Lín rarely saw the boy so vulnerable. His heart softened.
“Won’t happen~”
He shook his little head and explained seriously, “Little Chicken… Brother… is good!”
“Very good!”
Afraid he wasn’t clear enough, he emphasized his affection for the boy again.
The darkness in Lì Héng’s eyes vanished completely. But he still didn’t feel safe, so he asked: “Little Bear, do you like that Tǎlǐ’ěr more, or do you like me more?!”
Shěn Lín answered without hesitation: “You!”
“Then if Little Bear goes to school and makes new friends, will you get tired of me?”
“No!”
“Like… Little Chicken Brother~”
The poor cub was so flustered by Lì Héng’s “tea-like” behavior that he managed to string four words together, afraid that if he spoke too slowly, he’d be hit with another barrage of questions.
Lì Héng was satisfied. He rubbed his face against the cub’s, his voice sounding pitiful, “Then I want to be Little Bear’s very, very best friend!”
“Mhmm~”
Shěn Lín nodded frantically.
Seeing the boy’s shimmering eyes fill with a smile, Shěn Lín wiped his sweat.
The cub sighed in his heart. If he went wandering in the future, should he take Little Chicken Brother with him?
Fine, he might as well.
Little Chicken Brother was so clingy. If he left, what would happen if the boy started crying?
Translator’s Note:
Terms Explained:
- Chǔ-Hàn border (楚河汉界): Refers to the “River” in Chinese Chess that separates the two sides. Used to describe the physical/emotional distance between the two brothers.
- Green Tea (茶技 – Chá Jì): Manipulative innocent behavior.
- Er’ha (二哈): Slang for a Siberian Husky, implying someone is high-energy but a bit of a “derp” or silly.
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