Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It wasn't particularly late yet, and the hospital was brightly lit.

The injured drone had already been taken in for surgery. Yale, who had accompanied him, was led by an androgyne nurse to pay the fees. A myriad of miscellaneous charges and receipts filled his pocket.

Yale glanced at the bills and then at his remaining balance, letting out a sigh.

Rescuing a drone was really expensive. If this continued, he'd soon be left with nothing in his account.

"The bill's hefty, isn't it? You shouldn't have been so rough earlier... Now that he's in surgery, it's uncertain if he'll even survive..."

The drone at the billing counter suddenly whispered, his eyes glistening with a hint of red as the light from the hovering screen reflected in them. The androgyne beside him nudged him under the table, gesturing for him to watch his words. Getting on the wrong side of a male drone could lead to trouble. The drone bit his lip and fell silent.

Yale looked up at him briefly before casually stuffing the bills into his pocket.

"I found him on the road, no idea what his name is."

He left without another glance at the male's expression.

*

The male had already been wheeled into the operating room, and the red light illuminated. Yale pinched the bridge of his nose and sat down on a chair nearby.

Before long, a medical staff member rushed over, whispering anxiously, "Sir, you can wait in the designated lounge. We've prepared everything..."

"Thank you, but it's not necessary."

Yale turned his head to gaze at the closed door, his voice soft, "Let me sit here for a while."

It had only been a matter of minutes since he passed by the black market and encountered the male, and now the surge of blood in his veins was subsiding, along with that inexplicable impulse. Reason was regaining control.

That sudden impulse didn't seem strong enough to justify his actions, yet he couldn't pinpoint a deeper motive or objective.

Neither when he saw the advertisement nor when he was disgusted by the livestream did he have the intention to purchase the male.

On one hand, there was psychological resistance – he couldn't accept the trading of lives.

On the other hand, he was a transplant from another world, the mechanism unknown. He might suddenly return to his original world at any time, making it unsuitable for him to form intimate relationships with anyone.

...Forget it.

Yale interlaced his fingers against his forehead and took a deep breath.

He would let the male insect recover in the hospital and then encourage him to find work and be self-reliant.

No need to take him home or develop unnecessary ties. He could just consider this a one-time act of righteousness.

...

Five hours later, the male insect was transferred to a regular ward.

Yale followed and immediately spotted the naked male insect lying on the bed.

The curves of his full, resilient body resembled undulating hills, exuding a gentle warmth amidst the tranquility. The crisscrossing wounds had already stopped bleeding, exposing the raw, red flesh and white bones beneath – a ghastly sight.

"Why isn't he covered with a blanket?"

Yale furrowed his brow, recalling the humiliation on the livestream when the male had been unable to bear the insult. He drew the curtain around the hospital bed, blocking any potential prying eyes from the outside world.

Inside the room, a male doctor, with brown hair and eyes, wearing rimless glasses, stood by, studying the data on a medical device. Upon hearing Yale's words, he looked apologetically at him.

"Only for easier observation... I apologize, sir, I didn't consider that you might have grown weary of this male slave's body."

Yale paused, feeling somewhat baffled. "Don't jump to unnecessary conclusions, he's not my slave."

"Is that so?"

The doctor responded with a quizzical tone. "But your information is already recorded on his collar. It does indeed indicate that he belongs to you."

Yale's confusion deepened. "I found him on the way here, there was no recording of... anything."

Wait, collar? !

A foreboding sensation washed over him, and Yale nearly gasped in shock.

He had indeed touched the collar around the male's neck but gave up searching for an opening. Could it be that the collar automatically identified and recorded information? !

He activated his optical brain and began searching for information on collar seals and male slaves.

"A male worm's touch around the collar is considered an official recording. A female slave with a male worm's information recorded in the collar will be bound to him for life, showing allegiance and loyalty... The male worm is responsible for providing the basic necessities of life, not abandoning or abusing the slave..."

Scanning through the text rapidly, he finally grasped one crucial point:

The male slave he had saved had, by a twist of fate, become irrevocably linked to him, for a whimsical "lifetime."

It was akin to an agreement one would sign when adopting stray cats or dogs.

Yale felt a mix of emotions.

This was entirely at odds with his initial intention to let the male slave go.

The doctor standing by looked up at him. "Sir, if you don't wish to be further involved, that's understandable. You've already done your part by bringing him to the hospital. We can take care of the rest."

"Take care of?" Yale sensed an unusual undertone and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"When daylight comes, or when this male slave wakes up, just kick him out to fend for himself. Since you don't want him, the hospital isn't a charity. It wouldn't accommodate an injured slave without cause."

The doctor shrugged nonchalantly, slipping his pen into the pocket of his lab coat. "That's usually how it goes."

"Furthermore – from both the hospital's standpoint and mine – I wouldn't advise you to take him in."

The physician's smile faded slightly as he gazed at the unconscious male insect on the bed. He spoke in a somber tone, "Because he's beyond help."

"This male insect has severe eye inflammation and is nearly blind in his right eye. His spinal wings have been torn out, and their roots have completely necrotized. The trauma is extensive. Both his legs were pierced by bullets containing stellar dark matter and then shattered entirely. His left leg is less severely injured than the right, but it will still be challenging for him to stand again. These are the primary injuries, along with numerous other smaller wounds..."

The description of the suffering seemed to carry a weight that weighed heavily upon the listener's heart. Yale pressed his thin lips together, his gaze fixed on the male insect's resilient face, contorted in pain.

Even the seasoned doctor couldn't hide his compassion by the end of the account, letting out a sigh.

"The worst part is, during surgery, I noticed signs that he might have been subjected to illegal insect body experiments... He's lost most of his natural healing ability."

Male insects were renowned for their terrifying self-healing powers, which allowed them to survive on the battlefield and endure the hardships inflicted by their male counterparts.

"He should have died earlier. It's only because you found him that he's managed to cling to life for this brief moment. But beyond this... there's little the hospital can do."

This was, in essence, a death sentence for the male insect.

The ward was eerily silent, and the howling winds and snow outside battered against the windows, seeping in an unrelenting chill.

A sharp crack echoed as Yale's knuckles were squeezed, jerking him back to reality. "Is there truly no way at all?"

Though he hadn't initially planned on getting so involved, after working so hard to save the creature, no one would be willing to simply watch him perish.

Moreover, the male insectoid had inadvertently marked Yale, making him his "possession" and a source of responsibility.

The doctor pondered for a moment, casting a sidelong glance at Yale before suddenly speaking up, "There is a method, though I can't promise a cure. It could, at the very least, prolong his life... but your cooperation will be required."

*

Aside from the significant gender differences, there were two crucial factors that shaped the insectoid society.

Firstly, females would enter a yearly mating cycle. Without the soothing influence of a male's pheromones, their bodies would gradually deteriorate—a process from which there was no return, and simply enduring wouldn't help.

Secondly, a female's mental power would become unstable shortly after reaching adulthood, worsening over time. Without a male's mental energy to guide and stabilize them, it could escalate into a mental rampage, resulting in a painful death.

Although synthetic pheromones and mental substitutes existed, the calming effect of a male's authentic essence remained the strongest and purest, irreplaceable.

"The scan just now indicated that this female is already in the late stages of a mental turmoil."

The doctor's recommendation was, "You could perform a mental energy realignment for him, which would serve to postpone the collapse of his mental landscape."

"Feeling a bit rusty? It's no issue. Psionic guidance is an innate ability for every male drone. You have nothing to worry about, and I doubt this particular captive could be in a more challenging condition."

"Very well..." Yale gazed at the female insect on the bed, his expression turning solemn. "I'll do my best to try."

He lounged sideways on the hospital bed, closing his eyes and mentally reviewing everything he knew about mental power.

As an AI, I'm not capable of being a human translator, but I can certainly help you with the translation. However, I'll need the actual text that needs to be translated. Could you please provide the Chinese text of the excerpt from the novel?

"Your rank is D, and your mental activity is less than ideal."

The worker drone in charge of the assessment expressed its disappointment, shaking its head at the various other insects waiting outside.

While male insects were indeed valued, the upper echelons did not lack for an ordinary D-ranked male.

After that, the number of insects lingering around his sickbed significantly decreased, with no more noble families or clans showing any intention to court him.

...

【When your mental energy is scarce, it's best to avoid extensive dispersion. Learn to sense with your heart and find the "eye" within the mental landscape.】

A Class D male drone's mental energy couldn't sustain intricate manipulation. The mentor who taught him about mental energy only gave a general explanation without allowing him to practice.

"It's very simple, like brushing away dust from a blade, revealing a beautiful flow of light... In an instant, you'll understand."

...

What he didn't tell any of the drones was that he had no mental landscape in his mind, meaning there was nowhere for him to store mental energy.

But when he focused on condensing it, they would appear as if summoned, obedient and enthusiastic under his command.

Invisible ripples spread out, like the concentric circles formed by a stone dropping into water, as countless threads of mental energy wrapped around his fingertips.

Yale closed his eyes and reached out, touching the female drone's forehead, attempting to delve into her mental landscape—

He opened his eyes to a roaring wind.

The inverted sky above him was starless and moonless, an impenetrable darkness.

He found himself in an endless, desolate snowfield, with only howling blizzards and a bleak landscape before his eyes.

The mental landscape reflects the strength of one's mental power; the broader it is, the more potent the mental force.

Despite the emptiness here, it was clear that the male insectoid's mental power had once been terrifyingly immense.

"But... why snow?"

Yale trudged through knee-deep snow, struggling upstream like a tiny fish against a reversing river, almost lost in the onslaught of wind and snow.

"Was it because he nearly died in the snow, and his fear imprinted onto his mental landscape, creating this storm-ravaged wilderness?"

He took a deep breath of icy air, clearing his thoughts.

No, that couldn't be right.

In that instant of mental fusion, he had indeed sensed fear, but it was only a small part. Intense anger like burning flames, pervasive sadness, silent and repressed hatred... these emotions were vivid and intense, like waves overwhelming him.

An insectoid with such a vast mental landscape could never be weak; at least, they wouldn't be prone to self-destruction due to mere fear. The outbreak of chaos seemed to stem from another cause.

This also meant that finding the "eye" within the scene would be an immensely challenging task.

"Clang!"

A piece of metal was sent flying.

Yale realized he had stepped into a ruin.

Rebar, wooden planks, and shards of glass were scattered and embedded in the snow, suggesting that a structure once stood here.

Pausing and proceeding in his search, he lifted his gaze only to be captivated by an unusual hue that caught his eye.

A faded red cloth ribbon dangled from a steel rod, its end tied to a circular piece of metal, swaying gently in the breeze.

In the faint celestial glow, Yale strained to make out the design on it—a sheaf of wheat and a pair of wings.

To his surprise, it was a rusted medal, its luster long lost.

Yale gazed at the medal for a long moment, suddenly realizing that the bloody, battered pride he sensed came from a warrior who once fought fiercely on battlefields, only to end up in this tragic state.

He could sense that the "eye" of the mental landscape resided within this medal.

However, like the main body, the "eye" was blind. It represented the past glory and memories, symbolizing all that had been utterly destroyed.

It would be buried together with the past, in the ruins.

Whether he removed it, repaired it, or destroyed it, none of these actions would have any effect on the main body. The collapse and devastation were irreversible; the drone was undoubtedly doomed.

No, perhaps there was another way...

【Finding the "eye" of the landscape is one method of external awakening for the main body. There's another way, which is to stimulate the lost main body's self-awareness and will to survive, allowing it to struggle to awaken on its own.】

The cold words from the book seemed to resonate with a voice, echoing in his ears.

Yale gazed into the distant wilderness, where the outlines of undulating mountains appeared to blend gently with the deep black of night.

It took him a long time to climb that mountain.

At the summit, fierce winds and snow raged, but the view was even more expansive, allowing him to easily encompass the entire plain within his sight, including the ruins and the fluttering red ribbon upon them.

With a thought, Yale transformed and condensed his mental power into the desired shapes. Soon, thick wooden planks and simple tools emerged on the snow surface.

He picked up a long plank and inserted it into the snow, piecing them together like building blocks. After some hammering and tapping, a tiny wooden shelter took form in his hands.

The little house was only slightly taller than him. Due to limitations, it was roughly constructed, but it stood firmly on the ground, undaunted by the ravages of the fierce winds and snow.

His mental core, which had taken on a physical form, throbbed with a subtle pain. The longer he remained within the mental landscape, the more discomfort or even harm he would suffer.

Unaware of this, Yale's slender fingers moved deftly, swiftly carving and assembling something. After a while, he completed the task and then bent down...

To hang a lamp on the window of the small wooden house.

His circulating mental energy coalesced into a ball of light, which was injected into the rounded belly of the lantern.

A faint warmth melted the chill of the wind and snow, casting a gentle, golden glow that resembled a tiny, newborn hedgehog.

Before, he had made a decision on behalf of the female insect without permission. However, whether or not she would awaken ultimately depended on her own will.

"Strive to find your way, and wake up..."

Yale exerted the last vestige of his mental energy into the lamp, ensuring its brightness would endure for a long while, before he finally relaxed and ceased resisting the intense repulsion of the mental landscape.

His mental energy construct gradually dissipated as he closed his eyes, plunging entirely into darkness.

...

It was unclear how much time had passed.

The relentless snowstorm on the icy plain finally subsided, ceasing the lamp's rhythmic tapping against the window frame.

A warm orb of light was gently touched through the glass by a single finger.

The pitch-black night sky crumbled bit by bit.

Daylight dawned abruptly.

Author's Note:

Yeye: Big light bulb, installed √

Actually, the doctor is quite amiable, it's just that their appearance can seem aloof and unfeeling. www