Chapter 89

Chapter 89

The spacious living room was quiet as Zhong Shijin sat on the sofa, tapping on a virtual screen to handle some matters.

Sha Ni Lu, who had just returned from outside, towel draped over his head after a cold shower, grabbed a bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet. As he sipped the wine, he reflected on how, ever since Little Snowball arrived, they'd been returning to the top floor more regularly. In the past, without Little Snowball around, you'd rarely find Zhong Shijin here at this hour.

A Jin came downstairs, freshly showered, and rummaged through the fridge for food. "Huh? The pudding I left for Little Snowball hasn’t been touched at all. Is Little Snowball still asleep?"

Zhong Shijin replied, "Little Snowball needs his rest too. Let him sleep."

A Jin’s dreams of cuddles and kisses evaporated. "Got it..."

He collapsed onto the sofa. "But why would the President rather use Soothing Liquid than accept Little Snowball’s soothing? His safety rating plummeted to 5%—I can’t even imagine what kind of mental state that is."

"Like anyone would choose this?" Zhong Shijin adjusted his glasses. "It’s just that he cares too much."

A Jin frowned in confusion.

Just then, Roland stepped out of Luo Ci’s room. A Jin noticed and immediately shot back, "Why can’t I go into Little Snowball’s room, but Roland can?"

Roland ignored his provocation, face impassive. "Little Snowball isn’t in the room. Who took him out?"

Zhong Shijin froze mid-action, and his eyes automatically sought A Jin.

If anyone was likely to act rashly and recklessly, his first thought was A Jin.

A Jin bolted to Little Snowball’s room. The room was large, overflowing with clothes and plush toys. If Little Snowball had transformed into an Arctic Hare and hidden among the toys, it would be hard to spot him. A Jin searched carefully but found no trace of Little Snowball. Panic gripped him. "It wasn’t me! I was out handling business all day and didn’t come back at all!"

Sha Ni Lu tsked. "Then who put the pudding in the fridge?"

A Jin backtracked, muttering, "I only popped back briefly at noon—really, just a little bit. Little Snowball was still asleep, and I didn’t wake him."

Sha Ni Lu propped himself against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow. "So there’s no one to vouch for you."

A Jin’s eyes flashed dangerously as he jumped up. "You looking for a fight?!"

Zhong Shijin could read A Jin like a book—he was straightforward. If he had really taken Little Snowball out, he’d be acting guilty by now. Judging by his reaction, it probably wasn’t him.

Asking further was pointless, so Zhong Shijin pulled up the security feeds to check.

Meanwhile, A Jin and Sha Ni Lu were already at each other's throats.

Wind and lightning abilities were devastating on their own, let alone when they clashed. The two powerful forces collided like an explosion, instantly trashing the living room and shattering the reinforced glass.

From the outside, it looked like a bomb had been dropped on the top floor, triggering a massive blast.

Zhong Shijin phoned logistics to assess the damage. "You do know all expenses will be deducted from your salaries, right?"

The combatants were too preoccupied to pay him any attention.

Within three minutes, both the logistics and defense teams showed up. Sentinels ran hot by nature, and in-house brawls were routine. The defense team’s job was to mediate such disputes.

But this only applied to ordinary sentinels. When S-class sentinels fought, they knew better than to intervene—they could only stay far away to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

The defense team captain cautiously ventured, "VP Zhong, what should we do about this situation?"

"Let them fight if they want." Zhong Shijin didn’t even look up. He couldn’t be bothered that A Jin and Sha Ni Lu had reduced the living room to rubble. After reviewing the surveillance footage, he had already figured out where Little Snowball had gone—and couldn’t shake his concern.

Roland paid them no mind, scooping up a plush toy that had been blown away. He inspected the damage and found that one of the toy’s ears was torn, its stuffing spilling out. "...This was the cub’s favorite toy."

S-class sentinels had sharp hearing. A Jin immediately stopped fighting. He knew how much Little Snowball treasured every gift and toy he received. Rushing over, he saw the damaged toy and was immediately remorseful. Would Little Snowball be mad at him?

Sha Ni Lu, meanwhile, strolled over to Zhong Shijin. "Found Little Snowball?"

"Little Snowball went to the President’s room on his own." Zhong Shijin frowned deeply.

At this, even Sha Ni Lu’s usual relaxed expression turned grave.

"This is... quite troublesome."

On their way back, they had all sensed that the President was on the verge of a rampage. Under normal circumstances, they could trust his self-control not to harm Little Snowball. But once a sentinel went berserk, they became deaf and blind to the outside world, completely isolated.

Being around a sentinel in that state would put Little Snowball in extreme danger.

Little Snowball was tiny and fragile—even a slight chill could make him sneeze. How could they not worry about such a delicate, soft Little Snowball being near an SS-class sentinel on the brink of rampage?

A Jin panicked. "I’m going to get Little Snowball out right now!"

Sha Ni Lu: "No."

"Why not?!" A Jin’s eyes burned red with urgency. "Little Snowball is in danger there!"

Zhong Shijin’s words stopped A Jin in his tracks. "At least the building’s alarm hasn’t gone off yet. That means the President hasn’t used his abilities, so Little Snowball should still be safe. But if you force your way in, that’ll change."

Chen Wang’s room had no surveillance, but it was equipped with the most sensitive alert system. The moment abilities were used, an alarm would trigger, evacuating the entire building.

The fact that the alarm hadn’t sounded meant Chen Wang hadn’t used his abilities during this time. At the very least, the situation in the room was still safe.

But if A Jin barged in recklessly, agitating a sentinel already on the edge of rampage, it could shatter the fragile peace and lead to irreversible consequences.

A Jin understood Zhong Shijin’s point. It was like being doused in cold water—he instantly calmed down, his legs suddenly too heavy to move.

"Then... what do we do...?"

Zhong Shijin sighed, taking off his glasses and tossing them aside before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now, we can only wait."

It was destined to be a long, agonizing night.

By dawn, a group of white-coated medical staff stepped out of the elevator, only to be met with the heavy atmosphere in the living room.

The S-classes were all gathered there. The medical team froze, instantly tense.

Zhong Shijin recognized them. "Why are you here?"

The lead doctor answered promptly, "The medical department’s monitors showed the President’s readings stabilizing. We suspected a malfunction and came to check."

"Stabilized to what?"

"Around 90%." The doctor’s tone was calm.

This was an unbelievable number. Even with purified Soothing Liquid, Chen Wang’s highest readings had hovered around 20%. While the Soothing Liquid was relatively effective for S-class sentinels, for an SS-class like Chen Wang, it had always been a drop in the bucket.

So the medical team was certain the monitors had malfunctioned.

But Zhong Shijin and the others relaxed, knowing this was Little Snowball’s doing—and it meant both of them were likely stable now.

Seeing the S-classes’ expressions ease, the medical staff exchanged glances before clutching their tools nervously and cautiously reminding them, "This reading can’t be real. The monitors must be faulty."

"Whether there's a malfunction, we'll know once we take a look," Sha Ni Lu said with a smile, arms crossed.

***

"Click..."

"Click, click..."

How long had it been since he'd felt such peace and tranquility?

This profound calm was so intense that it soothed years of accumulated pain.

Chen Wang raised his hand and pressed it against his forehead, his gaze falling on the nearby gauge. The reading had jumped from a red 3% to a green 90%.

According to research, a sentinel's safe reading must remain above 60%. Once it drops below that threshold, their sensory perception becomes extreme—their senses of smell and hearing amplify endlessly, leading to auditory hallucinations, headaches, dizziness, and other symptoms. Yet his readings had lingered around 20% for years.

Any ordinary sentinel with such readings would have long succumbed to a rampage, but he endured it, growing used to the constant barrage of noise in his ears every day.

Now, having obtained this rare moment of quiet, he actually felt almost uncomfortable.

What was going on?

Was it the Soothing Liquid?

"No, impossible."

Chen Wang wasn't wearing his usual lazy, carefree smile. His face was almost expressionless.

He caught the faintest sound of snoring, his piercing gaze landing on the slightly bulging blanket.

Since his readings had dropped into the safe zone, the restraints automatically released, allowing Chen Wang to sit up effortlessly. He lifted a corner of the sheet.

There, he saw a small, snow-white ball of fluff, hugging its tiny feet, its face buried in the blankets, curled into a ball no bigger than a fist. Its pink little nose twitched as it let out even, contented snores, deep in sleep.

It was a heart-meltingly cute sight. Had it been A Jin, he would have already gone wild and taken pictures with his virtual terminal. But Chen Wang's expression froze completely, his body stiffening as a choking feeling overwhelmed him, erasing all memory of the earlier clarity and comfort.

He couldn’t believe such a fragile little snowball had spent an entire night in the room of a sentinel teetering on the edge of a rampage.

A sentinel’s instinct to protect a guide was practically hardwired into them. Aside from the handful who hated guides, most sentinels would never willingly put a guide in danger. The laws protecting guides were the strictest—even if the lowest-ranked F-class sentinel was on the brink of rampage, direct soothing from a guide was forbidden, as the law inherently deemed a guide’s life more precious than a sentinel’s.

To ensure a guide’s safety, instrument-mediated soothing was mandatory for a sentinel nearing rampage. Only once the readings reached a safe level would direct contact be permitted.

Forcing a guide to soothe a sentinel on the verge of rampage was a punishable offense.

This couldn’t have been Zhong Shijin’s idea. That meant the little snowball must have come here on its own.

Something punched through his chest. Chen Wang focused all his perception on that small, snow-white bundle, his heart hammering—until he heard the steady, faint snores, confirming the little snowball was merely asleep. Only then did the restless anxiety ease slightly.

Chen Wang let out a shaky breath, his eyes dazed, unsure what to do with the little snowball.

From the moment he was confirmed as an SS-class, he was destined never to receive proper soothing.

Back then, it was the former president of the Sentinel Association who conducted his evaluation. Under the guise of developing an SS-class stabilizer, the man had entered a temporary partnership with him. But the former president truly believed that "beasts should be caged." The stabilizer was just a front—while it could temporarily alleviate symptoms, its side effects would gradually turn the user into a mindless drone, their cognitive abilities deteriorating until they became obedient puppets.

The former president's misfortune was that the stabilizer’s side effects had no effect on Chen Wang, a toxin-wielding specialist.

So the former president was liquefied. Roland was rescued around the same time.

Chen Wang later established a specialized medical team, but no medication could soothe the energy of an SS-class sentinel. As time passed, he slowly gave up hope.

His safety readings had remained at 20% for years, making his abilities highly unstable. Anything near him could be corroded by his toxins, but he couldn't care less—until he saw the little snowball in the lab. Like a tiny beacon of light, so small yet so bright. At the very least, he didn’t want the little snowball to be corroded by his toxins.

Keeping his distance was the best solution—even after learning the little snowball was an S-class guide.

An S-class guide like the little snowball could indeed soothe him. Even if it wasn’t a complete solution, the effect might be slightly better than the Soothing Liquid. But his abilities were too dangerous, and the soothing process itself carried risks. Even if the chance of danger was only 1%, he wouldn't risk it.

Put simply, too many things had been corroded by his toxins, but none of that mattered. The little snowball was important to him. He couldn’t bear the thought of it meeting the same fate.

"It’s because you’re so cute that I haven’t hugged you," Chen Wang whispered to no one.

Fear born from excessive attachment.

Yet the fact that he hadn’t harmed the little snowball even on the verge of rampage gave him a shred of confidence.

Still, a trace of hesitation remained.

Just as he was lost in contemplation, the little milk ball let out a soft snore, its tiny, plum-blossom paws stretching out and pawing blindly. Finding nothing familiar, it pouted.

Every tiny movement of the little snowball tugged at Chen Wang’s attention. He reached out and gently stroked its downy back. Through the soft, warm fur, he could feel the steady thump of its heartbeat. The little snowball’s nub of a tail twitched, and unconsciously, its pink tongue darted out for a lick of his hand.

Chen Wang closed his eyes as well.

But within seconds, they flew open again.

The absence of the dark, oppressive energy around the room told everyone that Chen Wang had woken up.

Zhong Shijin submitted a request through the door panel, and Chen Wang granted him access.

Before he even stepped inside, A Jin was already making a racket: "Where’s the little snowball? Is the little snowball okay—mmph?!"

Chen Wang found the noise irritating. He didn’t care for himself, but if the little snowball was disturbed, that wouldn’t do. Fortunately, Zhong Shijin was observant. Before Chen Wang could silence A Jin with his toxins, he froze A Jin’s mouth shut with ice.

Seeing Chen Wang’s pupils had returned to their normal color, the white-coated technicians were surprised. Catching the vice president’s discreet gesture, they lowered their voices and said, "President, we suspect the instruments malfunctioned. We’re here to inspect them and run some tests on you."

Chen Wang flipped a dismissive hand, carefully lifting the blanket. "Check the little snowball first."

Only upon seeing the little snowball curled up in the blankets, snoring softly, did they realize why they needed to keep their voices down.

They understood the little snowball’s importance all too well—it was practically the S-classes’ shared treasure. Though they were curious why such a valuable cub had ended up in such a dangerous situation, the medics bit back their questions. Under the watchful gazes of the S-classes, they conducted a thorough yet cautious examination.

The medic reported, "It’s just drained from expending too much soothing energy, so it’s in deep sleep. It’ll recover soon."

The surrounding S-classes collectively breathed sighs of relief.

"However..." the medic added quietly, "we still recommend a more detailed examination at the Guide Department once its condition stabilizes."

Chen Wang nodded. "Understood."

The medics then methodically inspected the instruments. Convinced there had been a malfunction, they grew increasingly puzzled—the equipment seemed fine. So they took Chen Wang’s readings again.

One of them rubbed his eyes in disbelief. "The readings have risen to 93%?!"

Earlier, they had assumed the transmission device was faulty. But surely the diagnostic equipment they brought couldn’t be malfunctioning too? That meant Chen Wang’s readings had genuinely risen to this level.

Only then did they accept that the numbers were accurate.

An S-class guide could have this level of soothing effect on an SS-class... Someone gasped. If this were made public, sentinels would go mad, scrambling over each other to get into Tansapa. But... glancing at the protective circle of S-classes, anyone trying to snatch the little snowball away would be dead meat.

The little snowball, completely oblivious, snuggled deeper into the blanket, lost in sleep.