Chapter 53: Restoring a Fractured MindÂ
Su Wudeng checked the Saker Falcon’s telemetry one last time before going to bed. All of the diagnostic data had stabilized, confirming the bird had entered a deep, restorative sleep.
“Have a good night’s rest,” she whispered softly, switching off the overhead light.
In the adjacent recovery suite lay Lufeng. Since Nuannuan had returned to the valley to care for Nana, all the clinical medical duties had been handed over to him. Su Wudeng peered through the observation glass. Lufeng had expended a tremendous amount of spiritual energy on healing sessions today and had fallen asleep hours ago.
Next, she checked the primary nursery. The iron-eating beast cubs were sprawled out in every direction around Aihua, their soft, heavy bodies rising and falling gently in the cool breeze of the air conditioning. The youngest cub had somehow been pinned under a heavier sibling. Su Wudeng quietly padded over, gently separating them. She ran her hands over the cubs’ soft fur, planting a light kiss on their heads.
Time was passing so incredibly fast. The tiny, fragile infants who couldn’t even open their eyes when they first arrived were now heavy, warm, and full of life.
In the next enclosure, Yingying was resting with her own snow leopard cubs and the tricolor calico. The leopard matriarch had looped her massive, fluffy tail entirely around the infants. The little white fluff-balls lay in a neat row, using her tail as a pillow, with Xiao Sanhua tucked comfortably in the middle. The two stray orange kittens had also successfully smuggled themselves into the cuddle pile.
Yingying’s ears twitched at the soft footsteps. Su Wudeng stepped closer and gently stroked her fur. Recognizing the familiar scent, Yingying leaned her heavy head against her master’s hand, rubbing affectionately without even opening her eyes.
“You’re such a good mom, Yingying. Sleep well.”
Finally, she checked on the two little white cygnets. Having recently broken out of their shells, they had become Huihui’s shadows, waddling after her all day long. She wondered what they were dreaming about—their tiny beaks were clicking rapidly, and their small white wings fluttered as if preparing for flight.
Su Wudeng gently stroked their downy feathers, unable to suppress a fond smile. “You two are officially the smallest residents in the Pet Home right now. You must grow up healthy and strong.”
“I’ll have a special snack waiting for you tomorrow!”
After turning off the final light in the breeding room, Su Wudeng let out a long yawn and returned to her own quarters.
At four o’clock in the morning, the Saker Falcon’s eyelids suddenly trembled.
After a long, agonizing struggle, it managed to force its eyes open, staring blankly at the unfamiliar environment in a daze.
Where… am I?
The room was completely foreign. Strange, cold restraints were secured to its body, and an unknown terminal blinked with soft lights beside its bed. Its mind was a chaotic haze. It tried to shift its weight, but its body refused to respond to its neural commands.
The falcon’s heart skipped a beat, a cold, suffocating dread sinking into its chest. It was just about to instinctively channel its lightning magic when a synthetic, automated voice chimed from the medical console:
“Abnormal patient awakening detected. Initializing correction sequence.”Â
“Protocol: Administer sedative payload; maintain deep sleep parameters.”Â
“Executing injection…”Â
“Sequence complete.”
The Saker Falcon fought desperately to keep its eyes open, but its eyelids grew heavier by the second. Finally, unable to resist the chemical pull, its gaze drifted shut, and it sank right back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
By eight o’clock that morning, Su Wudeng was up and heading straight to the intensive care unit.
Seeing the Saker Falcon still resting peacefully, she let out a long breath of relief. “Thank goodness. You finally passed the critical threshold.”
She reached out, gently smoothing down its glossy, pitch-black plumage. “You really are a fighter.”
“Your injuries were catastrophic. If my team had found you even an hour later, I wouldn’t have been able to pull you back.”
“I can’t even imagine what kind of horror you faced out there.”
“But you’re stable now, and we’ll take your recovery one day at a time.”
She stood up to review the overnight telemetry logs on the monitor. Just then, Zhong Huihui’s frantic voice echoed from the corridor.
“Hey! You two little white fluff-balls, stop running! You aren’t allowed in there!”
Su Wudeng looked down, and sure enough, the two little white geese came waddling through the open doorway.
“You mischievous little things,” she chuckled, crouching down and scooping up a gosling in each hand. “Sister Saker Falcon is resting in here. It’s a quiet zone, you can’t come in and play.”
“Come on, let’s get you back to your pen.”
“Are my little geese hungry?”
“It just so happens that Brother Chu sent over a fresh batch of chestnut snacks yesterday. Perfect timing for a morning treat!”
She carried the two cygnets back to the nursery, opening a bag of specialized chestnut treats and pouring them into their feeding bowl. The two little white geese immediately began pecking at the food with furious enthusiasm.
“Quack!” Delicious! Sister, this is amazing!
Su Wudeng smiled, adding another handful to the bowl. “Glad you like it.”
The cygnets’ down was incredibly sleek, their bodies plump and round, and their plumage was as pure as freshly fallen snow. Everyone who visited the shop fell in love with them instantly. Their beaks were developing rapidly, turning hard and sharp. Su Wudeng wondered if she needed to invest in some specialized beak-sharpening toys for them.
Unfortunately, she had zero experience raising Swarm-Devouring Swans, so her current strategy was simply to feed them until they were fat, white, and healthy. She hadn’t crossed paths with Sister Goose lately, or she would have asked for some parenting advice.
The two little geese polished off the food in record time, waddling over to peck gently at Su Wudeng’s open palm, clearly unsatisfied.
Sister! More! We want more!
Back in the ward, Zhong Huihui had just finished a routine check on the Saker Falcon. Although its vitals had stabilized, its physical structural integrity was still incredibly weak. She prepared to check if Lufeng had woken up yet, hoping to schedule a morning healing session for the patient.
But the exact second she turned her back to the medical bed, the falcon’s body violently shuddered.
A split second later, a sudden, chilling updraft slammed into her back. Zhong Huihui whipped around, only to find a massive, shadow-cloaked silhouette completely eclipsing the dimensions of the ward.
“Holy crap!”
“Saker Falcon, wait, wait, wait—”
“You’re awake!”
Before her brain could even register the danger, the massive avian lunged directly at her.
“Ah!”
Zhong Huihui’s scalp went entirely numb with terror. She let out a desperate, top-of-her-lungs shriek: “Governor!”
“HELP—”
The attack was too blindingly fast for her civilian reflexes to dodge; the falcon’s razor-sharp calcium beak was already driving straight toward her face!
At the absolute precipice of impact, a crisp click echoed through the room, followed by a blinding flash of white light.
Zhong Huihui’s eyes snapped wide open. “Baiyun!”
It was her snow leopard cub! Baiyun had thrown himself into the trajectory, manifesting a thick, dense wall of ice to intercept the falcon’s beak!
But the cub was entirely too small, and his elemental magic was still developing. The ice barrier held for a mere microsecond before shattering into millions of shards under the force of the beak, and the kinetic shockwave sent Baiyun flying across the room.
“Baiyun!”
Heartbroken and panicked, Zhong Huihui lunged across the floor. She hit the deck heavily, sliding underneath the tumbling cub to act as a human cushion, gathering him securely into her arms.
“Baiyun! Talk to me, baby! Where does it hurt?! Are you broken?!”
Seeing the frenzied Saker Falcon preparing to mount a consecutive strike, Aihua and Amber shattered the door frame, bursting into the room.
Aihua’s wood-element magic flared instantly, hundreds of thick bamboo stalks erupting from the floorboards to weave an airtight cage around the falcon, pinning its wings and locking its mobility.
Amber sprinted to front-face Zhong Huihui and the cub, guiding them out of the room. This was a high-tier Commander-class familiar operating under extreme psychological mania—the collateral damage alone could easily prove fatal to a human!
Su Wudeng came sprinting down the corridor. “Huihui! Are you intact?! What’s Baiyun’s status?!”
“Get him to Lufeng immediately! Run a diagnostic!”
Zhong Huihui cradled the cub against her chest, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. “Okay… okay, I’m going right now!”
“Baiyun threw himself in front of me… he tried to shield me…”
She held the cub tightly, wanting to bury him in her chest, yet terrified her grip might worsen an internal injury.
Baiyun extended a soft, heavy paw, gently patting the tears from her cheeks. I’m fine, Master… No damage. Don’t cry.
Zhong Huihui let out a ragged sob, nodding frantically as she ran toward the medical bay.
Su Wudeng watched her assistant turn the corner, her expression darkening with an intense gravity.
She hadn’t anticipated the falcon would retain enough residual strength to mount an alpha-strike in its current condition, let alone display such savage ferocity. Stepping into the ward, she found the Saker Falcon flattened against the edge of the bamboo cage, its eyes wide as it directed a series of warning, high-pitched screeches toward her.
The compression bandages wrapping its wings had been completely ruptured by its thrashing, dark crimson blood staining the clean gauze, yet the bird showed absolutely zero awareness of physical pain. Its eyes were dark, cold, and dripping with an absolute, murderous bloodlust.
It stared at them like a cornered beast.
Su Wudeng frowned. …Has its consciousness completely fractured?
Could it genuinely not register the structural damage it was causing to its own body? Standard familiar psychology dictated that an animal would only ignore severe trauma if its fight-or-flight mechanisms were locked in an extreme, maniacal stress loop.
Sensing the bird’s hyper-vigilance, Su Wudeng dropped her stance, lowering her voice into a soft, soothing melody. “Saker Falcon, calm your parameters. Do you register your surroundings? Do you remember who we are?”
The falcon’s gaze grew sharper, its massive frame trembling as if fighting off a severe neurological distortion.
“You… captured… me!”
“You used… a metal blade… to pierce my body!”
“And… you forced… my mind into darkness!”
Hearing the coherent speech through the translator, Su Wudeng let out a silent breath of relief. Thank goodness, its consciousness wasn’t permanently fractured. It was simply suffering from severe situational disorientation, assuming it had been taken hostage by enemies.
Amber scowled, unable to tolerate the slander. My sword art was a defensive counter-strike, you trash bird! You were the one who launched an unprovoked lightning strike at my master first!
The Saker Falcon’s amber pupils visibly froze. A fragmented memory surfaced in its scrambled mind—it recalled tracking an anomaly in the grass yesterday and instinctively discharging its lightning reserves.
“But… you forced… the darkness!”
Amber huffed. …What kind of garbled logic is that?
Su Wudeng’s intuition clicked. “Ah, I understand. You woke up briefly last night and assumed the medical sedation was a hostile attack to paralyze you, right?”
The Saker Falcon let out a softer cry, its massive head giving a slow, hesitant nod.
Su Wudeng let out a gentle sigh. “You’ve misread the parameters, little one. We aren’t your captors. We saved your life.”
“Yesterday, my team located you bleeding out at the base of the cliff. Your system was on the verge of total collapse, and we brought you here to reconstruct your tissues. If you don’t believe my words, run an internal diagnostic on your own body right now. Don’t you feel significantly more stable than you did yesterday?”
The falcon hesitated, slowly dropping its focus to inspect its own frame. It realized that dozens of its deep, festering lacerations had cleanly knit back together. The suffocating pressure within its skull had completely cleared.
Its fierce posture wavered, its massive body swaying slightly as it looked up at Su Wudeng with an expression of pure, childlike bewilderment.
“You… you… rescued me?”
Su Wudeng gave a firm nod, maintaining her position without taking an aggressive step forward. She understood the falcon was trapped in an intense, post-traumatic stress loop. Anyone who woke up from an apocalypse to find themselves in a high-tech, unfamiliar human laboratory would experience immediate psychological panic.
But that last accusation regarding the darkness…
Forcing it to faint? Su Wudeng’s brow furrowed. Why would its memory bank anchor so strongly onto that specific event?
Wait…
Her eyes snapped toward the medical console flanking the bed. The historical telemetry logs from the night shift were rolling across the secondary screen. She squinted, analyzing the entry from 4:00 AM:
“04:00 AM. Abnormal patient awakening registered. Automated sedative payload administered to preserve deep sleep parameters.”
So that’s what triggered the glitch!
Su Wudeng explained the mechanics softly. “The darkness you felt last night was an automated medical sedative. We required your consciousness to remain under deep anesthesia so your bones could heal properly. This is the human methodology of surgery.”
“We harbored zero intent to restrain or exploit you. See? There are no shock collars or cages binding your limbs. We even expended premium resources to mend your wings.”
The Saker Falcon was an apex evolutionary strain; despite its severe neurological trauma causing massive processing delays, its high intelligence allowed it to rapidly decode her explanation. It looked down at its mangled, re-bandaged wings, then re-examined the room. A profound wave of guilt and helplessness entered its dark eyes.
“I’m sorry…” it whispered through the link, its shoulders drooping. “I assumed… the hunters had finally caught my trail…”
Su Wudeng let out a clean breath. “So we have established a truce, correct? You won’t mount any further attacks if I lower the barrier?”
The falcon gave a submissive nod.
Su Wudeng glanced at Aihua, and the panda smoothly rescinded her wood magic, the bamboo stalks dissolving back into light particles.
“Return to the platform immediately. Your thrashing has reopened the primary sutures.”
Realizing the structural damage it had caused to the facility and its caretakers, the massive raptor looked thoroughly chastened, clumsily but obediently scrambling back onto the medical bed. Once settled under the monitoring arrays, it kept its large, moist eyes locked onto Su Wudeng, its expression dripping with intense, silent apology.
“I am so sorry… I didn’t mean to harm that small person… I’m sorry…”
Su Wudeng took a slow, non-threatening step closer, extending her hand to gently smooth down the downy feathers on its crown. “Let’s focus on your stabilization first, then we can properly apologize to Sister Huihui together, alright?”
The falcon leaned its heavy head into her palm, completely docile. “Okay.”
But Su Wudeng’s maternal instincts flagged an anomaly. Isn’t this Saker Falcon behaving a bit… too compliant?
What exactly is going on here?
If its violent assault upon waking could be classified as an instinctual flight-or-flight response to trauma, how could an apex, territorial predator be completely pacified and rendered submissive by a few gentle words from a stranger? The behavioral math didn’t add up.
Aihua’s sharp eyes narrowed as well, picking up on the psychological incongruity. This Saker Falcon’s current behavioral output… why did it feel remarkably infantile?
Regardless of the anomaly, Su Wudeng focused on the immediate task, expertly cleaning and reinforcing the damaged wing dressings. The falcon remained perfectly motionless throughout the process, staring up at her with an intense, unblinking devotion.
She scratched below its beak, keeping her tone light. “Do you have a designation, little one? What is your name?”
The falcon responded instantly, without a single second of hesitation: “Qingqing.”
Su Wudeng secured the final knot on the compression wrap. “Were you terrified before we arrived? Is that why you targeted my squad?”
Qingqing tilted her head, her thoughts visibly scrambling as she tried to access her data banks. “No… I needed to run… escape… fly further…”
“My matrix registers… a monumental objective… I have something extremely important I must execute…”
“But… execute what?”
“I… I can’t locate the file. I can’t remember.”
Su Wudeng’s heart skipped a beat. The diagnostic model was accurate!
The cranial trauma has caused a severe neurological block!
She stared down at the majestic bird, her chest tightening with deep pity as the falcon’s telepathic voice began to tremble with acute, psychological agony. “It hurts so much, Sister… My head is burning…”
“I can’t find the memories… I can’t remember…”
“But… but it was a matter of life and death… What was it? What did I lose?”
Su Wudeng immediately wrapped her arms around the falcon’s massive shoulders, holding her tight. “Shh, it’s okay, Qingqing. Breathe out. Don’t force the processors. We’ll find the answers together, one step at a time.”
“I promise you, we will resolve the sequence, okay?”
She rubbed the bird’s back with long, soothing strokes, keeping her movements gentle to avoid irritating the thoracic fractures, channeling pure, calming energy through their physical contact. Under her touch, the falcon’s frantic, spasming muscles slowly began to uncoil.
Yet, it continued to let out soft, mournful whimpers through the link. Something so precious… life or death…
Su Wudeng’s features knotted with worry. Yesterday’s advanced neural scan had explicitly detailed a massive, catastrophic lesion across its cognitive core. The system had warned of severe post-traumatic sequelae, specifically noting the high probability of temporary retrograde amnesia and total regression of personality traits.
Seeing the data manifest in real-time was heartbreaking. What unyielding, profound obsession was so deeply hardwired into its soul that even total neurological amnesia couldn’t erase the drive?
Was it a vow of vengeance against an enemy? Or was it the primal, fierce devotion to a loved one?
Suddenly, a sharp, cheerful “Quack!” shattered the emotional weight in the room.
The two little white cygnets had grown tired of waiting in the nursery. Realizing Su Wudeng hadn’t returned to distribute their morning snacks, they had systematically tracked her scent matrix right down the corridor. They waddled through the threshold, their round bodies swaying as they blinked their dark eyes.
The exact second they cleared the door, they skidded to a halt, staring at the titanic black shadow resting on the medical bed.
Huh?
Huh?
Su Wudeng whipped her head around, her body locking in instant panic. If their sudden intrusion triggered Qingqing’s territorial predator instincts, the falcon could vaporize the fragile babies before she could even initialize a shield block!
She frantically gestured to Amber. Get them out! Intercept them immediately!
But before the husky could lunge, the Saker Falcon’s head snapped toward the door.
She lowered her razor-sharp beak, her eyes locking onto the two downy white cygnets standing on the linoleum, before shifting her gaze back down to inspect her own matted plumage. She craned her long neck forward, her nostrils flaring as she aggressively inhaled their biological scent…
Then, a sudden, blinding light ignited within her amber pupils. If Su Wudeng’s arms hadn’t been securely anchored around her chest, the falcon would have launched herself off the platform.
But knowing she mustn’t cause physical harm to her savior, Qingqing restrained her kinetic output, remaining on the mattress while her brilliant eyes tracked the cygnets with frantic, wild intensity.
She opened her beak, a desperate, raw vocalization echoing through the link:
“My babies… my babies?”
The two little white geese tilted their heads in total confusion, having zero understanding of high-tier raptor linguistics. Nobody called them babies!
“Quack!”
Hungry! Rations! Now!
Qingqing’s pupils dilated to absolute maximum, her entire frame trembling with an explosive surge of adrenaline and profound, maternal euphoria.
“My babies!”
Amber moved to herd the cygnets out of the suite, but Su Wudeng raised a sharp hand to cancel his movement. Her gaze darted between the ecstatic falcon and the demanding little geese.
A bold, staggering hypothesis solidified in her mind, though she lacked the diagnostic data to confirm it.
She maintained her embrace, keeping her voice dropping into an ultra-low, soothing whisper. “Qingqing…”
“Does your memory block contain a cluster of exceptionally precious, beautiful little falcon chicks?”
“Just like… these two?”
The Saker Falcon froze solid. Then, a sharp, shrill shriek tore through her chest, and massive, silent tears overflowed her eyes, soaking into Su Wudeng’s sleeves.
“My babies! My babies!”
I forgot my own children!
How could my core delete my own babies?!
The extreme psychological friction of the breakthrough triggered a catastrophic neural feedback loop. Her skull felt as though a kinetic charge had detonated inside it, decades of suppressed, raw memories rushing back into her cognitive channels like a tidal wave.
A nest of tiny, fragile infants… hiding beneath the armor of my wings… lifting their small beaks to chirp for food… waiting for my shadow to clear the sky…
“WARNING. WARNING.”
The medical console’s alarms blared in a deafening, frantic red strobe. “Extreme neurological fluctuations registered. Patient cranial trauma values have shattered the safety threshold!”
“Irreversible cognitive damage imminent. Initialize forced chemical shutdown immediately?”
The Saker Falcon’s eyes were completely flooded with tears. She thrashed against the tubes, directing a fierce, pleading scream at Su Wudeng: No! Refuse! Refuse!
I have to return to the skies! I have to locate them!
My babies are left unguarded!
Su Wudeng threw her entire weight into the hold, pinning the bird securely against the mattress. Her throat tightened, her own tears blurring her vision. “I’ve got you, Qingqing. Listen to my link. I will find them for you. Your master will locate your babies.”
“You must de-escalate your cognitive output right now, or your neural core will suffer permanent failure!”
“I give you my absolute sovereign word—I will personally scour every inch of that ridge and bring your babies back to this room, understood?!”
The crimson warning banners on the terminal turned an absolute, blinding red: “CRITICAL COMPLIANCE BREACH. INTRA-CRANIAL LESION VALUES APPROACHING TOTAL SYSTEMIC FAILURE.”
“T-MINUS THREE SECONDS. TWO…”
Staring at the absolute psychological collapse of the weeping mother bird, Su Wudeng snapped her head toward the console, her voice cracking with executive command: “Authorize override! Initialize forced chemical sedation immediately!”
Click.
A high-yield anesthetic payload was instantly pumped into Qingqing’s system.
The falcon’s heavy eyelids turned to pure lead, the frantic panic in her eyes slowly dissolving as the chemical blanket pulled her under. Right at the precipice of the dark, she locked eyes with Su Wudeng one last time, her telepathic voice a faint, dying whisper.
Sister… do you promise…?
She dissolved completely into the unconscious dark.
Su Wudeng stood up slowly, wiping the tears from her face with a fierce, cold resolve. “If Qingqing’s ancestral memories are accurate, her nest is still situated on that exact cliff face!”
During yesterday’s chaotic extraction, they had focused entirely on stabilizing the flatlining mother bird at the base of the ridge, executing an immediate warp the second she cleared the dirt. They hadn’t conducted a physical survey of the upper cave system.
A whole day and night had passed since the storm.
“We need to execute a hard reconnaissance run right now!”
Aihua wiped her wet eyes with the back of her heavy alloy claw, her expression turning lethal. “Sister, my vanguard ordnance is fully primed. I am joining the deployment!”
Amber barked firmly: My blade is ready! Let’s ride!
Ten minutes later, the high-speed scout shuttle slammed through the upper cloud layers, charting a direct course over the primeval forest.
To mitigate the statistical risk of stumbling into the path of that terrifying King-class predator that had patrolled the coordinates the previous evening, Su Wudeng had initialized the shuttle’s premium active optical and thermal cloaking matrix.
Aihua paced the length of the cabin, her telepathic voice heavy with tactical worry. “Do you think that King-class sovereign has abandoned its tracking vector over the valley?”
“An entire day and night has elapsed on the clock. What if…”
“What if its sensors already identified the visual location of Qingqing’s nest and liquidated the chicks?”
“And there is an equally grim alternative—the monster could be deliberately lingering adjacent to the coordinates, utilizing the infants as live bait to wait for the mother’s signature to return.”
“We must maintain maximum tactical caution!”
Su Wudeng’s features were carved from stone. Her system architecture allowed her to execute an instantaneous spatial retreat with Amber and Aihua at any microsecond, but if the situation aligned with Aihua’s bait hypothesis, navigating the extraction would be an absolute nightmare.
They might physically lack the parameters to break the chicks out of a King-class containment field.
Amber nudged her hand, offering a comforting rumble through the link. That represents the absolute worst-case mathematical variable, Master. Do not let it compromise your focus. An apex mother like Qingqing is guaranteed to have engineered a high-security emergency protocol for her offspring. It’s a biological rule—just like the hidden fallback sanctuary I constructed for those Husky pups before I, ahem, joined your service. In the event my life bars hit zero, their sanctuary would have sealed automatically.
I am certain her nest features an identical defensive matrix!
Su Wudeng redlined the shuttle’s thrusters. “Let’s pray your theory holds. But given the catastrophic state of Qingqing’s neural pathways…”
Did she genuinely possess the mental bandwidth to initialize the lock before she fell?
Within minutes, the stark vertical silhouette of the eastern cliff face materialized through their viewport.
Su Wudeng locked eyes with her companions. “Initialize stealth parameters. Maintain a tight formation around my position at all times. No unauthorized engagements, no independent movements, understood?”
“I am looking explicitly at you, Amber.”
“Aw, come on!” Amber whined, dropping his tail, though his eyes remained sharp. Aihua’s posture was rigid with total combat readiness.
Su Wudeng took a deep, stabilizing breath, easing the control column forward to glide the cloaked shuttle directly toward the opening of the cliffside cavern.
Hovering the craft a few meters outside the rock face, they initiated a comprehensive sensor sweep of the interior. The cavern was structurally compact, but the tracking data indicated it bored deep into the mountain core.
Simultaneously, the autonomous micro-drones she had deployed across the ridge perimeter completed their data passes, streaming the telemetry back to her console.
[Sensor Report: Zero biological anomalies detected across adjacent coordinates. Cavern depth measured at 14.7 meters.]
[Sensor Report: Zero ambient energy signatures or life tracking logged.]
Amber’s ears flicked in confusion. What about the chicks? The radar is entirely cold?
Su Wudeng analyzed the three-dimensional holographic structural model generated by the drones, her brows drawing together. “The data doesn’t compute. The infants have to be locked within this specific sector. A mother bird of her caliber would never store her offspring away from her primary nesting domain.”
From a biological standpoint, it was an absolute rule. She would have required them within her sensory radius to preserve her peace of mind.
Aihua’s chest tightened. Could the King-class sovereign have already cleared the inventory?
That would perfectly explain the total absence of life signs.
Su Wudeng processed the theory, then shook her head. “Highly improbable. Had a massive, King-class predator forced entry into this sector, the structural geometry of the cavern would display immediate signs of violence.”
Even the delicate moss beds lining the outer lip of the cave were entirely undisturbed, matching the baseline scans they had captured the previous afternoon. If a colossal, world-altering beast had raided this coordinate, the physical environmental damage would be massive—at the very least, a partial cliff collapse or structural fracturing of the entry would be logged. It was physically impossible for a monster of that tier to slip into a narrow, miniature cave without leaving a single blemish.
“We’re going in,” Su Wudeng commanded, cracking the primary airlock seal. “I need to run a manual verification.”
She refused to abandon the hunt until she had personally searched every square inch of the stone.
Amber and Aihua flanked her tightly, their tactical sensors redlined as they stepped into the cavern. The temperature dropped significantly as they transitioned past the threshold, the air carrying the crisp, cold stone-scent of a deep mountain vault. Su Wudeng activated her tactical floodlights, casting a powerful beam that illuminated every crack in the rock.
Amber ran his claws across the stone wall, testing the substrate. The structural density is incredibly high, Master. No secret hollows or architectural anomalies logged.
The deeper they ventured, the more the natural light failed, but Su Wudeng’s floodlights kept the space perfectly visible. The dusty floor still cradled the distinct biological footprints of Qingqing’s previous residence, interspersed with a few scattered leaves and twigs she had harvested to build her nest.
Aihua dropped into a low crouch, her advanced visual memory units cross-referencing the physical layout with the drone files. The spatial geometry matches our yesterday files perfectly. If Qingqing’s chicks are genuinely locked within this coordinate, what mechanism is obscuring their signatures?
The panda was thoroughly perplexed. The cavern was barely fifteen meters deep; her sightline could easily track straight to the solid back wall. There was absolutely nothing there.
Su Wudeng fell silent, re-indexing every piece of data they had compiled since the storm.
Qingqing is a pure Lightning-attribute familiar…
Amber’s audio sensors logged a catastrophic kinetic detonation during the typhoon night…
This is an isolated, high-altitude cliffside cavern…
Where could she have possibly stashed the babies?
Suddenly, a brilliant realization flashed through her mind, her eyes igniting. “Wait a second!”
“What if that cataclysmic thunderclap Amber heard wasn’t an external attack hitting the cliff?”
“What if that detonation was initialized by Qingqing herself?!”
“Our medical analysis confirmed her physical trauma was a mosaic of dense lacerations and fractures—a profile that completely contradicts a single, explosive blast wave.”
Amber’s tail gave a violent twitch as his tactical logic locked in. So she deliberately synchronized her own elemental magic with the storm’s natural thunder, using a massive lightning discharge to forge a hidden space to entomb her chicks from the hunters!
With that single piece of reasoning, the entire anomalous puzzle solved itself perfectly.
Su Wudeng scanned the rear wall. “The highest statistical probability is that she engineered a localized, high-security vault right inside this solid rock face.”
“The deafening sound Amber tracked was the raw kinetic energy of her lightning drilling directly into the mountain core.”
“Executing a maneuver of that scale is only structurally viable under the cover of a violent typhoon; otherwise, the massive spike in elemental energy would have immediately broadcasted her coordinates to every predator on the mountain.”
“Furthermore,” Su Wudeng said, running her bare fingers across the dark stone surface, “the extreme, focused heat generated by a high-tier lightning discharge will instantly liquefy rock, cooling into a dense, molecularly sealed layer of obsidian glass. If my theory is correct, Qingqing fused the entrance shut to hide her chicks while preserving a visual line to monitor them.”
“Aihua, Amber,” Su Wudeng stepped back, pointing toward the deep end of the cave. “Channel your elemental skills and excavate the rear wall. The exact millisecond your claws strike a hyper-dense, glass-like substance… we’ve located the vault!”
“On it!”
The two familiars moved with explosive speed. Within seconds, chunks of rock were being systematically torn from the wall, filling the air with a cloud of stone dust. Deep within the core of the final meter, a smooth, shimmering layer of dark, vitreous obsidian materialized under the floodlights.
Trapped securely behind the translucent glass layer, a nest of tiny Saker Falcon chicks were huddled together, shivering weakly.
“We found them!”
“Are their life bars still green?!”
“Careful! Extract the core immediately!”
Qingqing had expended the absolute last drop of her evolutionary life force to forge an impregnable fortress for her offspring—a hyper-dense, cubic glass barrier crackling with residual static electricity arcs. This specific variety of lightning-fused obsidian was so structurally absolute that even if a land predator attempted to throw its entire body mass against the wall, it wouldn’t create a single fissure.
Furthermore, the sealed matrix entirely isolated the chicks’ biological signatures, preventing the King-class hunter’s tracking arrays from logging their location. The residual electrical current dancing across the surface acts as an automated deterrent to keep local scavengers away. As long as the mother’s life spark remained active, her infants were completely safe from the world.
Aihua gently wrapped her wood-magic vines around the solid glass block, lifting the entire matrix out of the rock. Looking through the dark glass, they could see the chicks hadn’t received sustenance in over thirty-six hours; their physical indicators were dangerously shallow.
Su Wudeng locked the shuttle coordinates. “We’re done here! Hard warp back to the medical bay immediately!”
For any wild familiar on the mountain, fracturing a high-density obsidian vault without setting off the residual lightning trap was an impossible challenge. But for human engineering? A standard high-precision surgical laser could slice through the matrix in seconds.
The moment their boots touched the Pet Home floor, Su Wudeng initialized the extraction lasers, cleanly severing the glass core. She systematically transferred the fragile chicks onto the automated diagnostic tables, running an immediate comprehensive baseline check.
Working with rapid efficiency, she administered customized juvenile sedatives and nutrient-dense fluid drops to stabilize their metabolic depletion and restore their raw physical energy.
Thankfully, her intervention had occurred just within their safe physiological margin; the chicks had sustained zero permanent structural damage.
Staring down at the tiny, breathing forms, Su Wudeng felt a sharp ache in her chest. Beyond baseline hunger and standard exhaustion, the little ones were perfectly healthy and unblemished. Yet their mother was currently lying in the adjacent ward, her body a battlefield of scars and shattered bones.
It required zero imagination to visualize the sheer, apocalyptic horror Qingqing had braved to ensure her babies remained completely untouched by the storm.
The chicks had been successfully extracted, but their mother remained deeply locked beneath the chemical anesthesia. Su Wudeng quietly walked back into the intensive care unit, settling by the falcon’s bedside. Under the heavy sedation, the majestic bird lay perfectly still.
Her magnificent wings had been pinned flush against her torso, the torn, jagged membranes covered in rows of surgical sutures—looking like a beautiful canvas that had been ruthlessly shredded by claws. The fractured bones formed stark, unnatural ridges beneath her skin; even with the automated medical systems executing a flawless structural alignment, the damage was haunting.
Su Wudeng reached out, gently smoothing down the sleek feathers on her head, her heart full of profound respect. “Your babies are safe, mama. They’re sleeping right next door.”
As if her voice had bridged the heavy gap of the sedation through their shared spiritual network, a single, crystal-clear tear spilled from the corner of the falcon’s closed eye, tracking slowly down her sleek beak.
Out in the main lobby, Amber and Yingying were keeping a vigilant watch, while Aihua cradled her own cubs, her features soft as she watched over the sanctuary.
Every single threat had been utterly neutralized. The world was at peace.
