LABMY CH79.2

Just a touch, merely at the tip of his finger, yet it was enough to jolt his spirit.

Suddenly, Lu Qianyun’s smile froze on his face. For a full three seconds, he remained motionless, his body as rigid as a statue.

In the next moment, a terrifying scream echoed through the cave.

“Ahhhhhhh!”

The scream howled through the cave like a hurricane. Lu Qianyun curled up like a shrimp, gasping for air.

The mist enveloped his body, and the fine, mist-like liquid seeped into every inch of his flesh through his pores. The pain was so unbearable that he couldn’t stand, supporting himself with one hand on the ground, barely managing to stay half-upright.

It felt like sharp knives piercing through every pore, mercilessly stirring within. Droplets of blood slowly seeped from his skin, tiny yet densely packed, flowing down his body and pooling together. In an instant, Lu Qianyun became a blood-soaked figure, horrifying to behold.

Tears welled up in his eyes, mixing with sweat and blood, falling in heavy droplets like rain, soaking into the ground.

Lu Qianyun’s consciousness blurred. For a long while, he remained utterly still, with only the faint rise and fall of his chest and the trembling of his fingers showing the faint flicker of life within him.

Gradually, the pain seemed to fade away, and his mind drifted into a haze of darkness.

Did he open his eyes?

It seemed not.

No wonder it was so dark.

Lu Qianyun felt as though he was floating in a misty fog. His mind was dull for a few seconds before he realized—oh, closing your eyes means you’re about to sleep.

“Lu Longlong.”

Who was calling him?

A surge of shame and anger rose in Lu Qianyun’s heart. Annoying. Before falling asleep, he must tell that person never to call him that again.

He suddenly jolted awake and saw Jian Yuanbai, still unconscious with his eyes closed.

A string of tears, like broken pearls, rolled down from the corner of his eyes. The clear tears washed away the blood on his face but turned light pink, then dark red, before finally becoming pure crimson as they hit the ground.

Lu Qianyun closed his eyes and murmured, “It hurts so much, Jian Yuanbai… It really hurts…”

Along with his words, his hand, which showed no hesitation, gripped the seed tightly. The flesh on his fingers rapidly festered, but Lu Qianyun held on and yanked the seed out with a sharp pull.

The swarm of limb-segmented insects emitted a strange, spine-chilling “hiss hiss hiss” sound, like snakes.

Lu Qianyun’s hand trembled violently. With fingers already exposing bone, he sliced open the scabbed wound on the back of his neck and, using the last of his strength, embedded the seed into it.

He dared not gamble with Jian Yuanbai’s life, but he could gamble with his own without hesitation.

Lu Qianyun bet that this immature seed could become his gland.

The back of his neck began to burn. The heart-shaped flower plant, having lost its seed, slowly withered. The pungent, spicy scent faded as the plant died.

The limb-segmented insects should have scattered with the plant’s death, but the thick scent of blood from Lu Qianyun’s body kept them lingering.

Driven by instinct, they waited. The moment the flower plant completely withered, they would swarm forward and devour the tempting flesh.

Lu Qianyun, slumped against the half-human-tall flower plant, no longer had the strength to lift a finger, let alone kill the grotesque and terrifying limb-segmented insects.

He leaned weakly against the plant as blood and sweat flowed from his body, along with a faint, almost imperceptible green fluid—that was the liquid that had seeped into his body.

With the seed removed and the plant withered, the once lively, heartbeat-like fluid that sustained the plant lost its vitality.

The rustling sounds grew closer and closer. The plant behind him withered completely and collapsed. Just before the swarm pounced, Lu Qianyun stood up.

He won the gamble.

The cave floor was littered with the corpses of the limb-segmented insects, as thick as an adult’s arm. The ground was densely packed with human faces, while the eerie blue glow from countless holes on their heads flickered faintly. Near the cave wall, two figures lay side by side.

One tall and sturdy, the other slender and fragile.

Both had their eyes closed, their chests rising and falling with weak breaths.

When Jian Yuanbai woke up, the first thing he saw was Lu Qianyun, lying beside him, soaked in blood from head to toe like a bloodied corpse.

And the cave floor was crawling with those disgusting, eerie limb-segmented insects.

He quickly checked Lu Qianyun’s wounds. His arms and legs were covered in bite marks, with barely any intact flesh, especially his calves, which were torn to shreds.

One hand had been corroded by something, revealing the white bones beneath the flesh.

The injuries were severe, but for some reason, the bleeding had already stopped.

He found the bottle of external medicine that had fallen to the ground and used the entire bottle just to cover the most serious wounds on Lu Qianyun’s calves and hands. There were still countless wounds left untreated.

Jian Yuanbai carefully lifted Lu Qianyun in his arms. He couldn’t quite describe what he was feeling—bitterness and heaviness filled his chest.

Compared to the battered and bloodied Lu Qianyun, he himself had only suffered minor scratches, likely from being struck by the meteorite.

Even though he didn’t know what those creatures with human faces and centipede-like legs were, it was clear they were carnivorous. The bite marks all over Lu Qianyun’s body must have come from them.

He was the one who lost consciousness, yet he was also the one who emerged unscathed.

Stepping out of the cave, the environment before him was strange and surreal.

Trees towering beyond sight, thick vines crisscrossing the ground, birds with unknown names soaring across the sky, and bubbling flowers oozing strange liquids. Not far away lay a massive crater caused by the meteorite.

Jian Yuanbai turned around and saw the twisted blue giant tree that had been struck, with pools of metallic liquid dripping from its dented trunk.

The black streaks mixed in the liquid made him realize—this was probably the remains of their warship and mecha.

They had landed on an unknown, unregistered planet.

This place was stunningly beautiful, yet silently whispered of deadly danger.

Jian Yuanbai wanted to find some plants to treat Lu Qianyun’s wounds, but he understood that his previous knowledge of plants was useless here.

After a moment of silence, he returned to the winding underground cave. Lu Qianyun had yet to wake up, and staying in a safe place was the best option.

He spread his pheromones throughout the cave, ensuring that no movement could escape his senses.

Holding Lu Qianyun in his arms, he sat there in silence for a long time before finally placing him down on his coat and starting to clean up the corpses of the limb-segmented insects.

Throughout the entire night, Lu Qianyun showed no sign of waking up. If not for the steady rhythm of his breathing, Jian Yuanbai would have lost his patience.

At dawn, the rain began to drizzle outside. Jian Yuanbai felt the raindrops with the back of his hand and confirmed they were safe. He tore off a piece of cloth from his clothes and soaked it in the rainwater.

Then, he gently wiped the blood off Lu Qianyun’s face and body.

That beautiful face became clean again, but it was pale due to excessive blood loss. Beautiful and fragile, like a delicate porcelain vase.

But Jian Yuanbai knew he wasn’t fragile. On this dangerous and unfamiliar planet, he shielded his companion with his own flesh and blood.

He wanted to pull him tightly into his embrace, but in the face of Lu Qianyun’s wounded body, he was too afraid to touch him. He could only, ever so lightly, with the back of his fingers, gently brush against Lu Qianyun’s face, fearing that the calluses on his fingertips might hurt the sleeping man.

Jian Yuanbai’s voice was low, almost pleading, “Wake up soon.”

It was the first time he had felt such heartache for someone, indescribable and overwhelming.

…

On the rushing riverbank, a fish leapt out of the water with the current, only to be smacked back into the water by a sleek, black, glistening tail.

The fish, dizzy and disoriented, flipped its belly and fainted. The tail that caused the chaos reappeared, piercing the fish’s body with its sharp tip and hooking it up.

A large hand removed the fish from the tail and placed it on a bed of leaves.

Jian Yuanbai was by the river, resting his chin on his hand. His serpent tail supported him while the tip of his tail, dedicated to fishing, soaked in the icy river.

If anyone saw him here, they would mistake him for the legendary half-human, half-serpent Candle Dragon, not an alpha.

Lu Qianyun had been unconscious for five days. During those five days, Jian Yuanbai first split the meteorite that caused the disaster in half and used it to block the entrance to the cave.

Then, he searched for various resources around the cave and even tested the strange plants of this planet on the local creatures to see if they were poisonous or could heal wounds.

Eventually, as Lu Qianyun’s wounds healed at an incredible speed, those “cruel” experiments were temporarily halted.

But even though Lu Qianyun’s wounds had healed, he still hadn’t woken up.

Worried about any sudden changes in Lu Qianyun’s condition, Jian Yuanbai continuously released his pheromones to cover the entire cave for the past few days.

As he ventured out, the range of his pheromone coverage expanded even further.

Even for someone with a vast spiritual sea like Jian Yuanbai, it was exhausting. This was evident in the uncontrollable appearance of his serpent tail.

In everyone’s understanding, spiritual bodies could only exist within the spiritual sea and had no tangible form. But Jian Yuanbai was different.

His spiritual body could merge with his physical body. When faced with danger, Jian Yuanbai could actively fuse with his spiritual body, causing the scales of the serpent to appear on his skin.

However, now, as he looked down at his tail, he realized he might have overdone the fusion.

The tip of his tail swayed in the cold river water, attracting fish that mistook it for food. Just as one fish bit down, the tail tip suddenly shot out of the water, bringing the fish to the shore.

The fish, flopping and struggling, was swiftly knocked unconscious by the tail.

Jian Yuanbai scraped off the fish scales with a thin bone shard, clumsily gutted the fish, removed its organs, and rinsed it in the water.

After catching two fish, Jian Yuanbai returned to the cave, skillfully pushing aside the half-meteorite blocking the entrance and stepping inside.

In just a few days, the cave had transformed completely.

The remaining half of the meteorite had been split into pieces, serving as beds, tables, and chairs.

Lu Qianyun lay on a bed of thick, soft white animal fur. His pillow was stuffed with dry grass and covered with a purple, striped fur that resembled a mutated tiger’s pelt.

A hollowed-out stone jar held a full supply of water. Jian Yuanbai boiled a pot of water using a makeshift stone pot over a fire built between neatly arranged stones, cooking the two fish in it.

With the poor heat conductivity of the stone pot, the fish soup cooked painfully slowly.

Time passed, and only then did the water begin to bubble.

When the fish soup was finally ready, Jian Yuanbai carefully removed the fish bones and tasted a spoonful. His brows furrowed instantly.

It was still unbearably awful.

He brought the fish soup to Lu Qianyun and fed him spoonful by spoonful with a bone spoon he had crafted.

It tasted so bad that Jian Yuanbai didn’t dare feed him too much. Once he felt it was enough, he set the bowl aside.

With Jian Yuanbai’s physique, he could go days or even weeks without eating. This fish soup wasn’t meant for himself but to help Lu Qianyun’s body recover.

He had tried making meat soup before, but that was even worse. One sip made Jian Yuanbai want to vomit, and he feared poisoning Lu Qianyun, so he gave up on that option.

Every time Lu Qianyun drank the fish soup, he would frown. At first, this made Jian Yuanbai anxious, waiting by his side, but now he had grown accustomed to it.

Jian Yuanbai switched to another stone bowl, took a few small berries, and began mashing them. As he did, he muttered, “Picky eater. If you think my fish soup is so bad, then wake up and cook for yourself.”

The small, round berries rolled around the stone bowl as Jian Yuanbai poked at them with a thin wooden stick, focused and serious.

The bowl was too small for a spoon, so he had to use the stick instead.

Just as he poked a berry, Lu Qianyun’s voice echoed weakly: “Ptooey.”

“Ptooey, ptooey, ptooey.”

Jian Yuanbai’s head shot up in surprise, staring at Lu Qianyun, who had propped himself up on the bed, spitting repeatedly with a frown.

Seeing him awake, Lu Qianyun didn’t ask about the serpent tail or what had happened.

His first words were: “Do you have water? I feel like I want to…”

Throw up.

Before he could finish, he was pulled into a tight embrace, the force making his nose sting.

Jian Yuanbai’s muffled voice trembled, “You’re finally awake.”

“Do you know you’ve been unconscious for five days? Five whole days. If you didn’t wake up, I… I…”

He stammered, unable to finish, before slowly crouching down.

Lu Qianyun watched as the usually confident and carefree man buried his face in his waist, holding him tightly and remaining silent for a long time.

Until Lu Qianyun gently pushed him, only to have the grip around his waist tighten even more. Then, he heard Jian Yuanbai’s hoarse voice: “I was ready to feed you this terrible fish soup for the rest of your life.”

…

There was a moment of silence before Lu Qianyun burst into laughter. “So it was the fish soup.”

“No wonder it tasted so fishy.”

“Your cooking skills are still terrible.”

“Nonsense,” Jian Yuanbai grumbled, “You’ve never eaten my cooking before. How would you know?”

He sat by the bed, head lowered, holding Lu Qianyun’s now fully healed, slender, and pale hand.

A beautiful hand, but Jian Yuanbai could still recall the bloodied, bone-exposed version of it.

“Next time, just leave me there and run. Got it?”

Lu Qianyun chuckled, “Alright, next time, I’ll leave you in the middle of the bug swarm.”

Jian Yuanbai’s expression turned serious, “I’m serious. My skin is thick and hard to bite through.”

“Don’t make me wake up and find you lying there, covered in blood.”

Lu Qianyun’s smile faded. He reached out and gently touched Jian Yuanbai’s face, his voice soft, “How can I do that? You always protect me in battle.”

“Now, it’s my turn to protect you.”

He wiped away the tears at the corner of Jian Yuanbai’s eyes and coaxed him softly, “Our mighty dragon is very powerful.”

“See? I did protect you, didn’t I?”

Jian Yuanbai’s voice cracked, “Yeah… you did great.”

“…Super amazing.”

…

To ease the tension, Lu Qianyun suddenly remembered something.

“Didn’t you say… you wanted me to be your s3x ed teacher?”

Jian Yuanbai was stunned. “What?”

Lu Qianyun’s lips curved, “I’ve decided on your first lesson.”

“A kiss holds great significance in both intimacy and relationships. Would you like a practical lesson?”

“There’s no one else here to practice with,” Lu Qianyun’s long lashes trembled as he whispered, “You can only practice with your teacher.”

“Jian Yuanbai, do you want…”

Before he could finish, Jian Yuanbai pulled him close and kissed him, clumsily and recklessly.

In this moment, Jian Yuanbai wasn’t thinking about the meaning of the kiss.

He only knew that at this very moment, all he wanted was to hold this person tightly and attend this poorly justified “practical lesson.”

After a long while, Jian Yuanbai muttered, “My fish soup really is terrible.”

But Lu Qianyun… tasted delicious.

Delicious enough to make him endure his own awful fish soup.