Chapter 69: Relieved of Duty

The back-and-forth transformations Xie Gewen and Shi Huai had experienced before were defined by the Research Institute as a form of “Critical Flashback.” It meant that their data had fluctuated near the passing threshold for reverse transformation, unable to fully stabilize. Therefore, it couldn’t be considered a complete reversal.

This time, however, according to the data, their reverse transformation was truly and thoroughly complete.

No one knew whether a person who had fully completed the Reverse Therianthropy could ever revert to their beast form again.

No one knew if Ming Ruan’s Gray Wolf and Little Fox could ever come back.

Ming Ruan had only asked casually, but what he received in return was silence from both Xie Gewen and Shi Huai.

That silence bred unease.

Ming Ruan called for the Flying Sedan to stop. Clinging to the window, he asked tentatively, “Is there some other plan? I don’t have anything urgent going on. It’s fine if they come back later. I was just asking.”

His caution and hopefulness felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. Xie Gewen and Shi Huai found themselves momentarily unable to meet Ming Ruan’s gaze.

“Ah, regarding that…” It was the head of the research team stationed there who spoke up. “Please return to the Rehabilitation District first. Once you’re back on duty, your superiors will give you a specific notification.”

“Okay, okay.” Ming Ruan nodded repeatedly. He seemed to want to say something more to Xie Gewen and Shi Huai but couldn’t get the words out. The Flying Sedan took off.

After departure, the atmosphere inside the Flying Sedan was gloomy. Ming Ruan was still lost in thought.

“Rawr.”

Snow Leopard’s large head pushed over, nuzzling the side of Ming Ruan’s face again and again. Something icy-cool wound around his wrist. A large paw also rested on his lap.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Ming Ruan hurriedly pushed aside the wild thoughts in his mind. He ruffled Snow Leopard’s fur, stroked the snake’s tail, and patted the lion’s paw.

He didn’t want his mood to affect the fluffballs. But the unconscious way his arms tightened when he hugged Snow Leopard still betrayed his unease.

And the communication he received upon entering the Rehabilitation District fully confirmed his fears.

Ming Ruan was still in the Flying Sedan, hadn’t even gotten out, when the call connected.

Ming Ruan: “Are you saying Gray Wolf and Little Fox won’t be coming back to the District anymore?”

He wasn’t sure which superior officer he was speaking with this time. The voice on the other end sounded calm and amiable.

“Yes, Mr. Ming Ruan. After the Research Institute’s evaluation, they have been deemed to now possess the strength to leave the Rehabilitation District and face the wider world again.”

Connecting this to his own understanding of the District, Ming Ruan figured it meant Gray Wolf and Fox had recovered—both physically and mentally.

Thinking of this, Ming Ruan felt genuine happiness for Gray Wolf and Little Fox: “Well, that’s wonderful!”

“Yes, it truly is.”

The person on the other end of the call also laughed.

The two shared a small, celebratory moment together.

Stroking Snow Leopard’s head, Ming Ruan suddenly thought of something. “After this… when Snow Leopard, Lion, Snake… when they’re all completely better, they’ll leave the Rehabilitation District too, right?”

“Yes.” The voice on the other end shed its humor and turned serious. “That is your next mission, Executor of District 12, Mr. Ming Ruan. Please help the remaining animals in the Twelfth Sanatorium Zone successfully reintegrate into human society.”

His Executor System on his Light Brain immediately popped up a new task:

【Heal】: Gray Wolf (Completed); Fox (7 to 12) (Completed); Lion (Incomplete); Snow Leopard (Incomplete); Snake (Pre-registered) (Incomplete)

Getting no response from Ming Ruan, the other party guessed he was carefully reading the task description and continued:

“Once they have all left the Rehabilitation District, your mission will be truly complete, Mr. Ming Ruan.”

Yes. Truly complete.

Even before Ming Ruan returned to the District, the administration had already convened a meeting between the Beastman Research Institute and the other eleven executors.

The Research Institute had produced a widely applicable and feasible reverse-beastification plan. Preparations for a dedicated, society-wide Reverse-Beastification Agency were already underway.

Within the Rehabilitation District, as long as every executor cooperated, a full-scale “treatment” could be implemented.

When the last beastman in the Rehabilitation District successfully returned to human form and reintegrated into human society, this astronomical project—built at immense cost by the Alpha Galaxy since the dawn of the Era of Beastification—would be permanently closed.

At that time, the closure of the Rehabilitation District would sound the death knell for the Era of Beastification. From then on, the Alpha Galaxy would no longer turn pale at the mention of beasts or engage in internal strife. The dark past would forever become history, and the Alpha Galaxy, accompanied by a controllable form of therianthropy, would continue its exploration to the ends of the universe.

And the twelve executors currently in service would all be honorably relieved of their duties. Unprecedented and never to be repeated.

The name of “Executor” would shine brightly on the dark pages of the Era of Beastification, and the name “Ming Ruan” would surely be inscribed on the first page of the new era.

Thinking of this, the person on the line offered heartfelt congratulations: “Congratulations, Ming Ruan. Rest assured, their conditions are very good. You will certainly be the first executor to be honorably discharged.”

Ming Ruan blurted out: “Discharged?”

“Er, yes. Honorably discharged.” The voice emphasized. “You’ll receive a great many Merit Points. You’ll be granted fiefdoms by the Royal Family. You won’t have to stay in this remote, desolate Rehabilitation District anymore. You’re still young. Wouldn’t you prefer living on the bustling Main Star, making lots of friends?”

After speaking, the person waited, but no response came from Ming Ruan.

He asked, puzzled, softly, “Aren’t you happy, my good child?”

Ming Ruan: “…”

Ming Ruan: “No. Not at all! That they’re all healthy and can return to their masters—I’m very happy!”

Ming Ruan said goodbye, smiling: “Thank you. I understand. I’ll continue to work hard.”

The call ended.

Ming Ruan disembarked from the Flying Sedan with two fluffballs and one snake. Only then did he realize his entire body was stiff, his muscles and bones aching.

They entered the house. Lion walked in front of Ming Ruan and turned his head to check on him.

After spending so much time with Ming Ruan, none of them would think he was truly joyful about being discharged.

But Ming Ruan’s expression was mild, revealing nothing.

Suddenly, he halted his steps toward his room. His gaze seemed caught by something outside the window, and he walked over to it.

Lion, Snow Leopard, and Snake gathered around to look as well.

Outside the window was empty flatland, only a single small tree standing forlornly in the middle.

It was the tree Gray Wolf had always stared at when Ming Ruan first brought him back.

Back then, this tree was shedding its leaves. By the time Fox arrived, it was already completely bare.

But now, the tree was sprouting new buds.

So many days and nights had passed.

Ming Ruan sighed as if trying to expel all his worries. Then he fiercely rubbed Lion’s head, Snow Leopard’s head, and Snake’s head. “Alright, I’m fine.”

And if Ming Ruan said he was fine, then he really was.

There were no banquets in this world that didn’t end. Besides, they all had bright futures ahead. There was really nothing to be sorrowful about.

This was perfect. After stepping down as executor, he’d just keep a bunch of pets himself, become a pet influencer, and show off his fluffballs everywhere! If he felt like it, he might even be able to get a position with the Clarence Family or the Imperial Palace!

More importantly, once he wasn’t an executor, his Light Brain’s restrictions should also be lifted. Then he could surf StarNet and play full-dive games!

A wonderful interstellar life!

Ming Ruan successfully convinced himself. He began rubbing his hands together and chuckling.

The snake slithered over, bound his hands, and then covered his mouth, forbidding him from making such sounds.

Lochus: Too foolish. Stop it.

Seeing Ming Ruan happy again, Lion let out a breath, walked to the side, and lazily lay down.

But despite the relief, his heart didn’t feel completely at ease.

What, was the idea of not living with them that enjoyable?

Seeing Ming Ruan go off to freshen up, no longer focusing on them, the remaining fluffballs in the living room once again felt their thoughts stir restlessly.

Fuxi thought: The last job offer he’d extended to Ming Ruan hadn’t been solemn enough. Besides, at that time, Ming Ruan could still have remained an executor indefinitely, so naturally he wouldn’t have considered it.

But now, Xie Gewen and Shi Huai had already reversed their transformations. And he, Jin Qianyu, and Third Prince Lochus were undoubtedly not far behind.

It was time to boost his presence in front of Ming Ruan again.

What Fuxi thought of, the other two also realized. The three of them tacitly began tapping at their Light Brains, not disturbing each other.

On the other side, after showering, Ming Ruan shook out his outer clothes, intending to fold them.

As he shook them, a small object tumbled out.

It was a tiny chip.

The one he found back in the original host’s home.

Ming Ruan picked it up.

The previous two times he’d wanted to examine it carefully, he’d been pulled away by urgent matters.

This time, he was truly, temporarily free.

Ming Ruan sat on his bed, pinching the small chip, but he hesitated once more.

Did he really want to see?

A moment later, Ming Ruan opened his eyes and decisively brought the small chip close to his Light Brain.

He’d give it a try. If it was simple enough to read, he’d take a look.

He recalled Ming Ji’s attitude when he first arrived in this world, the veiled sarcasm of the other executors during their first meeting, the attitudes of some researchers at the start… and even the later assassination attempt.

He was here now. He also deserved to know.

Reading it turned out to be much simpler than Ming Ruan imagined.

The moment the chip touched the Light Brain, it attached itself. A series of identity verifications followed.

After passing all verifications, a 3D-rendered book, closed, projected itself before Ming Ruan’s eyes.

This couldn’t be a diary, could it?

Ming Ruan placed his hand on the book’s cover and, without further hesitation, opened it.

…

Throughout the entire afternoon, Lion came out and circled around once. Not seeing Ming Ruan in the living room, he returned.

Snow Leopard lingered at the door to Ming Ruan’s room. Not hearing any movement, he also went back.

Snake, who hadn’t been assigned a room yet, lay in a long strip on the sofa. He simply felt Ming Ruan was somewhat neglecting them today.

Maybe he was just tired.

They didn’t bother him.

But when the entire night passed, and even into noon of the next day…

Ming Ruan still hadn’t emerged.

Lochus flicked his tongue and kept his comments to himself.

Jin Qianyu, however, exchanged a glance with Fuxi. Something was wrong.

Since they’d come to know Ming Ruan, a situation like this had never occurred.

Today was the first day back at work. Normally, Ming Ruan would rise early to prepare breakfast, enthusiastically go on Forest Patrol, and then arrange lunch for everyone… these somewhat monotonous daily routines, he performed with relish day in and day out.

Could he be sick?

Fuxi glanced at his Light Brain.

The message he’d sent Ming Ruan yesterday had also gone unanswered.

Snow Leopard hesitated no longer. He went to Ming Ruan’s door, sat upright, and raked his front paws alternately against the door.

No answer came from within.

Just as Snow Leopard frowned, ready to barge in by force…

The door slowly creaked open.

“Rawr!” Snow Leopard immediately crowded forward, full of concern.

But this time, Ming Ruan didn’t react like he did on every ordinary morning: happily scooping up the kitty for a cuddle.

Nor did he cheerily ask what everyone wanted to eat.

His hands hung naturally at his sides. He didn’t even reach out to pat the big cat’s head right next to him.

Ming Ruan walked toward the kitchen.

Halfway there, he seemed to remember something. He turned back and said, “I… ahem… I’ll go make something to eat.”

His voice carried the hoarseness of a sleepless night.