Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Taking Giant Scissors to Jiang Tea Tea’s Belly—Are You Trying to Abort the Cub?

Jiang Tea Tea nearly choked.

She’d burned magic power on transformation, used invisibility, used blink shift, worked herself to the bone just to eat one full meal and grab some natural organic fertilizer—

—and now that Big Golden Dragon who’d kicked her belly before was going to ruin it halfway through?

What kind of grudge was this?

Why did he keep targeting her, one poor tree, and wrecking her life? Did he really think she was some sickly little sapling he could bully?

Adjutant Ai answered respectfully, “Yes!”

Several fully armed staff appeared around the pile of three-headed giant python corpses. Their protective suits were white and fully sealed; you couldn’t see faces, hands, or feet.

They opened massive cases, pulled out tools, and prepared to take samples from the pythons’ cut wounds.

Jiang Tea Tea stood atop the corpse pile like a frozen cabbage in a winter gale, daring not move, terrified of drawing that Big Golden Dragon’s attention.

One sampling staff member made a startled sound. “Huh. Look at this—what’s on the python corpse? A little green tree with roots?”

“Yeah, a little green tree with roots. The leaves are so green, the branches are so thin. It’s growing perfectly—exactly the kind of shape a horticulturist would love.”

Chong Ming’s golden eyes shifted. They landed on her.

She was only about the height of his palm. One main trunk. Four tiny branches. Countless fine roots fluttering in the wind as she stood on a mountain of snake bodies.

Chong Ming glanced at Adjutant Ai.

Adjutant Ai started forward to pick up the strange little tree—

“Wait,” Chong Ming said. “I’ll take it myself.”

Adjutant Ai froze and stayed where he was, motioning the sampling staff to hold.

Chong Ming leapt up and landed atop the corpse pile. His large hand reached for the sapling—

Jiang Tea Tea tipped her trunk and rolled away.

Chong Ming grabbed empty air. He paused, tracked her movement, and caught her before she hit the ground.

Jiang Tea Tea’s entire existence felt seized by the throat.

She couldn’t let him realize she was alive and conscious. She could only play dead.

Even so, he flipped her over and over in his hand—tugging at her roots, flicking her leaves, lifting her to his nose and sniffing.

She was a tree. A tree. Not some fragrant flower begging to be smelled.

What kind of lunatic sniffed a tree like that?

“Your Highness,” Adjutant Ai asked quietly, watching Chong Ming examine the sapling with unsettling focus, “is there something different about it? Should we continue sampling the three-headed giant pythons?”

“Continue,” Chong Ming said, still holding Jiang Tea Tea. “After sampling, destroy the corpses. Disinfect the surrounding area too. Parasites in the scales could mutate.”

“Yes!” Adjutant Ai turned at once and relayed the command.

Chong Ming scanned the area, then walked to a spot without corpses or blood-smeared debris. He pulled a bucket and a shovel from his storage button, brushed aside rotten leaves, exposed damp soil, and shoveled it up.

Jiang Tea Tea wanted to scream.

What was he doing? Was he going to plant her in a bucket?

A normal person would bury her and let her grow freely—let her rise into a Skywood, reaching the heavens.

But she couldn’t run. This cursed Big Golden Dragon held her in one hand and shoveled mud with the other.

In less than ten minutes, she was planted in a bucket.

As if that weren’t enough, Chong Ming dug up a worm and dropped it into the soil with the casual confidence of someone doing a kindness.

“Plants need worms to maintain ecological balance in the soil,” he said, as if talking to a plant was completely normal. “Worms improve fertility and help decompose organic matter.”

“I’ll start with one worm. I checked—it has no toxins. Just a common worm from this tropical rainforest.”

Jiang Tea Tea went cold with horror.

Common my ass.

What kind of mentally ill person talked to a tree?

And what tree wanted worms?

She could decompose organic fertilizer herself. She didn’t need a worm crawling around her roots, pooping in her soil, chewing wherever it pleased.

Was this pervert messing with her on purpose?

Chong Ming put away the shovel, lifted the bucket, and stepped onto a hovering flyer.

The flyer rose. The hatch of the invisible super warship opened, and he entered without hesitation, Adjutant Ai following behind.

The interior of the super warship was absurdly luxurious—far beyond anything the First Legion used. It swept past Jiang Tea Tea’s limited view as she sat trapped in the bucket.

At last, Chong Ming carried her into the command room and set the bucket on a table.

Jiang Tea Tea’s view widened.

The command room was enormous. Nearly two hundred staff in combat uniforms worked in disciplined silence—eyes focused, expressions severe, movements precise.

Screens covered the walls: star system maps, star charts, planet charts. One massive screen displayed full-coverage surveillance of the Primitive Tropical Planet, plus real-time feeds of thirty legion command rooms and thirty military academies, and thermal maps for instructor teams and cadet teams, blazing red and blue across the display.

Jiang Tea Tea was a tea tree spirit who had cultivated into a great demon. On top of that, she’d absorbed the learning talent of the fake heiress. Her memory was sharp enough to be a weapon.

She tried to memorize the instructor distributions—

—and Chong Ming sat down and reached out, stroking a leaf.

Jiang Tea Tea nearly trembled like she’d been hit by tribulation lightning.

He touched her.

First he planted her in a bucket. Then he threw in a worm. Now he was stroking her leaves like he owned her.

Enough.

A great demon did not compromise.

If he wanted a dead plant, she’d give him a dead plant.

Her leaves yellowed instantly beneath his fingers. They curled, withered, and dropped. In seconds, she was nothing but a bare trunk and four stripped branches, yellow and dry as if sun-baked.

Chong Ming’s brow furrowed. He pulled his hand back, lifted the bucket, and stood.

He left the command room and strode into the Medical Department.

“Minister Lu,” he said, setting the bucket down, “check this plant. What happened?”

“Yes!”

Minister Lu put on gloves and examined the sapling carefully. Then he looked up, respectful and sure.

“Commander-in-Chief, this little tree has withered. It’s dead.”

Chong Ming’s gaze stayed fixed on the bare, yellow branches. “Impossible. Ten minutes ago it was green, with strong roots and healthy leaves.”

Minister Lu pulled out a pair of scissors and positioned them near the middle of the main trunk.

“Commander-in-Chief,” he said, “to confirm whether it’s truly dead, we need to cut open the trunk and check. If the inside is still green, it’s alive.”