Warden of the Beast World: Everyone is a Hakimi

Ghost Hunter lay quietly on the carpet by the bedroom door, its silver-gray wolf body gleaming faintly in the moonlight.

His ears would occasionally twitch, catching the even breathing in the room, making sure she wasn't having a nightmare or waking up, before he would rest his chin back on his front paws.

He couldn't sleep. Not because he wasn't tired—he hadn't slept much in the forest either, but with his physical abilities, a few days without sleep was nothing. He couldn't sleep because his mental realm was undergoing a change he had never experienced before.

After Ye Tang fed him two meals of roasted meat, his mental breakdown value dropped from 84 to 77.

Seven points. Even a comprehensive review by the A-level pacification specialist assigned to him by the military could only reduce the score by three to five points, and that was under the premise that he cooperated by relaxing and entering a semi-dormant state. Ye Tang only grilled meat for him twice, and he didn't even need to do anything, he just had to eat.

What he couldn't understand even more was that the green plants she had just taken out—catnip, or so she seemed to call them—he had only chewed a small bunch out of curiosity. After the cool plant juice slid down his throat, he felt as if a gentle hand had been stroking the depths of his mental domain, and several of the tangled and twisted nodes of rioting silently loosened.

He hadn't felt this comfortable in a long time.

Since he went to the battlefield at the age of twelve, his mental domain has been constantly depleted in high-intensity battles, and the nodes of rebellion have accumulated more and more, as if his nerves have been tied in countless knots, and every movement is painful.

The military's appeasement division could only temporarily suppress the problem, addressing the symptoms but not the root cause. But today, after just two meals and a handful of leaves, he experienced a sense of relaxation he had never felt before. This feeling was both strange and precious.

He raised his wolf head and looked through the half-open bedroom door at the small female curled up on the bed. Moonlight shone through the gap in the curtains onto her face. She slept soundly, a smile on her lips, lost in some sweet dream.

"Silly female," Ghost Hunter said in a very low voice, so low that only he could hear it, his lips moving silently beneath his silver-gray fur, "do you even know what a hot potato you've taken on?"

The five people imprisoned in this prison are all strategic-level combat forces of the empire, and at the same time, strategic-level time bombs. Jing Yao is his superior, and he has personally witnessed the marshal's mental power go berserk, causing him to overturn an entire training ground;

Han Zhou is the chief of the strategic command. His mental field is as intricate as a spider web. When he goes berserk, that web will strangle all living beings within its range. When Ling Shou swoops down from the sky, he can penetrate an S-level defensive barrier.

When Chi Heng truly loses control, everything within a radius of several hundred meters will turn into scorched earth; Cang Ming—that mermaid—is the most unfathomable. There are only three SS-level combatants in the entire empire, and in the water, even the other two combined might not be his match.

These people's mental breakdown values ​​are all above 88, and the person in charge of taking care of them is a silly female with double F mental strength, a weak physique that makes her pant after walking two steps, and who is still smiling even after being thrown out of her home.

Ghost Hunter rested his chin back on his front paws, his grey-blue eyes half-closed in the darkness as if dozing, though his hearing and sense of smell remained highly alert. Tomorrow she would officially begin her post; tomorrow she would enter those five observation areas. He would follow her and protect her.

The next morning, Ye Tang was awakened by the spiritual field in her spatial dimension. Images of the spiritual field automatically appeared in her mind—the catnip had grown lush and green, its leaves thick and fleshy; the scallions and garlic sprouts had grown taller; and the lettuce and tomato seedlings were stretching their leaves with vigor. She sat up abruptly in bed, washed up, changed into her uniform, and energetically pushed the food cart to the preparation room.

On the table in the meal preparation area, the logistics department had already delivered today's nutritional supplements on time. Five S-grade special supplies, each with a different flavor label color—green for herbal, light yellow for grain, light red for berry, dark brown for meat, and light blue for seaweed.

Ye Tang picked up one and twirled it in her hand, then scoffed. No matter how exquisite the packaging or how fancy the label, it's essentially just different flavors of paste—the difference is simply between salty paste, sweet paste, and paste with a slightly fishy smell.

She inserted five vials of nutrient solution into the card slot of the delivery cart, then opened her spatial storage and plucked a large handful of fresh, juicy catnip from the spirit field. After thinking for a moment, she rummaged through her apartment's locker and found a few sprigs of catnip—something she had bought as part of a bundle deal, supposedly with miraculous effects on felines.

She mixed catnip and catnip together, divided them into five small bundles, tied each bundle with grass stems, and placed them on the top shelf of the food delivery cart. The emerald green leaves still had freshly picked dew on them, and the fresh aroma of herbs filled the food preparation area.

"Let's try anything, even if it's a long shot," she muttered to herself, pushing the food cart and preparing to leave.

Just as she turned to check the bottom drawer of the food cart, a silver-gray shadow silently approached. Ghost Hunter stuck out his tongue, precisely snatched up a bunch of catnip, and retreated to a corner to begin chewing. His movements were so fast they almost left afterimages; by the time Wild Tang turned back, he had already chewed most of it and was elegantly wiping the leaf crumbs from his mouth with one of his front paws.

Ye Tang paused for a moment, then glanced at the food cart—the five bundles had become four.

Then she looked at the silver-gray giant wolf in the corner, trying to curl itself into a ball, and chuckled: "Little glutton, you like it too?"

Ghost Hunter's ears snapped back, and his grey-blue eyes, unusually, avoided her gaze, staring at a crack in the corner of the wall with an "I didn't do this" expression. But the catnip leaf he was still chewing in his mouth betrayed him.

Ye Tang walked over, squatted down, and ruffled his fluffy head, skillfully stroking his neck from his ear down to the back of his neck: "If you like it, you can have as much as you want. The catnip in my spirit field grows like weeds, and I can harvest a batch every few hours. You could eat it all in a lifetime and still not finish it."

The tip of the hunter's tail twitched slightly involuntarily. Ever since he started playing the role of a dog, it seemed he needed to act less and less.

Ye Tang replenished the food cart with a bunch of catnip, then pushed the cart toward the observation area, her steps much more determined than yesterday.

Ghost Hunter followed behind her, his silver-gray wolf eyes filled with extreme vigilance—she was going to send the S-grade nutrient solution and catnip into the detention area together, and he knew better than anyone what level of danger those five people posed when they were conscious. His muscles were slightly tense, ready to shield Wild Tang the moment any security door in the observation area opened.