Even though most poultry species had gone extinct, the remaining five percent that still existed made up a surprisingly large group of people who owned them.
At the entrance, hawkers were shouting at the top of their lungs, "Get your chicken license here! Comes with a free chicken bib, leash, and a bag of feed! Best deal you'll find!"
The reason Jing Shu came to the breeding center was to register her dino-chicken for a rare license. But only mutated animals could qualify for that kind of permit. Because of that, the breeding center also had a government-backed Mutation Research Institute.
Jing Shu headed straight there. Compared to other places packed with long lines, the institute was eerily quiet. Mutated animals were rare these days, and ninety-nine percent of them had turned into zombie viruses. Only one percent evolved from the darkness, and no one could predict what kind of creatures they'd become.
As for mutated poultry, it wasn't that they didn't exist, just that they were incredibly few. Since the institute's founding, there had only been a few dozen species of successful mutations, and poultry accounted for barely ten percent of that.
So when Jing Shu walked in carrying her dino-chicken, with a few fluffy chicks following behind and a basket of eggs in her arms, she was welcomed like a VIP before she even reached the door.
"This is Director Jing's daughter," someone shouted. "She booked an appointment in the data system to have these mutated chickens tested today!"
In no time, a dozen staff members surrounded her with excitement. Some reached for the eggs, some wanted to hold the chicks, and others were staring in awe at the dino-chicken.
But the chicks stuck close to Jing Shu and refused to move an inch. When someone tried to touch them, they glared fiercely and made threatening noises, looking way more aggressive than their size suggested.
"Don't touch them," Jing Shu said quickly. "They might look small, but they're strong. These mutated chickens recognize their master the moment they hatch. The first person they see becomes their lifelong owner, loyal forever. I think their intelligence is around that of a three to five-year-old child."
"Wow." A few researchers clicked their tongues in amazement. They'd seen all kinds of mutated animals before, but never a mutated chicken.
"This... this is the so-called dino-chicken mentioned in the files? Reverse evolution?"
Jing Shu nodded. "Run the tests. Oh, and make sure to study these eggs too."
The lab quickly turned busy. People rushed about, taking samples from the dino-chicken, the chicks, and the eggs. Results came out faster than expected. It turned out that the dino-chicken's mutation was caused by the Crimson Spirit Spring, which had activated its strongest ancient genes.
If this thing had appeared before the apocalypse, scientists would've fought each other to study it. But now, in the post-apocalyptic world, anything that couldn't reproduce or offer survival value simply wasn't worth the time or energy.
This one couldn't lay eggs, and even when paired with a normal hen, there was only a one-in-ten chance of successful hatching. So they recorded it as a rare specimen. They'd try to pair it with more hens later and observe the results.
The dino-chicken was a rare find, but to the researchers, the real treasures were the chicks.
They ran repeated tests on both the chicks and eggs. Following Jing Shu's notes, they categorized which eggs had hatching potential and which didn't, then released an official conclusion.
All the chicks carried the dino-chicken's genes. The traits would weaken with each generation but remain formidable. Just as Jing Shu said, these chicks would grow up fierce and powerful. They could guard homes, protect their owners, and even lay special eggs.
Those eggs were extraordinary. The fertilized ones could continue the bloodline, and even the unfertilized ones carried fragments of the dino-chicken's ancient DNA.
What did that mean? It meant that even if the egg couldn't hatch, it was still highly nutritious. Eating it could strengthen the body, and most importantly, both the mutated chickens and their eggs contained something called Anti-Dark Matter—a nutrient that allowed people to survive long-term without sunlight. It maintained internal balance in the body.
But eating one or two wasn't enough. You had to eat them daily. The best method was to raise one chicken per household and eat one-fifth of an egg each day.
In short, dino-chickens could reproduce like normal poultry while providing essential nutrients that humanity desperately needed in the dark age.
"So these dino-chicken eggs are edible? How do you eat them?"
"Not only edible," one researcher said excitedly, "they're packed with nutrients, strengthen the body, boost Anti-Dark Matter, and in this apocalypse, they're practically treasures. Best eaten raw for full nutrition—they're smooth, mild, and have no fishy smell or parasites. It's an incredible delicacy. You've struck gold!"
Struck gold? Well... yeah, it did sound like she'd hit the jackpot.
But wait, why did he sound so sure about the taste? Huh? And what's that yellow stuff at the corner of his mouth?!
Still, raw dino-chicken eggs, huh? Jing Shu hadn't dared to try one before, but maybe she'd give it a shot when she got home.
So in the end, the most valuable thing turned out to be the dino-chicken eggs, something Jing Shu hadn't expected at all. Still, if she wanted to expand this line, she needed the dino-chicken itself.
The dino-chicken was registered under rare license No. 3333, while the chicks got assorted numbered tags. Some of the hatchable eggs were kept by the institute, where the researchers planned to use scientific incubation methods. In return, they offered to help Jing Shu hunt for a few rare materials she needed.
Jing Shu had always wanted to collect different poultry breeds. With these rare licenses in hand, she could trade for valuable resources. For example, she set a price for her mutated hen that could lay dino-chicken eggs: at least a pair of mating pigeons, a pair of geese, or a yak, and if none of that worked, any valuable mutated animal would do.
Who knew, maybe other mutated creatures could also regain their strongest ancestral genes through the Crimson Spirit Spring and turn into new kinds of monsters.
In the end, the dino-chicken project was officially handed over to Grandma Jing, who'd be in charge of breeding. Grandpa Jing even set aside a special fenced area for them in the courtyard since these aggressive chickens couldn't be raised alongside other animals.
"Grandma, didn't you say you wanted more chickens? Forget the normal ones. These mutated ones are way better. Look how big their eggs are, and they taste amazing!"
When Grandma Jing saw the licensed No. 3333 dino-chicken, its fluffy entourage, and those massive eggs—bigger than her fists—her eyes curved into happy slits.
The dino-chicken's little harem was now established. But the hens weren't having an easy time... and neither was the dino-chicken. Because Xiao Dou, the fat hen, had snapped.
You said we were partners, yet you secretly went and got yourself how many hens? I'm not enough for you, huh?