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. The breeding center was a cacophony of squawks and chirps, a stark contrast to the silence of the surrounding city streets.
At the entrance, hawkers were shouting at the top of their lungs, their faces flushed with the effort. "Get your chicken license here! Comes with a free chicken bib, leash, and a bag of feed! Best deal you will find!" They waved colorful fabric scraps and small pouches of grain at anyone who passed by.
The reason Jing Shu came to the breeding center was to register her dino-chicken for a rare license. Only mutated animals could qualify for that kind of permit, which granted special status and protections. Because of that, the breeding center also had a government-backed Mutation Research Institute located in a sturdy, separate wing of the complex.
She headed straight there. Compared to other places packed with long lines of people clutching cages, the institute was eerily quiet. Mutated animals were rare these days; ninety-nine percent of those that underwent changes succumbed to the zombie virus. Only one percent evolved from the darkness, and no one could predict what kind of creatures they would 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 recorded, and poultry accounted for barely ten percent of that small number.
So when Jing Shu walked in carrying her dino-chicken, with a few fluffy chicks following closely behind and a basket of large eggs nestled in her arms, she was welcomed like a VIP before she even reached the inner door.
"This is Director Jing's daughter," someone shouted, pointing toward her. "She booked an appointment in the data system to have these mutated chickens tested today!"
In no time, a dozen staff members in white lab coats surrounded her with excitement. Some reached for the basket of eggs, some wanted to hold the tiny chicks, and others were simply staring in awe at the powerful frame of the dino-chicken.
But the chicks stuck close to Jing Shu's boots and refused to move an inch. When someone tried to touch them, they glared fiercely with unnaturally bright eyes and made threatening, sharp noises, looking way more aggressive than their small size suggested.
"Don't touch them," she said quickly, stepping back to give the birds space. "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, their pens scratching notes onto clipboards. They had seen all kinds of mutated animals before, but never a mutated chicken with such distinct behavioral traits.
"This... this is the so-called dino-chicken mentioned in the files? Reverse evolution?" One man peered through his spectacles at the bird's thick, scaled legs.
Jing Shu nodded. "Run the tests. Oh, and make sure to study these eggs too."
The lab quickly turned busy as the quiet atmosphere evaporated. People rushed about, taking careful samples from the dino-chicken, the chicks, and the eggs. Results came out faster than expected because of the high priority of the case. It turned out that the dino-chicken's mutation was caused by the Crimson Spirit Spring, which had activated its strongest ancient genes hidden deep within its DNA.
If this thing had appeared before the apocalypse, scientists would have fought each other for the chance to study it. But now, in the post-apocalyptic world, anything that couldn't reproduce or offer immediate survival value simply wasn't worth the precious time or energy.
This specific bird 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 would try to pair it with more hens later and observe the results over time.
The dino-chicken was a rare find, but to the researchers, the real treasures were the chicks she had brought.
They ran repeated tests on both the chicks and the eggs. Following Jing Shu's detailed notes, they categorized which eggs had hatching potential and which didn't, then finally released an official conclusion.
All the chicks carried the dino-chicken's ancient genes. The traits would weaken slightly with each generation but remain formidable compared to standard poultry. Just as she had said, these chicks would grow up fierce and powerful. They could guard homes, protect their owners, and even lay special eggs that normal chickens couldn't produce.
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. It's a nutrient that allows people to survive long-term without sunlight, maintaining the delicate internal balance in the body during the long nights.
But eating one or two wasn't enough to make a difference. 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 to maintain health.
In short, dino-chickens could reproduce like normal poultry while providing essential nutrients that humanity desperately needed in this dark age.
"So these dino-chicken eggs are edible? How do you eat them?" Jing Shu asked, looking at the data.
"Not only edible," one researcher said excitedly, his eyes bright. "They're packed with nutrients, they strengthen the body and boost Anti-Dark Matter, and in this apocalypse, they're practically treasures. They're best eaten raw for full nutrition—they're smooth, mild, and have no fishy smell or parasites. It's an incredible delicacy. You have struck gold!"
Struck gold? Well... yeah, it did sound like she had hit the jackpot with this breeding project.
But wait, why did he sound so sure about the taste? Huh? And what is that yellow stuff at the corner of his mouth?! She stared at the faint yolk stain on the man's lip.
Still, raw dino-chicken eggs, huh? She hadn't dared to try one before, but maybe she would give it a shot when she got home to the villa.
So in the end, the most valuable thing turned out to be the dino-chicken eggs, something she hadn't expected at all. Still, if she wanted to expand this line, she needed the dino-chicken itself as the primary sire.
The dino-chicken was officially registered under rare license No. 3333, while the chicks got assorted numbered tags fastened to their legs. Some of the hatchable eggs were kept by the institute, where the researchers planned to use scientific incubation methods to increase the yield. In return, they offered to help her hunt for a few rare materials she needed for her other projects.
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. 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 would be in charge of the daily breeding and care. Grandpa Jing even set aside a special fenced area for them in the courtyard since these aggressive chickens couldn't be raised alongside the more docile 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!"
The dino-chicken's little harem was now established in the new enclosure. 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?"