On the other side of the broken town, Xing Yu stood by the side of the road, growing increasingly desperate.
The old man—stooped, grey-bearded, and stubborn as a rusted nail—refused to move an inch.
He wouldn’t get into the car. He wouldn’t walk away. He wouldn’t even lean on Xing Yu’s arm for support.
Xing Yu had tried reasoning first. Then he’d tried healing him—his palms glowing faintly as he reached out to soothe the old man’s swollen knee—but the human had swatted his hand away like it was fire. The rejection had stunned him into stillness.
How could someone so fragile... be so stubborn?
He tried again, crouching lower, his tone gentle. "Please, sir... you can’t stay here. It’s not safe."
The old man adjusted the frayed blanket on his lap, unmoved. "I’ve been here sixty-eight years. I’ll die here too."
"But the buildings are falling apart. You need shelter. I have food... medicine. Money—"
"I don’t want your money," the old man snapped, a tired irritation in his voice. "I want peace."
Xing Yu opened his mouth, then closed it again.
He had done everything short of carrying the man by force—which he considered for a fleeting moment. But one look at the old man’s gaunt cheeks and trembling fingers convinced him otherwise. If he tried that, the man might collapse out of pure fright.
And the last thing Xing Yu wanted was to frighten him.
He sighed heavily, standing and rubbing the back of his neck. His silver hair caught the fading light.
The silence between them stretched.
Then he spoke, softer this time, his voice tinged with worry. "Jian is in one of the orchards nearby. I’m going to find him. Please... please come with me?"
The old man didn’t move.
"Just walk a little, alright? I’ll help you."
But the man didn’t even glance at him.
Frustration bit at Xing Yu’s heart. Why was kindness so hard to accept for humans? Why did they resist help until the end?
Then, desperation creeping in, he tried something else.
His eyes flicked to the man’s unmoving figure. "its dangerous here ," Xing Yu said quietly. "There are things out there... creatures. They eat human flesh."
He’d heard a woman threaten her child like that earlier. It had worked then. The child had stopped crying immediately.
But would it work on someone so old? So... ready to be done?
The old man turned slightly, eyes narrowing at Xing Yu.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then his voice came, dry and rasping.
"You think I care if they eat me?"
Xing Yu’s throat tightened.
"But they will hurt Jian..." Xing Yu said quietly, almost in a whisper, his eyes carefully watching the old man’s face for any reaction.
The old man flinched.
A soft tremble ran through his bent body as he slowly lifted himself up, clutching the rusted hood of the broken-down car for support. His knuckles whitened against the corroded metal.
"Those things..." he asked, voice shaking, "they really eat humans?"
Xing Yu gave a slow nod. "They eat human flesh as a snack," he said calmly, stoically, though there was a deep heaviness behind his tone. "But they don’t actually prefer it. Their preferred palate includes gold, silver... other precious metals."
The old man’s breath hitched. His eyes widened, cloudy with age but now sharp with something that had been missing just a moment ago—fear. Real, bone-deep fear.
Suddenly, a loud blast echoed in the distance.
The ground beneath them trembled.
The air shook with the force of it, a shockwave rumbling through the cracked road and abandoned fields. The orchard trees shuddered violently, leaves flying into the night as if torn by invisible claws. From the direction of the city, a massive dust cloud—flaming and glowing orange-red—rose into the dark sky like the breath of some terrible beast.
Xing Yu clenched his fists. His eyes flicked toward the rising cloud. "Thankfully," he murmured, "Jian is here... away from the city."
But the old man suddenly froze.
Then he let out a horrible, broken cry.
"No... no! No!!"
He turned to Xing Yu with wild eyes, his voice high and panicked. "He’s there! He’s there in the city!"
Xing Yu shot up as if struck by lightning. His eyes widened in horror.
"He... he was dropped here by the cab driver... He was here—" His words broke off as panic clawed at his chest. He gripped his hair with trembling fingers, breathing fast. "He was right here!"
The truth crashed over him, harsh and unrelenting.
The old man let out a deep, choking sob. His knees gave out and he fell to the ground, fists slamming down on the dry soil.
"That Bian... that cursed boy... He told Jian to meet him in the city!" the old man wailed, voice raw and broken. "Jian... he’s there..."
His sobs turned into desperate, raspy gasps as he tried to stand. Painfully, with shaking hands and stiff limbs, he pushed himself up.
"I have to find him," he said, almost to himself. "I have to find my precious son..."
His steps were slow, uneven, but determined as he stumbled in the direction of the distant burning skyline.
And then—
BOOM.
A second wave.
More violent. More devastating.
It came without warning—roaring through the air like a banshee. The earth shuddered, trees bowed as if in mourning, and a sudden blast of hot wind knocked dust and debris into their eyes.
From the hilltop, they watched in frozen terror.
The city—once distant, glittering, alive—was now crumbling.
Buildings collapsed one after another, swallowed by fire and smoke. Glass shattered and towers folded like paper under the force of the second blast. Flames licked the skies, and somewhere in the chaos, a child’s scream echoed faintly—cut off far too soon.
Xing Yu couldn’t breathe.
His heart pounded so hard it hurt.
He looked at the destruction, then at the stumbling old man whose body barely held together by sheer desperation.
And in that moment, something inside Xing Yu snapped.