The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL] Chapter 104 - Harsh interrogation

A few more explosions rang out across the city.

The ground trembled beneath their feet, as if the earth itself was cracking open. Thick clouds of dust and smoke spiraled into the air, turning the sky into a choking haze. The sharp scent of burning tal and stone invaded Jian’s nose. He coughed, eyes stinging, but he didn’t let that stop him. He pulled himself to his feet, his ears still ringing.

On the ground nearby, Nansich groaned and shifted slightly, dazed and bruised from the earlier blast. Jian didn’t wait. He reached down, grabbed the back of Nansich’s shirt, and hauled him upright.

"We need to get moving," he said flatly, his tone edged with urgency.

That blast just now—it was only the beginning. A test strike. The real one would co soon. Once the army and the aerial units tried to bomb the ships, they would retaliate. Hard. The city would be obliterated in seconds. Jian didn’t want to be here to witness it.

He pulled Nansich closer, almost yelling into his face, "The plaza! Where the hell is it?!"

The younger man blinked at him, disappointed, lost—there was a strange hollowness in his gaze as he rubbed his eyes slowly. "Huh..."

"I asked you a question!" Jian snapped. "Where is the damn plaza?!"

Nansich finally seed to snap out of it. His eyes widened, and he stared at Jian’s face—too long. Too intently.

"Um... it’s about two blocks from here. Behind a park..."

Jian didn’t notice the strange way he looked at him. Or maybe he ignored it. He quickly turned, snatched up his bag that had been thrown across the pavent by the blast, and barked, "Get up. Take there. Now."

He grabbed Nansich by the collar, dragging him forward. "Which way?!"

Nansich, still catching up, pointed with a shaky hand. Jian didn’t even wait—he rushed forward, pulling Nansich behind him like dead weight.

He risked a glance up.

The ship’s hatch was open again, glowing. Another energy sphere was forming—but this ti, slower. Bigger. More dangerous.

They couldn’t wait around to find out what that thing would do once it finished.

Jian pushed forward, sprinting across the broken sidewalk, dodging fallen signs and flaming debris. The park ca into view—overgrown and chaotic. And behind it: a wild patch of abandoned land filled with trees, rocks, and untad grass.

"Is that the plaza?" he barked.

Nansich nodded, eyes still glued to Jian’s face in that peculiar way.

"You... you have sothing... between your eyebrows..." he said softly, almost like a secret.

Jian didn’t care. He ran straight toward the spot.

He spotted an old, rusted car wedged between rocks. Inside—soone was sitting.

"Grandpa! Grandpa!" Jian shouted, running forward breathlessly.

But before he could reach the car, he felt a shadow rushing toward him from behind.

At the sa mont, Nansich’s voice rang out in warning: "Jian! Look out!"

Jian didn’t hesitate. He twisted around, caught the attacker’s arm mid-strike. The man had a syringe clutched in his fist—most likely a sedative.

"Where is my grandpa?!" Jian hissed.

With barely any effort, he hurled the man to the ground like a ragdoll and stomped down on his chest. The man let out a spluttering cough, blood flying from his lips.

From the car, the figure inside suddenly sprang up. Another man—this one ard. A gun.

"Stop! You—get off him!" the man shouted.

Jian backed up slowly, hands raised, but his eyes were alert. Calculating.

Behind the man, Nansich moved fast. He jumped in and knocked the gun from the man’s grip.

)

Jian saw his chance. He stepped in and took the ard man down with a quick blow to the side of his head.

Then he turned back to the one he’d flattened earlier, and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him slightly off the ground with terrifying ease.

"If you don’t talk, I’ll snap your neck off. You want that?" Jian’s voice was cold. "I heard that your brain stays conscious for ten seconds after you’re decapitated. You see everything. Feel everything."

The man trembled under his grip, his breath rattling.

"The guy who looks like you... he has him," the man stamred. "I don’t know where he went—I swear! He ran off!"

Jian’s eyes darkened.

He didn’t need to ask who the man ant.

Bian.

Of course. It had to be him.

Jian stared at the trembling man beneath him, his breath coming hard, shoulders tight with fury. Bian. It was always him. Slipping in and out of shadows, leaving just enough behind to hurt people, to get under his skin.

His hand tightened on the man’s collar, jaw clenched.

"You’re sure?" he asked, voice low.

The man nodded quickly. "He took the old man. Said sothing about ’cleaning up loose ends.’ I think he must have taken him out of the city to dump him sowhere.. I don’t know. Please.. spare ."

"where?"

"highway 28, that is a usual dumping spot. We just dump people there and the wild animals there take care if the remains for us."

"make it clear. I want a clear location!" he squeezed his neck tight.

"The abandoned house there, its very close to the huge sycamore tree.."

Jian let go. The man dropped like dead weight to the ground, coughing and groaning.

His fists were shaking as he turned away. He could feel it again—that feeling. Like fire bubbling under his skin. His eyes stung.

He’d been so close.

So damn close.

"Jian..." Nansich said, breathless behind him, eyes still watching him too closely. "I know where that is,"

Jian didn’t answer.

He stared at the abandoned car.

He stepped closer and opened the door slowly. It creaked, heavy with rust. Inside, the seat was torn and stained with old blood. But no one was there.

His throat tightened, breath catching.

"Damn it," he whispered.

The sky rumbled again.

He looked up—this ti, the energy sphere was pulsing violently, nearly finished. The ship’s sides vibrated as if charging for sothing massive.

They had maybe a minute. Two at most.

"Co on." Jian’s voice was steady again, but flat. Too calm. "We need to move before this place turns to ash."

He turned away from the car, walking fast now. Not looking back.

But Nansich didn’t follow imdiately. He lingered, eyes still on Jian’s face. His gaze trailed between Jian’s brows again—quiet, searching.

"You don’t feel it?" Nansich asked softly.

Jian stopped, not turning.

"Feel what?"

"There’s sothing strange... right here," Nansich said, pointing between his own eyebrows.

Jian decided to unilaterally ignore the shit that cos out of this man.