The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL] Chapter 119 - Backup is here

The bodies lay still, twitching slightly where they sprawled in the dirt, their long, tendril-like limbs coiled and spasming in slow death. Jian stood over them, panting, his hands slick with gore—so of it black, so of it gold.

The graylings didn’t scream when they died. They made this wet, horrible clicking sound that echoed too much in his ears. Even now, with their bodies going limp, the mory of that sound lingered in the back of his throat like bile.

He stumbled toward a crooked tree and slumped down beside its gnarled trunk. His knees ached, and his fingers cramped around the knife handle as if fused there. Only when he forced himself to look down did he notice the cut on his palm.

Thin. Shallow. Barely stung. But from it, that unmistakable liquid shimred—bright, hot gold, like sunlight made blood. It slipped down the crease of his palm before crystallizing, solidifying into tiny flakes. They cracked and fell away like dried petals.

He stared, breathing slow and uneven. It always looked beautiful, his blood. Alien. Wrong.

He swallowed hard and looked up, past the ragged treeline and into the murky sky. Clouds rolled low and angry. Sowhere far off, a grayling screeched again.

It was the sa in his last life.

That sa day. That sa invasion.

But he was not here, not the open forest and rusted garbage—no, they were back in that suffocating concrete maze of ho.

He rembered the static of the ergency broadcasts. The car horns that never stopped. The way the ground trembled when they ca. He’d hurriedly grabbed his grandparent and rushed them to the tro lines. Down, down, beneath the streets.

He’d thought they’d be safe underground.

But the graylings had followed.

He could rember the scene so vividly.. grayling taking his grandpa away... he.... he was powerless back then. But this ti he was not the sa jian.

He was not human in this life.

He touched his forehead slightly and sat up with difficulty. Every muscles cried in pain yet he gritted through his teeth and tolerated it.

Jian pressed his fist hard into his knee, eyes burning.

Jian took a deep breath letting it out slowly.

He wiped his hand on his pants, pushing himself up to stand. The forest tilted for a mont before steadying. Every part of him scread to rest, but he didn’t listen.

"He’ll be okay," he muttered, jaw clenched. "Bian must’ve driven here. Sothing must have happened midway. So grandpa must be close."

He had to be close.

Jian didn’t give himself ti to think.

He moved. Fast, frantic, his boots crunching broken glass and brittle leaves as he searched the dumping grounds.

Towering heaps of trash stretched endlessly around him—abandoned washing machines, rusted-out cars, piles of shattered computers.

"grandpa!" he shouted once. His voice cracked. No answer.

He searched anyway.

Every minute dragged like hours.

He found only more of them—more graylings, twitching and waiting, slithering out from beneath the garbage like parasites.

So he killed them.

Again and again.

They shrieked and flailed and bled, and he carved them open

As day broke in the horizon his muscles throbbed, his legs felt like stone, but the mont they got close, instinct took over.

He kept going.

But he didn’t stop.

Because grandpa might be alive. Might be hurt. Might be waiting for him.

And Jian would tear apart the whole damn earth if that’s what it took to find him.

******

On the other side of the city, Xing Yu knelt beside the old man, one hand lightly resting on his shoulder. The man had finally stopped trembling, though his hands still clutched fistfuls of dried grass like they were the only things anchoring him to this earth.

He had been shaking from the mont they arrived. Now he was crying.

"Alive," the old man kept whispering, voice hoarse and cracked. "My Jian is alive..."

Xing Yu didn’t interrupt. He simply watched him with steady eyes, letting him grieve, letting him hope.

The old man’s lips quivered as he looked up at Xing Yu, eyes wet and glistening in the dim light. "H-How do we find him?" he murmured, barely louder than the breeze.

Xing Yu’s answer was soft, firm. "We search." He took the old man’s arm gently and helped him up.

But once upright, the truth beca painfully clear. The old man’s knees buckled almost instantly. His breath ca too fast. His whole fra, brittle and too thin beneath his worn jacket, leaned heavily against Xing Yu’s side.

Xing Yu frowned. Bringing him along through this wasteland wasn’t just reckless—it was dangerous. If he found Jian, he’d need to fight. He couldn’t protect them both at once.

His hand moved quickly to the device strapped at his belt. He lifted it, tapping a command with practiced ease. Just as the signal began to search for a connection, the sky opened up above them.

Streaks of light—fifteen of them—tore through the clouds like molten arrows, painting golden fire across the night.

The old man gasped, stumbling back, his eyes widening with raw fear.

"W-what’s that...?" His voice cracked as he pointed up at the burning lines. "Are they bombs? Is it starting again?!"

"No," Xing Yu breathed, eyes fixed on the falling lights. "They’re ships."

He knew them well. Sleek, sharp-winged, moving in perfect formation—every vessel bore the emblem of the Gia fleet. They’d co back. Without warning. Without orders. The squadron that had left Earth had returned—just in ti.

The signal connected. Xing Yu’s voice was quick and clipped. "Lieutenant Farian. Location marked. Two for pickup."

He sent the coordinates. A second later, two ships from the cluster above shifted course, dipping out of formation and angling downward. They moved fast, wind slicing in their wake, but as they approached the tree line they slowed, engines humming low, blue light pulsing from beneath them.

The forest trembled beneath their descent.

The old man stared, frozen in place.

Then he panicked.

"No—no! We have to go!" He grabbed Xing Yu’s shirt in both hands, pulling weakly at him. "They’re landing! They’re coming for us!"

"They are," Xing Yu said calmly, placing his hand over the man’s trembling ones, "but not to harm us."

The ships hovered above the clearing, thrusters burning silently, and began their final descent. The earth rippled gently with their presence. The lights bathed the clearing in a soft, otherworldly glow.

The old man’s voice dropped to a whisper. "W-what are they? Who... what are you?"

Xing Yu turned, eyes eting the old man’s as gently as before.

"I am Farian," he said, his voice soft, but proud. "From the planet Gia."

The silence that followed was deafening.

The old man’s mouth parted, but no words ca. His hands loosened their grip on Xing Yu’s shirt, falling limply to his sides. He looked at him not with fear anymore—but sothing deeper. Confusion. Awe. A question that wouldn’t form.

Xing Yu didn’t push him for understanding. There wasn’t ti.

Instead, he stepped forward, one arm wrapping firmly around the man’s back to steady him. "They’re here to help. They’ll take you to safety."