Chapter 245 - Sneak attack

Jian lay with his head nestled against the side of the bed, his cheek still damp with the last of his tears, when sleep finally pulled him under—gentle, like the way his mother’s voice might have sounded in another life. The weight in his chest loosened as his breathing slowed, the sound of her steady pulse from the monitor lulling him deeper into unconsciousness.But in the still hours of the night, something shifted.

Her fingers—thin and pale against the soft blanket—twitched.

A tremor, subtle as a heartbeat, passed through her palm. Her eyelids fluttered for a brief moment, then stilled again.

Far away, a sound split through the quiet like a fracture.

Jian’s body jerked as his eyes snapped open. For a moment, he didn’t understand what had pulled him out of sleep. Then he heard it.

Scrape. Crack. Squirm.

His temples throbbed.

At first, he thought it was his dream echoing. But no—it was real. His ears were catching everything. Every rat foot on dry leaves. Every flap of a moth’s wings against the porch lamp. The creaking wood expanding in the night air. The rustling of brush a quarter mile away.

And something else.

Something... wet.

Jian sat upright, grimacing, pressing both hands tightly over his ears as the flood of unfiltered sounds overloaded him. The enhanced hearing that had once given him a sense of control now felt like a curse, a tide of noise without mercy.

His head pounded. It was like being submerged in a thousand conversations all whispered by creatures that shouldn’t speak.

"Hhhhnng..."

He dropped to one knee, panting.

Then—crack.

One of the wooden planks from the back porch snapped under weight. Not a creak. A snap.

Jian’s eyes shot to the door.

His mother lay still, the blanket pulled up to her chin, utterly unmoving.

He stood up slowly, forcing himself to listen more selectively. Filtering. Filtering. What had Xing Yu taught him?

Focus only on rhythms that don’t belong.

The wind rustled. Leaves brushed the walls.

And beneath that—something slithered.

Jian’s gaze sharpened.

A sticky, mucous-like suction sound came from the roof. Slow. Heavy.

He turned off the bedside lamp and moved silently to the window, pushing it open just a crack.

Moonlight spilled over the yard.

The barn door hung open, swinging slightly as if someone—or something—had forced it ajar.

And there, along the rooftop, was a glistening trail—like slug slime, only thicker. More acidic. It burned tiny holes into the tiles where it passed.

His pulse spiked. He crouched and padded toward the doorway, grabbing his Farian blade.

He darted silently out of his mother’s room, heart thudding against his ribs. The blade in his hand pulsed with Farian energy, faint blue lines glowing along its edge. The house groaned around him—or was it something crawling along the walls outside?

He shoved open the door to Xing Yu’s room.

"Mister Yu—!" he hissed, rushing over to the bed.

The man didn’t stir.

Jian knelt beside him, grabbing his shoulder and gently shaking it. "Mister Yu—wake up, please. We’re not alone—"

Then he paused, hand still on Xing Yu’s arm. The man’s skin was hot. Too hot.

Jian pressed the back of his hand against the general’s forehead. His expression darkened.

It was like touching fire.

His chest clenched.

"This fever..." he whispered.

They had meant to give Xing Yu his medication earlier—meant to get rest, meant to recover—but finding his mother had stolen every moment. Every thought. Jian clenched his fists. This man had been pushing through, helping him, protecting him—with a temperature like this?

He leaned closer, checking his breathing. It was ragged, labored, sweat soaking through his shirt. The fever had pushed him into unconsciousness. If it worsened any further—

Jian’s eyes darted to the side as a wet splurtch echoed from beyond the walls.

More of them. Dozens.

The soft, squelching rhythm was growing louder—closer.

His time had run out.

Jaw tightening, Jian stood up, threw a blanket tighter over Xing Yu’s still form, and whispered, "Stay alive. Just for a bit longer."

Then he turned and ran.

He slid through the hallway, bare feet silent on the wooden floor, and shoved open the next door.

"Eren—Varon—GET UP!"

Eren bolted upright, reaching for his blade by instinct. Varon blinked groggily, then caught Jian’s tone and sprang to his feet.

"What’s happening—?"

"Graylings," Jian snapped. "At least half a dozen. Maybe more."

A groan on the floor.

Nansick stirred, already scrambling upright with panic in his eyes. "Graylings?! Here?!"

Li Wang jolted awake beside him, eyes wild. "That can’t be. This place is shielded. How did they—?"

"I don’t know," Jian said, already grabbing gear from the side. "Doesn’t matter. They’re here."

Eren had already crossed to the window, peeled back the curtain—

His eyes narrowed. "They’re surrounding the house. We’re boxed in."

Varon grabbed the rifle strapped to the wall. "Where’s Xing Yu?"

"Unconscious," Jian replied, strapping the Farian blade to his back. "High fever. He can’t fight."

"Damn it," Eren muttered. "He’s the only one who knows how to handle a siege."

"Then we hold," Jian said, turning to face them, the low light flickering off his eyes. "We protect this house. We protect her."

They all understood what "her" meant.

The room was tense—silent—save for the distant, gurgling clicks growing louder outside. A sound that had haunted their worst nights in deep space.

Nansick whispered, voice shaking, "I’ll guard the rear entry."

"I’ll take the attic window," Li Wang muttered, voice shaky but determined.

Jian nodded and glanced to the others.

Eren laid a hand on Jian’s shoulder. "We won’t let them take her. Or you."

Jian offered a small, grim smile.

"Let’s make them regret ever coming here."

The farmhouse walls trembled with a low groan as something slimy and immense scraped against the wood outside. A breathless hush fell over the group before Jian whispered, "Positions. Now."

They split off.

Nansick stood frozen in the hallway, pale and trembling. Jian placed both hands on his shoulders.

"You stay here," he said firmly, glancing toward his mother’s room. "Don’t let anything touch her. I don’t care if it’s me or anyone else—if you’re not sure, strike first."

Nansick swallowed hard and nodded, positioning himself by the door with a shaking blade in hand.

Jian turned to Li Wang. "He’s unconscious, can’t even lift his hand. Keep your gun loaded and eyes on the stairs. Don’t come out, no matter what."

Li Wang’s breath shuddered. "Okay," he whispered, clutching his blaster tightly as he sat beside Xing Yu’s bed.

Outside, the first window shattered.

A slick, wet thud followed as a Grayling’s grotesque form slithered through the shards—its mass gelatinous, its eyes bulbous and scattered, arms splitting into lashing tendrils.

Jian met it head-on.

The blade at his back hissed as he drew it, Farian markings flaring neon-blue across the metal. But he didn’t even raise it.

When the first tendril struck, Jian caught it.

His bare hand gripped the whip-like appendage—its slime hissed against his skin, sizzling—and then he pulled it close, locking eyes with the thing.

A pulse shot from his palm.

The tendril exploded into gray mush.

The Grayling screeched.

Jian’s gaze widened. His own fingers were glowing faintly, the blue Farian light writhing beneath the skin like lightning trapped in glass. He didn’t understand it—but instinct drove him forward.

He punched into the Grayling’s core.

Flesh tore like wet paper.

The thing collapsed, its collapsed gelatinous body twitching and melting into the floor.

From the opposite side of the house came a string of gunfire—Varon. Eren’s blade followed, slicing clean through another invader as he and Varon moved through the tight hallways like predators—flanking, switching sides, moving like shadows along old wood. Where one ducked, the other struck. Where one fired, the other followed with the killing blow.

Outside the house, several Graylings had begun climbing the roof, trying to get in through the attic.

Jian leapt through the broken window, landing in the field beyond as rain began to fall in heavy, rhythmic thuds. A full moon glinted off the slime trailing from the crawling masses of Graylings heading toward the house.

Ten. Maybe more.

He stood still for a second, arms spread.

The wind shifted.

And then he moved.

He didn’t remember giving the order to his body, but something inside him had already taken charge—something ancient and wild.

In a flash, he was in their midst. One Grayling lunged at him with all six arms, shrieking.

Jian spun under it, his palm glowing—Void Pulse.

He struck the creature’s side with an open hand.

The energy released in a concave shockwave, the force ripping through the beast like a silent thunderclap.

It exploded in two.

A second came from behind—Jian ducked, caught the limb, and twisted, hearing a sickening crack. He leapt into the air and stomped downward with crushing force, his heel igniting blue flame as it struck its skull.

More came.

He didn’t care.

He moved between them like a streak of destruction, half-Farian, half-something else. His bare hands cleaved through Grayling flesh. His skin shimmered with energy lines as though his cells themselves were weaponized.

Behind him, in the farmhouse, Varon and Eren sealed off a window with upturned furniture.

"Jian’s out there," Eren muttered.

"I know," Varon replied grimly. "And he’s not losing."

A sharp scream split the night—a Far voice from within the attic. One Grayling had made it inside.

Varon took off instantly.

Eren turned and saw another body at the hallway’s end—two more Graylings creeping in through the side pantry.

He dashed down the hall with inhuman speed and threw his blade.

The spinning weapon tore through the first beast’s neck with a wet crack and embedded itself into the second’s head with a crunch. Their bodies convulsed and collapsed.

Meanwhile, Jian stood panting in the field, five Grayling corpses smoking around him.

The last one—the largest—rose before him. This one was taller than the rest. Almost regal. Its limbs were armored, and in its chest was a glowing node—something like a heart, pulsing green and black.

Jian raised his hands again, feeling the Void Pulse gather.

But before he could strike, the beast lunged—its armored hide too thick for him to penetrate.

He was thrown back—crashed into a tree.

Jian rolled and got to his knees, blood trickling from his mouth.

His mother’s hand. Her voice. Her sleeping face.

He clenched his fist.

A sudden, immense silence dropped.

Then a new sensation—

He wasn’t alone in his body anymore.

The light surged. His spine straightened, eyes glowing so intensely they illuminated the field.

He lifted his hand.

And called the blade from the house.

It flew through the air like a bullet—right into his grip.

The blade changed.

Now longer. Darker. The void energy crackled along its edge.

He dashed forward with no sound.

And cut through the beast.

A single stroke.

Clean.

It stared at him, trying to scream. Then it split, top to bottom, collapsing in halves.

Jian panted, sweat mixing with rain.

The field was silent now.

The house—still standing.

Inside, Nansick hadn’t moved from his spot. He had defended the queen with all his might.

Li Wang still sat by Xing Yu’s bed, gun in his lap, arms shaking.

Eren and Varon regrouped, covered in ichor, blades red, breath shallow.

Jian stepped back inside slowly.

Blood and slime clung to his hands.

But his expression was calm.

"She’s safe," he whispered.

"She’s still safe."