The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]
Chapter 173 - Return of the third prince

Chapter 173: Chapter 173 - Return of the third prince

As they neared the colossal mother ship, a deep mechanical rumble reverberated through their vessel.

A wide hatch began to open in the center belly of the main ship, revealing a glowing corridor bathed in blue and gold light.

The opening was massive—large enough to swallow ten of their small craft—and as it parted, the inner walls pulsed softly with energy, like veins in a living creature.

Their ship eased into the opening, moving along a set of magnetic rails that gently pulled them deeper inside.

The interior of the docking bay was no less impressive than the exterior. Smooth, seamless floors curved up to meet arched walls, all made of the same silver alloy with gilded traces.

Blue strips of energy lined the docking lanes, guiding the ship to a slow, precise landing on a marked circular platform.

The ship landed with a whisper-soft thud. The moment they touched down, a soft hiss came from the side as the ship’s door began to slide open with a quiet swoosh.

Jian didn’t move for a second.

Then, slowly, he reached over and unbuckled his seatbelt.

Quangya was already leaning against him, clutching his shirt tightly with both little hands, his wide eyes fixed on the glowing corridor outside.

Jian adjusted his grip and carefully lifted the boy into his arms. His other hand—almost instinctively—slid down to the hilt of his sword, fingers curling around it.

He stepped out.

The air inside the ship was cooler. Not cold, but clean and sterile, like a place where everything was controlled.

The walls gave off a gentle hum, and lights embedded in the floors glowed with soft pulses beneath his boots.

Jian’s steps were slow as he walked forward, his arm tight around the boy, his hand never leaving the sword’s hilt.

Xing Yu followed a step behind him, silent but close, as if ready to intercept anything that might even think of harming him.

Three Farian soldiers were waiting at the end of the landing platform. They stood straight, tense, their stances wide and shoulders squared. Their armor was form-fitting and futuristic—sleek, gunmetal grey with a subtle shimmer to its surface, as if absorbing the ambient light. The suits were streamlined for mobility, with protective plating that didn’t seem bulky, yet radiated strength.

Each of them wore a sleek visor over their eyes, obscuring their expressions, but the way they tensed when they saw Jian said enough. Their grips on the weapons strapped to their backs tightened slightly.

They didn’t recognize him.

They were wary.

Jian instinctively held Quangya closer. The child buried his face in his shoulder, trembling again. Jian’s jaw tensed. His grip on his sword hilt tightened.

Before anyone could speak, Xing Yu stepped forward. His voice, calm but commanding, cut through the silence.

"Bow to your prince."

The effect was instant.

The soldiers froze—then snapped to attention. Their heads jerked up slightly as if to confirm what they’d just heard. One of them let out a soft breath of disbelief, but none of them dared to question it aloud.

With crisp precision, they dropped to their knees. Their fists crossed over their chests as they bent forward, heads lowered in synchronized motion.

Jian blinked.

His heart was still racing. But he refused to show it.

Xing Yu motioned with a tilt of his head. "This way," he said.

Jian followed, his boots clicking softly against the smooth, metallic floor.

The corridors of the Farian ship were surprisingly beautiful for something so mechanical—sleek and curved, with arching ceilings that gave an airy, spacious feeling despite being inside a war vessel.

Farian were hunched over terminals, tapping and swiping rapidly. Their clothing wasn’t the sleek armor of soldiers but long, structured uniforms in silver and navy, etched with insignias Jian couldn’t read. He hugged Quangya a little closer, scanning each one with subtle suspicion.

But then something strange happened.

As they passed through the corridor, the hum of activity began to falter.

One by one, farians lifted their heads.

A young female Farian blinked rapidly as she turned and saw Jian’s face—and immediately dropped to her knees.

Then another.

And another.

Murmurs spread like wildfire, echoing down the corridor, and within seconds, every single Farian in sight had stopped what they were doing, turned, and fallen to their knees in reverence.

It was overwhelming.

Jian froze mid-step, stunned. His body tensed, caught between fight and flight. Quangya clung to him tighter, sensing his confusion. his heart pounded. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword again.

This had to be a trap. It had to be. Maybe some elaborate trick to get him to lower his guard.

But... this?

Who would bow with such raw, unflinching reverence if they were lying? Some of them looked like they were about to cry. They weren’t just obeying orders—they believed in whoever they thought he was.

Jian bit his lip hard.

He didn’t know what to think anymore.

Still—he remained vigilant. He didn’t return the gesture. He just nodded tightly and kept moving, following Xing Yu deeper into the glowing maze of the ship.

Then—

A voice. Familiar. Sharp. Firm.

"This is not how you do it!"

Jian halted.

His breath caught in his throat as the voice echoed faintly from the hallway branching to the right. His head whipped in the direction of it.

"I told you," the voice continued, "this move is how you trap him. Otherwise, you’ll never win."

Jian didn’t wait.

He bolted down the hallway, Quangya still in his arms, barely noticing Xing Yu startled behind him.

He rounded a corner and saw a half-open door with warm light spilling out. Inside, an old man sat cross-legged at a small table, scolding a young Farian boy who looked no older than ten. The chessboard between them was laid out in traditional Chinese style.

The old man’s fingers were on a black piece, mid-explanation, when he turned at the sound of Jian’s frantic footsteps.

His eyes widened.

"...Jian?"

Jian didn’t hesitate. He threw the door open all the way, the metal slamming back with a loud clang.

"Grandpa!"

The old man stood up, pushing the chessboard aside, but Jian was already moving. He practically flung himself across the room and crashed into the man’s thin, aged frame, wrapping his arms around him so tightly it was like he was scared to ever let go again. Quangya who was caught in between whines softly.

"Grandpa—" Jian’s voice cracked. "Grandpa..."

A loud sob burst from his throat. Jian squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into his grandfather’s shoulder. "A-Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He pulled back briefly, frantically scanning his grandfather’s arms, neck, face—searching for wounds, bruises, anything.

But there were none.

Just those familiar, wrinkled hands. That soft, gentle smile. That thinning gray hair.

And those warm, teary eyes.

Once he was sure the old man was unharmed, Jian broke completely. He let out another sob and crushed himself into his grandfather’s embrace again.

"I missed you," he choked out. "So much..."

"Oh my baby..." his grandfather whispered, pulling him close and cradling the back of Jian’s head like he used to when Jian was a boy. "Come here. Come here..."

They stood like that for a long time. Quangya was pressed between them, looking up with wide eyes, not fully understanding—but somehow knowing this moment mattered.

Jian clung to his grandfather like a lifeline, tears still falling silently down his face, soaking into the old man’s shirt.

He’d found him.

He’d finally found him.