The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]
Chapter 193 - Indestructible

Chapter 193: Chapter 193 - Indestructible

On the other side, the air was still and heavy with the lingering scent of wet leaves. Bian and Dican moved slowly through the perimeter of the forest, hunting a Grayling that had reportedly passed through earlier. From where they stood, the towering silhouette of the Wang mansion was still visible between the dense tree trunks, casting a long, proud shadow over the land below.

Bian’s gaze flicked to it briefly before narrowing with suspicion. "What did you do to make it safe for them from the Grayling?" he asked suddenly, his tone sharper than before. It was a question that had been nagging at the edge of his thoughts ever since he regained consciousness.

He remembered the exchange—they had offered a Farian in exchange for safety. But he had been unconscious for most of it, and the specifics were never disclosed. Dican had been the one to handle the practicalities. What had he done to secure that massive house?

Dican turned toward him, his eyes warm, a smile playing at his lips—one of those soft, indulgent looks that never failed to irritate Bian for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely.

"This," Dican said simply, holding up a small green branch.

Bian frowned, stepping closer. "What is that?"

"It’s mint, my love," Dican replied with a slight lift of his chin, as though expecting praise.

Bian blinked and took the branch, lifting it to his nose. The scent was unmistakable—sharp, clean, and familiar. "Just mint?" he asked flatly.

"Yes," Dican said, unbothered. "Strangely, Graylings are repelled by that scent. I exchanged that information to secure your surgery. It was the best deal I could get without trading something bigger."

He looked proud of himself. His silver eyes sparkled with anticipation, as though waiting for Bian to tell him how clever he was. But Bian just frowned harder.

If something as simple as mint could be used to repel Graylings, why hadn’t it been in any of the research texts? The countless hours he’d spent reading, memorizing, theorizing—all had mentioned nothing about a solution so simple.

"How did you find this out?" Bian asked coldly, holding the branch between two fingers like it might burn him.

"Well..." Dican rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "We have a similar plant back on our planet. The Graylings there seemed to hate the smell. I figured Earth’s equivalent might work too, so I started testing what was available locally. And guess what? It worked. At least, for the smaller ones."

Bian stepped closer, the front of their boots nearly touching.

"How many people know about this?" he asked.

"Not many," Dican replied slowly. "Just me, Xing, and a few of my team. And only the ones I trusted. The tests were inconsistent, Bian. The mint only worked on the small ones. The larger Graylings didn’t even flinch."

That wasn’t good enough for Bian. He grabbed Dican’s collar, yanking him close. His voice was low, nearly a hiss. "Don’t you dare tell anyone else. No one must know. Not yet."

Dican’s brows twitched in surprise. But Bian’s expression was hard, unyielding. There was no room for negotiation.

"Go get me more mint," Bian said, releasing his grip.

Still love-struck, Dican nodded obediently, not a hint of protest in his face. He turned and disappeared into the trees, foraging quietly, eager to please.

Dican and Bian ventured deeper into the dense stretch of forest, stepping over knotted roots and thick underbrush. The rustling leaves above filtered speckled sunlight onto the moss-covered ground. But then Dican suddenly stopped.

His eyes narrowed, gaze locked on something up ahead.

It was the remains of a fallen Grayling ship—its hull dented and scorched, the hatch door wide open, hanging limply to one side. What immediately caught the eye, though, was the splattered trail of golden blood staining the ground around the entrance, now partially crystallized and glittering faintly in the light.

Dican’s breath hitched. He knelt down wordlessly and extended a hand, his fingertips brushing against the hardened metallic streaks. The blood had long cooled, transforming into jagged filaments of golden metal.

Behind him, Bian arrived and took in the scene. His brows furrowed as he stared at the blood, then at Dican’s tense expression.

"...What is this?" Bian asked in a low tone, crouching beside him. "Is this... Farian blood?"

Dican gave a small hum in response. "Someone bled very intensely here," he murmured, eyes scanning the area thoughtfully. "Too much for a Grayling to survive. But... not enough to mark a death. At least, not for one of us."

Bian stood and turned, gaze following a line of broken foliage across the clearing. From where he stood, he could just make out the remains of a car, toppled over at the roadside, its front smashed and vines crawling over it like fingers of time.

His breath caught.

"Isn’t this..." he started, then leaned forward, trying to get a clearer look. "Isn’t this where Jian’s car crashed...?"

His heart skipped, then raced. There was golden blood around the wreckage too. Fresh. Glinting.

A bright smile unfurled on his lips, unbidden and vicious.

’He must have been killed...!’ Bian thought, barely suppressing the triumphant thrill that rushed through him. ’Look at that blood. It’s everywhere. He bled out here!’

But just as he allowed himself that flash of joy, Dican’s quiet voice broke the moment.

"The Farian must have limped away," he murmured, stepping toward the trail. "The blood leads to the road and then disappears. He must be alive."

The words landed like a blow.

Bian’s grin faltered, froze, then faded altogether. He turned, face shadowed. "How are you so sure?" he snapped. "He bled so much. Isn’t he supposed to die from something like that?"

Dican looked over at him with a small smile, as if amused by his concern. "No, my love," he said gently, walking back toward Bian. "We Farians are built differently. Even when we sustain life-threatening wounds, our cells regenerate. Our bodies heal rapidly if we have enough energy left. It’s how we survive."

He reached out and took Bian’s hand tenderly.

"Don’t you feel it?" he asked. "The blood rushing inside you now... it works wonders."

Before Bian could respond, Dican gently pricked the back of his hand with a small blade.

A thin line opened, red-gold in color. But within seconds, it vanished—the skin knitting back together, seamless and smooth.

"We’re indestructible," Dican whispered, almost reverent, eyes locked on Bian’s. "Even death can’t claim us easily anymore."

Bian stood frozen, his gaze on his healed hand. For a long moment, he said nothing. But inside his chest, a dull and bitter heat twisted.

Jian... hadn’t died.

Not yet.