The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]

Chapter 205: Chapter 205 - Taking down a spaceship

Jian and the others finally reached the signal tower. It was nestled awkwardly between a few slanted trees, the metallic frame already rusting in places, but it stood tall. Xing Yu raised a hand, his voice low but firm, ”Wait behind that tree.”

Jian, Nansich, and Li Wang followed the gesture, hiding behind the wide trunk. Varon was already moving to set up the amplifier, his hands steady as he crouched near the base of the tower. He pulled out the device and began adjusting parts, his tools clicking faintly in the quiet air.

Eren, meanwhile, took the modified gun from his back. Without saying much, he stretched a little, then started climbing the signal tower. Jian watched, curious, expecting the man to climb it normally. But halfway up, Eren just—disappeared. One second he was visible, the next he wasn’t.

Jian blinked hard. ”What... where did he go?” he whispered.

Nobody answered. It was like Eren had completely vanished.

Jian’s breath caught. He had never seen anything like it. The sheer smoothness, the silence of his movement, the complete erasure of presence—every fiber in Jian’s body wanted to understand how he did that. His chest tightened with the sudden urge to learn it. The way Eren moved... it was incredible. And Jian hated how far he felt from reaching that level.

With everything set up, Xing Yu also settled down beside Jian, crouching low.

Jian didn’t look at him. His eyes were still on the tower, and he kept his body turned away.

But Xing Yu wasn’t done. He kept glancing over, his gaze strangely soft—pitiful, almost. Jian could feel it.

”I don’t look down on you,” Xing Yu finally said, voice quiet. ”I just don’t think you are prepared for this battle.”

Jian’s jaw tensed.

Prepared...

The words twisted painfully in his chest.

What does he mean I’m not prepared... Well I am—but it’s really, really unpleasant hearing someone else say that out loud.

He had trained. Some archery. Some swordwork. But that was all. He knew that. He wasn’t delusional. But hearing it from Xing Yu, the person he wanted to impress made it worse.

He knew he hadn’t reached much of a level in fencing. And compared to these warriors from another planet, it made him feel smaller. Like he didn’t belong in this battle.

Like he was just a liability tagging along.

His grip tightened on his sword.

The amplifier let out a soft, barely audible beep. All five of them froze under the thick shadow of the tree. The silence felt heavier than ever.

A few dry leaves fluttered down from the branches above, one landing right on Xing Yu’s shoulder—but he didn’t move an inch. His silver eyes were trained on the sky above, completely focused. His posture was oddly calm—his limbs loose, relaxed—but Jian could feel the tension simmering under his skin, like he was ready to explode into motion at any second.

Not a word was spoken.

The wind rustled gently. Time crawled.

Then, just as Jian’s legs started to ache from crouching, he saw Xing Yu tense slightly. The man’s eyes narrowed.

And there it was.

A sleek grayling ship emerged from the clouds, cutting through the sky like a black dagger. Jian’s pulse quickened. His hand immediately went to his sword, grip tightening without even thinking about it.

And then came another ship. And another. And another.

Three more slipped out from behind the first, flying in a perfect V formation.

Jian’s throat felt dry. His heart thudded in his chest, and for a moment, all the confidence he was trying to hold onto wavered.

Xing Yu let out a soft whistle.

Then, he made a series of sharp, silent hand gestures. Jian furrowed his brows, confused. What was that? He didn’t recognize any of it.

”What did you just say to them?” he finally muttered, barely audible.

But before he had to repeat the question, Xing Yu glanced at him.

”That bigger ship,” he said, eyes still on the sky. ”Do you see it?”

Jian squinted. One of the ships looked bulkier than the others, with an extra section of hull along the underbelly.

”Yeah...?”

”It carries a lot of weapons,” Xing Yu said with a calm, almost too soft smile. ”We’re going to hijack it.”

Jian blinked. ”What?”

”Hijack it,” Xing Yu repeated, voice low but clear. ”Then we’ll kill those Graylings... with their own tech.”

Jian stared at him, chest burning with something between awe and fear. They were really doing this.

The distant hum of the Grayling ships grew louder as they cut through the clouds, coming closer with every second. The four smaller crafts hovered with quiet menace, scanning the area in formation. Hidden under the dense foliage, Jian barely dared to breathe. He could see a faint glint from the signal tower where Eren had disappeared moments ago.

Then—

BOOM!

A blinding streak of light tore across the sky from the top of the tower. One of the smaller ships shuddered mid-air, its core sparking violently before erupting in a silent, explosive burst. The force of the blast sent a ripple of heat across the air. Jian flinched, watching in awe as the flaming debris spiraled downward.

”Holy shit...” Nansich whispered.

The other Grayling ships instantly swerved, breaking formation in search of the attacker. Their movements were sharp, mechanical—like swarming wasps. One of them fixed its attention on the tower, charging a weapon from its underbelly.

The moment it did, Xing Yu was already moving.

”Now!” he snapped.

Varon shot up from his crouched position and bolted across the clearing toward the tower’s base. Simultaneously, Xing Yu leapt up and grabbed a low branch, hoisting himself upward with a smooth pull. He climbed like it was second nature, fluid and fast. Within seconds, he’d reached the highest point of the tree, balancing on a limb that bent slightly under his weight.

He crouched, back taut, eyes narrowed at the massive Grayling mother ship looming just above the treetops.

Then—with a quiet exhale—he jumped.

Jian watched, wide-eyed, as Xing Yu soared high into the air, higher than seemed possible for a normal person. His body arced upward, a streak of black against the sky, and then—thump—he landed clean on the curved hull of the mothership.

”Wha—” Jian’s breath caught.

The moment Xing Yu landed, the Graylings reacted.

The ship groaned under his weight, metallic claws bursting out from its surface. Grayling soldiers—grotesque and octopus-like with long, undulating limbs and narrow slits for eyes—spilled out like angry bees from hidden ports.

Xing Yu didn’t wait.

He unsheathed his blade—long, silver, pulsing faintly with power—and sliced through the first Grayling in one smooth motion. Its body crumpled in a heap of thick black ooze.

Another Grayling lunged. Xing Yu ducked low, rolled across the surface, and slashed upward in one clean arc. Limbs flew.

Meanwhile, Varon reached the side of the ship. He slammed a metallic device against its hull, and it hissed to life—latching onto the surface. With a quick press of a button, he shot up a retractable cable and zipped upward, joining the fray in seconds.

The two of them moved in perfect sync.

Varon hurled small pulse grenades that short-circuited the Grayling exosuits, causing some to spasm and drop dead. Xing Yu swept through the chaos like a storm, flipping and sliding across the slick hull, cutting down anything in his path.

A particularly large Grayling tried to ambush him from behind—its body glimmering with additional armor—but Xing Yu sidestepped and drove his blade into its core, twisting it until the creature let out a horrid screech and collapsed.

Inside the ship, alarms started to wail. The hull opened, revealing the narrow crawlspace of the internal corridor.

Varon tossed a glance at Xing. ”Now?”

Xing Yu nodded, already leaping in.

Inside, it was even more chaotic. The corridors were pulsing with a dark green bioluminescence. Everything looked alive—fleshy, organic. Tubes ran along the walls, and something like mucus dripped from the ceiling.

But they had no time to hesitate.

Two Graylings emerged from the dark. Varon launched a flash-bomb at them while Xing Yu raced forward, slicing one’s head clean off before kicking the other into the exposed plasma wiring.

Sparks flew.

They moved fast, planting charge nodes in critical areas. Xing Yu reached the central control chamber—a round room with a glowing orb floating at the center—and drove his blade straight through it.

The whole ship let out a low screech as if it were in pain. Lights flickered. Systems shorted.

On the ground, Jian looked up as the massive ship began to tilt unnaturally. Its glowing vents sputtered. One of its stabilizers exploded in midair.

”What’s happening?” Li Wang asked, stepping back nervously.

”They’re bringing it down,” Jian whispered, unable to look away.

Sure enough, the mothership’s descent became rapid. It leaned heavily to one side as flames licked at its underbelly. Within moments, it crashed into the distant ridge, its metal frame crumpling and skidding across the ground in a fiery mess.

More smoke. More explosions.

Jian’s heart thundered in his chest.

They did it.

They actually brought it down.