CHAPTER 119: ASHES OF THE KIND

There was a man in Sian’s team—someone frighteningly skilled at crushing the skulls of monsters and ripping out their still-beating hearts. A man whose presence passed like a shadow, silent and intangible, yet whose movements were swift and lethal.

He was like a ghost.

Always alone. Always watching.

His eyes were devoid of light, emotionless—hollow. As if his soul had long since withered away.

He was called Kong Yin, a name spoken in hushed tones, trailing behind him like the echo of something lost.

But that name was only a shell.

The man beneath, shadows dancing across his haggard face, had once been a vibrant soul—someone who laughed heartily, who spun dreams as vivid as the colors of twilight, who believed with an unwavering fervor in the promise of a brighter future. Echoes of his past lingered in the air, whispered tales shared among those who dared to remember the man he had been before the world succumbed to devastation and ash. Yet, none of these stories truly captured the essence of his former self, a truth obscured by the weight of loss and despair.

In those first cruel days of the apocalypse, when hope had all but vanished, Sian used to remember a man—a man who could smile even when the world burned. That man, with a light in his eyes and warmth in his voice, used to say:

"As long as there is kindness in human hearts... as long as they keep trying... they will succeed in rebuilding. One day, the green fields will return. So will the blue lakes. And the skies—will be clear again."

But that man no longer existed.

He had died—on that day.

The day that carved itself into Sian’s memory like fire across flesh.

Even now, that moment haunted him like a ghost that refused to fade. It tore through his mind at night, reliving every scream, every loss, every flash of blood. The guilt wrapped around his spine like chains, and the grief remained etched in the hollows of his chest.

He had failed. He couldn’t protect them.

The day dawned with the weary arrival of a group of refugees—each figure a haunting testament to suffering. Their faces were etched with sorrow, skin drawn tight over prominent bones, and their clothes hung in tatters, a reflection of lives torn apart. Eyes that once sparkled with dreams now appeared dull and lifeless, mirroring the weight of despair they bore. Their limbs felt heavy, as if the simple act of breathing was an insurmountable challenge. Yet, despite the overwhelming fatigue that clung to them like a shadow, a flicker of hope still danced deep within their gazes as they stumbled into Sian’s camp, seeking sanctuary amidst the chaos.

Sian had lost everything long before that. His family. His past. Turned into a lab rat, he had survived only by gaining powers no one could understand. Now, he led one of the ability-user squads.

He didn’t flinch at pain anymore. But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten how to feel.

And when he looked at families around the camp—when he heard laughter—he didn’t envy them. Instead, a quiet thought always whispered in his chest:

"Even if my family’s gone... someone else’s still alive. That’s enough."

There, in one corner of the camp, lived Kong Yin’s family. A simple trio—a devoted father, a loving mother, and their lively little boy. Just ten years old. But their laughter was a river that flowed through the camp’s silence, a heartbeat of joy amidst a world of death. Their smiles warmed even the coldest night.

Then came the decision.

The refugees begged to stay. Just a night.

Sian refused. He couldn’t take risks. Not when infection could hide behind innocent eyes.

But Kong Yin—for once—spoke up. He pleaded, voice raw, hands shaking. One by one, others in the camp stepped forward, standing behind him, their eyes full of desperation.

It wasn’t stupidity. They had all known loss. But they still believed. Especially when they saw the children clinging to the sleeves of the adults. Frail. Fragile. Real.

And so... Sian relented.

Just one night.

One night.

That was all it took to destroy everything.

That night, screams tore through the dark like blades.

That night, fire danced across tents and corpses.

That night—Kong Yin lost half of his family. And had to kill the rest himself.

By dawn, the man who once smiled was gone.

The warmth in his eyes was gone.

Something inside him had shattered, never to be put back together. After that, he stopped distinguishing between humans and monsters during raids. Sometimes... he killed without blinking.

A soulless shell remained.

A walking echo.

Kong Yin—Empty Shadow.

---

Sian slowly opened his eyes, golden like the rising sun. It felt as though he had been swimming through memories for a very long time—recalling every moment in vivid, excruciating detail. Yet, in reality, only a few minutes had passed.

During those short minutes, everyone had gathered around him, anxiously awaiting his decision regarding the mutated child. A heavy, suffocating aura radiated from him, keeping them all frozen in place.

"Sian?"

Seeing Sian finally open his eyes, Lan Qisheng took a cautious step forward and called his name with quiet concern.

The oppressive atmosphere began to ease slightly. Sian lifted the corners of his lips into a faint smile and gave a small nod, silently indicating that everything was fine.

Lan Qisheng breathed a sigh of relief. Sian’s usual detached demeanor had returned, if only slightly. Still, the incident only reinforced Lan Qisheng’s resolve: Sian needs to see a therapist—soon.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Sian finally moved toward the child tied beside the small tree.

Thanks to the bright moonlight, he could now clearly see the child’s features.

The boy’s build was sturdy—tall and well-formed. Not too thin, despite the continuous trembling, slightly dilated red pupils, and the constant trickle of drool.

Yes, physically, the boy was in good shape.

Sian knelt before him, raising a hand to gently touch his face.

But in that very moment, two people moved in from either side, each grabbing one of Sian’s arms.

Of course, Sian had sensed their approach. He was used to their constant presence near him. But he hadn’t expected them to hold him back, and for a second, he flinched in surprise.

Raising a brow, he asked, "What exactly do you two think you’re doing?"

"My love," Lan Qisheng said, his voice playful yet laced with worry, "didn’t you say that contact with these creatures could turn us into monsters ourselves? So how can I possibly let my one and only love touch something so terrifying? Are you trying to give me a heart attack, hmm?"

Though Lan Qisheng’s dark blue eyes were serious, his words were mischievous and teasing. Yet, the iron grip on Sian’s arm made it clear: this was not a moment for jokes.

Sian heard him, saw the strange expression on his face, but didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to the man on the other side, lifting an eyebrow as if to say, Your turn.

Seeing this, the man’s straight lips parted, and he spoke in one breath, expression stiff:

"It’s just... It’s extremely dangerous. And don’t forget—we’re all relying on you to survive on this island. You’re the only one who understands these creatures. The only one who knows how to fight them—"

"Oh my," Sian cut him off, voice tinged with mockery, "what a selfish thing to say, Jiao Liangchen. So, you’re saying the only reason you’re trying to protect me is because my life has utility to you? That’s... disappointing."

"I—I didn’t mean it like that," Jiao Liangchen stammered, trying to explain himself, but the words faltered and he went quiet.

Sian watched his conflicted face with satisfaction before turning serious again.

"In any case," he said, voice calm but firm, "let go. I know what I’m doing."

Neither of them moved.

So Sian yanked his arms free with force, his voice rising slightly in irritation:

"Get away from me. I’m not repeating myself a third time."

Finally, the two men exchanged a glance and stepped back obediently.

Of course, one particular puppy couldn’t resist showing affection—Lan Qisheng kissed Sian on the cheek, marking him possessively, then shot a ridiculous look of triumph at Jiao Liangchen.

At last, free from their interference, Sian focused entirely on the child.

From his observations, he was certain that the boy had an incredibly strong natural resistance to the virus. Even if he had turned into a zombie, there was a high possibility he could retain his mind and awareness.

The real problem lay in the boy’s young and fragile body—it simply wasn’t strong enough to handle such a transformation.

And then—

Before anyone could react, Sian shoved his hand straight into the boy’s mouth.

Gasps of horror erupted around him.

Gasps exploded around him.

Eyes widened.

Hearts stopped.

What was he thinking?

What had he just done?

To be continued...

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