The technician beside the drone frowned. He tapped at the console. "Mei Lin," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. Your coding has been corrupted. There is a fatal flaw in your neurological mapping. You're... outdated. In human terms, you have an incurable and fatal illness." Her lips quivered. "Please," she whispered, turning to Gary. "I don't want to die. I want to see my son. Please, Master. Help me." Gary watched her, a wave of helplessness crashing through his chest. Mei Lin stood trembling in the sterile light of the census hall, the red glow of the scanner casting a soft, deadly hue across her delicate features. Her hands clutched the sides of her robe like she was trying to hold herself together. For the first time since he’d known her, the graceful calm that defined her was gone. In its place was fear. Raw. Human. This was the second time. The first time she broke down and cried, it gave him a glint of hope for restoration. "Please, Master..." she whispered again, barely au

Gary hesitated. Just long enough for the old man to turn his eyes—those ancient, shimmering wells of knowing—and then shift them subtly toward Mei Lin, who was still being carried away in a near-fetal daze by two guards. Gary’s fists clenched, his teeth ground together, and in that brief, soul-splitting moment, he knew he had lost. “I’ll go,” he muttered. Grandmaster Wang didn’t say thank you. He didn’t smile. He simply turned and began walking, long robes gliding like shadows behind him. Gary followed. They walked in silence for nearly ten minutes, past a thousand eyes that dared not look directly at them. The further they went, the colder the architecture became. From gold-trimmed corridors of white marble and humming crystal panels, they descended into something else—something living. The very walls began to hum with invisible currents. The lights dimmed. Beneath Gary’s feet, the floors turned glassy, revealing coils of data like liquid lightning slithering through vast veins

The first two nights in the young man’s cell were... exactly the same. Empty. Miles remained stuck on his bed for 48 hours, but he did not sleep; not even once did he feel dizzy. There was so much going on in his head. The last of what remained of his family -Uncle Kai- had been killed. He needed to get to Wang island. Uncle Kai had told him that his mother applied for the program. What if, somehow, his mother was there? What if she weren’t dead and he could reunite with her? But there was no driving force for the young man. What if when he meets him mother –if he meets his mother, he ends up causing more chaos in her life like he did Lei? “Sir, your meal is ready. You haven’t touched your meal in days. Please…” the security guard said, pushing his tray of food through the bottom slot of his door. He was treated specially, being backed by the Wangs. Miles didn't answer. He barely blinked. It was the fifth day before he moved. He sat up slowly. Bones cracked. Muscles stiffen

Tap. Tap. Tap. A slow clap echoed from the doorway. A voice followed.“Well, well. Look who finally grew up.” The crowd turned. Eyes widened. Even the wounded tried to sit up. From the shadows stepped a man wrapped in white prison robes, surrounded by guards who didn’t even try to stop him. His hair was slicked back, and his hands were behind him like a king inspecting his court. Calm. Too calm. Miles froze. That voice. That breath. That rhythm. It couldn’t be. But oh—it was. “Hello, Miles,” Long said softly. The sound of his name in that voice… it broke something in Miles. Like glass cracking behind his eyes. Long Feng. Alive. Standing. Breathing. Wearing a smirk like he never left. The guards around him said nothing. Their faces were blank, almost… obedient. And that’s when it hit Miles. Long hadn’t escaped. He had been released. Or worse—transferred. Transferred to this prison facility. But why? How? Why now? And why him? He walked across the room like the floor belong

“Grandma, can you hear me?” “Grandma?” Gary lowered his head, tears flowing from his eyes. His grandmother was… gone. In a sense. She was no longer there. It was like staring at a memory, but nothing to show for it. His grandmother had been his everything. The one who helped him escape from men like his grandfather. “Why, Lola?” he asked between sobs. “Why did you not tell me the truth? Why did you lie to me about some… some sacrifice and gods bullshit? You could have told me about my grandfather. You could have told me that was why you took me away when I was a child. I would’ve understood. I would’ve protected you with my life.” Gary’s voice cracked, breaking like glass under weight. He sat beside her, holding her cold, limp hand, brushing his thumb across her knuckles like he used to do when he was little. Only this time, there was no warmth left in them. No soft squeeze in return. No whispered lullaby or silly proverb in Chinese. Just stillness. Just the humming machine