The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 237 - Dragged through hell

Xing Yu sat in the quiet of the main house, his body leaning slightly against the armrest as he met the eyes of the man seated across from him. He didn’t trust this place—didn’t trust Wang Bushen, nor the strangely pristine condition of the compound they’d been allowed to stay in. But more than anything, he hated that he’d been forced to send Jian and the others out to scout the secret base alone. If not for the fever burning through his system, sapping every ounce of strength and leaving his muscles heavy with fatigue, he would’ve gone himself.

Suppressing a cough that threatened to rise, Xing Yu reached for the teacup set before him. His fingers trembled slightly as he lifted it to his lips, but his expression remained calm, sharp eyes studying Wang Bushen’s composed face.

"Thank you," he said, voice rough but controlled, "for magnanimously allowing me safety. I wonder, though—how is it that you’re keeping your compound so pest-free?" His tone was light, but there was a clear edge beneath it as he gently swirled the tea in the cup, the faint aroma of herbs rising.

Wang Bushen’s smile came easily, warm and almost childlike, as if the question amused him. "Won’t you know, Mister Yu," he replied, tilting his head. "It’s your kind’s tech that we’re using."

Xing’s hand paused mid-swirl. His gaze darkened. "So you knew," he said slowly.

Wang Bushen didn’t bother to feign ignorance. His smile widened with a glint of smug satisfaction. "Yes. A long time now, in fact."

He leaned forward, fingers lightly tapping the wooden table between them.

"Do you know, Mister Yu... all you Farians resonate on the same frequency. It’s quite poetic, really. The first time I met you, I knew. But the signals you were giving off then were... overwhelming. Frankly, I was scared to even try targeting you."

He sat back in his chair and sighed, as if recounting an old regret. Then he leaned forward again, eyes gleaming with quiet malice.

"But now... now you look like you’ve lost your radiance."

The smile faded into something darker. His hand reached into his coat, and when it emerged, a compact particle gun was clenched in his grip. He didn’t aim it yet—just placed it lazily on the table between them, his finger tapping along the barrel like he was testing Xing’s reaction.

Xing Yu’s face barely changed. He let out a soft scoff, and delicately set the teacup down with a click.

"If that little thing could kill me," he said, almost amused, "I would’ve been dead a thousand times over."

Wang Bushen’s laughter echoed through the room, sharp and sudden.

"So you’re not scared of a puny human, eh? I’ll show you fear."

He stood quickly, the chair screeching against the wooden floor as he lifted the particle gun and pointed it directly at Xing’s forehead.

Xing didn’t flinch. He merely lifted his chin and said in a quiet, steady voice, "Say, you human... Why do you think I came here alone?"

Wang Bushen froze.

The smile disappeared.

The room turned still.

"...You..." he murmured, eyes narrowing. "Why did you come here?"

There was a pause. A silence that stretched.

And then the tremor came.

At first, it was just a subtle vibration in the floorboards, like the beat of something massive waking far beneath the earth. But within seconds, it grew—a low, ominous rumble that made the walls groan and the windows rattle.

Wang Bushen’s face turned pale.

His head jerked toward the door. "No," he whispered, stumbling backward. "No—NO!"

He shot up from his chair and bolted out of the house, nearly knocking the wooden door off its hinges as he ran.

Xing Yu’s eyes narrowed. Gritting his teeth against the pounding heat in his skull, he pushed himself up and ran after him.

The moment they stepped out into the open yard, they felt it fully.

The ground beneath their feet buckled violently.

A hairline crack burst open between them, and in the next instant, the earth split apart with a deafening roar.

There was no time to react. No time to leap away or shout a warning.

The ground gave way.

And both men plummeted into the yawning chasm below.

Xing Yu coughed violently, the dust in his lungs clinging stubbornly even as he forced himself upright. His limbs trembled under his weight, fever still burning behind his eyes, but he steadied himself with a hand on the cracked stone wall.

The air was thick with grit and the metallic tang of blood.

His sharp eyes swept his surroundings.

Rows of metal bars stretched out along a dim corridor, their rusted edges glinting faintly in the fractured light streaming from the collapsed ceiling above. Rubble and beams lay scattered across the floor, some smoldering faintly from the impact. It wasn’t just any underground bunker—they had fallen into a holding area. A prison.

A lab.

Xing’s eyes darkened.

Beyond the bars of the neighboring cells, shadowed figures twitched or lay crumpled, huddled into themselves like broken dolls. He stepped forward, ignoring the sting of his muscles and the gritty blood on his tongue. One man lay on his side, golden and crimson liquid leaking from jagged gashes across his chest. Another woman sat slack against the wall, her limbs contorted in unnatural angles, eyes glazed.

Their bodies... riddled with wounds that shimmered unnaturally under the dim lights.

Some of them still breathed.

Some didn’t.

Xing’s hand clenched at his side.

So... they’d been experimenting on humans too.

The rage that bloomed in his chest was cold and blistering. Silent, merciless.

He turned slowly, brushing the debris from his shoulders with a calm that barely contained the fury roiling beneath.

A pained groan snapped his attention.

There, partially buried under a fallen slab, was Wang Bushen.

The man’s legs were pinned beneath a thick piece of concrete, blood seeping through his pant legs as he clawed at the ground helplessly.

"Help! Someone! Damn it, HELP!" he screamed, panic pitching his voice into a shrill echo.

Xing approached wordlessly.

Wang’s eyes caught the figure looming closer and widened with dread. "You—!" he gasped. "You did this! What have you done! My research—everything—it’s ruined! YOU’VE RUINED IT!"

He was crying now, sputtering with anger and fear, barely coherent.

Xing knelt, silent.

With surprising ease, he gripped the chunk of concrete and shifted it aside, dragging Wang’s broken body free of the debris. The human gasped in pain, clutching at his ruined legs, his cries echoing down the corridor.

But when he looked up—really looked—he fell silent.

Xing Yu stood over him.

There was no emotion on his face.

Only that gaze.

A gaze like cold steel and quiet death.

His silver hair, tousled from the fall, gleamed under the dim, flickering lights. Dust clung to his robe in patches, but his presence felt undiminished—if anything, it was amplified. An unseen weight pressed down on the room like gravity had doubled, tripled.

Wang Bushen felt it at once.

He couldn’t breathe.

His chest caved in with invisible force, and a cold sweat broke out over his face as he began to shake. It was like something was sitting on his lungs, pressing, crushing, suffocating every thought in his head.

Xing Yu hadn’t moved.

He didn’t have to.

Wang Bushen gasped, trembling. "S-Stop... please..." he whispered, dragging himself backward, scraping his broken legs along the floor in a trail of blood.

Xing’s gaze followed him with the indifference of an executioner.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t have to.

His presence alone was enough to make the world feel smaller, tighter, like the walls themselves were bowing inward.

Wang Bushen whimpered, backing up until he hit the base of one of the broken cells and could go no further.

He looked up again and met those grey eyes—cold, eternal, merciless.

And he realized something far more terrifying than defeat:

This man.... He could kill him so easily... Yet still he didn’t. That could only mean one thing.

This man wanted to torture him alive.

Another tremor rolled through the floor—low, deep, and more violent than the last.

Chunks of debris loosened from the shattered ceiling and rained down with loud crashes. Dust billowed in choking clouds. Somewhere in the distance, metal screamed as something heavy collapsed, echoing like the dying groan of a buried beast.

Xing Yu didn’t flinch.

He turned back toward Wang Bushen, who had curled into himself beneath the bars of the ruined cell, whimpering through the pain. His legs were twisted, blood caking the floor beneath him, and yet, despite everything, he still seemed to cling to the delusion that this nightmare could somehow be undone.

"Please..." Wang wheezed, voice hoarse. "It’s all gone already, haven’t you—"

Xing Yu seized him by the collar and yanked him forward without a word. The broken man let out a strangled scream, arms flailing as his shattered legs dragged behind him, scraping against the jagged floor with sickening wet sounds.

Xing’s voice was like ice. "Tell me," he said, "what else are you hiding here?"

Wang Bushen tried to push against him, but his fingers found no grip, only blood and grit. "N-Nothing! I swear—th-this was just a holding zone, not the main—there’s nothing else—please!"

Xing didn’t slow. He pulled the man down the corridor like dead weight, boots crunching over broken glass and bone fragments. The corridor began to curve slightly, lit only by faint emergency lights pulsing red along the wall. As they rounded the bend, a reinforced door stood at the far end. Beside it, a retinal and fingerprint scanner flickered weakly—still functional, despite the destruction.

Another tremor rocked the underground bunker, more violent than before. Sparks burst from the ceiling. A pipe overhead hissed steam. Xing’s grip never loosened.

He dragged Wang Bushen to the scanner and slammed him against the panel. The man cried out again, body limp and slick with sweat and blood.

"Please," he sobbed. "It’s collapsing—we’ll be buried if we stay—let me go, I’ll help you, I’ll tell you everything—just stop—please—"

Xing ignored the pleas.

He lifted the man bodily with one hand and forced his head forward.

The scanner whirred.

RECOGNIZED. RETINAL MATCH.

He grabbed Wang’s trembling hand next and shoved it into the fingerprint pad.

MATCH CONFIRMED.

The door beeped and hissed as its heavy locks disengaged with a metallic grind. The lift door slid open, revealing a small but secure chamber inside, lit by harsh white light.

Wang Bushen began shaking uncontrollably. "No—no, don’t go down there—please, not there—it’s not stable—please—!"

Xing threw him inside without a word. The man collapsed against the wall, sobbing, fingers dragging through the blood on his shirt.

Xing Yu stepped into the lift beside him as another tremor rocked the ground beneath. The lights in the ceiling flickered ominously.

The doors sealed shut behind them with a final clang.

The lift began to descend—slowly—deep into the earth.

Wang Bushen curled up in the corner, whispering like a broken record. "It was just research... we were just trying to understand... they volunteered... we didn’t know it would turn out like that... it was all for humanity..."

Xing Yu said nothing.

He simply stared ahead, arms crossed, as the elevator plunged deeper.

Unmoved. Unforgiving. Unrelenting.