Chapter 64 Yiran
Yiran
Seagulls perched on rooftops and power lines, their squawks piercing the briny air. The sun was low on the horizon, and its
warm orange rays swept over the old seaport as Yiran followed Yuki down the waterfront. The Hybrid who had driven them here
stayed back in the sanitation van for some reason.
The reconstruction project that had been planned had fallen through, and the area had been left vacant for a while. Not long
after, the thrum of industry shifted east across the river, and the old cargo terminal and warehouses weathered from age and
rust. Someone had scooped up the land for cheap, and it appeared that someone might have been his father. In the fading light,
Yiran could see scorch marks left from the tragic fire twelve years ago.
The fire that was said to have consumed Song Liming.
Funny how fate worked. In some ways, this was where it had all started.
The warehouses around here seemed like a good place to hide prisoners; the Exorcists and cadets had to be here. Yiran’s disgust
with his father grew. The man had claimed consent was important, and yet he’d kidnapped the Exorcists to experiment on them.
Yiran wiped his clammy hands on his jeans, making sure his glove was still in his pocket. His plans had veered off course.
He wasn’t expecting to land here, and he had to improvise on his own. But Ash said there would be eyes on him outside the
dive bar, and he’d activated Zizi’s charm before he’d left. He didn’t know what the play was with the yinqi bombs, though.
Was his father planning an assault on the city? Yiran hoped his brother and friends had picked up the message he’d left in
the trash.
Yuki led him to the middle of the lot, where three warehouses nested in a row.
They entered the biggest one. Inside, crates and cargo containers formed a labyrinth of tall steel blocks and narrow lanes.
Old machinery sat in a corner, and fluorescent lights buzzed overhead from the high ceilings.
The lights flickered intermittently, casting pockets of shadow here and there.
Something about this place resonated in Yiran’s mind.
It looked uncomfortably similar to one of the Simulator programs at Xingshan Academy.
Agitated voices came from somewhere ahead.
“. . . We need to feed to maintain our strength.” It sounded like Celeste.
“I’m aware of that, but as I’ve said, our prisoners are not here for that purpose,” his father said. “What we all agreed on . . .
decision was not made unilaterally, and it will not change. They’re valuable for our tests.”
Other voices rang out, mostly in protest.
“Time to move to the next phase,” his father said above the din.
Yiran hurried after Yuki. What was the next phase? Was it the devices? What was his father planning?
“. . . time to discover what the spell can do to enhance those who can already wield magic. End of discussion.” His father
must have been talking about the kidnapped Exorcists.
They turned the corner.
Gathered in the open space, several Hybrids were clustered around Celeste. A smaller, separate group stood apart from them,
flanking Song Liming, who had his back to Yiran. Yiran wondered if lines were being drawn.
Celeste noticed him first. “Look who came crawling back to Daddy.”
“Missed you too, Cel.” Yiran blew her a kiss, and she growled in return.
“Stop antagonizing her,” Yuki hissed.
“I’m only returning her energy.” Yiran’s gall disappeared when he saw that his father was staring at him. He could sense nothing
of the man who had watched his mother from afar, or the father he’d once glimpsed. Was Song Liming glad to see his son? Yiran
wasn’t sure.
Yuki stepped forward. “He wasn’t followed. I scanned him earlier, and he’s clean.”
His lie was so smooth and convincing, Yiran wondered how many times the Hybrid had deceived his father. Liming’s eyes stayed on Yiran, as if he was trying to figure out the real reason why he was here.
The irony of it all was that Song Liming didn’t know his son. He’d never been present in Yiran’s life, and here he was, trying
to read him, to understand his true intent. Yiran wondered if his father had heard those old rumors about the bratty illegitimate
grandson of Song Wei, the selfish, reckless boy who’d tried to convince everyone that he lived as he pleased. He remembered
his father’s attitude in the assembly hall, how he’d seemed disappointed that his son did not possess a killer instinct. Song
Liming was a complicated man. But there was one thing Yiran knew he wanted.
Ignoring the Hybrids, Yiran sauntered to the middle. “Sorry I ran off. Too curious for my own good sometimes.” He smiled,
hoping to convey that he was perfectly fine about how things had gone down with his grandfather, and that he’d returned because
this was the side he had chosen. “I wish you’d told me what was going to happen—I wouldn’t have gone to the teahouse.”
His father’s lips curled. But it wasn’t a smile. “Maybe I should have.”
“See, boss?” Henry said good-naturedly. “Told you he’d return. The boy wants to be with his father.”
Thank goodness for Henry. Liming seemed to relax a little.
“You made quite an impression,” Henry went on. He mimed an explosion with his hands, mouthing, Poof.
Had Henry driven the getaway car at the teahouse? Yiran schooled his expression, keeping his anger in check.
I thought Song Wei’s progeny would be less . . . soft.
Yiran recalled the disappointment in his father’s voice again. The man understood power and spared no time for the weak. If
Yiran was going to be the heir, then he had to be the heir. He had one chance to convince his father that he was bold enough to do and try anything. What better way than a
display of his magic? Besides, he needed to send a signal to Zizi.
Making a snap decision, he pulled out his glove. The slinky metal glistened. He slipped it on and channeled a short, controlled burst of magic.
An enormous defensive shield appeared above him, glowing a strong bright crimson.
Tension thickened the air. Worried glances were exchanged as the Hybrids—even Henry—stepped into defensive stances. Yiran
heard the telltale crack of a Hybrid’s weapon growing from their spine. Only Celeste regarded him with anticipation. He knew
even the smallest move in the wrong direction would ignite things.
“Guys, chill. I’m just showing off to my father.” Yiran laughed easily, like he’d told a joke. Albeit a reckless one. He extinguished
his shield. “My magic has returned in full,” he said, addressing Liming directly. “Thanks, Dad.” It made him sick inside to
say that word.
“So it was as I thought,” his father said, with clinical satisfaction.
Horror bubbled up in Yiran, even as he kept his expression calm. Had his father not known for certain that Song Wei had used
the forbidden technique to suppress Yiran’s spirit core with his own? Had his death been a theory his father explored? A test?
“That must be the shield Henry was talking about,” Liming said. “He saw you that day. Said you did a magnificent job in protecting
one of the cadets—a girl with a whip. Pity you couldn’t save the boy.”
It took all of Yiran’s focus not to react as Eddy’s dying smile flashed in his mind. Yiran hadn’t known that Henry had been
there. Despite his Hybrid comrades’ struggles in the fight, Henry had hung back and watched them die. He’s a loyalist. Yiran hardened his heart. Henry wasn’t some nice guy. His friendliness was bestowed on Yiran because he was Song Liming’s
son.
Yiran had sent his signal to Zizi and prepared the hook. Now for the bait. He smiled at his father. “I discovered something
special about my abilities.”
Song Liming’s eyes glinted with interest immediately. “Tell me more.”