The world was chaos—whirring blades, crying wind, and a sky that screamed with metal. Yet amid it all, Jian stood steady.
Li Wang was on his knees, crumpled with regret, his shoulders shaking under the weight of what he had done. He looked like a boy drowning in a sea of guilt, gasping for breath beneath waves of mistakes that could never be undone.
But Jian… Jian had no time to pity him.
His eyes, once soft and unsure, now glinted with fire.
He turned his gaze toward the chopper, narrowing it with a quiet rage. The roar of its engine vibrated in his ribs, but he didn't flinch. Slowly, he leaned down, fingers closing around a jagged rock near his foot. The weight of it settled in his palm.
"I'm not that same young boy who's scared of everything," Jian muttered.
With a single movement—clean, practiced—he drew back his arm and hurled the rock straight at the machine overhead.
The rock spun, a blur against the blinding sky. It hit the spinning rotors dead-on.
CRACK!
