Chapter 107

Yang Yi’s heart skipped a beat; she knew he had noticed the anomaly in her body. He must have sensed something was off when he saved her—her recovery speed was too fast.

Yet she was still deeply grateful to him. He hadn’t abandoned her; he had arranged for a doctor and waited until she recovered before sending her away—such kindness was more than enough.

Yang Yi stopped Miranda from speaking for her and smiled, “Thank you for taking me in these past few days. I’m truly grateful, but I really must leave now.”

She looked earnestly at Miranda, “I love the name Frlisa. Thank you, Miranda.” She awkwardly embraced the old woman, a pang of bitterness rising in her chest.

Miranda’s perfume was a faint scent of orchid grass; the warm fragrance drifted into Yang Yi’s nostrils from her collar, momentarily evoking a sense of familiarity—yet she knew it was merely an illusion.

If my mother had been her, how happy I would have been… A fleeting thought surfaced in her mind, and she laughed at herself for such a ridiculous idea.

“Miranda, I’ll miss you,” she said.

She smiled, turned, and walked out of the village garden, as solitary as when she had arrived.

“Frlisa, wait!” Miranda called out to her figure, her gaze shifting from gentle to stern as she turned to Thomas, “Mr. Thomas!”

“We can’t keep her. Her origins are mysterious, and she carries many secrets…” Thomas offered an unusually brief explanation.

“I know. I’m not senile,” Miranda said. “But this girl isn’t evil—I can tell.”

Thomas shrugged, unconvinced.

“Regardless, you can’t let a young, single woman walk out into the world with not even a penny on her! Where is your gentlemanly conduct, Thomas?” Miranda said sharply.

Thomas raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine! Damn gentlemanly conduct! I’ll give her money and take her somewhere safe—wherever she wants to go, I’ll take her!” He stormed into the house, Timms scurrying after him with his tail between his legs.

Yang Yi didn’t know whether to stay or go, restless and uneasy.

Before she arrived, their relationship had been harmonious—she had even thought it resembled a kind mother and a rebellious son. Now, they were arguing over her, and she felt immense guilt.

Miranda took her hand. “Let Thomas see you off. Do you have anywhere to go?”

Yang Yi hurried to reply, “Yes, yes. Thank you, Miranda. Please don’t trouble yourself because of me…”

Thomas emerged with a sour expression. “Let’s go!” He cut her off, grabbing his car keys and wallet and heading for the garage.

Yang Yi had no choice but to get in the car and sit in the back seat. In the rearview mirror, the old woman’s figure shrank and blurred.

Only when she was out of sight did she turn back and realize Thomas had been silently watching her through the rearview mirror all along.

“So—where are you going?” Thomas asked, his tone flat as he finally looked away.

Yang Yi opened her mouth, then fell silent.

She knew nothing about this place, and she had no identity. Going to a city would only make her more conspicuous. The best outcome would be being mistaken for an illegal immigrant; the worst, being captured by some underground organization for human experiments… Besides, she liked the countryside here—quiet, beautiful.

Most importantly, the fragment of the demon god within her constantly threatened her existence. If this were her final moments, she wanted only to be alone, quiet, and face death in solitude.

Thomas’s gaze, tinged with mockery, fixed on her through the rearview mirror. He said nothing, didn’t press.

Losing her great power seemed to have sparked some insight. Suddenly, an idea surfaced silently: Now, at least, she could prove her fearlessness.

She despised her own cowardice. If she could be braver now, when her telekinesis was nearly nonexistent, than she had been when she possessed great power, wouldn’t that prove she wasn’t cowardly at all?

She wanted to prove to herself—she was not excellent because of great power; great power was excellent because of her!

The arrogance of this thought startled even her.

Yet, like a spark that could ignite a prairie fire, once this tiny flame appeared, it could not be stopped. A wild passion surged through her, urging immediate action—no hesitation, no second thoughts, no looking back, no reflection, not even doubt!

Go kill that black panther. The one that nearly killed her.

A plain, ordinary Earth creature—not an alien, not possessing supernatural abilities—only sharp claws and teeth, and agile limbs. More importantly, it had dared to humiliate her when she had lost her powers, dealt her a setback—she must reclaim her dignity with her own hands!

This idea fascinated her like a mystery, and she conjured several reasons why she must do it:

First, she no longer had powerful telekinesis. She belonged entirely to herself—yes, she had never thought that great power belonged to her, but to something else: a responsibility, an obligation, a mission, some metaphysical thing for all humanity. She had merely been a temporary custodian, a user, forbidden from abuse—like holding a position she had been thrust into by accident.

If she still had that power, she would never dare risk herself personally, because back then, her life wasn’t just hers—it involved others. Now, she belonged entirely to herself. She had stepped down from that position. She was free.

If she died in the black panther’s claws, it would be only her loss—not anyone else’s.

Second, she had to prove herself. Prove she possessed courage—the courage of an ordinary person who, knowing tigers lurked ahead, still walked toward the mountain. Prove she wasn’t a coward! Before, even when afraid, her great power had given her confidence.

Now, she had no confidence. She was merely an ordinary person, at best one whose wounds healed faster than usual. Wasn’t this the perfect chance to prove her courage? Courage isn’t about knowing you’ll win—it’s about charging forward even when you might lose.

Third… she racked her brain for more reasons, but found none. But it didn’t matter—these two were enough.

She grew excited, suddenly convinced this wasn’t a mindless impulse, but a thoroughly considered decision.

Yet, amid this surge of passion, a tiny bubble quietly rose in the corner of her mind: When she had great power, she had been timid, afraid to use it freely; now that she had lost it, she had become arrogant, foolishly trying to prove that great power was great because of her. How ridiculous.

But then, that tiny bubble vanished quickly.

“Just drop me off near the forest,” she said, her voice carrying an odd joy.

Thomas was surprised, then seemed to realize something. He sneered, asked no questions, and turned the steering wheel toward the forest.

Near the forest’s edge, thick shrubbery blocked further vehicle passage.

“Mr. Thomas, thank you again for your help. Goodbye!”

Fueled by inner excitement, Yang Yi thanked Thomas, stepped out of the car, and walked straight into the dense forest.

“Hey, miss!” A brown curly head popped out the window. Thomas emphasized again, “You really have nothing else to say?”

Yang Yi turned back, hesitated, then, bewildered, praised him with a questioning tone: “You’re really a good man!?”

Thomas looked as if he’d swallowed a fly. He waved his hand. “Go, go! Good luck, miss!”

Yang Yi hurried into the forest, as if summoned by something.

In the distant, dark green shade, the figure in the white knit sweater grew faint. Thomas had watched coldly, but finally couldn’t help shouting: “Don’t forget—there’s a black panther in there! And other wild animals!”

The slender figure waved from afar; the last speck of white vanished.

Thomas frowned, a hint of concern crossing his face, then sneered and muttered, “Just a ploy.”

Yet he didn’t start the car and leave. Instead, he turned on the car stereo. Beethoven’s “Pathétique” began to play, its passionate melody flowing through the cabin.

He leaned back, arms crossed, half-closing his eyes, occasionally glancing at the forest, waiting for that figure to finally succumb to fear and turn back.