Chapter 916: Going There

Then Hua spoke, her voice was soft, as if she were stating a fact she had struggled hard to make herself believe.

"... that direction."

She probably intended to say "that direction is my home," but she didn't finish.

Perhaps because saying it would mean she acknowledged that the fireball's impact point was her home, that saying it would mean she admitted that the thing that fell from the sky struck the place where her father—always coughing, always stubbornly refusing to see a doctor, always secretly slipping pocket money into her backpack—was.

If she stays silent, other possibilities remain.

Even if that possibility no longer exists in anyone's eyes.

Kaluoer reached out from the back seat, clumsily grasping Hua's hand.

She said nothing, because when Kaluoer experiences a brain short circuit, her mouth won't open; this phenomenon is extremely rare, yet it was truly happening at that moment.

Heimu turned from the co‑driver seat to look at Hua's profile.

The firelight outside the window cast interlaced orange patches on her face, rendering her profile especially clear.

Heimu could feel the fluctuation at the distant impact point; there was a force there.

An energy density completely different from that of the Collapse Beast.

Scorching, heavy, a kind of uncomfortable pressure, even the surrounding air was visibly warping.

She slightly furrowed her brows, and the lazy curve of her mouth unusually tightened.

Something's off.

"Kesi Mo."

Her voice wasn't loud, but the casual tone had been completely withdrawn, replaced by a concise command, "You take Ge Lei Xiu and Kaluoer on a detour and evacuate. Head north, to the high ground across the river. There's a shelter signal there."

Kesi Mo's helmet turned toward her, the warm orange pattern on the visor flashing twice—her way of indicating "received."

Her armored left hand lifted from the steering wheel, replying succinctly with a single word: "Madam?"

"I and Hua are going there."

Heimu tilted his head, gestured toward the distant sea of fire, then pushed open the co‑driver's door.

The heat wave outside poured in the instant she opened the door.

Kaluoer stuck half her body out of the back seat, one hand still holding Hua's hand, the other reaching forward trying to grab Heimu's sleeve.

"Wait, wait, wait a moment! Teacher! It's on fire over there! Things are still falling from the sky! You two go over—I'm weak but I can—"

"You're in the car."

Heimu turned his head back and glanced at Kaluoer.

The look held no threat, but after Kaluoer saw the light in those dark‑purple eyes, the words in her mouth automatically swallowed back.

"Stay in the car and help me look after Ge Lei Xiu. She's quiet, but she needs someone's help."

This Task description could be called utterly nonsensical: a sixteen‑year‑old martial girl being asked to look after a several‑ten‑thousand‑year‑old girl sounds exactly like a lie adults tell children.

But Kaluoer, after a half‑second pause, instinctively nodded, then released the hand that had tried to pull her sleeve.

"Alright, alright. I'll look after Ge Lei Xiu. Leave it to me."

Kaluoer solemnly nodded, sat back in the rear seat, shifted herself next to Ge Lei Xiu, and with her bandaged hand carefully held down the lifted corner of the sketchbook.

Ge Lei Xiu lifted her pale‑purple eyes to look at her, then nodded and continued flipping through the sketchbook.

Meanwhile, Hua had already pushed open the right‑hand door, her shoes striking the ground littered with gravel and broken glass, producing a fine crisp sound.

She didn't look back at the people in the car, but fixed her gaze on the sky ahead, reddened by the firelight, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Her ash‑blue low ponytail swayed gently in the wind raised by the heat wave, and the hem of her school uniform fluttered with a rustling sound.

Her silhouette looked small, standing among the overturned vehicle wreckage lining the street and the rolling thick smoke in the distance; a seventeen‑year‑old girl's figure was far from towering.

But her back was straight, a bit stubborn.

Heimu walked to the roadside and stopped beside the wreckage of a flipped truck.

She glanced down at the sidewalk beneath the truck, already smashed to fragments, then turned her gaze to the distant sea of fire and rolling thick smoke, a hint of calculation flashing in her dark‑purple eyes.

Then she extended her hand, lightly tapping in the void.

The air before her warped for an instant, as if some invisible thing had been rearranged in that moment.

Then the purple‑black heavy motorcycle silently appeared on the open ground beside the truck wreckage.

It was still that motorcycle. A helmet hung on the handlebars.

Set against the Apocalyptic Wasteland, it looked handsome as if it had crossed over from another dimension.

Hua heard the movement, turned her head, and was startled when she saw the motorcycle.

She looked at the motorcycle, then at Heimu, and in her ice‑blue eyes flashed three lines of thought: "Where did this bike come from," "It wasn't there a moment ago," "Teacher, who exactly are you?"

But she didn't ask a single word.

Because the distant firelight danced in her eyes, because the alarm was still sounding, because the direction of her father's place was still burning.

Hua now had no spare thoughts to deal with the mystery surrounding the teacher.

She simply walked over and took the helmet with a hand still dusted.

"Can you ride?"

Heimu mounted the motorcycle, twisted the key, and the engine let out a low, steady roar.

Hua gave no answer.

She directly leapt onto the rear seat, her hands stiffly gripping Heimu's waist, the movement so awkward it was clear it was her first time on a motorcycle seat; she probably had never even touched a bike before.

Her fingers lingered a second on the side of Heimu's teacher uniform waist, then moved forward a few inches, finally gently wrapping around his waist.

Heimu could feel her fingertips trembling.

"Hold on tight, don't let go."

Heimu turned his head aside, his voice a bit lighter than usual.

She pulled down the helmet visor, gripped the handlebars with both hands, and twisted the throttle.

The motorcycle's rear wheel spun in place for one rotation, the tire screeching sharply against the ground, then leaving a deep black tire mark on the road.

The body shot forward, racing at extreme speed toward the brightest blaze. The wind roared in his ears, pulling the Heimu hanging on the hair outside the helmet straight.

The scenery on both sides of the street turned into blurred ribbons that rushed backward, the Collapse Beast's roar being drowned out by the engine's roar, and the alarm stretched in his ears into a continuous hum.

Hua, behind her, held her waist tightly, his face buried in the teacher's uniform, his eyes blown by the wind almost unable to open, but she kept watching.

Through eyes blurred by tears and dried by the wind, she watched the orange‑red sea of light ahead growing ever nearer and ever more scorching.

Something was waiting for them there.