Chapter 40: The Situation is Dire

“Brother Ming, you’re finally awake.”

After days of talking to himself while watching over Xi Ming, Shi Chan couldn’t help but murmur, “We passed through the wormhole and arrived somewhere new, but I still don’t know where this place is. They don’t speak the common language here, and I haven’t had the chance to learn their language to communicate with them yet…”

However, Xi Ming couldn’t hear a single word of what Shi Chan was saying. His entire body was in excruciating pain, and his condition was far from good. Even worse, he soon realized—he couldn’t see.

All he could feel was the warmth of two arms wrapped around him. Yet, even attempting to lift his hand in response was beyond his strength.

“Brother Ming? Xi Ming?”

Shi Chan finally noticed something was wrong. Even though Xi Ming was never much of a talker, he would at least respond briefly.

After a moment of silence, Xi Ming slowly turned his head.

That small movement was enough for Shi Chan to realize the problem—Xi Ming’s eyes were unfocused. Raising a hand, he waved it in front of Xi Ming’s face and hesitantly asked, “…Brother Ming?”

Xi Ming could still perceive faint shifts in light and shadow, but beyond that, everything was a blur.

“I can’t see.” His voice barely came out, weak and hoarse.

The moment he spoke, he felt a sharp, tearing pain in his throat, accompanied by the metallic taste of blood. His body was so fragile now that even speaking reopened his wounds.

“You can’t see?”

Shi Chan’s bad premonition was confirmed, and his tone immediately became anxious. “I don’t have the strength to heal you right now. Brother Ming, do you feel anything else wrong? Let me recover a little, and I’ll treat you right away. Once you’re stable, we’ll find a hospital nearby.”

From the moment they arrived, Shi Chan had focused on stabilizing Xi Ming’s condition, healing his injuries just enough to keep him alive. For the past two days, he had spent all his energy purging the radiation from Xi Ming’s body, preventing further deterioration.

Shi Chan had been protected by his spiritual energy during their journey through the wormhole, shielding him from the radiation’s effects. Otherwise, he would have had to cleanse both of them, delaying their recovery even more.

But even after pouring all his spiritual energy into Xi Ming, his condition had shown no signs of improvement—and now, he was blind.

Xi Ming had no interest in responding.

Before this, even with his disabled legs, he had learned to live independently by compensating with his upper body. But now? He couldn’t even speak without pain. His entire body was weak, fragile, completely useless.

He was alive—but barely more than a breathing corpse.

And the people he hated most? They were still living well.

The empire was still thriving, celebrating as if nothing had happened.

The three factions that wanted him dead were probably eagerly waiting for news of his demise.

A deep, suffocating sense of rage and disgust churned in his chest.

Unwillingness. Despair. Resignation. Helplessness.

Why was it always him?

He was the one who had stopped the Zerg Queen—yet he was the one the world condemned.

He had fought across the galaxy to protect his people—yet his own people betrayed him.

He had endured unimaginable suffering, barely seeing a glimmer of hope for recovery—only to be struck down again by enemy fire, radiation destroying his body and his future.

A heavy weight of despair crushed his chest.

He wanted to scream, to release the fury inside him—but he didn’t even have the strength to make a sound.

The crushing emotions nearly suffocated him, pinning him down, grinding him to dust.

“Brother Ming, does it hurt a lot?”

Shi Chan could feel something was deeply wrong with Xi Ming. He was too silent, too still. Careful not to aggravate his injuries, Shi Chan held him gently, trying to comfort him.

“It’s okay. Just hold on a little longer. I can heal you. Everything will get better, I promise.”

But Xi Ming’s mind was drowning in darkness.

Shi Chan’s words blurred into meaningless noise, lost in the overwhelming tide of despair. He couldn’t escape the crushing reality—his broken, useless body meant he would never get his revenge.

“Brother Ming! Xi Ming!”

Shi Chan’s voice grew louder, but Xi Ming gave no response.

Even when they had crash-landed on an unfamiliar planet, unable to understand the locals, Shi Chan had remained calm. But now, seeing Xi Ming like this, he finally broke down.

“Xi Ming…”

Hot tears fell onto Xi Ming’s clothes, quickly soaking in without a sound.

Sadness.

And resentment.

Resentment for Xi Ming. Resentment for the life they had failed to have.

“It’s okay,” Shi Chan whispered, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He forced a smile, his voice light and steady.

“Brother Ming, don’t be like this. We still have a future. I’m still waiting for the day we complete our permanent bond.”

Once, he thought he could just casually choose any Alpha to spend his life with. But now, he knew—he had long since fallen, and he had fallen for Xi Ming.

“You’ve noticed by now, haven’t you? I have all sorts of skills. I can definitely heal you.”

Gently, he brushed Xi Ming’s forehead, pushing his stray hair aside. His warm eyes gazed down at him.

“Right now, you’re just being stubborn—this isn’t like you at all, Brother Ming.”

But Xi Ming remained completely unresponsive.

Shi Chan felt a dull ache in his heart. But one of them had to stay strong.

“You were unconscious for three days. You must be hungry. Let me feed you something—though the food here is different from what we’re used to. They gave us natural food, things we’ve never seen before.”

As he spoke, he suddenly remembered something. His tone remained casual, but he paused before continuing,

“Oh, and I almost forgot—you’ve been unconscious for three days. You probably need to use the restroom, right?”

Still, Xi Ming didn’t react.

Shi Chan sighed. “Forget it, I’ll take you there myself.”

With that, he bent down and lifted Xi Ming into his arms. “Good thing I’m… strong.”

From this angle, looking down at Xi Ming, Shi Chan couldn’t help but smile.

“Before, you always carried me. Now it’s my turn to carry you.”

As he stepped outside, he ran into Wu Hongyuan, who had come to deliver food and water.

“He’s awake?” Wu Hongyuan looked surprised to see Shi Chan carrying someone. “I told you before—patients need fresh air and sunlight. Where are you taking him?”

Realizing Shi Chan wasn’t fluent in their language, Wu Hongyuan slowed his speech.

“Where are you going? You don’t look like you can carry him around easily. Do you need a wheelchair?”

“Captain, isn’t that obvious? Of course they need one,” a soldier named Cheng San chimed in. “But we don’t have any wheelchairs here.”

“I submitted a request two days ago. Last night’s supply shipment should’ve included one. Go check.”

As Cheng San left to retrieve it, Shi Chan merely nodded at Wu Hongyuan before continuing toward the restroom.

For someone with limited mobility, many everyday tasks became humiliating.

Shi Chan, strong as he was, didn’t mind taking care of Xi Ming at all.

But Xi Ming—who had always been self-sufficient—subconsciously struggled against it.

Yet the sharp, searing pain and his utter lack of strength soon forced him to surrender. His struggles ceased, his self-respect shattered, leaving him utterly motionless.

Shi Chan’s heart clenched.

After a moment, he decided to keep talking, as he always did.

“Brother Ming, after this, let’s see if we can find a way to take a bath…”

His voice was gentle, steady, a lifeline anchoring them both.

And deep in his heart, he vowed—no matter what, he would heal Xi Ming.

Because unlike many others, Xi Ming still had him.

And as long as Shi Chan was here, there was still hope.