"And we can't put ourselves at risk either," Yike countered immediately.
"This isn't our problem."
"It is now," Tianyi replied firmly, her gaze unyielding as she met Yike's glare. "They're not just strangers anymore. Their survival might depend on us."
"But there are children here," Baihe said, her voice trembling slightly. "No one older than fifteen to protect them if we split up—or if something happens."
The room erupted into a chaotic mix of voices, each person grappling with the impossible decision before us.
The three men remained silent, their expressions grim as they listened to the debate.
I couldn't stay on the sidelines any longer. I stepped into the center of the room, raising my hands to silence the noise. "Enough," I said sharply.
The room quieted, all eyes turning to me. The weight of their gazes was suffocating, but I forced myself to stay composed.
"We need to think this through," I said. "If we're going to help, we can't just rush in blindly. We need a plan."
The scarred man exhaled heavily, his relief palpable. "If you do decide to help," he said, "we'll need to leave at first light."
"And if we don't?" Yike asked bluntly.
The man's gaze hardened. "Then you'll be leaving them to die."
Tianyi stepped closer, her expression resolute. "We can't live with that."
The rest of the evening was spent in tense deliberation.
Some of the students voiced their fears, their uncertainty about adding more people to our fragile group. Others expressed cautious optimism, their trust in Tianyi outweighing their doubts.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, we had reached a reluctant consensus. At first light, we would set out to find the people the three men had left behind.
Those who stayed would remain behind the safety of Baihe's second home, the youngest boys taking up the role of guardians in our absence.
As I prepared for the journey, my thoughts churned with uncertainty. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were walking into something far more dangerous than we realized.
But Tianyi's unwavering conviction gave me strength, her belief in the humanity of the strangers rekindling a hope I thought I'd lost.
The night passed in restless silence, the cabin's occupants lost in their own thoughts.
As the first rays of dawn broke through the trees, we gathered our supplies and prepared to leave.
The three men led the way, their movements purposeful despite the anxiety etched into their features. Tianyi stayed close, her quiet presence a reassuring anchor amidst the growing tension.
Yike grumbled under his breath, his skepticism unyielding, but even he seemed resigned to the path we had chosen.
Baihe caught my arm as we moved to depart, her expression soft but serious. "Be careful," she said.
I nodded, squeezing her hand before following the group into the woods.
The landscape shifted around us as we left Baihe's second home behind, the comforting shelter of trees gradually giving way to open spaces near the mountain's base.
The deserted outskirts of the city loomed ahead, lifeless and haunting, with jagged silhouettes of crumbled buildings against the horizon. Our footsteps on the broken asphalt were deliberately soft, each of us hyper-aware of the silence pressing in.
No one spoke. No one dared.
Our powers—the abilities we relied on to survive—were all but useless now.
Exhaustion from the earlier battle had drained us, leaving our strength a flickering ember instead of a raging fire.
The terrifying truth was that using them in our current state could destroy us, twisting us into the very things we fought so desperately to avoid: killing machines.
Creatures that had once been human, consumed by their unchecked power, stripped of everything but a ravenous, destructive instinct.
The thought alone was enough to send a shiver down my spine.
"Slow," Zichen whispered, his voice barely audible. He was at the front of the group, his hand raised to signal a halt.
We froze. Every muscle in my body tensed as I strained to listen.
There was nothing but the soft whisper of the wind over the cracked pavement. I glanced back at Baihe, who stood just behind me, her pale face a mask of concentration.
Tianyi was further back, her gaze scanning the area with unwavering focus. The three men we'd brought with us stayed near the rear, their expressions grim but determined.
Yike shifted uncomfortably, his hand tightening on the hilt of the makeshift blade he carried. "Do you hear something?" he asked, his voice no more than a breath.
Zichen didn't reply immediately. Instead, his eyes swept over the horizon, his posture rigid. "It's too quiet," he said finally. "Something's wrong."
My stomach sank. He was right.
The oppressive silence wasn't natural.
It was the kind that came before something terrible.
"Keep moving," Tianyi said softly, her tone calm but urgent. "We can't stay exposed like this big sisters and brothers."
We resumed our cautious pace, each step measured and deliberate. The road stretched endlessly before us, its surface cracked and uneven, weeds sprouting from the gaps. The ruins of the city seemed closer now, their dark forms casting long shadows in the fading light.
It was silent until one of the men, the scarred one, stumbled. The sudden sound of his foot scuffing against the pavement echoed far louder than it should have, slicing through the silence like a blade.
We all froze, the weight of the noise settling over us like a suffocating blanket.
"Careful," Yike hissed, his frustration palpable.
The man shot him a glare but said nothing, his lips pressed into a tight line. I saw the fear in his eyes, though—fear that mirrored my own. One misstep was all it would take to draw them out.
We pressed on, the tension between us thickening. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a reminder of how precarious our situation was.
When we reached an intersection, the road branching off in multiple directions. The scarred men held up a hand to stop us, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the area.
"Which way?" Tianyi asked, her voice steady but edged with concern.
The man hesitated, his eyes flicking between the options. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "Both paths could lead into the city, but—"
"But one might lead us straight into a trap," Yike finished grimly. "Great."