The room was silent save for the faint dripping of water from the broken faucet in the corner. Lan Yuheng, Zhuang Niao, and Xing had finally returned to their modest lodging after the chaos in the Awakeners' Market. Blood still crusted on their armor, and the weight of the day hung over their shoulders like a mountain.
Lan Yuheng sat on the edge of his bed, exhausted but restless. His hand slipped into his pocket out of habit—then froze. His eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat.
"…No."
Zhuang Niao, busy cleaning his spear with a rag, looked up immediately. "Sir? What's wrong?"
Lan Yuheng's hands shook slightly as he patted his clothes again, searching desperately. "It's not here. The dog tag—it's gone."
"The what?" Zhuang Niao tilted his head.
"The military dog tag. My father's." Lan Yuheng's voice dropped to a low, tense growl. "It was one of the last things my parents left me. I always carry it. It's… part of me."
Zhuang Niao blinked, then frowned. "It must have fallen during the fight in the market. That chaos… things get lost."
"No." Lan Yuheng's jaw tightened. His eyes flickered with a rare vulnerability, quickly buried beneath his usual coldness. "That dog tag represents his rank in the People's Army. It's not just a piece of metal. It's his life. His memory. If I lose it…" He clenched his fists. "I can't lose it."
Zhuang Niao hesitated, then nodded firmly. "Then we'll find it. No matter what."
Lan Yuheng looked at Xing, who had been silently watching with his head cocked. "Xing."
The husky perked his ears.
"You know what I need."
Xing barked once, sharp and resolute, before lowering his nose to the ground. His nostrils flared as he sniffed Lan Yuheng's uniform where the faint trace of metal scent lingered. Then, without another moment wasted, Xing padded to the door.
"Go," Lan Yuheng ordered.
They followed Xing through the dim streets of Shanghai, where neon lights clashed with shadows. The air was heavy with the smell of roasted food, cheap liquor, and damp garbage. Nightlife thrummed around them, but the three figures cut through it like ghosts, ignoring everything but the trail.
After almost an hour, the neon faded. Buildings became broken shells, streets turned into muddy paths, and the noise of wealth was replaced by coughing, begging, and silence.
They had entered the slums of Shanghai.
Xing stopped suddenly, ears pricked, growling low. In front of him, a young boy stood in a ragged shirt, his body thin, his face dirty but his eyes sharp. In his hand, dangling loosely, was the glint of a military dog tag.
Lan Yuheng's heart lurched.
"…That's mine."
The boy noticed them and immediately stuffed the tag into his pocket. His eyes narrowed, his stance shifting like a stray cornered. "Back off. This is mine now."
Lan Yuheng stepped forward, forcing calm into his voice. "That dog tag—it's not just an object. It belonged to my father. I need it back."
The boy spat to the side. "Don't care. Found it fair and square. Finder's keepers."
Zhuang Niao clenched his jaw, his spear trembling slightly in his grip. He had never been good at patience. "Listen, brat. That's not some trinket you can just play with. Hand it over before I—"
"Zhuang!" Lan Yuheng's voice cut through, sharp. He shook his head, then crouched slightly to look the boy in the eye. "Please. That dog tag… it's all I have left of my parents. I'll trade you for it. Money. Food. Whatever you want."
The boy's eyes flickered at the mention of food, but he hardened his expression. "No."
Zhuang Niao growled, finally losing his temper. "Enough games." In one swift motion, he stepped forward and yanked the boy by the wrist, forcing the tag from his hand.
The boy fell to the ground, glaring with a mix of fury and helplessness. "Bastards! You think you can just take what you want?"
Lan Yuheng held the dog tag tightly, relief flooding his chest. But before he could speak, the boy's next words froze him.
"My father… he has one just like that."
The world seemed to still.
Lan Yuheng's head snapped toward the boy, his eyes wide. "What did you say?"
The boy spat blood from his lip, defiant. "I said, my father has one too. Same shape. Same words stamped on it."
Lan Yuheng's mind reeled. The People's Army… disbanded long ago. The remnants erased, their soldiers scattered, hunted, forgotten. His father's legacy was supposed to be buried with him. But now—
"Take me to him." Lan Yuheng's voice cracked slightly despite his efforts to keep it firm. He leaned down, gripping the boy's shoulders. "Your father—take me to him. Now."
The boy glared, suspicion warring with confusion. "…Why should I?"
Lan Yuheng swallowed hard, his voice raw. "Because if what you say is true, then your father might know the truth about mine. And I need to know."
For the first time, Zhuang Niao saw the unshakable Lan Yuheng falter—not to fear or pain, but to something deeper. Hope.
The boy studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "…Fine. But if you try to hurt him, I'll kill you."
Lan Yuheng almost smiled, though his chest felt like it was burning. "Lead the way."
The boy said nothing as he led the three of them deeper into the slums. His thin frame cut a determined path through broken alleyways, while Xing padded silently at Lan Yuheng's side, ears flicking at every whisper of movement.
The further they went, the more the city of Shanghai seemed like another world. Here, neon signs were replaced with shattered bulbs, food stalls replaced with rusting cans, and laughter replaced with hollow coughing. The air carried the acrid stench of oil, smoke, and unwashed bodies.
Lan Yuheng's eyes scanned every detail with his soldier's instinct, but in his heart he felt something heavier. These people—abandoned, forgotten, stripped of dignity. Could it be… some of them were once soldiers like his father?
Finally, the boy stopped in front of a shack patched together with sheet metal and planks. He turned, his chin raised stubbornly. "This is it."
Inside, the air was damp and stale, a mixture of mold and faint medicine. On a rickety chair by the window sat a man—legs missing from the knee down, his face weathered like cracked leather, his eyes sharp yet tired. A thin blanket covered the stumps, and a cane leaned against the wall.
When the boy entered, the man stirred. "Wei'er, you're back. Who—" His eyes landed on Lan Yuheng. His breath caught, and the cane clattered to the floor.
"…Yuchen?"
The voice trembled like an old scar torn open.
Lan Yuheng froze. Only a handful of people in the world still knew him by that name.
The man's eyes welled with tears, and for the first time in eight long years, he let them fall. "It's you… Luo Yuchen…"
The boy's eyes widened in shock. He had never seen his father cry—not when the pain of his missing legs flared, not when hunger gnawed at them. "Dad? Who is he? Why are you crying?"
The man's hands shook as he reached forward, as if afraid the figure in front of him might vanish. "Wei'er… this… this is Luo Yuchen. Son of General Luo Tianyi, grandson of Marshal Luo Jinhai. Do you understand? His family… once carried the backbone of the People's Army!"
The boy blinked, looking at Lan Yuheng with new eyes. "…You're saying he's… like us?"
Lan Yuheng finally stepped forward, his throat tight. He bowed deeply, something he had never done lightly. "…Captain Duan Renfeng. It's been too long."
At the name, Zhuang Niao's head jerked up in shock. "Sir… you know this man?"
Lan Yuheng nodded, slowly lifting the dog tag in his hand. "Captain Duan was one of my father's most trusted comrades. Back in Border City 17."
Duan Renfeng tried to rise, but his broken body betrayed him. He clenched the armrest, struggling to his feet with only one leg, before collapsing again. Tears ran freely down his face. "Forgive me… I failed you that day. I failed Luo Tianyi, Bai Qingyan… and you."
"Stop." Lan Yuheng stepped forward, kneeling beside him. His hand gripped the old soldier's arm firmly. "You didn't fail. You saved lives in Border City 17. Without you, thousands of civilians would have died in that outbreak. I heard the stories even in Harbin."
Duan Wei looked between them, his young face overwhelmed. "Dad… tell me. Tell me everything."
Duan Renfeng exhaled shakily, his gaze distant as memories clawed their way back.
"At Border city 17, We were the patrol unit. Just scouts, really. But when the beasts came…" Duan Renfeng's voice cracked. "It wasn't a breach. It was an eruption. The ground itself split, and they poured out like hell itself had opened.
"People screamed. Families fled with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Luo Tianyi—your father—he was there. So was Bai Qingyan. They held the line so we could evacuate the civilians." His hands shook as he spoke. "Your father carried children in his arms while firing with his other hand. He bled but never stopped.
"I… I lost these legs covering the retreat. We bought time, but not enough. The city was overrun. We lost thousands that day. And when the smoke cleared, the People's Army was blamed."
Lan Yuheng's fists clenched. "Blamed? For saving lives?"
Duan Renfeng gave a bitter laugh. "The Federation doesn't like loose ends. The People's Army wasn't under their direct control. After Border City 17 fell, they declared us failures. They said we disobeyed orders, that we brought disaster. They disbanded us overnight. Stripped ranks. Stamped out our name. We became… nothing."
His eyes dimmed. "Six hundred of us survived those first years. Six hundred men and women who had given everything. Now…" He shook his head. "Less than two hundred remain. And most… like me… are crippled, living here in the shadows of the city we once swore to protect."
Silence filled the room.
Zhuang Niao gritted his teeth, his knuckles white on his spear. "Bastards… To discard soldiers like that…"
Lan Yuheng swallowed the rising storm in his chest. "I always thought… after Harbin, after Beijing… that the People's Army was gone. Dead." He shook his head slowly. "But you survived."
Duan Renfeng looked at him, tears glistening. "Barely. But we never forgot. Not Tianyi. Not Qingyan. And not you, Yuchen. We thought you died in Harbin…"
"I almost did," Lan Yuheng admitted softly. "After my parents fell, I survived on the streets. Cold, hungry, hunted. Eventually, I made it to Beijing. To my grandfather." His gaze hardened. "He gave me purpose. And now… I've taken the name Lan Yuheng, to train, to fight, to grow strong. But inside… I'm still Luo Yuchen."
Duan Wei's voice trembled. "Dad… so all this time… you weren't just a cripple in the slums. You were… a captain. A hero."
Duan Renfeng smiled faintly, brushing a hand over his son's hair. "No hero, boy. Just a man who did his duty."
Lan Yuheng's gaze sharpened. "Captain Duan. Tell me. The other veterans—where are they?"
Duan Renfeng sighed. "Scattered. Some drink away their ghosts. Some take mercenary jobs. A few… still cling to the old discipline, training quietly, waiting for a chance that never comes."
"Why live in slums? Why not join guilds?" Zhuang Niao asked.
The old man's face hardened. "Because guilds have no honor. They hire and discard like tools. And the Federation blacklisted us after the disbandment. We're branded as unstable, dangerous. No one would take us."
Lan Yuheng stood slowly, the weight of his father's dog tag in his hand like a burning brand. His eyes blazed with a quiet fire.
"Then listen to me. The People's Army may be gone. But its spirit is not. I carry Luo Tianyi's blood. I carry Luo Jinhai's legacy. And I swear… I will not let our name be erased."
He turned to Duan Renfeng, voice firm. "I am building something new. A guild, yes—but not like the others. Scarletwing will rise, not just as mercenaries, but as brothers-in-arms. A home for those abandoned. A banner for those who still remember honor."
Zhuang Niao's eyes widened. Even Xing barked once, as if in agreement.
Duan Renfeng's lips trembled, and he bowed his head. "Yuchen… for years, I thought the People's Army's flame was gone. But seeing you… hearing your words… it burns again."
He reached into a drawer with shaking hands, pulling out a box. Inside were faded insignias, worn but still recognizable—the crest of the People's Army.
He pressed it into Lan Yuheng's hands. "Take it. If you mean what you say… then carry this. And when the time comes, the veterans will follow you."
Lan Yuheng closed his fingers around it, his voice low but unshakable. "Then let it be so. The Federation discarded us. The guilds fear us. But we will rise, from the slums, from the shadows. Scarletwing will carry the will of the People's Army into the new age."
And for the first time in years, Duan Renfeng smiled through his tears.