Nora Vance looked at Uncle Jed, her voice filled with surprise.
"Uncle Jed, you knew my father?"
Uncle Jed waved a dismissive hand. "Go on, get Dot so water."
Seeing his reluctance to speak further, Nora carefully picked up the cup. But as she turned, her foot slipped.
She stumbled, and half the water sloshed out onto the steel floor.
"That brat..."
Uncle Jed was already looking out the window. Ethan was out there, inching forward one tiny step at a ti.
The steel plate beneath his feet crawled across the sand at a glacial pace.
Nora quickly carried the remaining water over and helped Dot drink. Dot swallowed greedily, as if she hadn’t had a drop in days.
When Nora turned to look out the window again, Ethan had stripped off his upper garnt and draped it over his neck. His pale, almost luminous skin caught the last rays of sunlight.
It was a shade of white Nora couldn’t help but envy.
He’d been here for days, always wrapped in sun-protective clothing. His head hidden under the hood of his suit, his face obscured by a black veil. She realized she had never actually seen his face.
Now, even just seeing his back—slender but lined with defined muscles—she felt a flicker of curiosity. He was lean, but the shape of his shoulders and arms looked strong enough to rival Uncle Jed’s build.
Though Ethan’s bare back wasn’t enough to stir any romantic thoughts in a woman still mourning her husband, she still wondered what his face looked like beneath that veil.
And then she rembered last night, when he had removed the parasites from her body.
Her face flushed involuntarily.
"Mommy... why is your face so red? Are you sick too?"
Dot’s small voice cut through the silence.
Nora’s eyes widened. "Dot—"
Uncle Jed turned, glanced at Nora’s burning cheeks, then looked outside at Ethan.
"Heh heh..." he chuckled under his breath.
"Uncle Jed..." Nora wished the ground would swallow her whole. Unfortunately, she was standing on a steel plate several inches thick.
Uncle Jed stifled his laughter, returning his gaze outside with a faint smile. Ethan was learning faster than he’d expected.
He already had so sense of the unified force Jed had tried to teach him.
"Hurry up—are you a damn turtle?" Uncle Jed bellowed through the open window.
Ethan, in the distance, stiffened.
’Damn it...’
When Uncle Jed decided to train soone, he turned into a completely different person. Before, he’d seed easygoing. Now, he was a drill sergeant.
But just now, Ethan had felt that elusive sensation of power flowing in perfect coordination.
The strength he unleashed in that mont was almost equal to a normal Bear Form attack—and he hadn’t even transford. He was still in human form.
For a man who had been called worthless in two lifetis, grasping that understanding felt like a revelation.
How could he not be excited? And at the sa ti, he couldn’t help acknowledging Uncle Jed’s skill.
Back when they practiced on flat ground, they could at least use friction to drag heavy loads. But now, the ground beneath the steel plate was nothing but soft sand.
Trying to pull two tons of tal—plus tents, solar panels, the air conditioning unit—without leverage or friction seed impossible.
Yet Ethan rembered waking up yesterday sprawled across this sa steel plate. Uncle Jed had dragged it along as if it weighed nothing.
’If he can do it, why can’t I?’
From morning until now, nearly eight hours later, he hadn’t moved more than a few yards. But he refused to stop. He hadn’t eaten a bite or drunk a drop of water.
He kept searching for that feeling Uncle Jed described—every muscle aligned in a single, unified force.
When Jed started yelling at him to hurry up, frustration welled up in Ethan’s chest.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to move faster—he simply couldn’t. If he forced it, his strength scattered, and the plate wouldn’t budge.
So every step ca from his entire being. And every inch forward felt like a victory. Finally, as the first sun set, Uncle Jed called out.
"Enough!"
Thud.
Ethan collapsed face-first into the sand, too exhausted to lift his head. He lay there like a dead dog, not caring if he ever stood again.
Uncle Jed walked over and gave him a firm kick in the ribs.
"Up. Follow ."
Groaning, Ethan forced himself upright and trailed after Jed.
Jed demonstrated three slow, fluid movents. They reminded Ethan vaguely of yoga, though sohow even more uncomfortable.
There were only three poses, but they took until the remaining eight suns set to complete.
Strangely, as he moved, his muscles began to tingle and itch. When they finally finished, the soreness hadn’t disappeared completely—but it was better.
Nora approached with two bowls of instant noodles she’d prepared. Ethan’s heart sank when he realized she was only holding two.
’Wait—what about mine?’
These were his supplies!’
"What are you staring at?" Uncle Jed snapped. "Get the scorpion out. Dot’s waiting to eat. You’re not seriously going to let her live on junk food, are you?"
Ethan blinked, his mind slow to process it.
Uncle Jed could actually tell instant noodles were junk food?
Sighing, he didn’t even bother arguing. His throat felt like it had been scorched dry by the nine suns.
He uncapped a bottle of water and chugged it down. Then, with a thought, he summoned a massive scorpion.
A military machete appeared in his hand. He wondered whether the blade would even cut through the thing’s armor.
Uncle Jed took the machete and propped the scorpion’s claw up. With a couple of precise prying motions, the basin-sized claw snapped off.
"Grill it with the shell on," he instructed. "If you peel it first, the at will burn as soon as it hits the fire."
Ethan accepted the claw, but Jed wasn’t finished. He hopped onto the scorpion’s back and pulled out his worn leather water pouch.
At the base of the tail stinger, he carefully worked the machete’s tip under a narrow seam.
After a mont, a few clear drops of liquid trickled out, releasing a faint, sweet fragrance.
Ethan’s eyes widened. "Holy hell... you made drink that stuff?"
Jed glanced down, smirking.
"You didn’t know? This is a treasure. A scorpion this size only has five or six drops."
He tapped the segnt just above the stinger with the blade.
"The real poison’s here. You, last ti, drank three mouthfuls. Do you have any idea how long it took to collect that? This stuff saves lives, boy. Don’t waste it."
Ethan swallowed. He didn’t need Jed to explain—he already knew it was potent.
Back when they fought the sand worms, Jed had survived hours of brutal fighting on this alone.
He set up the grill, planning to prepare the scorpion claws like grilled oysters—vermicelli, minced garlic, a few seasonings.
He placed the claws on the grate, boiled water to soak the noodles, and began chopping garlic.
While the at cooked, he checked the ti and frowned. He wasn’t sure how long it needed.
"Nora," he called, "can you tell if it’s ready?"
She ca over to inspect.
"Needs a little longer," she said. Then she stood beside him, watching his hands work.
"What’s this seasoning for? And this one?"
Ethan explained each step, and Nora jotted everything down.
Finally, she looked up.
"You should rest for a bit. I’ll finish grilling."
He hesitated only a second before nodding. Even unseasoned, scorpion at tasted fine.
He doubted she could ruin it too badly.
Stretching out on the steel plate, he let himself relax. Above him, the stars burned bright against the darkness.
His eyelids drifted shut.
He dread of Lyla.
She was in his arms, her skin smooth under his fingers. He drew her hand to his chest, guiding her touch, feeling her warmth.
He pulled her hand lower. She resisted slightly, but not enough to stop him.
"Ethan... Ethan, don’t... Ethan... wake up... hey..."
Her voice sounded off.
Usually, in dreams like this, Lyla called him Ethie—and if he tried to push further, she’d smack him.
But this ti, even though she struggled, she didn’t hit him.
And... why did Lyla sll like minced garlic?
His eyes flew open.
Nora was kneeling beside him, biting her lip. A flush of anger and sothing more complicated colored her face.
In her left hand, she still held the giant scorpion claw. The aroma of garlic wafted off it.
And her right hand...
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