The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 165 - A royal Farian

"Where are we going, my love?" Dican asked softly, his voice gentle and loving.

Bian grinned at him, his expression sweet and innocent as he turned his head slightly.

"To the Wang family mansion," he whispered, voice light and casual. "We have a brother to kidnap."

Dican blinked slowly, unsure if he heard that right, but Bian was already leaning closer.

"Dican... you’re ready for this, right?" Bian’s voice dropped into something lower, quieter. His eyes gleamed with restrained excitement. "You have to kill him. And get his blood. And his bone marrow. And his jetti."

There was no hesitation in Bian’s tone. Just quiet thrill. Like he was talking about stealing treasure.

He couldn’t wait. He wanted to get his hands on those things—no, he needed to. Those rare materials, the essence of Jian’s strange biology, were powerful. Valuable. Maybe even enough to help him become something greater.

Maybe even... a Farian.

He swallowed, his grin twitching slightly.

For just a second, his thoughts drifted.

What if Jian is there?

A spark of something flickered in his chest. He tried to suppress it, but it lingered.

He couldn’t be sure... but if Jian had somehow survived all that... if he had lived through the explosion, the forest, the chaos...

He’d go back to the Wang mansion, wouldn’t he?

That dumb idiot of a brother—he loved his grandpa more than anything. He was always holding onto that old man’s sleeve, protecting him like he was made of glass. Bian still remembered the way Jian used to look at him, like he was the last thing anchoring him to this world.

And Bian—well, Bian had left the old man right on the road. Abandoned him like trash.

But he’d done it for a reason.

If Jian was alive, then he’d go back to look for him. That’s who Jian was. Even if he was half-dead, he’d crawl back to the mansion just to see if his grandpa was okay.

he clenched his fists on his lap, his nails digging into his skin.

Bian watched the inside of the craft light up as they launched into hyperspeed.

The screen ahead of him glowed with brilliant flashes, horizontal streaks of light stretching and darting across it like threads pulled taut.

They were moving—faster than sound, faster than thought.

He had never experienced this before. The humming of the ship, the faint vibration under his feet, the clean, cold air filtering into the cabin—it was almost surreal.

His heart was racing.

He leaned slightly forward, pressing his hand to the clear screen, feeling the cold surface as light whipped past them.

His lips curled into a small, involuntary smile.

Still, as the minutes passed, something began tugging at the edge of his mind.

His smile faded a little.

"...Dican," he murmured, voice low and casual as if he was asking about the weather. "Can I ask you something?"

Dican, who had been quietly piloting the craft, turned to him immediately with that devoted look in his eyes. "Yes, my love. Anything."

The response came fast, too fast, and far too full of eagerness.

Bian’s lips twitched again. He glanced down at his hands in his lap, fingers curling and uncurling. Then he looked back at the light-filled screen.

"...Will there be a difference," he asked slowly, carefully, "if a human turns into a Farian using a royal’s bone marrow?"

Dican blinked at the question but didn’t hesitate.

"There will be a huge difference," he said matter-of-factly, his tone calm and instructive, like a teacher explaining something basic.

Bian turned fully toward him now, face composed but heart racing.

"You see," Dican went on, "royal bloodlines are the ruling caste. We don’t just govern—we’re built differently. All Farians respond to royalty on a genetic level. If a human uses a royal’s bone marrow to transform, they don’t just become a Farian. They become a Farian royal."

Bian’s brows rose ever so slightly.

Royal...

Dican continued, "It also means they’ll inherit abilities. Powers that only that royal family line possesses. Like me—I can heal wounds. It’s rare, even among nobles. My brother has the ability to teleport short distances. It makes him extremely dangerous in close combat."

He paused to glance fondly at Bian, missing the way Bian’s fingers twitched again in his lap, tightening.

"But diluted noble families, like the Xing family, don’t have any abilities. They used to carry power, but it’s been bred out. What they do have is excellent blood quality. Because of the presence of Jedi in their ancestry."

Bian’s expression didn’t change. Not much.

But his heartbeat spiked.

His thoughts swirled violently behind calm eyes.

"So... Jian is the only one who can make me a royal, huh..."

Bian muttered the words under his breath, his voice low and bitter as his eyes stayed fixed on the glowing hyperspeed light trails outside the window. He bit his lip hard, a shallow line of blood surfacing on the soft skin. The sting helped him focus.

There weren’t many royal Farians. That fact had never felt more pressing than now. Dican... his stupid, overly-loving idiot of a prince. Then Dican’s brother—Jian. And the last one, a lesser-known prince who remained stationed far away on their home planet, unreachable for now.

That was it. Just three.

And out of those three, only two were within reach.

Bian glanced sideways at Dican, who was humming quietly as he steered the ship, unaware of the dark thoughts twisting beside him. There was no doubt—Dican was powerful, affectionate, and most importantly, already under his spell. Bian couldn’t risk losing that. He couldn’t touch Dican. At least, not yet. That would be killing the goose that laid golden eggs.

So that left him with only one choice.

Jian.

That idiot.

That rage-inducing, stubborn, bleeding-heart idiot.

Bian’s expression soured as he thought of his brother. His jaw tightened.

No matter what, he thought, I have to find Jian. I have to get him. If I want to become a royal Farian, if I want powers... if I want everything—

There was no other way.

Without Jian, he couldn’t transform.