Chapter 9: The Big Feet

A sharp, ear-splitting sonic boom ripped through the sky. Wang Xiaoqiang slammed on the brakes, his eyes darting to the skylight above. Below him, countless black specks plummeted from the clouds like falling stars. The mountains surrounding him trembled. Far off, the city of Da’an suddenly seemed to shrink—then came a series of violent explosions, one after another. Transparent, spherical shockwaves rippled outward and vanished into thin air. Tiny, dark mushroom clouds erupted skyward, one after another. In the distance, a colossal mushroom cloud bloomed, its blinding light illuminating the entire horizon. Then came the thunderous roar, rolling in like a storm.

Tears welled up instantly in Xiaoqiang’s eyes. A wave of terror and icy dread washed over him. He stumbled out of the car, dazed and disoriented, scanning the landscape. Everywhere he looked—distant hills, valleys, towns—were mushroom clouds rising like funeral pyres. The world had ended.

Then—a jarring anomaly caught his eye. Not far away, a small township remained untouched. No craters. No smoke. No destruction. His heart leapt. Hope flared. He scrambled back into the car, took the nearest exit ramp, pulled up an offline navigation map, plotted a route around Da’an, and sped toward Xingfu Town.

The roads were empty. No people. No cars. Everyone must’ve fled to shelters or basements the moment the alarm sounded.

Alone on the open highway, Xiaoqiang drove without traffic, the silence pressing in like a weight.

By 7:20 a.m., he finally reached Xingfu Town. The streets were a mess—rotten vegetables, torn clothes, scattered shoes—evidence of a panicked escape. But no signs of attack. No blood. No fire. No rubble.

Xiaoqiang cracked the window, finally able to breathe. He eased the car forward toward the orphanage.

Just past the next intersection, a left turn—then, sudden noise: *clang, clang, clang.* Metal clanging against iron bars. A harsh voice barked, “Old Li! You better think straight! You got a few kids there—what can they eat? Hand us some food. If we ever need help later, we’ll be happy to return the favor.”

Li院长 was furious. “We don’t have extra! There are dozens of children here—go find somewhere else!”

Old Wang shouted, “No more supplies for you. Get lost!”

One guy leaned against the fence, trying to climb over—only to find it all barbed wire. He grunted, gave up, and dropped back down.

The bald kid smirked coldly. “If you don’t give us something today…”

He didn’t finish.

A screech tore through the air—tires screaming on asphalt. They turned just in time to see a white Elora rocketing toward them, engine roaring, tires smoking. The road wasn’t wide enough. Three men dove sideways, but misjudged their roll—plummeting into the roadside drainage ditch.

The car skidded to a halt with a long, smoking tire mark. The smell of burnt rubber hung thick in the air.

Xiaoqiang opened the door slowly, stepped out with calm precision, then looked at the three sprawled in the ditch. “Ohhh,” he said, feigning concern. “My brakes… must’ve failed. Sorry about that. Really sorry.”

They glared at him, venom in their eyes. “Failed? You tried to run us over!”

Xiaoqiang stepped closer, towering over them. “Now, now—don’t blame the innocent. I’m a law-abiding citizen. You say that again, I’ll sue you for slander.” He tilted his head. “So… what’re you doing here? Tell me.”

The three exchanged nervous glances. These weren’t just petty thugs—they were local troublemakers, known for fights, scams, theft, and every kind of petty crime under the sun. They’d clashed with Xiaoqiang before. And they knew his reputation: smiling face, quiet demeanor, but when he snapped—*he broke bones*.

“We just wanted some food,” one mumbled. “We’re not stealing. We’re paying. It’s not like the stores aren’t empty already.”

Xiaoqiang took another step. His eyes narrowed. A flicker of danger sparked in them. “Let me get this straight—you came here to steal food from *children*?” He didn’t wait for an answer. One swift motion—his massive 44-size boot connected with the first man’s ribs. The guy flew backward.

Even though there were three of them, Xiaoqiang was built like a tank—broad-shouldered, powerful, relentless. With a single shove, he knocked one down. Then another. He kept swinging, shouting, “You bastards! You’ve got dicks, right? So why steal from kids? You want to make yourselves look good? Let me teach you a lesson!”

They scrambled, screaming, “You wait—we’ll get you!”—and vanished around the corner in seconds.

Inside the orphanage, Li院长 and Old Wang exhaled deeply. Old Wang rushed to unlock the chain, swung the gate wide open. Xiaoqiang reversed the car smoothly into the yard with a single motion.

“Did you get everything I asked for?” Xiaoqiang asked as soon as he stepped out.

“All bought,” Old Wang replied. “Six carts total. Everything useful from the supermarket—almost everything. Got three big packs of medicine too.”

“Good enough,” Xiaoqiang said. “We’ll make do. Don’t know how long this war’ll last.” He began unloading boxes, crates, bags.

Inside, Xiaoqiang’s mother and Yingzi heard the commotion and came out to help. Suddenly, the mood shifted. A sense of order returned. The fear lessened. They had a leader.

After the last box was brought in, Xiaoqiang turned toward his own house. “I’ll go grab a few things,” he said, then disappeared through the front door.

Two or three minutes passed. Then he returned—two steel pipes, each two meters long and five centimeters thick, slung over his shoulder, and a large tool case in his arms.

He locked the orphanage gate just as another sonic boom echoed across the sky. Xiaoqiang grabbed his parents by the arms and yanked them toward the basement. They barely had time to react before he shoved them inside.

*Clang!* The heavy metal lid slammed shut. Darkness swallowed the room.

Panting breaths filled the silence. Then, a tiny, trembling voice, choked with tears: “Qiangge… will we die?”

Xiaoqiang shrugged. “Not a chance. Bombs target military bases, supply depots, crowded cities—places with value. This town? Less than 60,000 people. Nobody wastes a bomb on a place like this. Our lives aren’t worth that much.”

His words calmed them. The kids, surprisingly, weren’t scared. They didn’t understand. Fear only came from seeing adults panic. What was happening outside? To them, it was just noise. Confusion. Mystery.

“Remember,” Xiaoqiang said, voice firm. “When you hear the explosions—*open your mouths immediately*. Got it?”

The kids chorused back, “Got it, Qiangge!”

Before the words even faded—*boom, boom, boom, boom!*—the ground shook violently. The walls groaned. Dust rained from the ceiling. The basement trembled. Heads pounded. Everyone instinctively opened their mouths.

And the world screamed.