Chapter 339 - The Monster

Wuming could not believe that he was feeling anxiety. They stopped over for more gas. They had been warned that it would be the last station for a while and they might ran out. They got crappy food from the store and waited as the others were filling gas cans.

Addison noticed that he was barely chewing his food. He was leaning against the bumper of the car. "Are you okay?"

Wuming took another look at the sun. "I'm surprised the sun hasn't set yet." It was still high up in the sky. 

Addison knew he was just trying to avoid the conversation. "We're going to find Lok. Don't worry."

There was just something that he was feeling. Something that was wrong. If running would've been faster, he would've already started running. Sitting down on the car and waiting to get to Pilgrim's Hollow just made him feel quite useless. He wanted to move.

Wuming chose not to answer. He didn't want to feed his inner demons. "I wish we got more food with us."

Addison took the hint and turned her attention to the sad chicken sandwich. "Me too. There's barely meat in mine."

"Mine's just dressing."

Addison laughed and Wuming returned his smile. She wondered, Wuming wasn't that much affectionate with his brothers. He usually found something stupid to say to or about them. But deep inside, he was still their big brother and he cared about them at a whole different level.

Addison sighed again. But she had to admit, Wuming was not the best person. He also had lapses in judgments. One example had to be why he hadn't told his brothers what he saw the day their house had been destroyed.

They had been hard on trying to find their mother and Wuming had been holding the issue at arm's length. Addison thought he just didn't want to get too into it in the fear that he would only get disappointed when things would not work the way they thought it would. She was scared for him too.

But little did his brothers knew that all his protesting actually had roots.

On the day of the fire, Wuming had been going around the house—mainly, he was in the bas.e.m.e.nt, trying to find something to be busy with. He was looking for old weapons and thought he might find some there. Clown promised that he would teach him how to sharpen dull tools with a whetstone, so he had been trying to gather a few to try on.

He had just opened his first box when his mother opened the door and jerked back in surprise to find him there.

Wuming did not mind. He was starting to have that effect on people. Most of the time, he could barely hear the sound of his own feet on the ground. Months of training did its magic on him. "Hey, Mother," he greeted nonchalantly. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Wuming raised an eyebrow at her. "What are YOU doing here?"

His mother looked around, like trying to find something to answer him with, but he took her hesitation as her nervousness. As the days passed, Wuming and his mother interacted less and less. He was spending more time on the free area in the bas.e.m.e.nt, hitting or throwing someone on the floor.

Wuming got the thought that his mother had been growing jumpy around him. He was not even offended. He knew what kind of monster he was turning into and he was welcoming it with open arms.

His mother finally answered. "I'm trying to find some spare rags. Our maids are indisposed at the moment in the kitchen. I had to get them for myself."

Wuming turned his attention back on the box. He chose this one first because it looked heavy. He could not help the smile on his lips as he dug through and found some short swords in it.

He was not that fond of guns. They were too loud. He wanted something quiet… his next targets would not even know that he was coming for them.

"Are you going to grill something?" he asked when he smelled the air.

"Sorry?" his mother asked as she turned to one of the cabinets.

"You smell like gas." It was not something strange. His mother had been a waitress and a kitchen crew before she had been indulged in this luxurious life. But even then, she refused to let go of cooking. 

"Ah, yeah," his mother smiled at him over her shoulder as pulled out old towels from the cabinet. "We're going to have some grilled pork for lunch. Be sure that you're upstairs by then. Be careful, you might cut yourself."

Wuming only grunted a response and didn't look at his mother until she was already on her way out the door. Everything was well in his mind until he saw the burnt end of her dress. He was about to ask about it but the door was already closed.

Not an hour later, the house was already on fire.

Wuming was still in the bas.e.m.e.nt. The only thing that was in his mind was that there should be nothing blocking the door. There wasn't. He raised his neckline to cover his nose. The walls were licked by fire and he had never experienced more heat. It was as if he was going to melt. He jumped over the breaking stairs and up to his brothers' rooms. Qing Chen was already outside.

Then he heard screaming from the end of the hallway. Qing Lok, he thought. He rushed, avoiding the falling pieces of the ceiling. "Hold a sec!" he shouted, hoping his brother would hear him and tried the knob but it was too hot to twist.

It took him three tries before he successfully kicked the door open. He found Qing Lok's distressed face, he was shirtless and was sweaty. "Come on, let's go!"

Then they raced down the hallway back to the stairs, only to find that the front door was already in flames and their wooden staircases was being eaten by the fire.

They were about to head to the other hallway, knowing they they would have to jump from the second floor. Qing Lok already sped off and Wuming was about to but then he saw a flurry of clothes at the first floor, just from the corner of his eyes.

"Mother?!" he shouted.

There was no answered.

"Wei! Let's go!" shouted Qing Lok and Wuming put the thought of his mother still in the house under a hallucination. Maybe he already inhaled too much smoke. He raced down the hallway and found that Qing Lok was waiting for him.

"Come here, I'm going to jump first," he said and looked at the huge window with the multi-colored glass. "Mind your elbows, okay? And protect your face. I'll try to catch you."

Qing Lok only nodded.

There was no time. Wuming ran and threw himself against the window, curling upon himself on the blow. He felt that he was on air and then he was tumbling on the grass. His shoulder took much of the damage but he knew it would be fine. He stood up again. "Lok, come on!" he shouted.

A moment later, Qing Lok was also in the air Wuming stood in the way to soften his brother's fall. They both fell down the soft ground.

Wuming got back to his feet and dragged his youngest brother to the front of the house before he was even on both his feet.

That was when he saw Qing Chen—holding none other then their mother's stupid painting. "Where's Mother?!" he asked but his brother could not answer him and was just looking at their burning house.

He already knew the answer. He was not hallucinating earlier. His mother was still in the house.

He made a move to go back but a firefighter stood in front of him. "Get out of my way," he said.

The firefighter only pressed a hand on his chest. "Calm down, kid."

Wuming was not going to let his mother die in there! He swiped the firefighter's hand off him. Almost immediately, there was another firefighter, pushing him down on the ground until he was sitting.

Wuming had never felt more helpless than at that moment. He was watching his house burn.

Later on, they got his mother's body. She didn't look like she was breathing. She looked dead anyway.

It never occurred to him that she might've been the one that started the fire until recently. She must have some guts setting the house on fire knowing that her children was inside.

Maybe she had planned to kill them. It was no wonder that Qing Chen was already out of the house. He was her favorite.

Burn the monster and the crybaby, right?

He didn't want to think so ill of his mother. But whatelse was he supposed to think about? He was certain that she was the one that set the house on fire. Besides, they didn't really have that much evidence against the gardener in the first place. They just wanted to kill someone just for the sake of closure.

Wuming believed it all now. He didn't know if she was still alive. But one thing was for sure, she didn't die in that fire.

"You know what I think?" Wuming asked Addison as he chewed the last bit of his sandwich. "My mother's like me."

"What do you mean?"

"She's an assassin."