The street was still trembling.
Dust hung in the air like fog.
Concrete lay split in a jagged circle around them,
radiating out from Yin Lie's unconscious form.
His breathing was shallow—
too shallow—
each inhale trembling like a candle guttering in the wind.
Qin Mian held his face between her hands.
"Lie…
Lie, please… open your eyes…"
Nothing.
The blue flame along his spine flickered weakly.
The frost crawling over his arms cracked and re-formed,
like his body couldn't decide which state belonged to him.
He was slipping.
Fading.
The world was pushing him out again.
Kai took a cautious step forward.
"Move back. Let me help—"
But the moment she crossed the broken circle,
a ripple of distortion pushed her back—
as if the air itself refused her entry.
Kai's eyes widened.
"…He's generating a boundary field?"
"No," Qin Mian whispered, trembling.
"That's not him.
That's the world trying to isolate him."
Yin Lie's fingers twitched against her sleeve.
He whispered something faint.
"Mian…
don't… let go…"
Tears burned her eyes.
"I won't.
I'll stay.
Just stay with me. Please."
But his resonance spasmed violently.
A violent pulse shot from his chest—
light and shadow rippling outward.
A nearby building groaned,
metal beams bending unnaturally before snapping back.
Kai's visor cracked down the middle.
Hunters behind her staggered,
their knees buckling as his presence pressed them down.
Qin Mian clutched him closer.
"Lie—STOP—your body can't—!!"
But he wasn't choosing this.
He wasn't even conscious.
His power was behaving like a drowning creature,
thrashing for something solid to hold onto.
Something that could tether him.
Something like—
Her.
Qin Mian's breath shook violently.
"Lie… do you want me to anchor you?"
Another pulse burst outward, sharper than before.
The street shook.
Loose stones lifted off the ground.
His voice—barely a breath—escaped his lips:
"…Mian… anchor… me…"
Her heart nearly broke.
She pressed her forehead to his.
"Okay."
She exhaled, shaking, terrified.
"Okay, I'll do it.
I'll anchor you.
Hold on to me."
She didn't know what anchoring truly meant.
But her body did.
Her soul did.
Something deep inside her—
something older than her memories,
older than her name—
shifted awake.
The Awakening
Her heartbeat accelerated—
not from fear—
from resonance.
An invisible pressure rose from her chest,
warm at first,
then bright,
then horribly, breathtakingly vast.
Kai felt it instantly.
"Mian—
your resonance is—
No… this isn't Variant power…"
It wasn't.
It was Anchor authority.
A soft hum vibrated beneath Qin Mian's skin.
Her fingertips glowed faint blue—
but not like the unstable glow she'd glimpsed before.
This was steady.
Pure.
Defined.
Yin Lie's power bent toward it instinctively
like planets pulled by gravity.
Qin Mian sucked in a breath as the warmth filled her lungs.
Her voice trembled:
"I can… feel him."
The world listened.
Literal cracks in reality paused mid-split.
Dust suspended in air.
Ice froze perfectly still on Yin Lie's skin.
Everything stilled around the two of them.
Kai whispered, stunned:
"…This is a full Anchor field…"
But Qin Mian didn't hear her.
All she heard was Yin Lie's struggling pulse.
All she felt was his resonance tearing itself apart.
All she wanted was for him to stay.
"Lie…
come back to me.
Now."
Her voice carried like a spoken command—
soft but absolute.
A pulse of blue light burst from her chest,
spreading like a wave.
It washed over Yin Lie first—
soaking into his skin,
curling under his ribs,
finding the fractures in his resonance
and pulling them together.
He gasped—
a painful, broken inhale.
His spine arched.
But he didn't fall apart.
Because she was holding him together.
Literally.
Qin Mian cried out as the field expanded further—
forcing itself against the collapsing reality.
A dome of light bloomed around them,
transparent but shimmering,
like the air had condensed into a second skin.
The Hunters outside it staggered back.
"What—
What is this—?!
Our scanners are—!"
"Shut up," Kai snapped.
"Just watch."
The City Responds
Across District Twelve,
Variants jolted upright as a foreign warmth brushed across their consciousness.
The mechanic from earlier dropped to his knees.
His enhanced arm shook uncontrollably.
"…This…
this resonance…
it's soothing the instability…?"
In the hospital room,
the little girl blinked rapidly.
"The crying stopped," she whispered.
"He's not alone anymore."
Her mother swallowed.
"Honey… how do you know that…?"
The child smiled faintly.
"Because someone's holding him."
Back to Qin Mian
Her entire body burned.
Her hands shook violently.
But she held on.
The Anchor field tightened—
like a web weaving itself around Yin Lie's soul.
Her voice broke through the glow.
"Lie…
you come back to me right now…"
The blue light surged.
Yin Lie's breathing stuttered—
then steadied.
His fire dimmed.
His frost retracted.
The runaway Keystone glyphs slowed their wild spin.
His body collapsed fully against her,
but he no longer felt weightless or fading.
He felt…
present.
Rooted.
Real.
Qin Mian sobbed into his hair.
"Please… stay…
please stay…"
His lips parted——
a quiet, hoarse whisper escaping:
"…Mian…"
Her heart clenched.
"Yes—yes, I'm here—"
His fingers curled around her sleeve,
holding on as if she were the only solid thing left in the universe.
"Don't… let go."
"I won't."
Her arms wrapped around him like a second heartbeat.
And the Anchor field pulsed—
one final, gentle thrum—
before fading into the night.
Aftermath
The world resumed motion.
Dust fell.
Stones dropped.
Shadows retreated.
Yin Lie lay limp in her arms,
breathing—
truly breathing.
Alive.
Kai stepped slowly toward them,
her eyes wide with something mixed between awe and fear.
"Mian…"
Her voice was soft.
"Do you understand what you just did?"
Qin Mian shook her head, tears still falling.
"I just…
didn't want him to disappear."
Kai's lips parted.
"That wasn't instinct.
That was authority."
She looked at Yin Lie's unconscious form,
then at Qin Mian holding him like she held the fate of the world.
"You didn't anchor his power…"
Kai whispered.
"You anchored him."
Chapter 110 End