Mr. Wang agreed to Mr. Han's suggestion and turned to Han Feng and Wang Hao, saying, "Let's go, let's go digest our food together."

The streetlights in the residential area cast soft halos of light in the night fog. Four men walked slowly along the green belt, their footsteps particularly clear in the silence. Mr. Han and Mr. Wang walked in front, while the two young men lagged slightly behind.

"Do you remember that fight they had in elementary school?" Han's father chuckled, pointing behind him. "Wang Hao pushed Han Feng into the sandpit over a plastic robot."

Mr. Wang chuckled: "So, the first thing your kid did after crawling out wasn't to cry, but to pick up the robot and clean it up."

"Back then, their competitive nature really showed," Mr. Han shook his head. "Now look at them, they've both joined the army."

The two fathers smiled at each other, the wrinkles at the corners of their eyes particularly noticeable under the light. Han Feng and Wang Hao, listening from behind, felt their ears burning; those embarrassing childhood stories being brought up were more chilling than facing a monster.

The streetlights cast long and short shadows. Mr. Han slowed his pace, walking alongside Mr. Wang: "Old Wang, sometimes it feels like children grow up in the blink of an eye."

Mr. Wang nodded: "That's right. Yesterday he was still pestering me to buy a toy gun, and today he's already..." He paused and didn't finish his sentence.

Han's father chimed in, "He can already carry things much heavier than toy guns."

A subtle silence fell for a moment. Suddenly, the chirping of cicadas became clear, and in the distance, the muffled thud of a vehicle driving over a speed bump could be heard.

"Old Han," Wang's father suddenly spoke up, "is there something you want to say?"

Han's father stopped and turned to face his old friend. The streetlights shone down on him, casting deep shadows on his face.

"The path the children are walking... is quite different from what we took back then." Mr. Han's voice was soft, yet like a pebble thrown into calm water. "Some things are beyond the control of our generation."

Mr. Wang's brows furrowed slowly: "What do you mean?"

"It means..." Han's father took a deep breath, "The world they face is more complex and more dangerous than we imagine."

Wang Hao instinctively straightened up, while Han Feng silently clenched his fists. The most difficult part was about to begin.

"Danger?" Mr. Wang's gaze swept over the two young men. "Aren't they in the army? Is there something I don't know...?"

Han's father raised his hand to interrupt him: "I can't go into the specific details. But I can tell you this—" He solemnly placed his hand on his old friend's shoulder, "What they did was to protect ordinary people like us, so we can continue to live peaceful lives."

The night breeze rustled through the treetops. Wang's father's gaze lingered on Wang Hao for a long time before he finally let out a long sigh.

"I should have guessed," he said with a wry smile. "Xiao Hao's eyes are different this time. And the aura he exudes is somewhat similar to yours when you came back from your military service."

Wang Hao looked up and said, "Dad, I didn't mean to hide it."

"Your mother and I both know." Mr. Wang took out a cigarette pack, then put it back. "She said no matter what her son becomes, he'll always be our son."

Han Feng felt a lump in his throat. He recalled his parents' reaction when they learned the truth—there was no fear, only deep worry and restrained support.

"Old Wang," Han's father said softly, "some people are born to bear more burdens. All we can do... is not become their stumbling block."

Mr. Wang suddenly punched Mr. Han in the chest: "Don't give me that! It seems you already knew about this connection. Are you going to say it's a secret again...?"

Han's father grasped his old friend's fist and smiled knowingly.

"Old Wang," Han's father said, "there's no point in hiding anything now."

"Hmm?" the father replied.

"Do you know which unit I was in when I was in the army? That unit was directly under the command of the Number One, and it mainly fought against some supernatural forces. Moreover, it didn't have any unit designation, and you couldn't even find its existence in the military region," Han's father said calmly. "And now, the two children are in the same unit I was in before."

Even the night breeze seemed to stand still at that moment. Mr. Wang's gaze shifted back and forth between the soft white light in Han Feng's palm and his old friend's serious face, his wrinkles deepening with astonishment.

"Supernatural forces...direct command by Number One..." he murmured, repeating as if trying to process this information beyond his comprehension. "Old Han, those 'special missions' you had back then, were they...?"

Han's father nodded heavily: "So the scar on my leg wasn't from a training accident; it was left from dealing with some...thing on the Yunnan border."

Mr. Wang took a deep drag on his cigarette, the embers flickering in the night. He looked at his son, Wang Hao, who instinctively straightened his back—a conditioned reflex honed through years of training.

"So now..." Mr. Wang's voice trembled slightly, "you also have to face those...things?"

The white light in Han Feng's palm slowly swirled, condensing into the shape of a star: "It's not just threats from Blue Star," he said softly, "there are also some... beings from outside."

The cigarette in Mr. Wang's hand fell to the ground, sending up a few sparks. He stared blankly at the ball of light that defied the laws of physics, suddenly reaching out to touch it, then pulling his hand back halfway.

"This isn't magic..." He finally realized something, his voice hoarse, "It's real...superpower?"

"It's power cultivated through practice," Han Feng corrected. The sphere of light split into countless points of light in his palm, then converged like a galaxy. "It's like the internal energy in martial arts novels, but closer to the scientific explanation of energy utilization."

Wang Hao added at the opportune moment, "Dad, do you remember that nightmare I used to have when I was little? The one where I was chased by a dark shadow." Seeing his father nod, he continued, "That wasn't a dream; it was my innate sensitivity to dark energy. Later, Brother Feng helped me control this ability."

A long silence followed. Mr. Wang bent down, picked up the extinguished cigarette butt, and threw it into the trash can. He did this simple task three times before succeeding.

"How dangerous is it?" he suddenly asked, his voice unusually calm.

Han Feng and Wang Hao exchanged a glance, the latter taking a deep breath: "More than ten times stronger than conventional special forces. We're not facing human enemies, but... all sorts of supernatural beings, even alien creatures."

Mr. Wang clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white. But unexpectedly, he didn't explode; instead, he slowly sat down on the bench and covered his face with his hands.

"Old Wang..." Han's father pressed his old friend's shoulder with concern.

"Let me have some peace and quiet," a muffled voice escaped from between his fingers.

A few barks echoed in the distance, making the night seem even more silent. Han Feng withdrew his star power and stood side by side with Wang Hao, like two children awaiting judgment.