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墨書 Inktalez
Just as James was engulfed by an indescribable sense of powerlessness, the student's demeanor suddenly shifted. The cold mockery and judgmental tone vanished, replaced by a calm yet undeniable strength. In his hands, he held a stack of books—James's past publications, the academic papers that had once brought him fame and recognition. Without hesitation, the student slammed the books down in front of James, the thud resonating on the table as if it were meant to awaken James's memories.
"Look at your past performance," the student said, his voice steady but imbued with a profound intensity, as if he were digging into the deepest parts of James's soul. "Your former arguments and words were like those of a king—proud and filled with unwavering confidence, stubborn yet marked by extreme obsession. Back then, you were full of vigor, standing atop the pinnacle of academia, looking down upon those ordinary souls without concealing your arrogance and pride."
James was taken aback. Instinctively, he reached for one of the books he had once authored. The cover had yellowed with age, bearing the marks of time. This was one of his proudest works, its words representing his thoughts and insights during his peak. Now it lay heavily before him, a symbol of his past glory but also a testament to his current predicament.
He silently opened the book, flipping through the pages filled with sentences he had meticulously crafted. Each word had once filled him with immense pride—a voice brimming with confidence that concealed a hint of arrogance. He remembered how elevated he felt while writing these words, as if he were the one holding the truth, fearless and unchallenged. His pen was sharp, filled with disdain and provocation towards academic rivals; this was a manifestation of his confidence and pride.
The phrases within shone with the brilliance of his past; he felt like Zhou Yu commanding an army at the Battle of Red Cliffs, flames consuming everything in their path. He recalled laughing at his opponents as if they were like the Wei army reduced to ashes in a sea of fire. He had never lost an argument in academia; those who opposed him were easily dismantled as if everything was under his control. His worldview was so powerful and unshakeable that he believed himself to be invincible, as if truth itself rested in his hands.
Yet now, as James perused those words, he felt none of the former pride or exhilaration. Each letter carried remnants of his past arrogance and hubris, reflecting back at him like a mirror showing his former self. He remembered standing atop the academic hall’s peak, looking down with disdain; now those words felt heavy in his hands, pressing down on him with an unusual weight. That pride seemed so distant now.
He had once been so confident—one might even say obsessive—openly dismissing others. But now he lacked that sharpness; he felt like an old wolf stripped of its teeth, unable to maintain its former grandeur. The pages trembled slightly in his grasp, as if even the paper mourned for the years and achievements that had slipped away from him. A deep contradiction welled within him—he had once been so powerful and arrogant, yet now he felt utterly powerless, as if these words no longer belonged to him but rather to a shadow of a past long gone.
The student's words echoed in his ears; those cold facts were inescapable. James closed his eyes, filled with loss and pain. He knew he could never return to those days filled with confidence and vigor; they had become distant memories.
Still flipping through the book in hand, his gaze lingered on those once-prized phrases while conflicting emotions consumed him. His former brilliance now seemed so far away—belonging to another era or another person entirely. Just as he spiraled into memories and self-doubt, a low voice from the student broke through his thoughts.
"Professor..." The student's voice turned unusually quiet, carrying an elusive eeriness as if gently caressing some hidden secret. "With your vast knowledge, I wonder if you've ever heard of... Blood Moon Cult?"
The mention struck like a chilling wind, causing James to involuntarily lift his head in confusion. He furrowed his brow, filled with uncertainty. Blood Moon Cult? This term did not resonate clearly within his academic memory. He had always focused on history and ancient civilizations and had some understanding of religions and secret sects; however, "Blood Moon Cult" had never crossed his scholarly path before. What was it? A lost sect? Or some bizarre religious group?
"I... don't understand what you're talking about," James replied hesitantly, unable to mask his confusion. His eyes remained fixed on the student before him while unease churned within him due to an unsettling chill lurking beneath the student's tone.
The student noticed James's confusion and a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, a smile that carried an elusive sense of mystery. His voice grew increasingly deep, laced with a strange allure, as if he were probing into James's innermost thoughts. "Professor, what if there were a power... that could grant you eternal life, keep your mind forever sharp, allow you to maintain perfection in both academia and spirit, even surpassing your former peak... would you be willing to give everything for it?"
James's heart jolted; the familiar temptation of power surged within him, igniting an uncontrollable flutter of anxiety. Eternal life? A perpetually clear mind? A perfect state of being? These words struck deeply at his most secret desires. He had once been at the pinnacle of academia, all-knowing and all-understanding, but with age came the decline of his body, the sluggishness of thought, and the waning of influence—everything was quietly crumbling.
He could not deny that the yearning for immortality, the desire to preserve his academic brilliance, and the pursuit of the eternal had never left his heart. This was his greatest fear—losing everything, being forgotten, being surpassed. And now, the student's words seemed like a key unlocking his innermost cravings.
A chill crept along James's spine, yet he struggled to maintain his composure, his gaze tinged with both caution and curiosity. "What are you talking about? This... how is it possible?" Though he attempted to sound rational, the turmoil within him was undeniable. He knew it sounded absurd; however, he also understood that he stood on the edge of an unknown precipice.
The student continued to wear that eerie smile, as if he had seen through James's deepest desires and fears. This topic was precisely the temptation that James found most irresistible.
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