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墨書 Inktalez
Xuan Yang's heart felt as if it were gripped by a frenzied beast, pounding violently and emitting a series of dull, rapid thuds. The sound of his heartbeat was deafening, like thunder rumbling in the distance or the booming of war drums being struck with ferocity. He widened his Dual Eyes, staring fixedly at the shadow before him that bore an uncanny resemblance to himself, his body trembling involuntarily as his mind went blank in an instant.
At that moment, countless questions surged through his mind like a tidal wave: Who am I? Am I truly the legendary Puppet Master? But if that were the case, then who is this mysterious shadow before me? Why does it share my face? The more Xuan Yang thought, the more confused he became, filled with a sense of bewilderment and fear.
The shadow stood there as if it had climbed up from an unfathomable abyss, surrounded by an oppressive aura of darkness so thick it was almost suffocating.
It remained motionless, yet its mere presence was enough to instill an endless sense of pressure. Especially on its face, identical to Xuan Yang's, there lingered an indescribable, eerie smile—half-smirk, half-cry—as if mocking Xuan Yang's ignorance and fragility.
At that moment, the shadow's deep and chilling voice echoed once more, sounding as though it came from the deepest depths of hell. It carried a hint of coldness, whispering like a ghost in Xuan Yang's mind, reverberating endlessly.
Each word struck like a razor-sharp dagger, mercilessly piercing into the depths of his soul, causing him immense pain and pushing him to the brink of collapse.
Xuan Yang felt dizzy, as if his very soul were being torn apart. He wanted to argue back, to deny it all, but he found himself unable to speak. Because he sensed that what the shadow said was true.
The Shadow Puppet within him indeed had some connection to this shadow. This connection filled him with fear but also excitement. The fear stemmed from his ignorance about what this shadow truly was and what it would bring him. The excitement arose from the feeling that this shadow might be the ultimate source of his power—the key to unlocking a stronger realm.
"What do you want?" Xuan Yang's face turned pale as paper; cold sweat dripped down his forehead. Despite his efforts to steady himself, his body trembled slightly. He stared intently at the mysterious shadow, his voice hoarse as if an invisible hand had tightened around his throat, forcing out those words from deep within.
The shadow merely smiled softly; its laughter was chilling and terrifying, reminiscent of a night owl's mournful cry in the dead of night—enough to send shivers down one’s spine. "I want... to control you." As these words slowly escaped its lips, the shadow's eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a glint of greed and fervor akin to a famished wolf that had finally spotted a succulent lamb it longed to devour whole.
Xuan Yang's heart jolted violently; a chill raced up his spine. He understood clearly that today would not end peacefully—a life-and-death battle was inevitable.
With this thought in mind, he instinctively tightened his grip on the pitch-black sword in his hand. The icy sensation from the hilt pierced through him like winter’s chill, calming his previously restless heart just a bit.
At the same time, he could feel the energy within him surging like a tumultuous tide, akin to a long-dormant volcano preparing for an explosive eruption. Once the moment was right, this violent energy would burst forth with overwhelming force to utterly annihilate the enemy before him.
"Then come!" Xuan Yang roared with wide eyes and a thunderous shout.
In an instant, a dense wave of Black Energy erupted from him like roaring Black Flames, enveloping him completely. At that moment, Xuan Yang resembled a phoenix reborn from flames, exuding an aura of terrifying destruction that made it impossible for anyone to look directly at him.
Lord of Shadows stood quietly to the side, arms crossed, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. The glint in his narrow eyes sparkled with mockery, as if he were enjoying a spectacular performance, fully aware of the situation unfolding before him and filled with anticipation. He knew well that this fierce battle was not only about Xuan Yang's life and death but would also directly impact his own future.
Xuan Yang wielded his long sword, agilely engaging in a life-and-death struggle with the shadow. In an instant, sword shadows flickered and intertwined, cold light flashing as booming sounds echoed through the air. The energy collided violently, reminiscent of thunder and lightning, enveloping the entire dilapidated temple in this breathtaking scene of combat. In a moment, the air within the temple was filled with sword energy that whistled past, leaving countless deep and shallow sword marks on the walls, crisscrossing like a vast and intricate spider web that covered the entire wall.
Xuan Yang's offensive was exceptionally fierce, coming at him like a torrential storm. With each swing of his sword, he unleashed earth-shattering power; his momentum was overwhelming and unstoppable, as if he intended to shred the shadow before him into dust. At this moment, he had gathered all his internal energy into the sword, making every move filled with unparalleled might and astonishing speed—swift as lightning and fierce as a whirlwind, leaving onlookers breathless.
However, in the face of Xuan Yang's ferocious attacks, the shadow displayed an unyielding defensive capability. No matter how exquisite or varied Xuan Yang's sword techniques were or how overwhelming his assaults became, the shadow effortlessly evaded those lethal strikes and quickly counterattacked. Its movements were light and agile, ghostly in nature—elusive and difficult to grasp. Often before Xuan Yang could react, it would silently close in for a surprise attack, forcing him into a passive defensive position.
The battle continued for quite some time; both sides had expended considerable energy, their clothes soaked with sweat. Xuan Yang's breathing grew rapid as fatigue set in; his attack speed began to slow down, and his strength waned.
The shadow's offensive intensified like surging tides, crashing wave after wave toward Xuan Yang without any sign of respite. Meanwhile, Xuan Yang's defenses became increasingly strained, akin to a solitary boat teetering in a violent storm—on the verge of capsizing under relentless waves and sinking into the vast sea.
At this moment, Xuan Yang felt his body growing heavier as if he were carrying an immense mountain on his back. Each small step became excruciatingly difficult, requiring immense effort and energy. Just when he felt he was on the brink of collapse, he suddenly sensed that once-familiar shadowy aura within him surge forth again—this time stronger and more ferocious than before, like a flood breaching its dam, threatening to engulf him entirely.
Faced with this sudden and unstoppable surge of energy, a deep sense of fear welled up within Xuan Yang. Yet simultaneously, an indescribable excitement surged through him. In an instant of clarity, a thought flashed through his mind: Could it be... With that realization, Xuan Yang abruptly lifted his head, his dual eyes fixating sharply on the depths of the dilapidated temple—his gaze piercing through the endless darkness like a torch.
Sure enough, in that pitch-black corner, a vague figure slowly began to materialize. The aura emanating from this figure bore an uncanny resemblance to that eerie shadow—ghostly and elusive in its movements. "It can't be you!" Upon recognizing the figure’s face and form, Xuan Yang couldn't help but exclaim in shock. It turned out to be none other than Lu Zhiyuan—the esteemed Old Village Chief!
Xuan Yang's dual eyes widened in disbelief; his heart felt as though it were gripped by an invisible hand that made it hard for him to breathe. The figure before him radiating an aura similar to that of the shadow was indeed the kind-hearted Old Village Chief who had once cared for him so deeply! This was utterly inconceivable; he couldn't fathom how this could be.
The Old Village Chief—the gentle elder who always wore a smile and offered warmth and encouragement; who had bravely stepped forward during times of crisis even at the cost of his own life to protect him—how could he appear here like this? And what connection did he have with that terrifying Lord of Shadows?
Xuan Yang stared blankly at the Old Village Chief as he slowly raised his head. The familiar face now appeared so foreign; the warm kindness in his eyes had vanished without a trace, replaced by coldness and malice. His lips curled into an extremely sinister smile reminiscent of a demon from Nine Nether Hell—a sight that sent chills down one's spine.
At the same time, the aura emanating from the Old Village Chief had completely transformed. No longer warm and gentle as before, it now felt chillingly evil—like a venomous snake lurking in darkness ready to strike with deadly precision. Just being near him sent shivers up Xuan Yang’s spine.
"It’s been a long time since we last met, Xuan Yang," spoke the Old Village Chief in a voice raspy like two rusty metals grinding against each other—a sound that made Xuan Yang's hair stand on end.
Xuan Yang's body trembled involuntarily as endless fear and confusion consumed him. He struggled to swallow hard before asking with quivering voice: "Village... Village Chief? Who are you really? Why... why have you become like this?"
"I am the Shadow Lord," the mysterious figure standing in the shadows said in a deep, slow tone. "At the same time, I am also your Village Chief."
Upon hearing this, Xuan Yang felt his mind go blank, as if struck by a thunderous bolt. Village Chief? Shadow Lord? It was simply unbelievable! His Village Chief had always been that kind, gentle old man—the brave elder who had once risked his life to protect him. How could he possibly transform into the Shadow Lord?
"Impossible!" Xuan Yang shouted in fury, his voice echoing throughout the space. "Our Village Chief has long since passed away!"
However, in response to Xuan Yang's anger and doubt, the Shadow Lord merely chuckled coldly, a sound that sent chills down his spine. "Heh, child, you are mistaken. Have you never considered this possibility—that I never truly died? I simply concealed myself cleverly."
At these words, Xuan Yang felt the world spin around him; a wave of intense dizziness washed over him, as if his very soul were being torn in two. Countless thoughts raced through his mind, desperately wanting to refute and deny what was being said. Yet for some reason, he found himself unable to utter a single word.
Deep within him, a thread of fear began to spread, forcing him to question this astonishing reality—perhaps everything the Lord of Shadows said could indeed be true. After all, that enigmatic Shadow Puppet within him was one of the strongest pieces of evidence.
"Why are you doing this?" Xuan Yang managed to ask through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse as if it came from the depths of his heart.
"For... power," the Shadow Lord replied slowly, his eyes filled with greed and desire. "To... control everything."
Xuan Yang's heart sank; he knew there was no turning back between him and the Lord of Shadows.
"Then come!" Xuan Yang roared, Black Energy erupting like flames around him, enveloping him entirely like a phoenix reborn from fire.
He swung his Black Longsword and charged at the Shadow Lord like a bolt of black lightning, unstoppable.
The Shadow Lord met him with his own Black Longsword.
The two dark figures clashed fiercely within the ruined temple, their swords intertwining and energies colliding like meteors striking the earth—an earth-shattering spectacle.
Outside the temple, Black Clouds rolled ominously; thunder rumbled and fierce winds howled as if doomsday had arrived.
This battle would determine everything.
Suddenly, Xuan Yang felt a powerful force surging from within him, enveloping his entire being.
This force was both familiar and strange.
He sensed his body undergoing a transformation, becoming stronger and more terrifying.
His eyes turned blood red, like flames burning fiercely.
His hair became black, resembling the countless stars in the night sky.
His skin transformed into a deep black, akin to an endless abyss.
He… had become another version of himself.
A version that was stronger and more fearsome.
“Who… am I?” Xuan Yang's voice grew hoarse, resembling the roar of a beast.
“You are… the Puppet Master,” the voice of the Lord of Shadows echoed in Xuan Yang's mind, filled with excitement and anticipation.
What would happen next?
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