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墨書 Inktalez
Ignoring the surprised gazes of passersby and the cheers and jeers from the crowd, Ye Mingshang walked away slowly.
The incident at the Taekwondo gym was an isolated case, but even a glimpse into it revealed a larger picture. Sometimes disputes arise from these small frictions; this is an inevitable trend. However, this is not something a common person like him should concern himself with.
He had initially planned to intervene, after all, this was Chinese territory, and it was not up to some outsiders to act recklessly here. But he underestimated this vast country, the Chinese Nation, with its deep-rooted history spanning over five thousand years. Such a long history and expansive land have nurtured countless talents; how could a few insignificant individuals suppress them?
As he walked, he happened to see an elderly man at the entrance of a kindergarten, still looking dazed.
The old man held a little girl's hand; she was quite small, and he had to bend down slightly to hold her hand.
He bent down as the girl fed him snacks she had just bought, which accidentally brushed against his face and got stuck in his beard.
The girl laughed, and he laughed too; her laughter was innocent and bright, while his smile was somewhat silly and dazed.
As he got closer, Ye Mingshang saw the old man take out a small notebook, mumbling to himself: "Pick up my granddaughter at five, then go buy groceries... After dinner, do homework; can watch TV at seven, must play with Xiao Qi; sleep by nine, must take a shower before bed..."
Listening to the old man's somewhat wooden voice, Ye Mingshang understood why he seemed a bit foolish. It turned out he had dementia and couldn’t remember many things, needing to jot them down in a notebook. Yet even so, he still cared about his granddaughter. Seeing the sign that insulted Chinese martial arts made him unable to hold back.
Perhaps he was old and his mind had dulled, but his sincere heart burned hotter than that of any young and healthy person.
He was a respectable man.
Watching the happy figures of the old man and the little girl slowly depart, Ye Mingshang sighed softly, "One day, I too will grow old... Who will accompany me then...?"
Time passed quickly, and night fell. Standing on the rooftop, he looked at the dazzling lights below while silently blowing smoke rings.
Gazing at the bright moon in the sky, Ye Mingshang murmured softly, "I can't find any clues about Mengyu in the Underworld. Where could she be... Moon, can you tell me...?"
Perhaps this question puzzled even the moon. A thick cloud drifted in, obscuring the bright moonlight.
Ye Mingshang chuckled silently and shook his head. "Oh moon, even you can't answer my question? Then who can answer me... My love, my pursuit, where are you?"
Looking at the dark clouds, Ye Mingshang felt a sense of displeasure, thinking to himself why they had to hide the moon and why it wouldn't answer his questions.
He sensed that the dark clouds were somewhat strange and ominous. Initially, he thought it was just his subjective perception causing an illusion, but then he suddenly noticed a deserted stretch of road not far away where two people were chasing each other.
One was running while the other was pursuing.
"Is there a crime happening?" Ye Mingshang frowned and then took to the wind, flying over.
If possible, he did not want to let a vibrant life be extinguished. If he hadn't seen it, that would be one thing, but if he did see it, he still wanted to help. He didn't want to appear indifferent to life; even if his hands were stained with blood, he didn't want that blood to taint his soul. Those who deserved to die were enemies; friends were meant to be protected, and passersby should be treated equally.
The one in front was a young man with a heroic face, covered in blood and running unevenly, likely having injured his foot.
The one behind was a middle-aged man with sparse facial hair, of medium build and a gloomy expression. His dark clothing added to his sinister aura.
This was not a simple chase; these were not ordinary people. The young man occasionally threw out several Copper Beans, emitting a faint yellow light visible only to Taoists.
The gloomy man often reached out to grab a mass of black energy and threw it like a ball.
The night, the black clothing, the black energy—all exuded an evil presence. It was as if the words "I am a bad person" could be written on his face.
There was clearly a significant difference in strength between the two; the Heroic Young Man was struggling to run, bloodied and losing aim with his Copper Beans. In contrast, the gloomy man appeared clean and composed, moving swiftly as if he could have closed in long ago if not for some restraint.
After roughly distinguishing their positions, Ye Mingshang descended from the wind and stopped in front of them.
The young man ran desperately while thinking about throwing out a handful of Copper Beans behind him, which emitted a faint yellow glow like pure moonlight.
The man in black stepped aside to avoid them, but due to their number being many and scattered, one grazed his sleeve, instantly making a hissing sound as it burned away a corner of his garment.
The man's expression darkened; one hand rose in a lotus shape, trembling as strands of black energy appeared out of thin air. They twisted together like ropes into a small bundle that flickered like flames.
The black flames emitted an ominous aura that made anyone who looked at them feel uneasy.
"With this move, I will take your life!" The man in black glared, instantly throwing a black 'fireball.'
The young man felt a chill run down his spine. Gritting his teeth, he pulled out a Silver Talisman from his pocket and threw it towards the black fire.
"Boom!"
The two opposing forces collided, seemingly resulting in a qualitative change. Accompanied by a faint explosion, the young man was propelled backward several meters by the blast's shockwave. He landed hard on the ground, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, clutching his chest, and glaring fiercely at the man in black.
The man in black clapped his hands and sneered, "Not bad, you really do have a backup plan. But... how many of those precious Silver Talismans do you have left?"
The young man glared at him in anger, feeling both unwilling and helpless. How precious were Silver Talismans? The only one he had was left to him by his grandfather when he was young. He had never dared to use it, keeping it as a memento. Now he was forced to use it but still could not escape the fate of death.
"There's no need to struggle; just obediently become what a medicinal ingredient should be."
As the man in black drew closer, the young man secretly made up his mind. In his hand behind his back, he held a Grenade. Resolutely thinking to himself, "Even if I die, I will never become a medicinal ingredient!"
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three...
Watching the man in black approach ever closer, the countdown to his death began. Just as the enemy was only a step away and he was about to pull the pin on his Grenade...
(To be continued.)
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