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墨書 Inktalez
Wang Donghai was taken away by the police. With charges of armed assault and attempted murder, the case made Captain Wang Siyuan of the Criminal Investigation Team wary of any delays. "What are you doing here again? Did a monkey send you to help me solve this case?" Wang Siyuan said, looking at Zhang Yang, who was taking notes.
"Last time I was on special assignment, I still haven't received the payment. This time I'm not helping you solve a case; I'm just doing my civic duty," Zhang Yang replied, pouting.
"There needs to be an approval and disbursement process; why are you in such a hurry?" Wang Siyuan said. "Finish your statement and leave quickly. I can see what happened today at a glance, but procedurally, you're fine. However, I must remind you not to get too close to the thugs; you're still young, and you have a long road ahead."
"Longer than a thousand years?" Zhang Yang laughed as he signed his name and pressed his fingerprint. "See you later, Captain Wang; you're a good cop!"
As Zhang Yang walked out of the Criminal Investigation Team's building, the afternoon sunlight cast a warm yellow glow on him. "I helped take care of Wang Donghai only because he's ruthless and morally bankrupt. Captain Wang, do you think I want to be your stepping stone?" Zhang Yang thought to himself.
At that moment, someone approached him from the opposite direction. The person was of medium build, with a waxy complexion and prominent dark circles under his eyes, appearing to be in his thirties. He carried a gray hard-shell case and walked with an unusually steady gait.
Zhang Yang's heart suddenly raced; he felt a gust of wind as his long hair blew up, intensifying the red hue of the Blade-Shaped Scar on his forehead.
Killing intent.
Zhang Yang had developed a beast-like sensitivity to killing intent, and the man who resembled Smoker exuded an exceptionally strong aura of menace.
Smoker walked past Zhang Yang without glancing sideways. As he passed a narrow alley, Zhang Yang instinctively turned in after him and peeked out moments later.
Not far from South District by the seaside was a cluster of old buildings with interwoven alleys. Smoker quickly disappeared into the dense maze of alleys. Zhang Yang calculated the time and kept a safe distance while following at a leisurely pace.
Seeing Smoker climb up an incline and turn right into another alley, Zhang Yang immediately quickened his pace up the slope.
"Don't move! Raise your hands!" A series of harsh commands came from the wall on the right side of the uphill path.
Zhang Yang slowly raised his hands and slightly turned his head to the right, seeing Smoker crouched at the wall's edge, his body hidden behind it. He had stepped on something unknown, and a silenced gun was aimed directly at Zhang Yang.
"Friend, it's a misunderstanding," Zhang Yang said slowly.
"Name, age, what are you following me for?" Smoker said coldly.
"Zhang Minglei, 18, curious," Zhang Yang quickly replied, combining his surname with Fatty Pan's name, making it sound somewhat like a real name.
"Oh?" Smoker seemed a bit surprised by this answer and did not pull the trigger. "Why are you curious?"
"You walk steadily and exude a heroic aura. I often get bullied at school and want to learn some skills from you," Zhang Yang said.
"You've been tracking me so well, facing the gun without a hint of nervousness..." Smoker's expression did not change at all, but he suddenly applied more pressure on the trigger.
With a "pop," the silenced bullet was fired. When Zhang Yang noticed the bullet coming towards him, he quickly crouched down to dodge, but it was too late. Blood rushed and his heartbeat skyrocketed, as if the air inside him wanted to burst out of his body, instantly gathering at his forehead's Blade-Shaped Scar.
At that moment, the bullet struck the scar on his forehead.
Zhang Yang's tense body surprisingly did not fall! The bullet, upon contact with the red Blade, began to spin rapidly and could not penetrate the skin; as it spun, it became stained red.
Zhang Yang felt an immense pressure inside him, as if it were trying to find an escape route through the red Blade-Shaped Scar. This pressure held back the bullet, causing it to spin rapidly as if it were being sucked in.
Suddenly, the pressure shot out like a sharp bolt of lightning from the scar. The Blade scar quickly turned orange, and the bullet was immediately struck by this orange lightning, changing from red to orange before bouncing off and embedding itself into the wall opposite!
The pressure inside Zhang Yang then vanished without a trace, and his blood vessels felt unblocked.
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Cyan, Blue, Purple. He instantly merged into the second level after Soul Cultivation! The red Blade had transformed into an orange Blade!
However, Smoker did not witness this scene. Just as he fired his gun, he was hit on the shoulder by a pumpkin thrown by a husband who had just returned home with his wife. Amidst shouts of "catch the thief" and a flurry of chaotic sounds, Smoker had no time to check on Zhang Yang's situation after firing.
He immediately jumped off the wall and quickly knocked the young couple to the ground before rushing out the door, disappearing without a trace.
After a while, Zhang Yang got up, but Smoker had already run for some time, and with the maze-like alleys in this area, he was no longer able to catch up.
"What on earth is this person doing..." Zhang Yang brushed his hair back from his forehead, and the orange Blade on his forehead suddenly deepened. In fact, the scar itself was quite faint, barely noticeable against his skin, but when the color deepened, it became quite obvious. Fortunately, there was no one around; otherwise, it would have certainly startled someone.
That evening, Zhang Yang attended evening classes as usual. After school, he returned home and went to bed around 11 PM.
At 3 AM, a very faint sound came from the door of Zhang Yang's house. The door opened silently, and a shadow slipped inside. The apartment where Zhang Yang lived was a small three-bedroom unit of over 90 square meters. After his mother remarried, his grandmother sold her house and bought this one, intending it to be Zhang Yang's marital home after he got married. After his grandmother passed away, Zhang Yang lived here alone.
The last room he turned off the lights in was a bedroom on the east side. The person who entered had clearly observed from below and went straight to this bedroom from the living room.
He pressed himself against the door and listened quietly for a moment; inside, there were even sounds of snoring. Using a silenced pistol, he gently pushed open the door. The person on the bed was sound asleep, with snoring coming from under the covers.
"Pop," "Pop." The intruder raised his gun and fired one shot each at the head and chest of the figure under the blanket. The figure did not move; the snoring remained steady.
"Not good!" Just as the intruder was about to retreat towards the door in a hurry, a cold hard object pressed against the back of his head.
"Just as I thought, it's you again. It seems we are not just coincidentally meeting. Name, age, what are you doing in my house?" A cold voice came from behind him—Zhang Yang.
The person was none other than Smoker, whom he had encountered earlier that day.
"Ruan Shaowen, 33. Are you Zhang Yang?" Smoker's accent remained harsh.
"Are you Annamese? No, Vietnamese?" Combining Smoker's surname with his harsh accent, Zhang Yang suddenly asked without answering Smoker's question. Vietnam was actually a vassal state during the Tang Dynasty known as Annam.
"Yes," Ruan Shaowen replied coldly.
"Norsong Kongye!" Zhang Yang suddenly said.
Ruan Shaowen was extremely surprised; this Huaxia Nation boy could actually speak Vietnamese. At the same time, he felt something cold pressing against the back of his head again, so he had no choice but to throw the gun far onto the bed. This action was naturally to prevent Zhang Yang from grabbing the gun first.
"Norsong Kongye" means to surrender the weapon without killing. The Tang Dynasty's Southwest Six Zhao bordered Annam, and Zhang Xunqiu, back in the day, not only spoke Mandarin and some local ethnic languages but also understood a bit of Annamese. Upon learning that Smoker was Vietnamese, a stream of information flowed through Zhang Yang's mind, and he naturally blurted out this phrase.
"Step back into the living room!" Ruan Shaowen suddenly felt that there was nothing pressing against the back of his head anymore. He slowly backed into the living room and then turned around.
As he turned, the living room lights were already on.
Smoker saw that Zhang Yang was sitting on the sofa, holding a piece of water pipe.
"It's you? You actually didn't die?" Ruan Shaowen was very surprised when he saw Zhang Yang. "What a coincidence! I have to see you twice before I kill someone for the first time."
Seeing that what Zhang Yang held was not a gun and that the lights were bright with no ambush around, Ruan Shaowen actually laughed contemptuously. He casually sat down on a chair and leisurely took out a pack of Marlboro from his pocket, lighting one up.
"Are you really Zhang Yang? How did you know I was here to kill you? Just because we ran into each other this afternoon?" Smoker displayed a curiosity that was inconsistent with his identity as a professional killer. Perhaps it was Zhang Yang's unique aura that attracted him.
"I just thought of hiding in the smallest room to sleep because I almost died this afternoon. I didn't expect someone would actually come," Zhang Yang said as he lit a cigarette himself and continued, "You really came at the right time; if you had come a little later, I guess the recorder under my blanket that recorded my snoring would have run out of battery."
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