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墨書 Inktalez
New Era of Humanity in the Apocalypse
Some things are clearly better left unsaid, and the two administrators, fully aware that Xiong Tai might be on the verge of losing his temper, remained calm and composed with their legs crossed.
They sat leisurely in their seats, seemingly gazing into thin air, oblivious to the happenings outside the window.
Such behavior only fueled the frustration further. Once Xiong Tai's temper flared up, he was the type who would disregard everything around him. He stood up and slammed his fist on the table, and it seemed that the two administrators had done nothing to provoke him.
Generally speaking, this was also the moment when Xiong Tai was least likely to care about anything. Unlike others who might have a good-natured disposition, he had no patience for things that didn’t go his way; once his temper rose, no one could talk him down.
If it were just this, it wouldn’t be enough to push him into such a furious state.
At that moment, footsteps suddenly approached from behind. The newcomer scoffed disdainfully and said, “What’s going on here? What exactly happened? What do you think you’re doing? You reckless fool! Do you think you can just come here and destroy things at will? Which team are you from? I’ll have your Commander come over to take you back. This is absolutely unacceptable.”
The person spoke with authority, clearly a high-ranking official from the association, and immediately subdued Xiong Tai’s arrogance.
Xiong Tai slowly turned around to look at him and saw an elderly man with white hair dressed in a black suit, hands tucked into his pockets. He appeared quite sprightly despite his age, sporting a slicked-back hairstyle that gave him a serious demeanor. His golden hair and coffee-colored eyes exuded a somewhat gloomy aura.
“Who are you to meddle in my affairs?” Xiong Tai retorted with a roar, his expression turning solemn.
“Who am I? Is there anyone here who doesn’t know who I am?” The old man replied unexpectedly, amused by Xiong Tai’s reaction. He shot a disdainful glance at him and continued, “Well then, who are you? Tell me your name first, and then I’ll tell you mine.” This peculiar old man was clearly not someone to be trifled with; he remained calm and collected in the face of Xiong Tai’s provocation, showing no signs of panic—at least he seemed like a relatively normal person under such circumstances.
“Well, my name is so impressive it might scare you! Stand straight and hold steady! Hehe, I am the beloved of all, the charming Jade-faced Flying Dragon—Xiong Tai!” Without hesitation, Xiong Tai proudly declared his name.
"Oh? So it's you," the old man chuckled, a hint of warmth in his tone.
"I'm done for; it's your turn now. Old man, stop joking around," Xiong Tai said, unafraid and boldly inquiring about the old man's name.
"I'm someone of importance. Not everyone knows me, but I'm a member of the top floor. Your President sent for me. How about this: you all come up with me," the old man with a white beard said, squinting his eyes with a smile, as if his mood had been ignited by their presence.
"That won't do," the administrator sitting nearby suddenly interjected.
"Oh, so you can talk! I thought you were mute. Truly impressive; no one has ever remained unfazed under my pressure before. Quite remarkable," Xiong Tai remarked in surprise.
"I didn't think I had to do anything for you," the administrator replied, gesturing before glancing at the old man again. "These people aren't allowed to go up. You can go up, sir, but you can't take them with you. The President would punish me for that; you should know his temperament. If I let them through, it would be like breaking my promise to the President, who despises those who don't follow the rules." He finished with a dejected expression, looking more pitiful than a sad song.
"Don't be so pessimistic; I understand that situation better than anyone. Let them go up, and I'll handle the rest," the old man said calmly, casting a glance at him as if piercing through to his core, sweeping away all negative emotions.
"Uh, but..." The administrator seemed to want to say more but was abruptly interrupted by an unusual occurrence.
The elevator dinged as it arrived at the first floor. No one found it strange at first until the administrator looked up and saw that the old man had crossed their line of sight and appeared beside them. His speed was astonishing; he had just been far away—how did he reach the elevator so quickly?
"What—" The administrator suddenly stood up but was forcefully pressed back into his seat by a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't mind it, young ones. You know my speed is much faster than yours; don't try to resist. Just to clarify, it's not you breaking the agreement; it's me insisting on taking them up," the old man continued. "But let's not dwell on that. Since things have happened this way, just keep an eye on things here. Young ones, are you still hoping to stay on the first floor?" With that, the white-bearded old man pulled open the elevator doors, revealing the elevator shaft. Suddenly, a box-like lift appeared as the ropes slowly descended from where the elevator had been.
"Wait for me!" Seeing this, they immediately ran and jumped into the elevator.
The elevator immediately began to ascend, rising swiftly upwards.
Others watched as the numbers on the panel climbed steadily, until it finally reached the top floor. It was clear that this elevator had been renovated; it had not originally been able to reach the top floor. Now, only a select few were qualified to access the rooms up there, which were said to be the resting place of the President.
After waiting for a while, everyone stepped out, only to unexpectedly encounter the weary President at the entrance.
Hilbert was lazily gazing out the window, as if surveying his capital's prosperity from a throne. His eyes were red, indicating he hadn’t slept in a long time, and he was smoking a cigarette, appearing quite indifferent.
After the elevator arrived, he didn’t pay any attention to it; he had been facing away from the elevator. The view from that position must have been beautiful.
However, the current situation was not about whether the view was beautiful or not; nothing could compare to the vibrant scenery of the night. The streets below were filled with flowing cars, reminding him of many past events. He held a bottle of liquor in his left hand, suggesting that he had been drinking, which seemed a bit concerning.
It seemed he was reminded of some unpleasant memories, which indeed were troubling.
No one knew what was happening with the association lately; mistakes kept piling up as if they were under a curse. The Wanderer's Home had never experienced such a decline before.
It was urgent to blend back into the organization and undergo restructuring.
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