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墨書 Inktalez
Zhang Yang had not been to school for a long time. When he finally returned, he was able to calmly call me out and share the confession of the murderer he had managed to see.
Now, he seemed much stronger than when he first lost someone. Perhaps this profession gradually toughens a person; it is always accompanied by danger and death, along with many irretrievable losses.
The murderer who killed Chen Zhe was not yet eighteen years old. Even if I hated him, I could not reveal his name due to his age. For now, let’s refer to him as A.
A was out dining with his girlfriend and friends. During the meal, they were lively in conversation, and as the night went on, A drank too much.
He consumed six liang of liquor, which exceeded his capacity, leaving him somewhat disoriented.
Vaguely, he sensed that his girlfriend was particularly close to his brother; they seemed to have an abundance of things to talk about. After finishing their meal, A felt a bit unsteady. "Brother, you should head home. My place and your girlfriend's are in the same direction; I can take her back."
Once home, the more he thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. He increasingly believed that his brother had taken his girlfriend away from him. What were they doing now? Were they behind his back, engaging in something unspeakable?
His anger grew! A abruptly stood up, opened the door, and stormed out. He intended to confront his brother and that woman.
Just as he stepped outside, he paused and turned back to grab a folding knife from the table—a knife meant for peeling fruit—and slipped it into his pocket.
This simple action would alter the course of his future.
A was not typically a child who caused worry for his family; he usually didn’t carry a knife. Yet this time, by some twist of fate, he had it on him. He did not understand that the blade held divine spirits.
"The blade holds divine spirits," Zhang Yang said with a hint of melancholy. "The nature of the spirits on the blade is peculiar; you can never quite grasp what they desire."
Even if one does not intend to harm others, possessing a knife can sometimes lead events beyond one's control. By some strange twist of fate, one might draw the knife, and with a single stroke, take a life.
The deity on the blade was a terrifying presence, one that demanded respect.
Without sufficient training, a weak will, or lacking strength to a certain degree, it was difficult to have the deity on the blade stand by your side. If one failed to do so, it was highly likely that they would casually ruin their entire life.
At that moment, A felt extremely irritated, to the point of frustration, and began kicking the car beside him. The owner, a middle-aged woman, got out and confronted him. In response, A raised his fist and struck her.
It was then that Chen Zhe intervened, pulling the two apart and dragging the woman behind him when he unexpectedly took a knife wound. Just one stab—a fatal stab.
A couldn't even remember how he had drawn the knife or where he had stabbed her.
From that moment on, I developed a hatred for knives. Later, when reading case studies related to this topic, I couldn't help but notice how many people had their fates ruined in an instant simply because they had a knife on them for no reason at all.
A knife is a weapon. To approach such a weapon without reverence could lead to dire consequences. It was better to keep a respectful distance from the deity on the blade.
So I accompanied Zhang Yang for a drink once. I thought he appeared calm on the outside, but inside he seemed burdened. We both drank until we were intoxicated, but to my surprise, I passed out after just one glass.
I never realized my alcohol tolerance was so low! This realization left me feeling quite dissatisfied.
As for whether Zhang Yang got drunk that time, I couldn't say; I slept for a long while before waking up. In any case, this incident later became a source of amusement for him when he wasn't trying to act cool.
Of course, all of this was just my own recollection and I didn't share it with Night Phantom. I estimated that I had been lost in thought for about ten minutes during which I said nothing. However, Night Phantom noticed my daze and wisely chose not to speak, silently keeping me company instead.
I sighed and said, "I hate knives; I don’t want to carry one."
But Night Phantom was truly an extraordinary person. During that silent ten minutes, it seemed as if he could see through my thoughts and understood the faint sadness in my heart.
He stubbornly shoved the short knife into my hand.
"Don't be foolish. This is a chaotic world where lives are worthless, and the law is merely a hollow shell. So, whether you respect it or not, you should first pray to the deity of the knife to spare your life!"
A shock ran through me. This was no longer my world!
In that moment, I suddenly felt a sense of reality. This was not a performance; I had truly left the world I knew and arrived in a completely unfamiliar place, where I had to start a new life from scratch!
Yet here I was, still measuring this world with the familiar principles and rules I had always known!
In my life, there were countries, governments, laws, and police. The protection of life was paramount; wherever there was crime, there was punishment.
So I was cautious, trying not to let any latent malice surface and be swayed by the deity of the knife, leading to lifelong regret.
But in this world, human life seemed as insignificant as weeds. Surviving was the top priority!
I gripped the blade of Night Phantom and drew it out; its edge shimmered like a pool of autumn water, indeed a razor-sharp weapon. I weighed the knife in my hand and sighed, "With so many useless gems embedded in it, it's too heavy!"
Night Phantom's expression darkened slightly; anyway, he wore a mask so I couldn't see his face clearly. "A knife this beautiful is usually adored by girls."
Suddenly, he leaned closer to my face, scrutinizing me as if trying to discern my essence through my appearance. Finally, he tapped my forehead with his finger: "The one inside there—you’re actually a man, right?"
I wanted to spit blood at him, but then I thought about it—he was just a passerby, not worth my anger. So I replied impatiently, "Think whatever you want. What does it matter if I'm a man or a woman?"
"Well," Night Phantom returned to his smiling demeanor, "that’s true. It’s just that I find it quite interesting and unbelievable."
What a perceptive fellow! I thought to myself.
"Zhenzhen!" This familiar guy addressed me quite casually. "The blessings from the gods on the blade depend entirely on your own heart. If you harbor good intentions, not even the gods or Yokai can control you. So, don’t be afraid."
His sudden philosophical words caught me off guard, and I struggled to grasp his meaning. However, he had already stood up, meticulously smoothing out the creases in his ornate clothing, and then he flashed a smile.
"Take care and rest well; I’ll be on my way. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other often in the future."
As the renowned leader of thieves, his lightness of foot was remarkable. Before he finished speaking, a blue figure flickered twice and vanished as if performing a magic trick. I didn’t even blink; I still couldn’t figure out how he did it.
Tsk tsk, the skills of our ancestors have truly been lost. There are too many unexpected things in this world!
Of course, I never anticipated that my encounters with Night Phantom would become so frequent.
***Author's Reunion Blessing***
The Mid-Autumn Festival is approaching. This year's celebration feels a bit lackluster since it's the last day of the holiday, and I can't spend the night with my parents because I have to rush back to work. Sigh!
So, I wish everyone a joyful reunion today!
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