Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
"I've figured it out. Heimanluo didn't catch up with us on the way; it's likely that this thing is also going in circles here. If it were to chase us in this place, it could locate this altar. There must be some connection between it and the Eternal Gate that allows it to arrive here directly without taking any detours."
"This has nothing to do with us anymore," I shouted, interrupting Fatty.
"Are you even listening to me?" Fatty glared at me. "There has to be an exit! Think about it: if the direction of travel isn't fixed towards here, or if we fix the direction towards another location, you should be able to find the edge of this space. Your sense of direction has always been impressive."
Hearing something that could genuinely convince Fatty was usually one of my proudest achievements. But at that moment, his words left me feeling despondent. I couldn't stand when people left their last words for me, yet everyone seemed to enjoy doing just that. Fatty's words clearly leaned toward a farewell. This must be the prelude.
"But it can't locate you," Fatty continued, ignoring my emotions as he quickly loaded bullets into his gun, slightly tilting his chin towards the Heimanluo charging toward us. "You might find a way out as long as you search along the edge of this space."
I turned to glance at Jack, who was half-dead on my back, and at Tang Yumo a bit further away. Yes, Fatty's words made sense; we weren't at our wits' end yet—there was still a glimmer of hope.
"I'm a burden to you and American Guy. Our injuries won't hold up for long; you know that. If we all go together, with your cowardly personality, you'd just watch us die one by one while crying all the way. I can't stand that; dying in peace is impossible. What did American Guy call it? Right, altruism."
"I am not altruistic! I'm not God!" I yelled.
I hated Fatty deciding my fate. Although I had my weaknesses and indecisiveness, that was who I was! Forcing me to abandon my teammates and friends would be the darkest moment of my life. I'd rather die than give up!
"Don't look at Hakka Girl. She’s staying behind to accompany me and American Guy in our burial. It feels awkward for two old men to go together; having a girl around makes it livelier." Fatty said this without any regard for Tang Yumo, his voice even quite loud.
"There's not much time left, make a decision."
With that, Fatty slammed a fully loaded magazine into the chamber with a 'click', raised the muzzle, and bullets poured down like rain towards Heimanluo.
I could see that Heimanluo had already entered the range of the handgun. I knew it would pounce on us in an instant. I had lost all sense of fear. I was completely infuriated by Fatty; was it my lack of understanding of him, or his complete misunderstanding of me?
"All for a bowl of Braised Pork?!" I muttered softly, watching Heimanluo convulse under the Bullet Rain yet refuse to retreat.
'Click.'
Fatty swapped in a new magazine and glanced at me. There was an unusual warmth in his eyes. "Yes, and there's that saying."
Amidst the deafening gunfire, a warm yet bittersweet scene unfolded before my eyes.
I remembered that Fatty had lost his parents long ago; he had grown up under the care of his grandmother. A grandmother raising a hungry child—one could imagine how difficult their life must have been.
Despite the meager meals, Fatty grew up strong and sturdy. But seeing others eat meat would still make him drool with envy. We grew up in the same courtyard; my family was relatively well-off—not wealthy, but both my parents were alive, allowing me to live a life free from worries about food and clothing.
Back then, Fatty often came to my house to do homework or cause mischief; we were inseparable friends. My parents were quite open-minded; they believed that Fatty wasn't inherently bad, even though he often led me into trouble. They never forcibly stopped our friendship, only occasionally guiding and criticizing us. Of course, it wasn't just me who faced criticism; Fatty was also on the receiving end.
Once, my parents made me a bowl of Braised Pork. At that time, having a bowl of Braised Pork was quite a luxury.
Fatty probably hadn't eaten Braised Pork in years. Looking at that enticing bowl of savory meat, his eyes nearly popped out, and he didn't even notice the drool pooling on his foot.
I heroically pushed the bowl of Braised Pork towards him, perhaps saying something along the lines of "What's mine is yours." It was something like that. It's been so long that I can't remember the exact words.
Of course, watching Fatty wolf down that bowl of Braised Pork made my heart ache. I remember it so clearly; he even licked the bowl clean like it was just wiped.
Maybe that metaphor isn't quite right, but that's how I felt at the time. The impression it left on me was too deep. I was hungry too; I don't get to eat meat often!
As we grew older, Fatty's protection of me became almost selfless. If someone bullied me, it was a more serious matter than facing him. Especially in middle school, during those tumultuous teenage years, he shielded me from a lot of trouble.
Whenever I asked Fatty —others asked him too—why he treated me so well, he would simply say, "For a bowl of Braised Pork."
Is this the benefit of befriending a foodie?
That phrase? It was the first time Fatty had said something like that. I think it was for that very line. Although the content of that line has become quite vague in my memory.
"If that's the case," I said, nearly choking up. "Let me fulfill Jack's wish first. He came down here with a death wish; let him take one last look at the Eternal Gate before he dies."
I knew it was impossible to convince Fatty to run away with me; once he set his mind on something, not even ten bulls could pull him back. But I also didn't plan to escape alone. First, I had to find a way out; the sheer lack of food and water could cost me my life.
I intended to fight Heimanluo here to the bitter end. The closer it got to the Eternal Gate, the more its strength waned. By the time we reached the stone platform, perhaps it would be weak enough for us to kill it—or at least perish together.
Fatty finished off a magazine and said, "Alright, I'll help you. Let me add some fire; it's getting darker here, and we shouldn't waste this big candle."
With that, Fatty pulled a Molotov cocktail from his backpack, removed the safety cap, and threw it out.
Even though Fatty was using his pistol to halt Heimanluo's advance, Heimanluo stubbornly pressed closer to us. At this moment, it was less than twenty meters away, and both sides were ready for close combat.
With a loud bang, the incendiary bomb exploded, sending flames soaring into the air and a wave of heat crashing toward me. The proximity of the blast nearly knocked me off my feet, and I felt my body uncontrollably tilt backward.
I heard Fatty curse under his breath. "Damn."
Then I saw Fatty lunging toward me.
My body was slightly airborne, tilting back uncontrollably, my face and eyes directed upward. In that fleeting moment, I couldn't adjust my posture, even though I knew that falling backward like this could very well mean death for Jack on my back.
But in that brief instant, the firelight in front of me suddenly vanished, and it felt as if I had plunged into a vortex, a force pulling me down like a meteor.
(To Be Continued.)
Comment 0 Comment Count