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墨書 Inktalez
The night was as dark as ink as I stood by the window of my rented room, clutching the Life Power Bank in my hand. The city lights flickered in the distance, almost mocking my indecision.
Thoughts of Zhu Qi haunted me; I could not bring harm to any more innocent people. Yet, the desire to survive burned like a fierce fire within my heart.
Downstairs, I heard the footsteps of Yang Huzhong, the old man who pretended to be cordial while reminding me every month to pay the rent. He had just returned from the mahjong parlor, drunkenly humming a tuneless song.
"Xiao Dao, remember to pay the rent tomorrow. Prices have been rising lately, and rent needs to go up a bit too..." His voice seeped through the crack of the door, causing me to grip the Power Bank tighter.
It was him.
I quietly opened my door and saw Yang Huzhong swaying as he made his way to his room. A smug smile adorned his cunning face; he must have won quite a bit at the mahjong table again.
At two in the morning, I stood outside Yang Huzhong's door, my palms slick with cold sweat. The Power Bank felt hot in my grasp, as if urging me to make a decision.
"After all, someone like him—losing a month of life is no big deal..." I convinced myself inwardly.
I gently pushed open the door; Yang Huzhong was fast asleep. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting eerie shadows across his face.
Taking a deep breath, I aimed the Power Bank at him.
In that instant of activation, a faint blue light shot toward Yang Huzhong. I felt a warm energy flowing from my arm into my entire body, like parched land receiving much-needed rain.
Yang Huzhong's body began to tremble slightly, his complexion growing pale. I could sense his life force ebbing away bit by bit while my own body felt lighter and lighter.
The feeling was... exquisite.
As I was lost in this wonderful sensation, Yang Huzhong suddenly let out a painful groan. Startled, I quickly put away my Power Bank and retreated to my room.
Looking at my Life Energy, it read 100%.
Life Time: 178 days.
Over the next month, I could clearly feel my body improving. My once dry hair had become thick and lush, and my pale complexion had turned rosy. Even the symptoms that had caused me so much agony had lessened significantly.
In contrast, Yang Huzhong grew increasingly haggard, seeming to age ten years overnight. He no longer strutted around with arrogance; instead, he often clutched his chest, gasping for breath.
"It's strange; I feel so weak lately..." he would often complain.
One morning, Yang Huzhong suddenly collapsed at the foot of the stairs. The sound of an ambulance shattered the morning's tranquility as I stood among the crowd, watching him being lifted into the vehicle.
"I heard it was a heart attack; he's being taken to Sublimation Hospital," the neighbors whispered.
I glanced down at the Power Bank in my hand, a chill creeping up from my feet. If he died, would I be considered a murderer?
Just as I was lost in thought, a familiar figure appeared at the hospital entrance—Li Chun.
She was dressed in a professional outfit, her makeup meticulously done, and she looked at me thoughtfully. There seemed to be something hidden in her gaze that made my heart tighten.
"Little Knife, long time no see," she said as she approached me, a sweet smile on her face. "I heard you've been looking well lately?"
I instinctively tightened my grip on the Power Bank.
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