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墨書 Inktalez
Due to the mysterious seal of Xuan Qing, Xuan Yang, once a boy full of promise, had completely devolved into a useless wastrel.
Looking back to years past, Xuan Yang had successfully awakened the powerful ability within him and had bravely navigated through numerous trials and tribulations.
But who could have predicted that time would change him so drastically? Now, whenever he found himself in a dispute or trouble, he could only retreat behind Si Yang, seeking protection.
As for the dilapidated temple that had long turned to ruins, despite the passage of time, it still bore the same pitiful appearance it had years ago.
On this particular day, Xuan Yang set out on a journey with a group of like-minded companions.
As they passed by the temple on the side of the road, for some unknown reason, the crowd gradually dispersed, ultimately leading to Xuan Yang getting separated from everyone else.
At this moment, Xuan Yang felt an indescribable curiosity towards the seemingly ordinary temple.
It was as if an invisible force was calling out to him from the depths of fate, compelling him to take steps forward, one after another, towards the dilapidated structure.
Upon entering the temple, he was met with a suffocating heaviness in the air, as if the entire space had been stilled like a stagnant pool of water.
The air was thick with a pungent moldy smell mixed with heavy dust, creating a nauseating odor that made Xuan Yang cough uncontrollably.
Xuan Yang idly kicked at the scattered stones at his feet with his toes.
The small pebbles danced joyfully on the worn-out ground, sending up clouds of dust into the air.
This dust swirled freely around him, gradually forming a thin veil that floated like a gentle shroud before Xuan Yang's eyes, further obscuring his already blurred vision.
At this moment, Xuan Yang leaned slightly against a partially ruined statue, his face displaying a lazy and relaxed expression.
He seemed completely oblivious to the strange aura quietly swirling around him, as if everything in this dilapidated temple had nothing to do with him.
At just eighteen years old, Xuan Yang had already shed the unique innocence and naivety of his youth.
He was tall and slender, like a majestic Qing Song tree; his long, jet-black hair curled slightly, gently brushing against his fair cheeks.
In his deep-set eyes, which resembled tranquil pools of water, there often flickered a hint of roguish nonchalance, as if nothing in the world could capture his attention or interest.
"Ah, how utterly boring!"
He murmured softly, his tone laced with a barely concealed irritation.
Meanwhile, his long, slender fingers absentmindedly toyed with an ancient and elegant ring on his hand, his thoughts drifting aimlessly like a kite with a broken string, uncertain of where they might land.
For the past few years, Xuan Yang's life had been calm and stable, as if the thrilling experiences he once endured were merely an ethereal dream—so surreal that it was hard to believe.
However, in an instant, the previously silent temple erupted with a thunderous boom.
Suddenly, the dilapidated roof cracked open with a narrow fissure, and a dazzling beam of light—sharp as a sword—shone down directly upon Xuan Yang's handsome face, illuminating the deep confusion that lay within his eyes.
Faced with this unexpected turn of events, Xuan Yang froze in place, as if he were deeply stunned by this mysterious light.
A strange sensation that was both familiar and foreign surged within him, causing an inexplicable flutter in his heart.
In that dazzling light, countless tiny runes danced gracefully like fireflies in the night.
They flickered with strange and brilliant hues, intertwining and merging, eventually coalescing into an enormous shadow.
This shadow slowly emerged behind Xuan Yang, gradually taking shape. It resembled a faithful guardian spirit, exuding a reassuring aura; yet it also bore the terrifying visage of a fearsome demon, radiating an oppressive dread.
"What the hell is this thing?"
Xuan Yang was startled by the sudden appearance before him and instinctively jumped to his feet, stumbling back a considerable distance.
His heart raced wildly, beating like a drum in his chest.
Despite his desperate urge to flee, the massive shadow loomed over him like an insurmountable mountain, as if an invisible giant hand had gripped him tightly, rendering him completely immobile.
At that moment, an overwhelming surge of power rushed into Xuan Yang's body like a tidal wave, flooding him with an incredible force.
In an instant, he felt an endless strength coursing through him, as if he could effortlessly control everything in the world with a mere gesture.
This unprecedented sensation filled him with exhilaration, yet deep within his heart lingered an indescribable fear.
Meanwhile, outside the dilapidated temple, the simple and kind-hearted villagers gazed up at the bizarre phenomenon in the sky with faces full of terror.
They whispered among themselves in hushed tones, their panic spreading through the crowd like a plague.
“Oh no! Strange phenomena have appeared in the dilapidated temple again!”
A villager suddenly cried out, his voice trembling with fear, his once rosy complexion now as pale as paper.
“Hurry and report this to the Village Chief!”
Another villager echoed, his tone urgent, as if the sky were about to fall.
The crowd began to stir, fear spreading like a plague, rapidly engulfing everyone.
Lu Zhiyuan leaned on his cane and shakily stepped forward, a flicker of barely perceptible light flashing in his murky eyes, as if he were hiding some secret.
“Everyone, don’t panic. This is a heavenly omen, a blessing from the divine,” he said with feigned calmness, his tone soothing as he tried to quell the villagers' anxiety. Yet inside, he was tumultuous, like a raging sea.
The strange occurrences in the temple reminded him of an incident from years ago. He wondered who had sealed away Xuan Yang's memories and the secret of his awakened powers. Was it about to happen again?
This thought filled him with unease, as if something was on the verge of spiraling out of control.
Inside the dilapidated temple, Xuan Yang gradually adapted to the surging power within him. He extended his hand, and his shadow danced at his fingertips like an obedient pet, as if they had become one.
“So I’m not useless after all…” he murmured to himself, disbelief lacing his voice as a wicked smile crept onto his lips, as if he had uncovered a world-shattering secret.
“I am the Puppet Master!” He suddenly opened his Dual Eyes wide, confidence and power radiating from him as if he had been reborn.
At that moment, the wooden door of the temple was slammed open with a loud bang. A group of villagers rushed in wielding hoes and wooden sticks, their eyes filled with anger and fear.
"That's him! He's the disaster!" a villager shouted, pointing at Xuan Yang with a voice full of hatred.
"Catch him!" another villager echoed, swinging a wooden stick as if to strike Xuan Yang down.
Xuan Yang let out a cold laugh, a glint of menace flashing in his eyes, resembling an enraged beast.
"Is that all you've got?" he scoffed, extending his hand. Shadows swiftly spread out, transforming into countless grotesque Puppet Masters, clawing and snapping, forcing the villagers back.
"Get lost if you don't want to die!" he said coldly, his voice dripping with intimidation, like a demon from hell.
The villagers were stunned by this sudden turn of events, retreating in fear as if they had encountered a terrifying monster.
Ignoring them, Xuan Yang turned and walked deeper into the ruined temple, where it seemed greater secrets awaited—secrets about his own origins.
Outside the temple, Lu Zhiyuan watched Xuan Yang's departing figure, a flicker of malice crossing his eyes, like a venomous snake waiting for the right moment to strike.
"It seems the plan needs to be moved up..."
He murmured to himself, his tone chilling, as if foretelling some ominous event about to unfold.
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