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墨書 Inktalez
The atmosphere in the teahouse was heavy, as if a giant stone pressed down upon it, making the air thick and sticky. An invisible low pressure loomed like dark clouds over everyone's heads, causing them to breathe cautiously. The sound of the officer's boots echoed on the wooden floor, each step striking like a hammer on the hearts of those present. His cold gaze swept over every face, as if he intended to capture any hint of unusual expression.
The ruffians who had been boasting loudly just moments ago now hung their heads, their expressions awkward and tense. They dared not meet the officer's eyes; some even pulled their hats lower, trying to hide their faces. Their previously relaxed postures had stiffened, backs straightened, and hands instinctively moved towards their blades, only to quickly retract, fearing unnecessary attention.
The officer let out a cold laugh, deliberately slowing his pace as if savoring the thrill of intimidation. He stopped in front of one ruffian, who instinctively raised his head but immediately lowered it again, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.
"What's wrong? Have you seen someone from the projections?" The officer's voice was deep and oppressive, his face drawing close enough that the ruffian could hardly breathe.
"N-no... my lord, I don't know..." The ruffian stammered, his gaze darting around nervously, the tremor in his voice betraying his guilt.
The officer snorted dismissively, as if he had expected this response all along. He turned and continued to pace, his eyes slicing through each person like a knife.
In a corner, a few ruffians whispered among themselves. One lowered his voice and said, "Damn it, these Yang Chuan people are just looking for trouble! We all know how their laws torment people!"
"Keep it down!" another urgently hushed him, fear glinting in his eyes. He stole a glance at the officer before shrinking back like a frightened hedgehog. "The laws of Yang Chuan... are insane and brutal. We’d better not fall into their hands; otherwise, we wouldn’t even know how we died!"
The other ruffians nodded silently, their faces etched with deep fear. Each of them had some criminal record—evading conscription, theft, or even having turned against allies in small skirmishes. Any one of these charges could lead to them being utterly crushed by Yang Chuan's laws. At that moment, they were relieved not to be the officer's target, yet the tension in their hearts remained palpable, as if they would be next at any second.
In this oppressive silence, Leng Lie felt a sudden tightening in his chest, as if an instinctive current surged within him. He sensed an inexplicable omen—the pursuit by Yang Chuan and the appearance of this officer might not be mere coincidence. It felt as though some unseen force was guiding him toward an unforeseen path.
He glanced down at the teacup in his hand; it was already empty, with only a few cool droplets remaining at the bottom reflecting the dim light of the teahouse. Leng Lie sighed softly and placed the cup back on the table with calm yet decisive movements, as if marking an end to an impending moment.
Then he stood up slowly but with an undeniable presence. As he brushed off the dust from his clothes and pressed down on the brim of his hat to cast a deeper shadow over his brow and eyes, his movements were neither rushed nor slow but struck like a still lightning bolt that instantly captured everyone's attention.
The surrounding ronin gradually stopped their murmurs, and the officer's gaze was immediately drawn in. Everyone unconsciously focused their attention on this corner, and the noise in the teahouse diminished, as if all eyes were pulled away by Leng Lie.
"What is he doing?" someone whispered, a hint of tension in their voice.
"Why did that guy suddenly stand up?" another person exclaimed, eyes wide with confusion and wariness.
The officer squinted, his gaze fixed on Leng Lie like a nail. His hand slowly moved toward the hilt of his sword, a barely noticeable cold smile appearing on his face. He wasn't sure if this hat-wearing ronin was the person they were looking for, but Leng Lie's sudden movement undoubtedly sparked a flicker of suspicion within him.
Leng Lie stood tall and straight under the dim light, seemingly isolated from the surrounding clamor. He slightly tilted his head, his eyes hidden in the shadow of his hat, making them impossible to see. Yet, from his aura emanated an unfathomable chill.
He remained silent and made no unnecessary movements, yet the atmosphere in the teahouse grew increasingly tense, as if even the air had solidified at that moment, waiting for what would happen next.
The officer slowly approached Leng Lie, his boots thudding heavily against the wooden floor with each step. Everyone held their breath as they watched the distance between the officer and Leng Lie shrink. The officer's gaze was suspicious and scrutinizing, as if weighing Leng Lie's identity. He stopped in front of Leng Lie, slightly raising his chin and looking down at the ronin concealed in shadows with a contemptuous demeanor.
"You...," the officer sneered, a dismissive curve forming at the corner of his mouth. "You don't look like much of a threat."
As he spoke, his hand slowly reached toward Leng Lie's shoulder, seemingly intending to grab him or lift the hat obscuring his face. However, just as his hand was about to touch Leng Lie, a deep voice emerged from him like a calm yet icy blade.
"Why is Yang Chuan looking for me?" Leng Lie's tone was unhurried and composed, devoid of any panic, even carrying an undeniable sense of intimidation. He lifted his head; the shadow of his hat concealed most of his face but revealed a pair of cold and profound eyes that stared directly at the officer.
The officer's hand froze mid-air as he blinked in surprise. Clearly, he had not anticipated that Leng Lie would speak first with such calm authority. He withdrew his hand; the smile on his face became stiff before he forced it back into a look of disdain. "Hmph, Lord Feng Huo Liao said that this Leng Lie will be key to turning the tide of battle."
As he continued speaking, his tone grew increasingly contemptuous: "He also said that this Leng Lie possesses exceptional martial skills, killing with every step he takes like a blade forged for the battlefield. But..."
He deliberately paused for a moment, his gaze once again landing on Leng Lie, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You look like... ha, a guy in a straw hat and tattered samurai clothes. You hardly seem like a legendary figure."
The officer scrutinized Leng Lie from head to toe, his eyes filled with doubt and disdain. His hand rested once more on the hilt of his sword, as if ready to draw it at any moment to test or suppress this puzzling individual.
Leng Lie stood still, unmoving. His hand lightly rested on the hilt at his waist, his gaze calm as a deep pool, neither denying nor confirming anything. His silence only deepened the officer's uncertainty about his identity, and this feeling of being out of control made the officer's brow furrow slightly.
The atmosphere in the teahouse grew even more tense; everyone held their breath, afraid that any slight movement might ignite the fuse of this standoff.
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