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墨書 Inktalez
Bill, the only son of a state senator from the Magellan Confederation, had seen his father commit suicide a few years ago after being exposed for embezzling a large sum of money. His mother, a lovesick and unfortunate woman, had gone to great lengths to transfer all their assets abroad before vanishing like a wisp of smoke in search of her husband. The laws of the United States were relatively humane; sins did not extend to family members. Bill would not foolishly hand over the wealth his mother had painstakingly left him, even if its origins were questionable. After mourning in his hometown for three days, he resolutely left that sorrowful place behind.
With a substantial initial accumulation and the shrewdness inherited from his parents, Bill quickly established a virtuous cycle of making money work for him—something many could only dream of achieving. However, he also inherited his parents' reckless spirit, leading him to associate with a group of dubious friends and engage in sordid activities involving robbery and smuggling.
“Bill, something's wrong! It shows that a room door has been opened!”
In the cockpit, Bill was lounging in the main control chair with his legs crossed, leisurely sipping coffee while envisioning mountains of shimmering Silver Light. A deep smile adorned his face. But just as he was enjoying this moment, disaster struck—a sudden thunderclap echoed through the air, followed by a flash flood that overwhelmed him at the foot of the mountain, leaving him gasping for breath.
Bill choked on his coffee and shot an angry glare at his loud friend beside him who was disturbing his peaceful reverie. Reluctantly, he turned back around and impatiently said, “What could possibly be the matter? Don’t make such a fuss. Get Wade on the line and have him take a team to check it out. It’s just sitting ducks; can they really fly away?”
Now, Mandarin Chinese was all the rage across the universe, and it was rare for this foreigner to speak it so fluently.
A young man with an Eastern appearance resembling Jufeng was usually cautious by nature and didn’t dare be as careless as Bill. He quickly connected with Wade, the captain of the Armed Team, instructing him to check the room where Jufeng had previously stayed.
Soon enough, Wade relayed back that everyone in that room had vanished. At that moment, the young man was flipping through some basic information about the occupants of that room when he came across several familiar faces that stirred an unsettling feeling within him.
“Bill, while you’re still leisurely drinking coffee! Come look at this; these people have quite an impressive appearance and demeanor. We locked all the doors; how could they possibly escape? This is bad luck; it seems we’ve run into trouble. My eyelids have been twitching all day—this can’t be good.”
Seeing that the Eastern-looking man’s tone was ominous, Bill dared not maintain his nonchalant attitude any longer. He glanced over the information and felt a sinking sensation in his heart.
At this moment, there were more than ten people still in the cockpit—basic pilots from poor backgrounds who had come together through their shared experiences on the streets. Everyone stared wide-eyed at these two leaders, harboring some hidden worries. However, Bill was more adept at reading people's hearts; although he sensed potential trouble brewing, he maintained an impassive facade while trying to reassure his friend and everyone else.
“Maozi, what are you worried about? It’s just four or five people; let Wade lead a team to bring them back. This is our territory; can they really fly out of here?”
The Eastern-looking man was named Zhu Mao; among close friends, he was affectionately called Maozi. After receiving a sharp rebuke from Bill, Maozi finally regained some composure but remained uneasy—after all, it was his first time doing something like this; who wouldn’t feel apprehensive about life-and-death matters?
Just as they finished communicating with Wade, sounds of punches and kicks erupted from outside the cockpit. Bill and Zhu Mao exchanged glances and quickly ordered their crew to secure the cockpit door tightly. Yet within moments, to their astonishment, the cockpit door began to malfunction comically—it swung open on its own accord—sending chills down everyone's spines as fear gripped their hearts.
The cockpit door swung wide open, revealing several strange figures. One burly man was still carrying an unconscious member of the Armed Team, while a handsome young man with his hands in his pockets looked down at them as if he were a vacationing student. Beside him stood a stunningly beautiful woman, her expression cold as she crossed her arms. The most captivating of all was a calm young man in the center, who held the hand of a delicate girl resembling a porcelain doll, and he stepped forward into the cabin.
With each step, Bill and Zhu Mao felt their hearts race. The other pilots sat frozen in their seats, too terrified to move, while Bill and Zhu Mao were so stunned by the scene before them that they forgot their next actions.
"You must be Captain Bill," Jufeng said as he placed Chuyang on an empty seat beside him and turned to ask casually.
Hearing his name spoken by someone else snapped Bill back to reality; he realized he had been caught off guard and had forgotten to resist. In the next moment, he made a move as if to pull something from behind him—perhaps a gun, a throwing knife, or even a bank card—but it remained uncertain. Just as his hand reached back, Politeness approached swiftly and kicked him aside, sending Bill crashing into the large, complex control panel behind him before he fell to the ground with a thud.
Politeness stepped closer, standing just a step away from Bill. He did not make any further moves to disarm him, but at that moment, Bill no longer had any thoughts of resistance.
Zhu Mao surprisingly did not retreat; instead, he rushed to Bill's side and helped him up, answering Jufeng's earlier question for the breathless Bill.
"We are who we are. Who are you? Are you trying to hijack this plane?"
"Ha!" Politeness laughed loudly, spraying Zhu Mao with saliva. Zhu Mao's gaze darted nervously toward Jufeng, momentarily ignoring Politeness's rude gesture.
Jufeng shook his head helplessly. "In my lifetime, I've seen anti-corruption officials shouting about reform while amassing wealth for themselves; I've seen night club hostesses brazenly proclaiming their virtue. But this is the first time I've encountered robbers yelling 'stop thief' while committing murder. Is it that I haven't left my hometown for too long and can't adapt to the times, or is this era simply outdated? Even if you're trying to pull a fast one, you need a decent excuse. With such a poor excuse, I don't even know how to respond."
Jufeng's words hit home; Zhu Mao stammered and hesitated to continue lying. Although Bill had regained some composure, he was at a loss for what to do in the face of such overwhelming strength.
"How many times have you robbed tourists?" Jufeng pressed.
"This is our first time," Bill replied through gritted teeth as he rubbed his aching stomach.
"First time?" Jufeng's eyes glinted with amusement. "Have you killed anyone?"
"No!" "I have killed!"
This time, the answers were completely different; one came from Bill, while the other was naturally from Zhu Mao.
Bill glanced at Zhu Mao and continued to explain, "I killed before I got into this line of work, but not after."
Jufeng fell silent upon hearing this. Both Bill and Zhu Mao had their own thoughts, and they were glad for a moment's delay.
After a moment, Jufeng spoke again, "Do you have a boss above you? Are there any accomplices involved in this? Of course, those low-level armed personnel outside are not included in this discussion. Don't expect them to come to your rescue; there’s no chance of that."
Bill and Zhu Mao felt a chill at his words, realizing that the last straw of hope had been blown away, leaving them somewhat despondent.
"No, we just acted on a whim to pull off a job. We're all brothers in this line of work; there’s no one who is the boss."
Jufeng nodded for some reason, picked up Chuyang, and left with a parting remark, "From now on, stick with me. I guarantee you'll make more money than doing this high-risk stuff. Apologies to the passengers who weren't disturbed; for those who were, offer some compensation and smooth things over. I believe you have that capability. Fly in the original direction, and by the way, arrange for me two better-equipped rooms."
"As for any tricks you might consider, think it over yourself. Just remember, if I could catch you once, I can catch you again. Take care."
Jufeng and Flower Snow Moon were the first to exit the cockpit, followed by Politeness and Tong Bailong.
In the distance, faint gunfire could be heard, indicating that Wade and his team were likely very close. However, the reinforcements Bill had hoped for ultimately did not arrive.
Bill sighed deeply and said helplessly, "Contact Wade and tell him to stop."
Maozi wanted to argue for something but swallowed his words instead; he still vividly remembered Politeness's earlier kick. More frightening was the young man holding the exquisite Porcelain Doll; the pressure he exuded was almost suffocating.
In the Aircraft Corridor, Chuyang asked Jufeng, "Dad, why did Polite Uncle kick that person?"
Jufeng smiled gently and pressed his forehead against Chuyang's purple hair.
"Because, you see, in this world, some truths can never be expressed with words. Actions speak louder than words; that's the truth."
After Jufeng finished speaking, he laughed heartily. Chuyang seemed to not fully understand the meaning of his words, but seeing her father laugh made her very happy, so she giggled.
The gunfire in the distance faded away, and the laughter in the corridor grew more joyful.
(To be continued)
(Did you think about killing Bill? But it wasn't that bloody; it was all good. Hey, monster, watch me take you down~~)
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