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墨書 Inktalez
Wang Fugui recognized that these two individuals were not villagers from Dragon Ridge Village; he suspected they might be outsiders who had come up the mountain earlier. A sense of dread washed over him. As a frail middle-aged man in his forties, he was certainly no match for the two armed young men.
He extended his left hand forward, trying to convey a desire to avoid conflict, his expression tense as he spoke to them, "Brothers, let's talk this out calmly. There's no need for violence." While saying this, he discreetly moved his right hand behind his back, attempting to retrieve the switchblade from his pocket. If he could catch them off guard and strike first, there might still be a slim chance of survival.
However, the two men showed no intention of stopping; they completely ignored Wang Fugui's words, their eyes filled with an icy murderous intent. The one on the right, sporting a scruffy beard, was the first to act. He swung his knife and struck Wang Fugui on the right shoulder.
Wang Fugui let out a scream of agony as his right hand, which had been poised to grab the knife, suddenly lost all strength. He tried to dodge to the left, desperately struggling to escape the tent. But before he could take a step, he felt a sharp pain in his left leg. The blow had come from the bald man on the left, whose strike was so powerful that it rendered Wang Fugui immobile, causing him to collapse helplessly onto the ground.
Fear filled Wang Fugui's eyes as he raised both hands in surrender, trembling as he pleaded with the two men, "Please, don't kill me!" Yet the two armed youths showed no sign of mercy. One of them lunged forward and pinned him down while the other raised his knife and swiftly slashed across Wang Fugui's throat.
The loss of blood caused Wang Fugui to quickly lose consciousness, collapsing lifelessly onto the ground. The two men hoisted his body as if it were trash and tossed it forcefully outside into the pouring rain.
The next morning, as the sun rose and cast its light upon the clearing at the mountaintop, the air was fresh yet tainted with a strong metallic scent of blood. In the aftermath of the brutal attack by these outsiders, over ninety villagers had perished without exception.
The intruders had taken over their makeshift tents and turned them into their own living quarters. They piled the villagers' bodies beside the tents, preparing to use them as provisions. The corpses had been so ravaged by acid rain that they were unrecognizable from their former selves.
From a distance, this scene of death and despair resembled a hellish landscape, sending chills down one's spine.
At that moment, Lu Xiaoran was groggily sitting up in bed inside the safe house. The acid rain from last night had evidently not affected his refuge at all; in fact, Lu Xiaoran was completely unaware that it had even rained.
He picked up his phone from the bedside table and glanced at the calendar displayed on the screen. It was already the twentieth of the month.
"Is the light coming tonight?" Lu Xiaoran murmured thoughtfully to himself as he raised his head.
According to his previous memories, at six twenty in the evening on the twentieth, a strange light similar to the Aurora would appear in the sky. This light would last for a full hour, and once it completely faded away, people around the world would gradually begin to experience the Awakening of Abilities. These abilities would likely account for a thousandth of the global population.
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