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墨書 Inktalez
Yan Kong's gaze fell upon the small recycling robot curled up in the mud, noticing the familiar Iron Dome insignia emblazoned on its shell. He squinted slightly, the lines of his face tightening with anger. Crouching down, he grasped the upper half of the robot and lifted it up. The tiny mechanical body trembled slightly in his grip, emitting faint beeping sounds.
"When did you get stuck here?" Yan Kong asked in a low voice, a hint of suppressed fury lacing his tone, like a predator poised to pounce on its prey. His knuckles tightened around the robot, causing its metal shell to creak under his grip.
The small recycling robot struggled uneasily, its optical sensors flashing red as if pleading for mercy. It emitted a series of sharp beeps, and binary data was quickly translated into text through Yan Kong's Brain-Computer interface. The information appeared before him, brief and direct: "On the first day of the Hill Battle, I was dispatched for recycling."
Yan Kong's brow furrowed even deeper as he shook the robot forcefully, as if trying to jolt more answers from its programming. "What did you see?" His tone grew colder, his gaze sharp as a knife, fixated on the robot. "Did you witness the duel?"
The small recycling robot emitted even sharper beeps, its body trembling in Yan Kong's grip. It seemed that the immense pressure had pushed its programming to the limit; its optical sensors flickered like a human's eyes in fear.
Data reappeared in Yan Kong's Brain-Computer interface, the translation fragmented: "I... could only perform recycling... unable to approach the duel site... only saw the Terminator... fall..."
"Fall?" A cold glint flashed in Yan Kong's eyes as he tightened his grip again, causing the robot to creak under pressure. "Clarify! What exactly happened? Did you see that sword strike?" His voice grew increasingly urgent, almost grinding out each word through clenched teeth.
The small recycling robot's optical sensors dimmed slightly under the pressure, and it emitted a series of short beeps. The translated data became even more scattered: "…the battlefield… too far… but saw… light… blue light…"
Yan Kong's pupils constricted slightly as images of the thin cut on the Terminator's neck and the graceful steps he had previously simulated flashed through his mind. He relaxed his grip just a bit, but his questions and anger burned even hotter within him.
He stared at the small recycling robot, lowering his voice: "The blue light… what kind of light was it? Be more specific." He knew this timid robot might be the only witness close to that duel; he needed to extract more clues from its data.
Yan Kong's fingers dug into the metal shell of the small recycling robot, his arm strength making it creak painfully. The little machine struggled in his grasp like a trapped beast, its optical sensors flashing frantic red lights as it emitted a series of sharp beeps filled with fear and resistance.
"Speak!" Yan Kong's voice was low and filled with rage, like a volcano ready to erupt at any moment. "Reveal everything you saw!"
The small recycling robot beeped incessantly, as if pleading with its master for a chance to survive. "Beep beep beep... data... beep... is classified information from Iron Dome... cannot provide... beep beep beep..." The translated text appeared on Yan Kong's Brain-Computer interface, the cold content only fueling his irritation further.
Yan Kong's gaze turned icy, a mocking smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "Classified information? Iron Dome's secrets?" He repeated softly, his tone dripping with undisguised contempt. "Do you really think I care about some damned rules?"
Before the robot could respond with another round of beeping, he abruptly raised his hand and hurled the robot into the air. The little recycling robot spun like a rag doll, its optical sensors flashing red as it twirled, the sharp beeping growing more mournful, as if issuing a final lament.
However, before the robot could hit the ground, Yan Kong had already drawn his knife. A flash of silver streaked through the air, swift as lightning, the blade slicing through the atmosphere with a piercing whoosh. "Whoosh—" The blade cleanly cut through the robot's casing.
Sparks flew in all directions as the Iron Dome emblem was neatly severed away; that small metal fragment traced a perfect arc before plummeting into the mud, splashing dirty water everywhere. The impact and vibration from the blade caused the small recycling robot to veer off its original path and crash heavily to the ground, rolling over and acquiring a deep crack in its shell.
Crouched in the mud, its optical sensors flickered erratically, emitting beeping sounds laced with damage effects, filled with pain and protest.
Yan Kong sheathed his knife and looked down at the little robot sprawled on the ground, a cold smile playing on his lips. He bent down and lightly tapped on the crack in the robot's casing, his tone carrying a cruel delight. "Now, you are no longer part of Iron Dome." His voice was low and mocking, each word piercing like a steel needle into the robot's core.
The small recycling robot curled up tighter, its optical sensors flickering as if they were about to extinguish. Its beeping sounded helpless and fearful, as if trying to explain or apologize, but all its sounds were rendered insignificant by Yan Kong's cold laughter.
Standing upright again, Yan Kong's eyes glinted with barely concealed malice. His hand gently gripped the hilt of his knife, as if delivering a final warning to his opponent. "Now, tell me everything you know, or... with my next strike, I'll render you completely useless."
The small robot lay on the ground, its optical sensors flickering weakly; its body emitted creaking metallic sounds as if it were softly moaning. After losing its Iron Dome emblem, it felt like it had been brutally stripped of its last shred of dignity. Its casing was riddled with cracks, mud seeping into its internal seams, making its movements even more rigid.
"Woo woo woo..." The small robot lay curled up on the ground, trying to evade Yan Kong's gaze. Yet faced with this unreasonable and aggressive swordsman, it knew that any resistance was futile. After a few seconds of silence, it emitted a resigned beep; its optical sensor's light shifted slightly before projecting a blurry image onto the muddy ground.
The image was dark and indistinct; only some distorted shadows could barely be recognized as remnants of a battlefield. Thick fog and mud obscured most details; within the hazy image were faint figures swaying back and forth. Yan Kong frowned, impatience etched across his face.
"Why is it so dark?" He kicked the muddy ground hard, splattering mud onto the little robot's shell. "Where were you hiding to take this, in an underground cave?" His tone was filled with sarcasm and dissatisfaction as he fixed his gaze on the projection on the ground, as if hoping to unearth more useful details from it.
The little robot's optical sensor flickered, followed by a low beep. The translated text appeared on Yan Kong's Brain-Computer interface: "Beep... I... I was hiding inside a Destroyer Mech... Beep..."
Yan Kong let out a cold laugh, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at the robot on the ground. "A Destroyer Mech? No wonder the image is so terrible. Are you really that cowardly, not even daring to stick your head out?"
The little robot curled up tighter, its body trembling slightly, as if protesting softly or expressing its innocence. Its beeping carried a hint of grievance: "Beep beep beep... The battlefield is very dangerous... Beep... I'm just a small recovery robot... Beep beep beep..."
Yan Kong gritted his teeth, suppressing his irritation as his gaze fell once more on the dim projection. He bent down, staring intently at the blurry image, trying to find any clues within. Although the scene appeared chaotic, certain flickers of light and shadows began to piece together a vague picture in his mind.
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