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墨書 Inktalez
The lush trees rustled in the lonely night, swayed by the wind. The stars in the sky were sparse, and the crescent moon hung slowly above the treetops. The man on the bed had his eyes tightly closed, his stern face soaked with sweat, and his body, pierced by a long sword, was wrapped in a thick layer of white sand.
Due to excessive blood loss, blood flowed like a waterfall, soaking through the white gauze.
A few attendants of Night Star had anxious expressions. A cold-faced woman paced back and forth in the room, while another man with a similar expression continuously changed the gauze on the person lying on the bed.
"The sky is about to brighten, and our master has not awakened after taking medicine for so long. Could it be that doctor is deceiving us?" The woman suddenly stopped, looking at the person on the bed as if he were enchanted, and said angrily.
The man changing the gauze looked at her indulgently and said helplessly, "Zhuque, you need to change your temperament. Don't be so impulsive whenever something happens. That doctor is not a miracle worker; the medicine needs time to take effect in our master's body."
The woman shot him an annoyed glare and replied discontentedly, "You’ve learned to be clever now. Don’t forget who used to be so impulsive."
"I..." The man was about to speak when suddenly the person on the bed sat up abruptly. Startled, he quickly looked at the terrified individual and asked with concern, "Master, how are you?"
"Cloud Pearl..." His eyes were vacant as he stared ahead, murmuring a name.
His collar was soaked through without him realizing it. The usually gloomy man now resembled a helpless child, his eyes devoid of spirit as if he had been bewitched.
Cloud Pearl?
The three people in the room exchanged bewildered glances. Who was this person? The name sounded like that of a woman. Zhuque cast a puzzled look at the man in black, who shrugged in response, indicating that he also did not know.
All he knew was that their master had deep feelings for Miss Mo but had never heard of any other women appearing by his side.
Thinking of this made the man in black even more confused. He stepped forward and placed his thick hand on the man's forehead, exhaling deeply with relief; fortunately, the fever had subsided.
Having already sustained serious injuries, if the high fever persisted, their master would surely be in grave danger. His cold voice turned into deep concern: "Master, how do you feel?"
The godless eyes slowly turned to look at the man in front of him, his brows slightly furrowed. "Where is this?"
The man in black, shocked, replied, "My lord, do you not remember? This is Boiling City. You were attacked at night. You were injured."
The man paused for a moment, but soon the events flooded back into his mind. He recalled that while channeling his internal energy, a sudden force surged upward toward his Dantian, colliding with the internal energy within him. Unable to withstand the tremendous impact, he spat out a mouthful of blood.
Then a long sword pierced his chest, and after that, everything went blank.
Thinking of the woman from his dreams, Night Star's expression changed unpredictably—sometimes pained, sometimes blissful, sometimes filled with guilt—a mix of emotions converging within him.
That woman who resembled Mo Xi'er was someone he had deeply loved; it was the only time he had felt such emotions for a woman. But why had he lost his memory? He couldn't recall even a single detail about her.
Was she... Mo Xi'er?
Night Star felt a surge of hope and fear within him—fear that the woman was not Mo Xi'er and hope that she was. This complex emotion kept shifting in his mind.
"Where is that person now?" He was not defenseless; in just a moment, he regained his composure. What concerned him most was who wanted his life so desperately.
To have been pursued all the way from Heavenly Universe Kingdom to Boiling City was truly relentless.
He asked this question believing in the tacit understanding he shared with the man in black. The unspoken words would surely be understood.
As expected, the man in black slowly said, "She has been locked up by Zhuque. We did not rush to interrogate her out of concern for your safety."
"Let's go see her." Night Star said as he attempted to get out of bed but immediately felt pain tugging at a certain part of his body and let out a low groan.
The man in black hurried forward to support him, filled with worry and confusion. "With your skills, it should have been impossible for anyone to injure you. Why did you lose control?"
Although Night Star rarely takes action, it is known that his martial arts skills are among the best in the martial world. Those in black who wish to harm him will undoubtedly have to put in considerable effort.
His cold eyes narrowed tightly, and his thin lips slowly parted, "I guess I was possessed back then."
This realization left Night Star alarmed; being possessed means that one's martial arts have reached a certain level, and in seeking a higher breakthrough, if the body cannot withstand the pressure, it can lead to a reversal of energy and blood flow, potentially resulting in possession.
However, such occurrences are rare unless one practices an evil martial art. Generally, ordinary martial arts do not easily lead to possession. The fact that he experienced this without any warning is indeed strange.
"What?" The three people in the room immediately stood up, looking at Night Star in disbelief.
What kind of state must one reach for such a situation to occur? Others may not know, but those in black are well aware that their master's martial arts have always been gentle in nature; such an event should be impossible.
"Why would the master experience this? Is there something wrong with his body? We should find a doctor!" Before the person in black could speak, Zhuque hurriedly stepped forward and said.
Raising his long fingers, he waved them at them, "It's nothing. First, go check on that person!"
In the pitch-black room with no light, as Night Star and his group entered, a gust of cold wind swept through, tightening their cloaks. They continued walking straight toward the flickering candlelight lit by Zhuque.
They stopped upon seeing the person curled up in the corner. Just then, a chair appeared behind them without them noticing. Night Star had no time to care about it and sat down directly. However, as he moved due to his injuries, his brows furrowed tightly.
The person curled up in the corner sensed the light and slowly raised their head. Seeing the weak-looking figure sitting in the chair, a bloodthirsty smile crept onto their lips as they slightly moved their body, producing a harsh sound.
Night Star's cold gaze followed the person in black. He saw that their hands and feet were firmly bound by iron chains, and a pool of dried blood lay on the ground beneath them; it seemed that the chains had pierced through bone to secure them.
Night Star did not speak; his icy eyes fixed on the person before him, cold as winter's chill. Under his sharp gaze, the person in black showed no fear at all; their smile remained intact. "You really have a strong life force; you shouldn't have survived this."
He clearly saw that the long sword had pierced through his chest; the chances of survival were nearly zero. Yet unexpectedly, he had lived on. It seems that Night Star is indeed not easy to deal with.
"Ha ha..." The thin lips suddenly curled into a smile, but the smile did not reach the eyes. "You are quite lucky to still be alive."
He had already learned from the man in black that this person had attempted to commit suicide when captured. If it weren't for Zhuque's quick actions, he likely wouldn't be seeing him here now.
Of course, the man in black was not wrong; that long sword had indeed pierced his body, but it had missed by a fraction. Although he had been using his internal energy at that moment, in a state of desperation, he had used all of his internal strength just to survive. Otherwise, as he said, he would have probably met the King of Hell by now.
"What does it matter that I'm not dead? You won't get a single word out of me," the man in black scoffed.
He was professionally trained; once he accepted a mission, failure meant death. The tortures he endured during training had long since numbed him. To think he could reveal anything was simply a fool's dream.
"It seems you are a qualified assassin." Leaning back slowly in his chair, Night Star spoke casually, unfazed by the man's words.
The candlelight illuminated Night Star's face, revealing no hint of danger. His handsome features were no longer as cold as before; a smile lingered at the corners of his mouth.
The man in black stared at him intently, his voice icy. "If you know this, why not just kill me and be done with it?"
Death would be the best relief for him, sparing him from enduring torturous pain—nothing could be better than that.
His long fingers slowly lifted and waved lightly from about a meter away. "If you want to die, it depends on my mood. I never thought I could get useful information from you."
From the attitude of the man in black, it was clear he had undergone professional training. It was nearly impossible to extract what he wanted from him. But who was he? He was Night Star.
A playful smile curved at his lips, and his eyes narrowed into slits as he spoke nonchalantly. "Having suffered such serious injuries, how can I not seek retribution from you?"
"What do you want to do?" Meeting those eyes filled with mirth, the man in black suddenly shivered. Those seemingly ordinary eyes transformed into those of a hellish demon in an instant.
His rigid body slowly rose from the chair, moving deliberately with each powerful step until he stood before Night Star. He crouched down slowly and locked eyes with him, whose gaze was cold yet filled with fear. "What do I want to do?"
He seemed to be pondering the meaning of his words, then suddenly wore a look of realization. "How about I slice the flesh off your body with a knife, one piece at a time?"
Seemingly dissatisfied with his own idea, he shook his head. "Or perhaps I could brand you with a hot iron, leaving some marks on your sturdy body?"
"No way, that's too cruel." Feeling discontent with his own behavior, Night Star raised an eyebrow slightly, standing up and looking down at the trembling person below him. Suddenly, the smile on his face became even more radiant.
He was immensely pleased with the thought that surged in his mind. "I've finally figured out how to deal with you—let's try a gentler approach: chop off your hands and feet, and then soak your body in a vat of water."
He then turned to the man in black and said, "Don't you think I'm too clever? To come up with such a gentle method?"
At this moment, he was beaming with joy, while the three people standing behind him were drenched in sweat, each drop falling onto the cold tiles below. Not only the man in black but they were all trembling in fear.
"Y-yes... yes..." The usually cold man in black stuttered, unable to lift his gaze to meet those eyes filled with laughter that didn't reach their depths.
Behind him, chains rattled ominously as an angry voice filled the empty house. "Night Star, if you have the guts, kill me! What kind of hero resorts to such petty tricks?"
What he had initially thought would be torture turned out to be a punishment more brutal than the depths of hell. No matter how fearless he claimed to be, he was utterly shocked by Night Star's methods.
What kind of punishment was it? He dared not imagine; he only knew that if it were applied to him, it would be unbearable.
With a cold face, he slowly turned around, still wearing that faint smile. "I'm not a hero; I... am your regret for provoking me..." His eyes suddenly gleamed with a chilling light as he looked down at the curled-up figure. "A devil."
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