Chapter 97 The Way of the Strong
Yang Qiu didn't care about Hal's accusation at all. Instead, he laughed and said, "Don't be so extreme, friends. Since I said this is a win-win situation, it is of course based on facts. Think about it yourself, how many people can have this opportunity to observe their own inner demons objectively from the perspective of an observer without threatening their own mental state?"
"We still have to thank you, right?!" Hal's face turned green.
"Of course." Yang Qiu's phantom said as a matter of course, "Among the three of you present, is there anyone who is content with the status quo from the bottom of his heart and never intends to pursue the path of the strong?"
Hal stopped cursing this time and kept his mouth shut... As a man, how could he admit that he was content with the status quo and had no ambition to make progress!
"If you want to pursue the path of the strong, then it is only a matter of time before you challenge the limits of your own spiritual realm and face your own spiritual flaws." Yang Qiu's phantom said calmly, "I have never heard of anyone who can't even face his own weaknesses and fears, and is qualified to call himself... strong."
Hearing this, Hal and Tuttle both grimaced...
Rex even showed a wavering look.
If there are old wounds in the hearts of adults that cannot be healed, they must have come from their youth - young people are most likely to make mistakes and stupid things, and make choices that will make them feel ashamed and regretful for the rest of their lives.
The life trajectories of many people are changed by stupid decisions made in their youth. After they repent, they have to spend at least ten, twenty years, or even a lifetime to pay for the stupid decisions they made in their youth.
This intense rejection of one's past self will not be eliminated by the invincible time. Instead, it will be hidden more secretly in the depths of one's soul and in the most untouchable place in the memory attic. Of course, when a person is stimulated or has a sense of déjà vu, these terrifying memories will cling to their surface again and tear open the past wounds again.
If it were just an ordinary person, this lingering nightmare from the past would not be very destructive. At most, it would make people depressed for a while. After all, the current burden of life is far more important than the dark history of the past.
If it were professional warriors whose mental power was generally multiples of that of ordinary people, then the problem would be huge - in this world where magic rules existed and powerful mental power could directly interfere with reality, a warrior who collapsed would literally collapse his soul and body at the same time, and he wouldn't even have to go up to the rooftop...
Rex was particularly impressed by this. The magic potion he had collected with great effort could only keep him awake when he was baptized by a higher level of power. When the effect of the potion wore off, he could no longer control his mind and was on the verge of collapse. If he had not been pulled into the branding matrix by Yang Qiu, he would have turned into a mutated monster wandering deep in the Sorenson Mountains.
"Of course, this does not mean that I will force you to do anything. You still have to make your own choices." Yang Qiu's phantom smiled and said, "The demons that prevent you from becoming strong are right there. It is our undead friends who need to challenge them, not you."
"You can drink tea, chat, and take a nap when you feel tired, just like spending an ordinary and peaceful night waiting for dawn; or you can try to stare at your own shadow... It's up to you to decide which one to choose."
Having said this, Yang Qiu activated the "Realm of the Void" located below the town hall of Exile Town, canceled the projection, and left the space for the three people.
The moment the projection disappeared, the night outside the window seemed to be stained by blood, and the red light like silk threads was looming.
Hal and Tuttle looked at each other with very ugly expressions...
——No matter how many nice words they said, in the end they still did the bastard thing of exposing their secrets to those bastard undeads without any cover!
Soon, all three of them felt a slight trance. This feeling was very short-lived, less than half a second. If they were not so nervous, they might not have noticed this subtle feeling and would have thought that they were distracted.
"Has it started yet..." Hal looked out the window with a pale face.
The last time Yang summoned the aura of the void to cover the entire town, he didn't think it had anything to do with him at all.
It was only this time that he felt something vaguely... This bloody darkness that should have made people instinctively fearful actually gave him a vague sense of closeness!
When he stared at the darkness mixed with blood, he could even sense that there was something vaguely connected to him, lurking in the darkness somewhere!
"here we go."
On Third Street, in front of an empty wooden house with a cellar, the players who had formed teams encouraged each other and bravely walked into the house.
In the pitch-dark wooden house, a giant centipede corpse with a strange shape was pressed against the ceiling, staring at the players viciously with more than a dozen pairs of eyes.
In the town hall, Hal felt the familiar feeling of exhaustion and quickly grabbed the back of the nearest chair.
"Hal?" Tuttle hurried to help him.
"Here we go again..." Hal gritted his teeth, holding the armrest and slowly sat down.
Rex looked at this guy silently...
When the town was first shrouded in the aura of the void half a month ago, he also felt exhausted several times, but because he was lying in bed sleeping, he did not react too much. He thought that there was something wrong with his body and did not pay much attention to it.
So, the "alienated spiritual realm" that Yang had constructed after materializing was also entered by the undead, right?
Rex couldn't help but cover his face with his hands.
I am curious about what the dead spirits saw, but I don’t want to know - it’s too embarrassing!
Hal, who had recovered, probably had a similar mood to Rex. He struggled for a long time, but curiosity eventually overcame his resistance. He slowly lowered his eyes to look at his own shadow.
The large wind lamp hanging on the wall provided sufficient light in the room. Under the light, Hal found that... his own shadow was lighter than the shadow of the sofa he was sitting on.
Hal couldn't help but think of what Pansy had said half a month ago about the strangeness of his and Tuttle's shadows...
Hal gritted his teeth and stared at his own shadow, which was strangely fading, with anger.
Suddenly, double images appeared in front of his eyes.
The environment around him seemed to lose its sense of reality, and his mind and will seemed to be dragged into a familiar yet unfamiliar double image.
Two images appeared in front of his eyes at the same time...
These are two very similar images: a quiet and deep forest in the suburbs, a frail boy staggering along dragging a body bag, and the rustling sound of his rubber soles stepping on the thick leaves...
“Aaaaaaah——!”
Hal roared and raised his head, staring at the ceiling. Veins bulged on his forehead, temples, neck, and arms, and his body began to spasm violently.
"Hal?!" Tuttle was shocked and rushed over to hold him down.
Hal was still staring at the ceiling, his whole body shaking uncontrollably, his face becoming more and more distorted with fear, and his eyes turning red.
"Damn it! Hal?!" Tuttle panicked and slapped his face with his hand. "Wake up! Look at me, Hal, do you hear me?!"
"Don't be impatient..." Rex stretched out his hand to stop Tuttle, "He's not out of control, he's just scared."
"What bullshit are you talking about? How could Hal be scared like this!" Tuttle was furious.
Rex was not angry, but said quietly: "Hal may not even really understand himself, how can you understand him better than he does?"
Tuttle was stunned.
Rex pulled up a chair and sat down, sighing, and said, "How can a person truly understand himself... Apart from the memories deep in his soul, most people will actually beautify the wrong things they have done in their memories and make excuses for their past selves... Because if they don't do this, they will not be able to live."
"But this power of escape only belongs to ordinary people." Rex smiled bitterly and said, "People like us who only believe in our own strength and pursue the way of power will eventually have to face ourselves... If we can't even defeat ourselves, how can we talk about the way of the strong."
Tuttle was silent for a moment, then let go of Hal and sat down opposite him.
Among the extraordinary people in this world, spellcasters are the group most likely to lose control. Every few years, one can always hear news of the fall of a well-known wizard.
The reason is that magic power is poisonous.
The abundant magic power in this world comes from the "whale falls" of the ancient gods. Even if the spellcasters who have been with magic power for years are careful and cautious, they will always make mistakes.
So are the other extraordinary people safe?
No.
The monks of the church can also lose control due to the wavering of their faith, and they also need the assistance of seals when advancing; all churches try every means to obtain power and wealth and pursue the unity of church and state, all in order to collect and preserve seals more efficiently.
Professionals like them who are known for their physical abilities, as long as they have a certain amount of talent and practice diligently in the initial stage, they can gain power that exceeds that of ordinary people and obtain a certain degree of transcendent status.
But if you want to go further, you need to touch the spiritual forbidden zone - for example, career advancement.
Although Tattle calls himself a ranger, he has not actually completed the ranger advancement... He just has a talent for using bows and arrows.
Hal wasn't the real assassin either - Hal didn't step through that "door".
Rex is the one who stepped through the "door", so his power is fundamentally different from theirs... Otherwise, it would be impossible for the unruly former thieves to hold their noses and live in peace with this guy who is incompatible with them.
Hal, who was slumped in the high-back chair with his head tilted back, didn't know if he heard what Rex said. After panting for a while, he turned his head and looked at Rex deeply.
Rex didn't say anything, just looked at him calmly.
Hal's face twitched, and he struggled to sit up straight. He grabbed the armrests with both hands, slowly lowered his head, and looked at his shadow again.
Tuttle wanted to speak to dissuade him, but after thinking it over, he did not speak.
To outsiders, Hal has many problems.
But for Tuttle... he was willing to follow Hal because he respected Hal's strengths.
For example, inner protection, for example, not admitting defeat.
Although Rex's words were well-intentioned, the tone of someone who had experienced was also very infuriating - he was just a young boy, why did he speak so condescendingly and lecture others? !
Hal was obviously not convinced. He was a very aggressive person. He could not stand a boy who was almost ten years younger than him saying "I can do it but you can't" in front of him!
Hal, who was holding back his strength and refusing to admit defeat, saw an extremely absurd scene through his own shadow this time -
In the suburban woods that he thought he had dug out of his mind long ago and forgotten forever, Jim in the body bag... crawled out!
Jim, who crawled out of hell to seek revenge, had half of his uncle, Harrington Maxwell, growing on his chest!
Half of Olive's body grew out of Uncle Harrington's body!
“Ah—! Aaaaaah—!”
Hal let out a heart-wrenching scream, his whole body convulsing and shaking violently again, and he didn't even realize that his nails were scratching blood on the handrail.
Even in such an embarrassing state, Hal did not look away this time. He stared at his own shadow with fear, looking at the blurry picture that could awaken the deepest memories in his soul. The world before his eyes seemed to be gradually shrouded in blood...
Jim, his good friend.
Maxwell's family offended the earl, a new industrial upstart in the Kenyan Empire. His father and uncles went bankrupt one after another within half a year, and he fell from a favored young master to a street teenager who couldn't even enter the school gate.
When he was lost and helpless, it was Jim, a boy who grew up on the streets, who gave him a hand.
Jim took him to join the local street organization for protection, and he was finally able to get paid for doing odd jobs.
Jim taught him the rules of street survival, who not to mess with, where to get a free lunch, and which restaurant's discarded expired ingredients can still be eaten...
Such a Jim was killed in the bar where these street teenagers had been hanging out for a long time.
The person who killed Jim was the leader of their street organization. The reason for killing Jim was that Jim wanted young people like Hal who had not yet been infected with too many bad habits to go to the factory with him.
It was a large local factory with a strong workers' union and good salaries. Every time they recruited, there was a fierce competition... Jim managed to get the upper hand of a union manager and finally got this opportunity.
The leader knew that Hal and Jim were as close as brothers, and forced Hal to make a choice - to live as an accomplice in killing Jim, or to be buried with Jim, the boy who dared to leave the organization?
Hal had no choice.
He buried his conscience, along with the body of his good brother Jim, in the suburban woods.
Hal screamed like he was howling. He looked at Jim who had turned into a monster in the double image, and his soul seemed to be torn apart bit by bit by invisible big hands.
He thought he had long forgotten the pain of having his soul and heart torn apart, but it turned out that he had not forgotten... In fact, the pain had always been hidden deep in his soul, but he just pretended not to see it.
Something...slid down his cheek and dripped onto his knees.
When he was twenty years old, his adopted Uncle Harrington finally saved up some meager belongings.
Uncle Harrington knew that if Hal dared to quit the gang, his family would be in trouble, so he secretly sold his belongings, bought a train ticket, and took Hal and his family to the South quietly one night.
At first, they lived a good life in that southern city of the Kenyan Empire. Hal ran a small business with his uncle, and his little cousin found a workers' school to attend.
But it wasn't long before the young and aggressive Hal got into trouble...
He himself was strong and healthy, so he was fine, but Uncle Harrington was implicated and died with just one blow.
Hal didn't dare to face his aunt and little cousin and became a deserter.
Hal slid off his chair and fell to the ground.
He could no longer shout, but just kept his mouth half open silently.
His mind, body, and soul seemed to be torn into countless pieces.
Olive, a cheerful and enthusiastic southern woman.
She is not Kenyan, but came to Kenya with her family to escape the war.
The Kenyan Empire 's industry and commerce were concentrated in the north, while the south was mostly plantations and manors, as well as scattered handicrafts.
Of course, it was impossible for Olive, a foreign woman, to find a good job in the southern city. After being fired by the businessman who hired her as a maid, she sold flowers and juice, and eventually became a street prostitute.
The burden of life did not crush Olive. In that old apartment where many people lived together, Hal could always hear her laughter through the thin wooden walls.
Hal, who has just joined the local thieves group, falls in love with the cheerful Olive, but he is wandering around and dares not express his feelings.
One night, when Hal and his companions broke into a grocery store to steal, he saw Olive being taken into an underground hotel by two drunken men across the street.
Hal, who was in charge of keeping watch, just watched the scene silently.
After that, he never heard the Southern woman's laughter again.
It was much later that he accidentally learned from a local gang member that one of the two men who bought Olive that night was a notorious slave trader.
Hal had not had the chance to express his love for Olive, and the only interactions he remembered with Olive were brief greetings like "Good day, are you going out?" when they met in the corridor.
He saw with his own eyes the woman he loved, falling into hell.
And he did nothing at the time.
Memories that he thought he had long forgotten were surging in his mind.
Even when Jim, Uncle Harrington, and Olive, who had transformed into monsters in the double image, killed all the undead, the picture disappeared, and he could not see anything in front of him... he still refused to stop.
Hal curled up into a ball, clutching his chest.
It hurts so much...
Someone put a hand under his armpit, lifted Hal up and put him back in the chair.
Hal raised his eyelids wearily and saw... it was Rex.
There was no mercy on Rex's annoying face, which made Hal feel a little better.
Tuttle didn't help him because Tuttle was also slumped in the high-backed chair next to him, with his head tilted upwards and his face covered with his hands.
Hal glanced at Tuttle's shadow and saw that his own had faded as well.
Among the three of them, only Rex's shadow did not change.
Hal wanted to say something, but in the end he said nothing, closed his eyes, and let himself collapse.
"…Is this what I fear? I see. I am afraid of the mistakes I made in the past."
"I never...defeated myself. I just ran away."
Hal thought silently and suddenly felt a little discouraged.
Although he was just reminiscing about the past, he seemed to be more exhausted than when he was working hard to maintain the financial resources of the Sorenson Mountains.
Glancing at Rex who was sitting there in a daze, Hal rarely… took the initiative to talk to this young man whom he had always been reluctant to talk to: “Charlie, how did you feel when you collapsed through the ‘door’?”
Rex seemed a little surprised that Hal was willing to talk to him after revealing such an embarrassing side. After thinking for a while, he said seriously: "Humble, insignificant, redundant... The power that impacted me when I advanced made me feel confused about whether my life is really worth living."
The corners of Hal's mouth twitched slightly... This answer is really not very useful.
"So what is your fear? Your 'distorted mental realm' materialized by Yang, what is it?" Hal asked again.
"I don't know." Rex smiled bitterly. "It's hard for people to understand themselves objectively, and the same is true for me. I'm waiting... for the dead to enter my 'spiritual realm'."
Hal stared at Rex for a few seconds and suddenly realized that this guy was not so annoying.
In Westham Town, Yang Qiu took a quick look at the situation of the three copy material providers in Exile Town, and then he stopped caring about them and continued with his daily meditation.
In the past two days, he has stayed in the other world longer than when he returned to Earth, and his frequency of meditation is much higher than before.
His frequent meditation naturally attracted the attention of Supervisor Lowell...
Lowell, who had already laid down, felt the active magic and opened his eyes.
Monks do not use magic, but their powerful mental strength also makes them extremely sensitive to magic. Before the Age of Discovery brought more abundant trade activities and more frequent commercial flows, the relationship between the Mage Tower and the Church was not as peaceful as it is now. In order to compete for spellcasting materials, it was normal for magicians and monks to be on the verge of a showdown.
Supervisor Lowell quietly got out of bed, walked to the door and opened it.
In the living room, Yang, who was sitting behind the coffee table, was meditating again. The abundant and active magic power coming from all directions filled the entire room.
Rowell frowned slightly, his expression somewhat solemn.
If he remembered correctly, Yang Gang had meditated before dinner.
The church also has this universal magic trick of concentrating the mind, opening all senses, and quickly absorbing magical factors, but the monks of the church do not use it to absorb magical factors, but to pray and accept divine blessings.
But whether it is absorbing magic power or accepting God-given faith, it is impossible to do it so frequently and intensively - the magician will be at risk of having his mind polluted by magic power, and the monk is also likely to be eroded by divine power during prayer and lose himself.
Although sunlight is good, too much of it can cause harm.
Based on Lowell's observations of Yang over this period of time, he did not think that Yang would be a madman who blindly pursued the path of power.
"If it's not a risky move... does he have the confidence that he won't lose himself in magic or power?"
With this confusion, Supervisor Lowell lost all desire to sleep and simply walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa opposite Yang Qiu.
After about half an hour, Yang Qiu ended his meditation and nodded to Supervisor Lowell with a smile.
Supervisor Lowell nodded in return, sensing Yang Qiu's overflowing magic power, and frowned, "Excuse my presumptuous guess, Yang, are you... preparing to advance to a great magician?"
"Yes." Yang Qiu admitted frankly, "Our undead friends are already unacceptable to the world, and now there are many more people in Tarantan who need shelter. As the lord, I naturally have to improve myself as much as possible to prepare for any emergency."
Rowell frowned and said in disagreement: "Excuse me, your experiences over the past few decades cannot be called tempering your mind."
It takes several years to prepare for professional advancement, and something like advancement to a great magician requires at least ten to twenty years of preparation. Lowell had heard a few years ago about how many people the Church of the Fiery Sun had lost while trying to block the Nightmare Butcher, and he didn't like Yang Qiu's rashness.
Yang Qiu smiled and said, "Dear Inspector, what do you think the essence of power is?"
"Force, violence." Supervisor Lowell said without hesitation.
An ordinary monk from the church might have spouted a bunch of nice-sounding doctrines, but at the level of Inspector Lowell, there was naturally no need for those meaningless embellishments.
"Yes, the essence of power is force and violence." Yang Qiu's expression remained unchanged, and he still smiled calmly, "However, for me, power is the bottom line of protecting myself from being violated and maintaining the minimum fair order, rather than violence used to attack others."
"I have never abused my power for my own selfish desires, so I never worry about getting lost in the power."
