An Ming watched the sparks rise up into the sky little by little. A long band of light appeared on the distant horizon, illuminating the clouds in the sky, as if they were also burned red by the flames.
An Ming sniffed and didn't look in his father's direction.
"Dad, what are you going to do?"
An Ming asked weakly, as if he was just making small talk.
"…I plan to retire."
"According to your character, you don't intend to take revenge?"
"What's the point of my revenge if I can't even beat Shirika?"
An Ming seemed to snort deliberately and said in a somewhat unhappy tone.
"Mom struggles in the face of fate, but you don't even struggle. You are really useless."
In fact, this was not what An Ming really said. He did not want his father to struggle, as he was the last of his family.
He wanted his dad to live.
An Ming looked at the black sword turning into ashes in front of him and deeply understood how powerful his enemy was.
Before leaving, Xilika told An Ming and Wade that the black sword was a cursed tool. Originally, they were Orientals and it was not so easy to die. But this sword was like a poison that would corrode their bodies. Her heart was pierced by the black sword, and the poison spread throughout her body. She also told Wade to burn the corpse with the flint at hand.
The sun rose completely, and Shirika's body disappeared in the flames, leaving nothing behind.
This honeysuckle-like woman remained tenacious until the end of her life. She bloomed strongly on the snowfield, and finally returned to dust along with the wind and snow.
The old man clapped his hands, straightened his collar, and his face was as determined as a rock. When An Ming saw his old man like this, his thoughts seemed to go back to the night three years ago when he first met his old man.
That day, the old man was as cold as the god of death. And suddenly, this old man, who looked a little vicissitudes of life, seemed to have changed from a father back to the man known as the god of death, with fire reflected in his eyes.
"You know my temper. I'm not afraid even if I turn that damned Agreement Bureau upside down." He paused for a moment and then said slowly, "But I'm worried about you."
In an instant, the edge of death faded from his face.
An Ming understood. Perhaps the Grim Reaper had died a long time ago, died on the night he adopted the boy. The Grim Reaper could not have weaknesses, and An Ming became his weakness. The Grim Reaper with weaknesses would be kicked off the altar one day. He rolled down in blood and ran out of the door like a defeated dog. At that moment, he didn't care about his dignity, nor did he care about the eyes of others.
Because he was holding a child in his arms, and that child was named An Ming.
"What?" An Ming sniffed. "You are all making a fuss about me."
"I need to find a way to place you. This is probably my last mission."
Dad lit a cigarette and looked at the slightly pale sky surrounded by green smoke.
This was also An Ming's last heart-to-heart conversation with his father.
Half a year later, my father was assassinated.
Looking at the man sitting on the recliner, his body trembling slightly, his clothes splattered with blood, leaning on a spear, with large patches of red blood spreading from the horrific wound on his chest. At his feet were five men in black, with the marigold throne emblem on their collars flashing.
"Damn it! Why are these people haunting me?"
An Ming angrily picked up the musket on the ground, loaded it with bullets, and fired continuously at the corpses on the ground.
There were continuous muffled sounds in the room. Once, twice, three times, the bullets were emptied, and he replaced them with new ones.
"An Ming..."
Dad called out to An Ming in a weak voice.
"Why? We just want to live in peace. Dad and Mom haven't done anything wrong! Why? Fuck you!"
An Ming was so angry that he couldn't hear anything.
"An Ming!"
A roar suddenly rang out in the room. The blood-stained man seemed to have used up all his strength to stand up again, grab An Ming's arm and pull him to his side. He pulled out the pistol that An Ming was holding tightly and threw it aside, then wiped the blood splattered on his face with his shaking hands.
"...Why."
An Ming repeated this sentence over and over again, and he seemed to be dying with a sad face.
Dad forced a smile on his face.
"An Ming, you still can't make me worry even at this time," he coughed painfully and coughed up a large mouthful of blood. He suddenly lost all strength and sat down against the wall, "It seems that I can no longer wipe your butt."
An Ming slowly tried to reach out to touch the old face, but his half-extended hand just hung in the air.
"I know you're angry, but don't avenge me...her like you did two years ago. Get out of here! Go to a place where they can't find you or don't care about you."
"But, Dad. I..."
"Silly child, they want to kill us, they want to kill you. Your survival is the greatest revenge on them." The old man's voice was getting smaller and smaller. "Shirika and I once said that we both hope you can live an ordinary life. Not as a 'Black Scythe', but as an ordinary person, grow up ordinary, get married ordinary, age ordinary, and die ordinary. Find a 'family' you can rely on, and live well..."
These were the last words from An Ming's father.
That night, An Ming was sent to the border city by express delivery by his father's old friend. His file was destroyed overnight, and he, along with his past identity, sank into the dark corner of history.
There is no longer any such person as An Ming in the capital city.
Looking at the prosperity and lights going away, An Ming felt that he was moving away from a memory and a period of time. This period of time would be forever placed deep in his heart and never revealed.
His fingers, which were tightly gripping the railing, turned white due to the force, and then he slowly let go. As his fingers loosened, some memories in his heart were also put into the box and thrown into the deepest part of the memory warehouse.
He might never take it out again, because his father hopes that he can live peacefully.
From this day on, "surviving" became a curse.
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
An Ming finally opened his eyes, and in the faint blue light, he saw a blonde girl with a worried look on her face.
"Good morning, Erica." An Ming said calmly.
Hearing this, Erica pouted unhappily.
"Senior, you must have slept well. You know I was always worried." Erica gently hit An Ming's arm, but because he was injured, she didn't dare to use too much force. "Also, don't say things like 'Don't worry about me, just run away'. It makes me very sad."
"I...I can't promise."
An Ming shrugged and got up from the ground.
I don't know why I dreamed about that. Could it be that he still has something in mind? Is it because Erica appeared in front of him again with that annoying Marigold Throne Mark?
He could be considered a coward or a wimp. He had already followed his father and mother's wishes and stopped thinking about revenge, but why did those guys keep pestering him?
This is probably what is called "fate", right? I really can't accept it.
An Ming did not continue to think about it. If he continued to think about it, the dark resentment and emotions in his heart would be out of control. He had to fulfill his promise, which was the only and last promise he made to his father.
Seeing An Ming suddenly look worried, Erica asked.
"Senior, why do you feel different after sleeping?"
"This is your illusion." An Ming replied coldly, and then immediately changed the subject, "Let's not talk about this. Where are we now?"
"This is the basement of the old train station, an old subway station from the Second Empire period. You were the one who brought me in, have you forgotten?"
"I just remembered to run away, I didn't care where this place was."
"Alas, it's too useless to know now. I lost your only glow stick, and now we can't go anywhere without lighting." Erica was dejected.
After hearing Erica say this, An Ming was shocked to realize that there had been no lighting.
But if there is no lighting, then why is the room as bright as day?
According to Erica, without the light sticks, the subway passage should be pitch dark. But for An Ming, even though it was not dazzlingly bright, he could clearly see everything within a radius of ten meters.
What happened? Did something happen to his eyes after sleeping? An Ming couldn't figure it out.
But now is not the time for him to think about this. Since he can see the route clearly, the most important thing is to find a way to escape.