Chapter 110: Home and Homeland |
The moment the name Shi Shixin rang out, blood rushed straight to Shi Rang's head with a whoosh.
A ringing in his ears drowned out the bustling traffic outside. He clenched his fists even tighter, completely oblivious to his nails digging into his palms and drawing blood.
A vicious voice echoed in his memory, and that furious face reappeared before Shi Rang's eyes. The mouth opened and closed, spewing slurred, angry sounds. Only the sharp, stinging words could be clearly distinguished—"coward" and "trash" echoed over and over, blurring out the rest of the meaningless content, intertwining repeatedly like a lingering nightmare.
His eyes grew hot from a physiological reaction.
In the past, he would cry whenever the topic of his father was brought up. But Shi Rang was no longer that little child. He had long since broken free. He had escaped.
His Adam's apple bobbed. He forcefully pulled himself out of the shadows and back to reality.
His heart was still pounding wildly, his blood roaring against his eardrums with a rhythmic thud.
As the instinctive fear faded, what surged in his chest was anger—an anger that made him tremble.
Deacon Huo was still staring at him, letting him remain silent for a long time without any intention of urging him on. It was as if the name Shi Shixin represented some special meaning, a special value. The way he looked at Shi Rang was completely different from before.
Shi Rang took a deep breath, doing his best to suppress the trembling radiating from the inside out, and asked,
"Is he dead?"
"What? No, of course not!" Deacon Huo pressed. "So you are Shi Shixin's missing son?"
Shi Rang didn't answer the question; he just turned his head away.
Hearing that name made him sick to his stomach, the kind of absolute disgust one feels upon finding half a cockroach in a half-eaten crepe.
Even without getting a clear answer, the eagerness on Deacon Huo's face didn't fade in the slightest. His pupils shrank slightly as he slowly scanned Shi Rang from head to toe again, like an X-ray. The corners of his mouth curled up and then pressed down, and he would occasionally let out a chuckle. He looked as if he were having a psychotic break, leaving even Mirror dumbfounded.
"Brother Shi Rang, regarding the matter of joining our organization, it's very negotiable."
In just a few dozen seconds, Deacon Huo's attitude took a complete one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. His tone could even be described as affectionate.
"Let's not just sit here like this. Haven't you all been starving for two days? How about this: I'll treat you to a good meal to help you regain your strength—oh, right, let's not leave those Mini-Humans behind. Let's not waste any time; heading over to the Second District now is the perfect time for lunch. Um... right..." He snapped his fingers twice before continuing, "Mirror, yes, I'll have to trouble you to lead the way. We're heading back the way we came."
"Alright," Mirror said, standing up with a bewildered look on his face.
"We're going directly to the Second District?" Shi Rang finally spoke.
"Yes, straight there, and then I'll fill you in on the situation. If you want to come back later, just have Mirror give you a ride."
"I'll go help them pack up." Shi Rang immediately stood up from the sofa and turned his back, walking toward the bedroom.
Seeing that he wouldn't be coming out immediately, Mirror quietly mentioned that there were still the remains of their companion left in the car, unburied.
Deacon Huo cheerfully agreed, his smiling face making him look like a completely different person from before.
Only after stepping into the bedroom, closing the door, and leaning against the wooden panels did Shi Rang barely manage to calm himself down.
He didn't understand why Deacon Huo's attitude had drastically changed, nor did he want to understand.
Regardless of whether the man who shared his surname was colluding with the Ascension Society or being targeted by them, or whatever else...
He didn't even want to think about it.
At least the situation had taken a turn. It seemed he no longer had to plan how to kill off every informed person.
That would have been nothing short of a mad gamble, where the prize was a return to a normal life and the punishment was death.
After standing against the door for a while, Shi Rang walked over to the display cabinet and crouched down.
The Sheriff, who had been hiding in his ear the whole time, finally spoke up. "That guy is a real master at changing faces. He probably intends to use you. This dinner is crucial."
"If this can help me find Ying Shang, I can accept being used—I'm using them too."
"Shi Rang, I know this puts a lot of pressure on you, but you need to figure out how to leverage your... biological father's influence. Treat him as your bargaining chip. He can tell you two don't have a good relationship, so he might try to use you as a tool."
"...Are you guys still going back into the cardboard boxes?"
Seeing that he really didn't want to talk about it, the Sheriff had to back down. "Do you have any other suitcases? Cardboard boxes aren't sturdy enough, and we can't carry too many living supplies in them. The town should be able to fit directly into a suitcase. I can have everyone stitch the foundations together with the inner lining."
"Won't it get ruined from the bumping around?"
"We have plenty of experience dealing with that."
Shi Rang then turned and left the room, feeling Deacon Huo's gaze lingering on him the entire time. The man's head swiveled to follow him like a human extension camera.
That stare followed him in and out of Ying Shang's empty bedroom, and then back to Shi Rang's own bedroom.
Ying Shang's small suitcase had always been kept on the right-hand side just inside her door. It hadn't been used in many years, and its pink shell was a bit faded.
Shi Rang brought the suitcase back to his room, cupped his hand over his ear, and sent the Sheriff back to the town to arrange the relocation.
Once everything was packed up, he walked out to the living room just as Mirror returned from burying Heart Fist's severed hand.
Deacon Huo patted Shi Rang affectionately on the shoulder.
"Let's go, Brother Shi Rang."
Right before leaving the house, Shi Rang went to water the spider plant on the balcony one last time, gently touching the thick yet cold leaves of a few succulents.
He had a premonition that he wouldn't be returning home for a very long time. The task of taking care of them would probably have to be entrusted to Agent Angie.
The next time he came back, he definitely had to bring Ying Shang with him.
After a few flashes of light, the three of them appeared in a pitch-black alleyway. A door slowly opened on one of the walls, yet there was no sign of anyone opening it from behind.
Deacon Huo took the lead, stepping into the eerie corridor behind it. The passage was filled with the scent of fruity incense. They walked for about fifty meters before stopping.
Deacon Huo spoke into the darkness, "I have a reservation at your branch. Send me over."
Shi Rang vigilantly activated his Sensing. The feedback told him there were many anomalies nearby, as if he had walked into a nest, but his naked eyes couldn't see anything. After Deacon Huo spoke, one of the anomalies drew slightly closer. Immediately afterward, accompanied by a faint pulling sensation, the three of them instantly appeared in a much brighter place.
Shi Rang raised his hands high to block the glaring sunlight hitting his face, struggling to adjust to the spatial shift.
When he raised his head, he found that this was yet another alleyway, but it was incredibly spacious. Some vintage-looking small advertisements were plastered on the walls. Outside the alleyway, the sun was shining brightly, people were coming and going, and the air was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of food.
Right then, he heard a vendor's shout.
"Handsome, would you like a portion of salt and pepper potatoes?"
He stood frozen in place, as if struck by lightning.
Those words were spoken in the local language of the Second District, the Li Language, rather than the World Language.
Shi Rang stared blankly at the source of the voice, astounded to find a snack street right next to him. Students wearing school uniforms, hurried white-collar workers, and groups of young people out exploring were rubbing shoulders as they navigated the bustling, down-to-earth street.
The mobile phones and cameras they held up in their hands made his heart panic. In the Tenth District, this was no different from having 'come rob me' written on their faces. He had an urge to go over and warn them.
Seeing the faces of so many of his fellow people brought hot tears to his eyes.
After seven long years, he had finally returned to his homeland.