AWB Chapter 571: In this life, one must always seize something
Chapter 571: In this life, one must always seize something
There was a small patch of burnt hair and a crack on the silver ring at the tip of the tail.
(Tsk, acting is quite laborious.)
He swung his tail, and his magic power circulated for a while. The wound healed quickly, but the bald spot caused by lightning would not grow back for a while.
(Forget it, the cat demon form usually doesn’t show its tail anyway.)
There was a howl of a wolf demon in the distance; it was his subordinates looking for him.
Mo Xue lazily jumped down from the tree, transformed into a human form, wrapped in a black robe, and became the cold and arrogant guardian of the demon clan again.
"Reporting to the Protector, the East City District has been cleared!"
The wolf demon knelt on one knee.
Mo Xue said nonchalantly: "Let's retreat, we have had enough fun today."
The wolf demon hesitated: "But the demon king ordered..."
"If the demon king asks, just say it was me who said it."
Mo Xue narrowed her golden eyes, "Or... do you want to try the price of defying me?"
The wolf demon shuddered and immediately lowered his head: "I dare not!"
Mo Xue snorted lightly and glanced in the direction of Qingshan Town when he turned around.
Lin Ci'an stood in the center of the ruins. Under his feet were the bluestone slabs of the once bustling market, but now only blackened cracks remained.
In Qingshan Town, there were 321 people, and no one survived.
He squatted down and rubbed his fingertips across a half-burnt candy-figure bamboo stick stuck in the cracks of the stone - that was Aunt Wang's little daughter's favorite snack. The child always loved to chase after him, calling out "Brother Ci'an" in a crisp voice.
(She was still alive yesterday.)
The bamboo stick broke into two pieces in his palm.
When they passed the pile of rubble at the east end of the town, Lin Ci'an suddenly stopped.
"My home is right here."
He kicked open half of the charred door panel, revealing the blacksmith's furnace underneath. "Father always said that this furnace was half of his life... Now there is not even ashes left. He was a..."
Chu Ziyu saw the young man gritting his teeth, veins bulging on his neck, but he refused to let tears fall.
Listen to him speak slowly.
Lin Ci'an's father's surname was Chen, and he was an old blacksmith with a lame leg.
On a snowy night fifteen years ago, blacksmith Chen picked up an abandoned baby at the town entrance. There was only a note in the baby's cradle, with the three words "Lin Ci'an" scrawled on it.
Old Chen never married and made a living by relying on his blacksmithing skills, but he still raised the child.
He had a tough temper and even tougher skills. All the hoes, kitchen knives and horseshoes in the town came from his small blacksmith shop.
(“When you forge iron, you must first strike the man.” — This is what Lao Chen often says.)
Lin Ci'an started to pull the bellows at the age of six, and hit his hand for the first time when he swung a hammer at the age of ten. Old Chen scolded him while bandaging him, but secretly put a piece of maltose under his pillow at night.
Last winter, Lao Chen was coughing up blood so badly, but he still managed to finish his last sickle.
"Remember,"
He pressed Lin Ci'an's hand on the red-hot iron block, "Don't let go even if it gets burned - you always have to hold on to something in your life."
Three days later, Lao Chen died beside the blacksmith's furnace, still holding the half-cut dagger that Lin Ci'an had stabbed with.
(Now, even the unfinished dagger has turned into ashes along with the blacksmith's furnace.)
"Brother." His voice was very hoarse, "Can you wait for me for half a minute?"
Chu Ziyu watched the young man walk around the town alone:
- Put the sugar man bamboo stick back into the ruins of Aunt Wang's house
- Used broken tiles to build a small grave for the blacksmith's furnace
- I kowtowed three times under the locust tree
When he finally returned to the flying sword, Lin Ci'an's eyes were frighteningly red, but he said calmly, "Let's go."
The wind blew the paper ashes across his blood-stained clothes, like countless pairs of hands trying to keep him.