Special Forces Medic

Chapter 911 883: Book of Sinful Odes

Guang Lingyi did not expect this secretary to candidly admit his intentions. From his principle standpoint, this already infringed upon some layer of the law. Further analysis would point to the abuse of power for personal gain and settling personal vendettas under the guise of public interest.

"As long as the evidence is conclusive, it won't undermine my principles."

Such an answer truly resembles something Guang Lingyi would do, secretly executing Yao Zheng. Guang Lingyi did not intervene because the evidence was solid. This time... he squinted his eyes. "Proving the accuracy of those evidences is your responsibility."

"Yes."

——If you wish to fall into Hell, I will sever your guilty hand

——If you commit evil with one foot, I will strike off both your feet

——If you commit evil with a single eye, I will gouge out both your eyes

——Better to let you enter the Celestial Kingdom with one eye than to fall into Hell with both

——If you truly wish to fall into Hell...

All of a sudden, upon opening his eyes, it was all clear; he was not mired in Abi Hell, but truly in the Celestial Kingdom! The parched corners of his mouth involuntarily curved into a smile against the overhead sun. Awakening to the taste of sunlight every morning made him realize he lived in Heaven, not lingering in the darkness of Hell.

He moved his hands and feet; they were still attached to his body, though imbued with an unavoidable numbness, yet confirming he was still alive.

After a simple wash-up, he sat down under the sunlit pier, his mind haunted by the indelible proclamations of sin. He didn't know when such memories would be erased from his mind; these verses had tormented him endlessly. If possible, he wished someone could crack his skull open to halt this repeated broadcast of language in his head.

Really wishing to fall into Hell... haha! Hong Lian suddenly laughed at the sun overhead. In this world, there is neither Heaven nor Hell, only a creation at the seam between the two. He originally dwelled in darkness, so how could he fall?

With half the power of darkness in hand, but this isn't the whole world. Nor does he harbor such grand ideals—powers everyone desires, which, in his eyes, are nothing but a pile of dung. Does he truly wish to possess it? Certainly not. He eagerly wishes to discard it, yet it clings to him like a part of his flesh, impossible to sever. However, today, when he opened his eyes under the sun, as fragments of repeated memories descended once more in his dreams, he felt the so-called downfall before entering the Celestial Kingdom.

He pulled out a wooden box from beneath the bed, large and thick, resembling an old camphor wood chest used as high-end wedding dowry in ancient society, now so ordinary that even on antique streets no one would give it a second glance.

The box was nearly empty except for a thirty-centimeter-long peculiar object wrapped in a rag. He carefully removed the rag layer by layer, exposing a dazzling radiance. Under the sunlight, its brilliance was blinding. A budding rose rested atop an octagonal prism column, surrounded by six pairs of wings at the junction. The tips of the wings supported the rose petals; this was the coveted Rose Staff, symbolizing angelic beauty and purity, wisdom, and power.

After wrapping the Rose Staff again and placing it back in the box, he stared at it intently for a long time before lifting a flap at the bottom to extract a thin metallic item inside.

"Didn't expect there'd still be a use for you." Hong Lian lovingly wiped the dull, strange metal with the corner of his clothes. It looked like an axe, but lacked a long handle, featuring only two crescent-shaped notches, its sharp blades overlapping. Fingers slipped through a notch, pulling the blades apart to split into two sharp instruments. He swung them in the air, emitting a hissing sound akin to a crying infant or a demon crawling out of Hell, chilling to the bone.

Sunlight poured down onto the blades, refracting a cold light. It could not warm this person nor his weapon.

Dark clouds encroached, slowly obscuring the clear sky, bringing moisture to engulf them. Hong Lian kicked the box in front of him, pushing it back under the bed and stood at the window. People living on the edge don't believe in fate, but they trust intuition. The repeatedly appearing verses are fragments of restructured memory; each time it appears in dreams, it forewarns the arrival of danger. Hong Lian trusts such intuition, and recently, the frequency has increased so much it's begun to disrupt his life! Ten years—this long guard with a demon's weapon; it's time for a switch but he doesn't wish to finally offer his life for it.

Closing his eyes, breathing in the damp air, reopening them as a thin sense of oppression hits him face-on. Swinging the sharp weapon in his hand, he jumps out of the window, landing on level ground. To avoid detection, he's scoured the entire Yanjing for hiding places, but none suits better than here.

The most dangerous place often turns out to be the safest. When everyone focuses their gaze upon an event, it neglects the event's backdrop. Thus, he's well-hidden, but it's temporary; someone will eventually find this place, someone will certainly know him better than he himself.

"Long time no see!" As soon as he landed, a calm voice sounded overhead. No need to look up—he knew who it was. Such oppression as he could unleash to the extreme didn't understand hiding; an enemy who doesn't know how to hide isn't a good enemy. An enemy who knows how to hide certainly must be an easy enemy to deal with.

"Mu Rongyun!" Hong Lian looked up. He hadn't seen that face for a very long time—ten years isn't too long or too short either. Aside from the perpetually haunting verses of his sins, which could count as an unforgettable memory, this person's face must be imprinted on his chest. Even repeated washing and scrubbing can't erase it entirely.

Beneath the mask were rosy lips, a pointed nose amid pale skin. Without the concealment of darkness, the fine blood threads crisscrossed in the paleness like tattoos, akin to an enchanting spider web capturing everything.

Hong Lian inhaled sharply. Even today, under this mask, he could still recall his appearance. He never considered him human, yet he possessed human-like features, the blood and veins covering his entire body crept bit by bit beneath nearly translucent skin, extending all the way to the soles of his feet. (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit qidian.com to cast your recommendation votes and monthly votes. Your support is my greatest motivation.)