Fan Shen struggled to keep his eyelids open. He looked at his fingers and counted the meaningful things he had done in his life. He hadn't even finished counting his five fingers, which were as thin as chopsticks, when he sighed and sadly gave up on the task. The smell of medicine in the ward was always so pungent. The old man on the bed next to him had already reported to Ksitigarbha two days ago. It would probably be his turn in a few days. He had some kind of strange disease, myasthenia gravis. It was the kind of disease that was especially suitable for male protagonists in romance novels. It was said that if there was no cure, he wouldn't be able to move anything except for his tears when he died.
"But I'm not a male protagonist in a romance novel." Fan Shen mumbled, but because the muscles in his jaw were useless, it became a string of muffled murmurs. He looked at his middle finger and felt sorry for himself. "I'm still a virgin."
...
He really hadn't done anything meaningful in his life. Other than helping an old lady cross the road, giving up his seat on the bus, getting along with his neighbors, helping his classmates cheat on exams... Fan Shen was a good, useless man in the traditional sense. His parents had passed away long ago, so he was left alone in the hospital, waiting for the day his life came to an end.
"Good people don't get rewarded."
In the silence of the night, Fan Shen seemed to be able to clearly see the muscles in his throat slowly relax, unable to relax anymore. His breathing muscles also gradually lost their elasticity like a rubber band, weakly flattening out. The clean little nurse in the hospital was nowhere to be seen. Next to her was an old woman, who was talking about something with pity in her eyes.
"Am I going to die like this?"
His fear of death and his desire for a taste of life filled him with a mixture of emotions he had never felt before. The person to send him off was not the cute little nurse he had been hoping for, but this Obasan. This undoubtedly added to Fan Shen's melancholy. Miserable and sad, his eyes drooped, looking at the black cloth covering the window of the ward to block the sunlight. He felt that life was really as lonely as dog shit.
...
...
Miserable and sad, a drop of wet liquid slipped from the corner of his eye.
Fan Shen felt a little sad. He stuck out his tongue and licked the tears that had slid from the corner of his eye to his lips. He was surprised to find that his tears were not only salty, but also had a slight fishy smell. Was it because he rarely bathed in the hospital that even his tears began to stink? He couldn't help but curse in his heart, "Who asked you to cry? Who asked you to cry? Do you really think you're the male lead of a romance novel?"
But he immediately realized that something was wrong. Why could his tongue stretch out of his lips to lick his tears? According to the doctor, his tongue had long lost its ability to move. The only use it had now was to easily slide back into his esophagus and block his airway, thus becoming a rare genius in the world who committed suicide by swallowing his tongue. Then, he found that it was easier for him to open his eyes. His field of vision was very wide, and his eyesight was much better than before he got sick. The scenery in front of him was clear and bright, and there was an object made of bamboo lying in front of him.
Fan Shen, who had been in a daze, suddenly saw a shocking scene through the bamboo shards. More than ten men in black, brimming with a murderous aura, were holding sharp weapons in their hands, hacking at him! For a moment, he had no time to tell if this was a dream or a strange experience before death. He instinctively shrank his head back and covered his face with his hands. If it had been any other ordinary person, they would probably have done the same thing.
Swoosh swoosh swoosh swoosh … Countless sounds of breaking air rang out!
This was followed by countless muffled grunts, and then silence. After a while, Fan Shen felt that something was wrong. He carefully separated two fingers from the hands covering his face and secretly looked outside. The bamboo basket in front of him divided the space in front of him into countless pieces. Looking through these holes, he could clearly see more than ten corpses lying on the ground. Blood flowed on the ground, and the fishy smell filled the air.
Fan Shen was frightened. Everything in front of him was too real, and he couldn't come back to his senses for a moment. Then, he suddenly thought of the hands on his face. Could it be that his hands could move? Could it be that his illness had really been cured? Then what was going on in front of him? Was this all a dream? When he woke up, would he still be lying on a sickbed, unable to move, a cripple who could only wait for death?
If that was really the case, then it was better not to wake up from this dream. At least his hands could move, and his eyes could blink. He thought sorrowfully, and touched his wet face with his hand. When he pulled his hand back, he found that it was covered in blood. It turned out that the drop of wet liquid that had dripped from the corner of his eye was someone's blood that had splashed onto his face. Fan Shen stared blankly at his hands, screaming in his heart that these were definitely not his hands! In front of him was a pair of white, tender, and adorable little hands. They were stained with blood, and they looked as strange and enchanting as a white lotus that had bloomed in Asura's Field. They were definitely not the hands of an adult!
A series of emotional shocks surged into Fan Shen's mind. He couldn't help but be stunned. Countless questions and incomparable fear occupied his body and mind.
…
It was the 57th year of the Qing Kingdom. His Majesty had led an army to conquer the western barbarians, but the war had not yet ended. Count Sinan was also with the army, and the empress dowager and the Council of Elders were in charge of the capital. On this day, a fire broke out at Taiping Villa on the outskirts of the capital by the Liujing River. A group of nocturnal experts took advantage of the fire to break into the villa, killing anyone they saw.
A young servant from the courtyard took advantage of the night to break out of the encirclement with his young master. They were chased by a group of villains dressed in nocturnal clothes. The two sides fought all the way to the south entrance of the city. The experts who were ambushing them did not expect that this disabled youth was actually an unfathomable expert. Behind the hills, there were unexpectedly reinforcements from the other side — the identities of these reinforcements made these people even more terrified!
"Black Knights!" The assassins, who had been shot to death by crossbow bolts, lay in pools of blood and cried out in anguish. The reinforcements were mounted on horses, wearing black armor. Under the moonlight, they glowed with a faint, soul-devouring luster. Each of the cavalrymen was armed with a hard crossbow, which only the army was allowed to equip. Earlier, the rapid firing of the crossbow bolts had killed most of the assassins.
Surrounded by the black knights was a middle-aged man sitting in a carriage. His face was pale, and he had a sparse beard on his chin. He looked at the young servant, who was carrying a child on his back, and nodded. He then clapped his hands lightly.
The clapping was the signal to attack!
The cavalry separated into a group, and like a sickle in the night, they mercilessly charged into the ranks of assassins, who had suffered heavy casualties. Suddenly, a sorcerer among the assassins raised his staff and began to chant an incantation. Everyone present could feel some unknown energy beginning to gather at the edge of the hills. The middle-aged man in the carriage frowned slightly, but did not move. Suddenly, a black shadow leaped out from beside him, flying through the night like a hawk.
With a crisp sound, the sorcerer's chanting came to an abrupt end. His head flew high into the air, and blood fell like rain.
The middle-aged man in the carriage shook his head. "These sorcerers from the west just don't understand. In the face of a true powerhouse, magic is like the Prime Minister's pen. It's useless."
Dozens of black knights confirmed that the surroundings were safe. They clenched their right fists and made a hand gesture, reporting that the surrounding assassins had been cleared. The cavalry parted, and the carriage inside slowly moved forward, stopping in front of the young servant. The middle-aged man in the carriage sat in a wheelchair with the help of his subordinates. The middle-aged man with crippled legs pushed the wheelchair under him, slowly approaching the center of the field, toward the young man who had been standing as straight as a spear. Looking at the bamboo basket on the young servant's back, the middle-aged man in the wheelchair finally showed a hint of red on his pale face.
"Finally, nothing happened."
The man carrying the bamboo basket had his face covered with a black cloth, and in his hand was a black iron rod that looked like a sword. Blood was slowly dripping from the iron rod, and beside him were many corpses. The corpses were all experts in the ambush, and there was blood on the throats of the corpses. It seemed that they had been killed in one blow.
"I need you to give me an explanation for this matter," the man with the black cloth over his eyes said coldly. The man with the black cloth over his eyes said coldly. His voice didn't tremble, and there was not a trace of emotion in it.
The middle-aged man in the wheelchair had a look of pity on his face. "Of course, I will give you an explanation, and I must also give my master an explanation."
The young servant with the black bandage nodded and prepared to leave.
"Where are you taking this child?" The middle-aged man in the wheelchair said coldly. "You're blind. Do you want the young master to wander the world with you?"
"This is the young lady's flesh and blood."
"This is also the master's flesh and blood!" The middle-aged man in the wheelchair said coldly. "I promise that I will find a very safe place for the young master in the capital."
The man shook his head and pulled the black cloth over his face.
The middle-aged man in the wheelchair knew that other than the young lady, even his master couldn't order him around. He could only sigh and try to persuade him. "The things in the capital will be settled when the master returns. Why must you take him away?"
"I don't trust your master."
The middle-aged man frowned as if he hated what the man said. He paused for a while and said, "A child can drink milk and read. Do you know how to do these things?" He sneered. "Blind man, what else can you do besides killing?"
The man wasn't angry. He gently pushed the bamboo basket on his back. "Cripple, it seems like you only know how to kill."
The middle-aged man smiled sinisterly. "This time, only the nobles in the capital took action. Once the master returns, I will naturally start to clean them up."
The blind young man shook his head.
The middle-aged man gently stroked the wheelchair, as if trying to guess what she was afraid of. After a moment, he frowned and said, "I know what you're afraid of, but in this secular world, besides the child's father who can protect him, who else has the ability to protect him from that unknown danger?"
The blind young man suddenly spoke. His voice was still as emotionless as before. "A new identity, a life without being disturbed."
The middle-aged man thought for a while and nodded with a smile.
"Where?"
"Danzhou Port. The master's mother is currently living there."
After a moment of silence, the blind young man finally accepted the arrangement.
The middle-aged man smiled as he pushed the wheelchair to the back of the blind young man. He reached out to take the child from the bamboo basket and sighed as he looked at the child's adorable face that looked like a snow sculpture. "He really looks exactly like his mother. He's so beautiful."
He suddenly laughed out loud. "This little fella will definitely be successful when he grows up."
His subordinates stood in silence a distance away. When they suddenly heard their master laughing so happily, though they remained calm on the surface, deep down, they were extremely shocked. They wondered how important the child was.
"Hmm?"
The blind young man tilted his head and reached out to take the child back. Though he was more innocent than normal humans, he was unwilling to let the child's face be too close to the venomous snake's hand. At the same time, he used a one-syllable word to express a purely polite question. The middle-aged man smiled as he looked at the child's face. There was an indescribable and especially terrifying feeling in his smile.
"He's only 2 months old, but he's able to wipe the blood off his face. After experiencing such a terrifying thing tonight, he can still sleep so soundly. He's really …"
He suddenly lowered his voice to make sure that his subordinates could not hear him. "… The child of a Heavenly Meridian."
The middle-aged man held great power in the capital, and he was extremely ruthless. Whenever an official who committed a crime fell into his hands, he would reveal the truth within 2 days, and he had a sharp eye. Even so, an extraordinary person like him could not tell that the child was not sleeping soundly, but had fainted from fear.
…
Heavenly Meridian referred to Heaven, and Meridian referred to the bloodline.
A Heavenly Meridian referred to the bloodline left behind by Heaven in the human world. According to the legends in this world, a bloodline left behind by Heaven in the human world would awaken every few centuries.
This bloodline could represent an undefeatable battle prowess. For example, there was a great general in the distant ancient country of Nass. When his country was about to be destroyed by the barbarians, he used his bravery and battle prowess to assassinate most of the members of the barbarian primitive parliament. There were also some Heavenly Meridian who displayed great talent in art or wisdom, such as the Great Wizard Pall and his wife, the playwright Fu Bo, who had just died 300 years ago in the west. Naturally, no one could prove that they were the bloodline left behind by Heaven for the suffering of the human world. But in reality, these people brought peace and many other things to the human world. Moreover, all of the Heavenly Meridian disappeared without a trace. No one, not even the country, could find a trace of them. They just suddenly appeared and suddenly disappeared. Other than leaving behind some obscure records, there was nothing to prove their existence.
The middle-aged man in the wheelchair happened to be one of the few people who knew of the existence of the Heavenly Meridian. For some reason, after Fan Shen died, his soul came to this world, and just like that … he was inconceivably reincarnated into the body of a baby. Moreover, this baby's father or mother was unexpectedly the mysterious and unfathomable Heavenly Meridian of the continent.
At daybreak, the battlefield had already been cleaned up. The carriage slowly moved up the stone road to the east. Behind the carriage, a group of black cavalry and a pale, middle-aged man sitting on a wheeled horse formed a very strange and enchanting scene. The carriage hit a stone, and the sound of a ripple woke up the baby lying flat on a soft silk cushion.
The baby's eyes left the faces of the people who had saved his life somewhat listlessly, and looked in front of the carriage. Unlike the wandering gaze of an ordinary baby, it was incomparably clear, but unable to focus, and had a few traces of something that could not be explained clearly. No one knew that such a soft little body actually contained a soul from a different world. As far as the eye could see, the curtain of the carriage fluttered in the oncoming wind, revealing a corner of the green mountains outside the carriage and the long stone road behind it. It was like countless pictures, continuously rewinding.
In front of the carriage, the blind youth was tightly gripping the iron drill in his hand. His eyes were covered with a black cloth, covering both his eyes and the sky.
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