Night Journey

Chapter 171 Laughter
Ciri, a recent adult, is a stranger in a foreign land and currently works for the City Guard Bureau. He comes from the Torch of Fate.

He has an eccentric and incomprehensible personality, is cold and distant, and owes me a large sum of money.

This is all that Mefuni knows about Cillian.

She often falls into a perplexing confusion.

Is my almost obsessive attention to Cillianna stemming from a certain liking for the "person" himself, or simply from a strong urge to tear through his layers of mystery and peek into his unknown core?
Mefuni didn't dwell on the issue too much.

The reason is so simple it's almost crude.

Once you fully understand everything about Cillian, the answer will naturally emerge as clearly as a grain of sand at the bottom of the sea.

However, every single time—every single time!
Just when she thought she had finally grasped Cillian's true nature and her curiosity was about to recede like the tide, that damned guy would always reveal a completely unfamiliar side without warning, instantly shattering her carefully constructed understanding.

“Cillian!”

Meifuni screamed.

Damn it! She had thought about it, Elton had thought about it, Paul, Wensey... everyone in the City Guard had speculated about it countless times in private.

What kind of face is hidden beneath the mysterious six-eyed winged helmet?
Old, dignified, silent... countless possibilities churned in my mind, but none of them included the scene before me!
Cillian?
The colleague who always sat at the workstation next to hers was actually the legendary Falcon!

Absurd beyond belief! A hundred times more outrageous than the most outrageous drunken ramblings in a bar! Who would believe it? Who could possibly believe it?!

This series of facts came crashing down on her, so powerfully that it completely shut down Mefuni's brain.

She completely overlooked the most fundamental contradiction: Cillian's age didn't match that of the Reverse Falcon at all.

Ciri remained oblivious to the shock and screams that erupted behind her.

He glanced at the cake he had smashed beside him, then reached out, grabbed a piece, and popped it into his mouth. The soft, sweet taste washed away the bitterness in his throat.

Martin glanced at his watch and offered a gentle reminder.

"According to the rules of the Ink House, you may remain in the midst of a conflict for about one and a half minutes."

This was the first time Cillian had heard of such a rule in the Ink House, but considering Martin's calm demeanor, the ingredients he had just prepared, and his own previous speculations, he couldn't help but think about it.

There must be some extraordinary force behind the Ink House, or even that Martin himself is an extremely powerful superhuman.

"call……"

Ciri took a deep breath and turned his gaze to the torrential rain and wind outside the door.

Even if Martin hadn't reminded him, he was already planning to leave, after all, the chase with Decal was not yet over.

Good morning, Paul and Wensey.

As he greeted them, Cillian put his six-eyed winged helmet back on, wiped the lenses covered in blood and dirt, and his vision became clear again.

"As you can see, I'm quite busy today, so I probably won't be able to attend the party."

The situation was urgent, but Cillian still remembered the purpose of the party, so he went to Paul and Wensey and shook their hands.

"How did it come about... let me recall..."

Cillian became incoherent, "Oh, right, Paul, are you willing to be entangled with the threads of fate of Wensey until the end of your life?"

Paul realized that Cillian was officiating at a wedding, but the speech was clearly different from what he remembered.

But he still answered.

"I am willing."

Cillian then looked at the anxious Wensey and asked, "And you, Wensey, are you willing to be entangled with Paul's destiny until White Canyon is destroyed and the spinning machine collapses?"

Similarly, Wenxi could not understand the blessing, but she understood Cillian's intentions.

"I am willing."

Cillian nodded and took their hands together.

"Very good, I hereby declare you two to be husband and wife."

And so, a wedding that was so simple it was almost absurd came to an end.

"This feels pretty good."

After carefully considering it, Cillian commented seriously, "We can start thinking about how to develop this further."

Elton snapped out of his shock and asked in confusion.

"What...do you mean?"

"What else could it be?"

Cillian glanced at the bewildered Paul and Wensey. "I'm thinking of developing a second career, and being a wedding emcee is a good option... Finished hugging? You two should kiss now."

Under his direction, Paul and Wensey awkwardly kissed, without any excitement or overflowing love, only a sluggish feeling of their minds not keeping up with reality.

This must be a dream, right? It must be a dream, only in a dream could things develop so strangely.

See you later, everyone.

Cillian greeted them and staggered out of the ink house, his figure disappearing into the wind and rain.

It must be said that Martin's special drink came at just the right time. Cillian's pain in his calf not only lessened, but even the sensation in his entire calf became somewhat weak.

It's a bit bad, but not that bad; at least he can walk without limping anymore.

Before he could even leave the narrow alley, Cillian met Decal, who had been waiting for him, on the street outside the alley.

Compared to his disheveled appearance, he looked much more presentable, and even had the energy to straighten his tie, despite it being stained with blood.

From the start of the chase, Cillian never harmed Decal again.

The hazy hallucinations and cognitive dissonance, coupled with intermittent memory interruptions, were exhausting him just trying to avoid being killed, let alone finding an opportunity to retaliate.

As the river overflows, massive amounts of spores are gradually engulfing the entire city of Hel. The citizens first lose their normal cognition, then their memories, and fall into a prolonged coma. As the effects intensify, the influence of the power of Silence is spreading from these individual cases to the very concept of Hel City itself.

In the nearby city of the Lonely Tower, people's memories of the city of Hel are fading away silently. The records of this place in books are becoming distorted, illegible, or faded and disappearing from the pages.

The influence continued to spread and intensify, until even in the distant White Gorge, the thread representing the city of Herl was undergoing changes.

It is neither broken nor distorted; it is simply moving slowly toward transparency at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Dekar straightened his back. As the concept of Hel City gradually collapsed, his own power had reached its peak. If it weren't for the ritual restricting him, he guessed that he should have advanced to the fourth rank, or even touched the edge of the fifth rank.

He sneered, "Not going to keep running away, are you? Reverse Falcon."

Cillian remained silent, gripping his chainblade tightly with one hand and resting the other on the hilt behind him.

Dekar gripped the yoke tightly with both hands, and a dark mist slowly enveloped his body, spreading throughout the street. Combined with the spores that permeated the entire city, Cirion had nowhere to retreat.

He no longer planned to run away.

Boiling Sword was drawn, and the two sharp swords were crossed in front of him.

De Karl stared at the blade wrapped in layers of bandages, feeling a strange sense of familiarity, as if he had seen it somewhere before.

Forget it.

As a vain man, Decale forgot many trivial things in his life, and even though he tried his best to record them, he could not retain a single trace.

This is the destiny of returning to stillness.

He hated this fate.

So, Decal must do something. He must protect the city of Hel from the clutches of the chaotic evils and vow to accomplish great feats so that everyone will remember his name, as if it were engraved in stone, so that even cruel time cannot forget it.

"bring it on!"

Decal roared and strode forward, and Cillian followed suit with long strides.

The final, desperate battle will unfold in the torrential rain, and at this suffocating moment, a cheerful disco beat suddenly pierces through the wind and rain.

"Let loose and be wild!"

Two beams of bright white headlights suddenly cleaved through the thick curtain of rain, and amidst the low roar of the engine, an armored vehicle covered in waterproof tarpaulin roared out from the street corner.

Hallucinogenic mists surged, and spores of solitude drifted away... They could erode the will of flesh and blood, but they were powerless against this hard steel creation.

"Fire! Fire!"

The commands exploded amidst the wild music.

The next second, the tarpaulin was torn apart by several extended gun barrels.

Guns spewed flames and thick smoke, firing wildly along the road. Dekar's figure swayed violently and became indistinct in the scorching heat.

He furiously swung his flail, smashing it against the oncoming hail of bullets, sparks flying like fireworks at each impact.

However, even with Decal's impenetrable defenses, he was powerless to stop the successive bursts of fireballs.

The shockwave shoved him away, and what was even more deadly was that the high-speed armored vehicle did not slow down at all.

The sturdy body, imbued with unparalleled kinetic energy, rolled over the burning road surface like a raging rhinoceros, hurtling straight toward him.

A piercing, teeth-grinding metallic scraping sound rang out.

It was as if it weren't brakes, but rather two giant swords clashing violently at high speed!

The tracks of the armored vehicle locked and scraped across the wet ground instantly, leaving deep marks and sparks, and plowed across the ground with terrifying inertia.

After it slowly came to a stop, a bald patch of the dog's head popped out.

"Hey, Xi... Reverse Falcon, damn it, why was it so bumpy just now? Was it a speed bump?"

Bruce, as always, made inappropriate jokes.

Cillian, panting heavily, glanced at the menacing vehicle, then at the burning street... but he couldn't find Dekar.

As expected of roommates, Cillian asked instinctively.

Why are they playing this kind of song?

Bruce didn't hear clearly, "What?"

"Why play this disco?" Cillian asked, puzzled. "Aren't the climaxes in movies usually accompanied by metal rock or something? This sounds like we're having a party in the rain."

Bruce retorted, "Huh? Don't you think disco sounds fun?"

Cillian still didn't understand.

"so what?"

“Didn’t you say that killing is a pleasurable thing? So, having some upbeat music wouldn’t be a problem!” Bruce emphasized.

"That's not a problem..."

Cillian's earnest, thoughtful tone was utterly disheartening.

Just as the two were about to continue arguing about what kind of music should accompany the murder, Anya gripped the scorching sword and stood up from the passenger seat.

"Everyone."

She gazed intently at the burning inferno.

"Decal is not dead yet."

The blurry figure staggered to its feet, like an immortal demon, baring its fangs and sharp claws.

(End of this chapter)