Dragons begin with courage

"There's no time to explain now!" Chu Tianjiao seemed to understand the shock and confusion in his son's eyes. He spoke quickly but with exceptional clarity, "Don't be afraid, son. Once a father, always a father. I'm still your father, not a monster."

He even tried to put on a more relaxed expression, though the smile looked particularly sharp against the backdrop of glints in the blade and shadows: "Don't worry, your dad is actually... quite capable. It's just that a true master doesn't show off."

Before he could finish speaking, he pushed open the car door.

A sudden downpour of wind and rain rushed into the warm carriage.

That figure, always slightly hunched and with a somewhat ingratiating smile, now stood straight as a pine tree, stepping into the raging storm. Simply standing there, he was like an insurmountable wall, keeping all deadly threats at bay.

A brilliant golden light blazed in Chu Tianjiao's eyes like flames. He gripped the hilt of the knife still embedded in the car door, and with a flick of his wrist—clang!

The long sword was drawn, tracing a perfect arc in the air. The raindrops that hit the blade were repelled by an invisible force, creating a hazy vacuum.

He held his sword horizontally before him, his gaze calmly sweeping over the layers of menacing, rushing shadows. His voice was not loud, but it carried a resolute determination that could rout a thousand armies:

"bring it on."

The next moment, he moved.

It's not a retreat, it's an attack!

Alone, he charged into the black tide of Deadpool!

A flash of light!

Like a silver dragon emerging from the abyss, like a bolt of silk across the sky. Before that deadly blade, those strange beings that could fly, were as fast as ghosts, and whose claws could tear through steel, were as fragile as straws.

With a single slash, black blood splattered in the rain; with a flick of the blade, a masked figure draped in a tattered cloak was silently severed in two. There were no complex techniques, only the simplest, most direct, and most efficient killing. Wherever the blade struck, a deadly figure met its end.

Alone, with only a knife, he carved out a brief, bloody vacuum on this eerie overpass! The dense horde of Deadpools couldn't even get half a step past him and approach the battered Maybach.

As long as the man is still standing, the people in the car are safe.

Om-!

The blade cleaved through the rain, producing a clear, resonant sound. In that instant, Chu Zihang seemed to see his father's figure blur for a moment, and a beam of light split into several illusory trails, simultaneously sweeping across several directions—thud thud thud thud… Nine death servants who pounced from different angles froze in the same instant, then shattered and fell to the ground.

The speed was so fast that it exceeded the limits of vision, like an illusion.

Inside the car, Chu Zihang stared blankly at the figure wielding a blade amidst the wind, rain, and shadows, seemingly a god of war.

My eyes welled up with tears without warning.

A scalding, astringent sensation rushed into my nasal cavity, and my vision quickly blurred.

original……

Dad is not a good-for-nothing.

My father is a hero.

They are heroes who silently protect something and fight against these terrifying monsters in the shadows unseen by everyone.

He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to rush out and shout at everyone who had ever mocked this man: He's not that old bastard who frequents bathhouses! He's not a loser! My dad is a hero!!

He wanted to tell his grandparents: Dad had his reasons, and what he did... was a remarkable but also dangerous thing.

He wanted to tell his mother: "Look, Dad is amazing. He's actually... always been amazing." So...

Let's go back to the past. Back to that little home, Dad crawling on the floor, me riding on his shoulders shouting "Giddy up!", Mom bustling around in the kitchen but smiling so beautifully... When I grow up, I'll make lots of money, buy a big house, buy a Maybach, and we...

The scalding liquid finally broke through the defenses, mingling with the rain on my face and sliding down.

He stared at the blood-soaked figure, his throat bobbing, straining to utter only a very soft sound:

"……dad."

Just as Chu Tianjiao's blade tore through another dark shadow, a sudden change occurred.

All the frenzied Deadpools, as if pulled by invisible threads, stopped moving in unison. They no longer howled and pounced, but instead lowered their heads slightly in a stiff posture, presenting an eerie silence towards the overpass ahead—that void end swallowed by the torrential rain.

That's not giving up, but... welcoming.

"No!" A chilling cold, like an icicle, instantly gripped Chu Tianjiao's heart, far colder than any blade. He abruptly looked up, his gaze like lightning, shooting into the depths of the rain.

At the end of the bridge, in the boundless darkness, a glimmer of light appeared.

At first, it was just a hazy blur, spreading out in the torrential rain, so soft it even carried a hint of warmth, like a traveler lost in the cold night suddenly catching a glimpse of the dim glow of an oil lamp shining through a distant window. That light made one involuntarily want to approach, to shed all weariness and fear.

But Chu Tianjiao felt as if all the blood in his body had frozen at that moment.

The light grew brighter and clearer, gradually dispelling the surrounding darkness and illuminating its own outline—it wasn't car headlights, but a solemn and magnificent radiance emanating from the very existence itself. It was as if the road itself was prostrating itself before the light, rather than the light illuminating the road.

Chu Zihang, inside the car, also held his breath. The aura emanating from that light reminded him of the majestic altars depicted in ancient book illustrations, where believers trekked thousands of miles to reach them—warmth was merely an appearance, concealing endless majesty and oppression within.

Then, he heard a sound.

A long, deep, mournful cry, as if it came from ancient thunderclouds.

A horse neighing?

On this absolutely enclosed, absolutely abnormal overpass? If this wailing could penetrate the raging wind and rain and reach our ears clearly, what enormous creature must be making that sound?

The next second, his question received a brutal and direct answer.

At the core of the light, the torrential rain was pushed aside by an invisible force field, and a mountain-like outline suddenly emerged.

It was a colossal horse, its entire body covered in cold, metallic skin that shimmered with a dark, eerie light. A strangely shaped, lifeless metal mask covered its face. With each breath, tiny, leaping, blue-white bolts of lightning shot from the mask's nostrils, faintly echoing the thunder in the sky. Beneath its hooves, the rain wasn't trampled, but evaporated.

And on horseback—

A colossal figure, clad in heavy, dark gold armor, sat majestically. The armor was etched with incomprehensible, intricate patterns, as if the entirety of lost history had been forged upon it. In his hand he held an astonishingly long, curved lance, its shaft crackling with an inextinguishable, pale electric light. Most terrifying of all was the single eye hidden in the shadow of his helmet—a burning, sun-like golden flame, gazing down indifferently; even the furious rain seemed to soften under its gaze.

Without any explanation, a name was branded into the depths of Chu Zihang's consciousness:

Odin.

In Norse mythology, the supreme god who holds power and death has now torn open the veil of legend and descended upon this place.