Chapter 501: The Arrival of Ink
Chapter 501: The Arrival of Ink
The roof?
“I meant outside.”
Before Wang Xiaokai could speak, Wang Feng already knew what the kid was thinking.
“The sky?”
Wang Xiaokai looked baffled, unable to grasp what the big shot meant.
“The stars!”
When Wang Feng said “stars,” his expression shifted—his eyes brimming with hatred and disgust, but mostly despair and resignation. Wang Xiaokai wasn’t sure how he sensed so much, but the emotions were glaring.
“What’s wrong with the stars? Something to do with zodiac signs?”
Wang Xiaokai didn’t get why the big shot was rambling about stars. Were they more urgent than saving lives?
“Ever heard of radiation?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t fully understand it, but he’d seen enough on TV and social media to get the gist.
“Radiation poisons everything near it—animals, plants, soil, water. All of it.” Wang Feng glanced at the Mahjong tile, its colors now dull. Maybe his mind was playing tricks, but they likely had ten minutes left.
“What if…”
“What if every star up there was a radiation source? What’d happen to our world?”
Stars? Radiation sources?!
Wang Xiaokai decided the guy was nuts. Stars were just space rocks—soil, magma, gas—same as Earth. Basic school stuff. How could they radiate anything? And even if they did, why no radiation deaths in thousands of years? Ancestors would’ve croaked!
“Brother Wang, I just wanna know what Fate is…”
Best to steer the talk himself with this lunatic.
“Fate’s decided at birth.”
Wang Feng took a drag from his cigarette, checked the time, and kept talking.
“Wealthy Fate, Laborious Fate, Poor Fate, Famous Fate—all scripted by the world. ‘What’s yours will come; what’s not can’t be forced.’ That’s the rule.” He sighed.
“Everything was fine… until Fate showed up.”
“Then people’s written destinies got twisted!”
Wang Xiaokai still didn’t get what Fate was, but he pieced it together: the world once made sense, everyone’s path logical—until “Fate” messed it all up.
“Evil gods are where Fate comes from.”
“Each evil god stands for a Fate. As they wake, more Fates spread, chaos grows. It’s like radiation—even if the evil gods don’t mean it…”
“Oh, and those stars I mentioned? They’re prisons for evil gods.”
Finished speaking, Wang Feng shot the kid a sharp glare—he’d sensed the silent “this guy’s insane” thought earlier.
Stars = Evil Gods?
Wang Xiaokai looked up at the ceiling but saw nothing. Yet the memory of starry skies he’d witnessed before made him shiver. If this were true, was their world doomed? The heavens filled with evil gods!
‘Impossible.’
Wang Xiaokai refused to believe it, though Old Man Wang’s demeanor showed no deceit.
‘They broadcast space explorations live, even retrieved lunar soil samples. How could stars be evil gods?’
He shook his head. Millions had seen those stars firsthand. If they were truly evil gods, humanity would’ve uncovered the truth ages ago. No way it’d stay hidden this long!
“Since when can mortal eyes perceive gods?”
Wang Feng took a final drag of his cigarette and crushed the butt underfoot.
“No secret here. You’ve met Fate twice now. Soon you’ll face it daily. Understanding will come with time.”
Wang Feng spoke no further. Time grew short, and survival required planning.
“I don’t want this!”
Wang Xiaokai’s voice cracked with panic.
Occasional encounters were manageable, but daily dealings? Unthinkable.
“Fate’s chains bind us all. No escaping.”
The bald man finally spoke, tone dripping with gloating amusement.
Scrrrtch…
Claw-like scraping echoed beyond the door. Wang Xiaokai peered outside – nothing visible. The dead woman lay motionless where she fell.
“Time’s up. We make our stands.”
Wang Feng eyed the cracking mahjong tile, then moved to the window. Two sharp knocks preceded a forceful shove.
The ventilation window creaked open.
“Wait! This is the 27th floor!” Wang Xiaokai’s warning came too late. Wang Feng vaulted outward as smoothly as a stuntman.
Baldie and the woman followed without hesitation.
Their figures vanished into night. Trembling, Wang Xiaokai approached the window. No sign of them remained. Behind him, the scratching intensified – something straining to break through.
“Not dying here.”
Tonight’s madness left no room for calm.
Gripping the stool, he clambered up. Cold wind slapped his face as he leaned out.
Twenty-seven stories high.
Streetlights resembled fireflies below. Night market stalls blurred into indistinct smudges. His knees liquefied.
“Damn their speed!”
Despair tightened its grip. Though Fate’s nature eluded him, the woman’s corpse spoke volumes. Wang Feng’s group had seemed approachable earlier, but their sudden flight suggested cruel calculations.
“Not some horror-movie redshirt!”
Death’s proximity overrode fear. He clutched the window frame and swung out.
Outside proved equally treacherous. The office tower’s glassy facade offered only the narrow ledge of a lower-floor company logo. Wang Feng’s group clung to suction cups three stories below.
Before he could shout, splintering wood erupted inside.
The mahjong tile shattered.
Horrible scraping filled the hallway. Air above the office warped like molten candy, birthing a void darker than midnight.
Thick black ink oozed from the growing abyss…