He didn't know how long he had been walking before he finally entered the bustling, vibrant city. The city was like a giant, never-ending stage for a grand celebration, with every street pulsing with endless vitality. The streets and alleys were packed with people, shoulder to shoulder, their figures surging like tides, so dense there was hardly a gap. The noise rose and fell, one wave higher than the last, the clamor like boiling water in a pot, bubbling with heat, a ceaseless din.
However, the city's prosperity and noise didn't stir even a ripple in his heart. His gaze burned like a fierce flame, sharp and focused to the extreme. He moved like the wind, agile as a nimble fish, weaving skillfully and swiftly through the crowded, impenetrable throng. Fine beads of sweat dotted his forehead, like glistening pearls, rolling down one after another, sparkling in the sunlight. His brows were furrowed, the deep lines resembling the ravines of hardship carved by the years, bearing his heavy worry and urgency. His lips were pressed into a firm line, as if declaring his unwavering resolve. His eyes were urgent and focused, like two burning torches, not missing even the smallest corner, hoping to find any useful clues in the vast sea of people.
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In a tavern filled with the strong smell of alcohol and the noise of people, he sat in a dimly lit corner, lost in thought. The corner seemed like a forgotten place, hiding his figure deep within the darkness. His hands tightly gripped the rough wine glass, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force. He absentmindedly sipped a glass of cheap wine, the bitterness spreading on his tongue, but this bitterness was nothing compared to the sorrow in his heart.
Just then, he overheard two merchants whispering to each other.
"I heard the Mysterious Organization has been up to something recently," one merchant said, his voice trembling uncontrollably, as if revealing a shocking secret. His eyes were filled with fear and unease, mixed with a hint of barely concealed excitement.
"Shh, keep your voice down, don't bring disaster upon yourself," the other merchant said nervously, his neck shrinking back, his eyes darting around, his face twitching with deep fear, as if a slight increase in volume would drag him into an endless abyss of darkness.
Upon hearing this, Hu Yulun felt his heart clench, as if gripped by an invisible, powerful hand, the piercing pain instantly bringing his heart to his throat. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently, like an old bellows in a raging storm, panting heavily, his face flushed red like a ripe apple. The hand holding the wine glass unconsciously tightened its grip, his knuckles turning pale from the force, the glass seeming as if it would shatter in his hand any second.
He quickly put down his wine glass, a flash of urgency instantly flashing in his eyes, as brilliant as a meteor streaking across the night sky, carrying a noticeable anticipation. He impatiently got up, leaning forward as if to throw himself out, rushing over without hesitation. His face was filled with the sincerity of a drowning man grasping at a lifeline, every wrinkle filled with truth, his eyes full of urgency and longing, the longing like a parched land's extreme craving for rain, passionate and frantic. His voice trembled slightly, like a falling leaf in the wind, his tone almost pleading, "Two brothers, I've heard something about the Mysterious Organization too. I haven't been able to eat or sleep because of this lately, I'm almost going crazy, I'm really anxious. Please, brothers, could you tell me more?"
The two merchants frowned, their brows furrowing into tight knots, as if they were tied with a thousand-year-old knot that could never be undone, burdened by a mountain of pressure. They squinted, their eyes instantly filled with a wary alertness and deep suspicion, their gazes like two sharp arrows, scrutinizing Hu Yulun from head to toe. Their assessing eyes were full of caution, as if he were an unwelcome guest bearing a deadly threat, ready to bring disaster upon them at any moment.
Then, without hesitation, they shook their heads vigorously, their heads bobbing like spinning rattles, resolute and merciless. Their mouths were tightly shut, like clams clamped shut, refusing to utter a single word no matter how much Hu Yulun pleaded. Their expressions were cold and determined, as if Hu Yulun was a vast, icy wasteland, unable to melt the thick barrier of their defenses.
Seeing this, Hu Yulun sighed deeply, a long and drawn-out sound filled with unspoken disappointment, like a cold wind carrying ice crystals blowing across a desolate desert. His eyes instantly dimmed, the light within him extinguished like a lamp completely covered by dark clouds, unable to find even a spark of hope. His shoulders slumped as if they were crushed under an invisible mountain, and he withered like a frost-bitten eggplant, devoid of all vitality. He lowered his head, his face etched with frustration, which enveloped his world like a suffocating cloud. His feet felt like they were filled with lead, dragging his heavy steps as he slowly left the tavern. Each step seemed so heavy and difficult, as if the ground had turned into a deep, sticky swamp, making it difficult for him to move, as if he had to exert all his strength to lift each foot.
The moment he walked out of the tavern, he slowly raised his head, a movement that felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. His gaze first looked at the sky in confusion, then was instantly stung by the brilliant sunlight. The sunlight was like thousands of sharp swords, piercing down mercilessly, extraordinarily dazzling. He instinctively squinted, his brows tightly knitted, and the muscles in his face twitched involuntarily. He quickly raised his hand to shield his forehead, creating a small shadow, but the shadow couldn't dispel the gloom in his heart.
However, his mood was still shrouded in a heavy gloom, weighing him down, as if his lungs were about to explode, making it difficult for him to breathe. The gloom seemed to transform into a huge, hideous black hand, tightly gripping his throat, almost suffocating him.
"Sigh, it still didn't work, but I can't give up like this!" he encouraged himself fiercely, biting his lower lip so hard that he almost drew blood, his gums aching slightly from the excessive force.
Then, he took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling dramatically, as if he wanted to inhale all the courage and strength in the world. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to adjust his mood and dispel the ever-present gloom. "I will never be defeated by this setback!" he roared in his heart.
He could only carry his heart, heavy as lead, and take another step. His steps were incredibly heavy at first, each lift as if dragging an invisible mountain. But as his firm belief inside him gradually ignited, his steps became more powerful.
He continued his tireless inquiries throughout the streets and alleys, his desperate expression resembling a man dying of thirst in the desert, desperately searching for a precious water source. His gaze, sharp as a hawk's, scanned everywhere, not missing a single potential clue. Every subtle shift in expression, every casual remark, instantly caught his attention.
His persistent figure appeared lonely yet resolute amidst the bustling crowds, like a fearless warrior advancing alone in the darkness, unafraid of storms or obstacles.
His lips, chapped from constant questioning, were cracked, with tiny fissures forming. Each word he spoke brought a stinging pain. His throat was hoarse from incessant talking, his voice sounding like the "wheeze" of an old bellows, but he still kept asking passersby, clinging to every glimmer of hope.
"Do you know anything about the Mysterious Organization?" he asked each person who passed, his voice raspy yet filled with anticipation.
Days passed like flowing water, quietly and without a trace. In this long and agonizing time, Hu Yulun felt as if he were in a dark, icy abyss, facing countless cold stares and ruthlessly cruel rejections. Those disheartening moments were like relentless nightmares, clinging to him and refusing to grant him a moment's peace.
Those cold, icy gazes were like sharp, gleaming arrows, carrying bone-chilling coldness, cruelly piercing him time and again. Each arrow accurately and mercilessly stabbed at his already wounded and scarred heart. Whenever he met such gazes, his body would tremble involuntarily, and the color would drain from his face. The wounds on his heart, new scars piled atop old ones, and each such gaze was like a sharp dagger, slashing deeply into his heart, making him ache to his core, as if his heart were being torn apart.
Those resolute words were like heavy hammers, carrying immense force, relentlessly smashing down on him time and again. Each blow mercilessly struck his already fragile and crumbling belief. His belief was like a flickering candle in the wind, swaying in the storm. Every refusal was like a thunderclap roaring in his ears, making him dizzy, his ears buzzing, and even causing moments of darkness before his eyes.
"Why? Why won't anyone help me?" he would sometimes cry out in despair in his heart.
However, even in such a difficult predicament, he never once considered giving up. His eyes remained firm, like the brightest, most constant stars in the night sky, never dimming for a moment. He clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms, yet he felt no pain.
Instead, the flame of hope and perseverance in his heart burned ever more fiercely, like a fire whipped by a strong wind, growing more intense with each gust. The flame was hot and fierce; nothing could extinguish it, and nothing could make him yield. Even if the storm raged harder, even if the road ahead was filled with thorns, even if there was an abyss at his feet, he would grit his teeth and press forward, never retreating.
"I must persevere, I will find the truth!" he encouraged himself internally, his eyes burning with indomitable fighting spirit.
One time, he moved like a ghost, cautiously and nervously searching the streets for even the slightest clue. His steps were as light as a cat's, each one falling like a feather, without making a sound. His eyes scanned his surroundings vigilantly, as if using a scanner, not missing a single detail. His mind was like a wound-up machine, constantly turning, observing everything around him.
Suddenly, without warning, an intense feeling of unease, enough to send shivers down his spine, surged through him like a tidal wave. It felt as if a cold, powerful hand had suddenly reached out from the darkness and gripped his heart, making it hard for him to breathe.
He immediately felt a sense of danger, and all the hairs on his body stood on end, as if each one had been electrocuted. "Not good!" he thought, the voice trembling and urgent, as if squeezed from the depths of his soul.
He looked back, trembling with fear. Oh God, it was the Mysterious Organization's minions! His face instantly turned deathly pale, devoid of any color, as if a white sheet had been suddenly blanched by a fierce wind. His eyes widened, filled with terror, which flooded his reason.
"It's over, I'm done for!" His heart leaped into his throat, like a bomb about to explode, ready to burst through his throat at any moment.
His heart instantly began to race, the violent pounding threatening to burst free from his chest. He could clearly hear his own heartbeat, "thump, thump, thump," like a rapid drumbeat, each beat hammering onto his nerves, causing his body to tremble uncontrollably.
"Don't panic, don't panic!" he warned himself desperately.
Fortunately, years of living on the edge of life and death had honed his sharp reactions.
"I can't let them catch me!" he encouraged himself inwardly, the words echoing in his mind, filled with determination and resolve.
Like a swift Leopard, he turned without hesitation, his feet carrying him with the speed of lightning, vanishing from the spot in an instant. The edge of his clothes fluttered in the wind, a testament to his rapid escape.
He quickly and silently darted into a narrow, dark alley that reeked of a nauseating stench. The alley was dark and damp, the walls covered in moss, and with filthy water flowing on the ground.
He huddled in a corner like a frightened kitten, his body trembling constantly, the shivers like a falling leaf in the autumn wind. His breathing became extremely shallow, as if a gentle breeze could disperse it. He didn't dare to breathe deeply, his lips tightly sealed, fearing to make the slightest sound.
His eyes were fixed on the alley entrance with extreme fear, not blinking, as if trying to see through it. His ears stood upright, like antennas, carefully listening for any movement outside, not missing any subtle sound. His heart hung in mid-air, as if it would fall and shatter at any moment.
"Will they find me? Will they come after me?" Countless terrifying thoughts flashed through his mind.
Time seemed to have frozen, each second stretching on endlessly.
Until the nerve-wracking footsteps gradually faded away, disappearing completely, he finally exhaled a long breath of relief. It felt as if he had been holding it for a century. He collapsed to the ground, his clothes soaked with sweat, clinging to his back and outlining his thin, tense frame.
"Phew… that was close. I escaped again," he muttered to himself, his voice trembling with exhaustion.
He raised his head, gazing at the narrow strip of sky above, his eyes reflecting both the relief of surviving and a determination for the future. That determination burned like a torch in the darkness, never extinguishing.
"I won't be defeated. I will find the truth!" He clenched his jaw, silently vowing to himself.
He slowly climbed to his feet, his legs still shaky, but he forced himself to stand. He brushed the dust off his body, and although his clothes were filthy, he tried to make himself look presentable.
He cautiously peeked out, surveying the alleyway, and after confirming there was no danger, he slowly walked out.
The sunlight fell on his face, but he felt no warmth. His eyes were still filled with wariness, and his steps remained cautious.
Be careful, don't get discovered again. He reminded himself as he walked.
The streets were still bustling with people, lively and bustling, but he seemed to be in another world, a world that only contained him and his mission.
His gaze swept across the faces of every passerby, trying to find some clues in their expressions, or even just a look of sympathy.
"Excuse me, do you know anything about the Mysterious Organization?" He gathered his courage and asked an elderly man who looked somewhat kind.
The old man frowned, looked at him warily, and then hurried away, as if he were a plague god.
He shook his head helplessly, his sense of loss increasing again.
"It doesn't matter, there will always be someone willing to help me." He encouraged himself.
He continued walking, tirelessly asking everyone who might have a clue.
"Please, just a little information is enough," he pleaded.
But most of the replies he received were cold stares and heartless refusals.
His throat was already hoarse, and his lips were cracked, but he still didn't give up.
"I must persevere, for Father, for justice!" he shouted in his heart.
Night gradually fell, and the city lights shone brightly, but his world was still dark.
He found a quiet corner and sat down to rest.
"Nothing today, but tomorrow will be better," he comforted himself, even though he didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
He closed his eyes, his Father's face appearing in his mind.
"Father, I won't let you down." A tear rolled down his cheek.
The next day, as the sun rose again, golden light like threads of hope spilled across the land, and he once more, without hesitation, embarked on his long journey to find clues. His determined silhouette stood out in the soft morning light, like a painting etched with steadfastness and resilience.
He walked with heavy but persistent steps, passing through busy or desolate streets. Whether bustling or quiet, his gaze remained unwavering, never straying. He went through noisy markets, his ears filled with the sounds of haggling, hawking, and various other noises, but none of it could disturb his focused thoughts. He didn't miss any place that might hold a clue; even an inconspicuous corner would be carefully examined, fearing he'd overlook any trace.
"Maybe, the answer is just around the next corner." He thought with hope, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. The light seemed like a flickering candle in the darkness, weak but stubbornly burning.
However, reality was always cruel, and hope repeatedly burst like a beautiful bubble, while setbacks descended like a relentless storm.
"Why is it so difficult? Why won't anyone help me?" Sometimes he couldn't help but complain to the heavens, his voice filled with helplessness and anger. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white from the force, and the veins on his forehead bulged.
But after complaining, he would always take a deep breath, calm himself, and pull himself together again.
"I can't give up; I have nowhere to retreat." He kept telling himself in his heart, his voice firm and resolute, as if declaring war on fate.
Days passed like this, time relentlessly eroding his body and spirit like a flowing river. His body grew increasingly weary, each step feeling like he was dragging a thousand-pound weight; his spirit also grew more and more haggard, the eyes that once overflowed with vitality and hope now held a touch of world-weariness and fatigue. But even so, the fire in his heart never extinguished; it was a roaring blaze burning with justice and determination.
"No matter how much hardship I have to endure, I will find the truth and make those bad people pay the price!" His oath echoed in his heart, each word like a heavy hammer, striking his soul and encouraging him to keep moving forward.
And so, he continued to trudge along this path filled with hardship and danger, one difficult step at a time. Each step left a deep footprint of his, and each footprint bore witness to his perseverance. He would never give up, never retreat, that lonely and determined figure becoming an indelible landscape in the long river of time.