A piece of black cloth

  Fan Shen struggled to prop up his eyelids, looking at his fingers as he counted the meaningful things he had done in this life. Before he could even finish counting with his five thin fingers on his right hand, he let out a sigh and abandoned the task, feeling very sad.

  The smell of medicine in the ward is always so pungent, the old man on the bed next to me went to report to King Yama two days ago, and it's probably my turn again in a few days.

  He contracted a strange illness, myasthenia gravis, the kind that's especially suitable for romantic male leads. It's said that if it can't be cured, in the future when he's on his deathbed, nothing will move except for tears flowing down.

  "But I'm not the romantic male lead." Fan Shen muttered, but due to the muscles in his jaw being useless, it turned into a string of indistinct murmurs.

  He gazed at his middle finger, sympathizing with himself, "I'm still a virgin."

  ……

  ……

  He has never done anything meaningful in his life, except helping an old lady cross the road, giving up his seat on a bus, getting along with neighbors, and helping classmates cheat on exams.

  Fan Shen is a traditional good-for-nothing young master.

  His parents had passed away long ago, so he was left alone in the hospital, waiting for the day his life would come to an end.

  "Good people have no good reward."

  In the stillness of a deep night, Fan Shen seemed to be able to clearly capture his throat muscles slowly relaxing, no longer able to relax or tense up, and his breathing muscles also gradually became weak and powerless like a rubber band that had lost its elasticity.

  The clean little nurse in the hospital also ran to nowhere, and beside me was a middle-aged woman who was talking about something with tears in her eyes.

  "Is this how I'm going to die?"

  The fear of death and the longing for the taste of life brought forth an unprecedented complex feeling in his heart, and the one who ended his own life was not the lovely nurse he had been expecting for a long time, but this old lady, which undoubtedly added to Fan Shen's sorrow.

  He gazed at the black cloth blocking the sunlight on the hospital window with his eyes drooping, feeling that life was as desolate as dog shit.

  —————————————————————

  A faint, mournful, and sorrowful sound, a single tear rolled down from his eye.

  Fan Shen felt a little sad, stuck out his tongue to lick the ** that slid from the corner of his eye to his lips, but was surprised to find that his tears were not only salty, but also had a slightly fishy smell - could it be because he rarely took baths in the hospital, so even his tears started to give off a stench?

  He couldn't help but curse in his heart: "You think you're the romantic male lead, don't you? You really think you're the romantic male lead?"

  But he soon discovered that something was amiss, why could his tongue still stick out of his lips to lick away his tears? According to the doctor, his tongue had long since lost its ability to move, and now its only function was to easily slip down into the esophagus, blocking his airway and making him one of the few geniuses in the world who could commit suicide by swallowing his own tongue.

  Then he found that opening his eyes became easier, the line of sight was very broad, and the vision also became much better than before illness. The scenery in front of him was clear and bright, a bamboo-made thing was lying horizontally in front of him.

  ……

  ……

  Originally dazed, Fan Shen suddenly saw through those few bamboo strips a scene that left him utterly shocked.

  A dozen or so black-clad men, full of murderous intent, were charging towards him with sharp weapons in hand!

  He didn't have time to distinguish whether it was a dream or a strange experience before death, and purely subconsciously he shrunk his head, covering his face with both hands, which would probably be the only choice for any ordinary person.

  Hahaha... countless sonic booms echoed through the air!

  Immediately afterwards, there were countless muffled hums, and then a piece of silence. After a while, Fan Shen felt something was wrong, carefully opened two fingers from the palm covering his face, and secretly looked outside.

  A bamboo basket woven into a grid, dividing the space in front of me into countless blocks. Through these holes, I can clearly see more than a dozen corpses lying on the ground, with blood flowing all over the ground and a strong smell of gore filling the air.

  Fan Shen was frightened out of his wits, everything he saw in front of him was too real, and for a moment, he couldn't come back to himself.

  Right after that, he suddenly thought of the hand on his face. Could it be that his own hand could move too? Could it be that his illness had really been cured? Then what was going on with everything in front of him? Was this just a dream? When he woke up from the dream, would he still be that useless person lying in bed, unable to move and waiting for death?

  If it's really like that, then why not just stay in this dream and not wake up? At least your own hands can move and your own eyes can blink.

  He thought sadly and touched his wet face with his hand.

  When he withdrew his hand, however, he found that his entire hand was covered in fresh blood. It turned out that the wet drop at the corner of his eye earlier had been a splash of someone else's blood on his face.

  Fan Shen stared blankly at his own hands, his heart screaming that these absolutely were not his hands!

  In front of him, was a pair of white and delicate, lovely small hands, stained with bloodstains, looking like the white lotus blooming in the Asura field, absolutely not a pair of hands that an adult should have!

  Wave after wave of emotional impact surged into Fan Shen's mind, leaving him stunned, countless questions and boundless terror occupying his body and mind.

  ……

  ……

  This year was the fifty-seventh year of Qingguo, and the war led by His Majesty to conquer the Western Barbarians had not yet ended. The Duke of Sannan also followed the army, and the capital was governed by the Empress Dowager and the Senate.

  On this day, a fire broke out at Taiping Temple in the suburbs of Kyoto, and a group of night walkers took advantage of the flames to rush into the temple, killing everyone they saw, committing a shocking blood case.

  A young servant from the other courtyard led his young master to break through the siege at night, and was chased by a group of assassins wearing night-traveling clothes. The two sides fought all the way to the southern gate of the city.

  The masters of ambush did not expect that this physically disabled young man would be a formidable opponent, and behind the hills, there were even reinforcements from the other side - the identities of these reinforcements made these people terrified!

  "Black Knight!" The villains who were shot and killed by crossbow arrows lay in the pool of blood, wailing.

  Reinforcements rode on horseback, wearing black armor that reflected the moonlight in the sky, emitting a faint and dark soul-eating glow.

  The cavalrymen all held crossbows that only the military was allowed to equip, and had already shot dead most of the assassins with their rapid firing.

  In the midst of the black cavalry's escort, there was a middle-aged man sitting in a carriage, with a pale complexion and sparse whiskers on his chin. He looked at the young servant carrying a child in the arena, nodded, and then gently patted his palm.

  Applause is the signal for attack!

  A detachment of cavalry broke off and charged into the heavily wounded killer troops like a sickle in the dark night, showing no mercy.

  Suddenly, a mage in the killer squad raised his staff and began to chant spells. People in the field could feel some unknown energy fluctuations gathering on this hillside.

  The middle-aged man on the carriage slightly furrowed his brow, without any movement, but a black shadow suddenly sprang out from beside him, like an eagle soaring swiftly through the night sky.

  A shrill sound, the monk's chanting came to an abrupt halt, his head flew high into the air, blood rained down.

  The middle-aged man on the horse carriage shook his head: "These Taoist priests from the west always don't understand, in front of a truly powerful person, magic is just like the prime minister's pen, it doesn't work."

  Dozens of black-clad cavalrymen confirmed the safety of their surroundings, clenched their right fists and made a gesture with their hands, reporting that the killers in the surrounding area had been cleared.

  The cavalry troops parted, and the horse-drawn carriage slowly moved forward, coming to a stop in front of the young servant. The middle-aged man on the carriage was helped into a wheelchair by his subordinates, and with his legs unable to move properly, he pushed himself forward in the wheelchair, slowly approaching the center of the arena, where the straight-as-an-arrow youth stood.

  Looking at the young porter's back basket, a middle-aged man sitting in a wheelchair finally showed a hint of blush on his pale face: "Fortunately, nothing happened."

  The man with the bamboo basket on his back had a black cloth strip covering his face, and in his hand he held a black iron pike that was like a sword but not quite. Fresh blood dripped slowly from the pike, and by his side lay many corpses, all of them masters of ambush who had been killed with a single blow, their throats bearing bloody wounds.

  "I need you to give me an explanation for this matter." The person with a black cloth band over his eyes said coldly, his voice without the slightest tremble or emotion.

  The middle-aged man in a wheelchair had a look of tenderness on his face for a moment, then it was gone: "I will naturally give you an explanation, and I must also give the master an explanation."

  The young servant with a black cloth strip covering his eyes nodded and then prepared to leave.

  "Where are you going to take this child?" The middle-aged man in the wheelchair said coldly, "You're blind, do you want Master to wander around with you?"

  "This is Miss's flesh and blood."

  "This is also the flesh and blood of the master!" The middle-aged man in the wheelchair said coldly, "I guarantee to find a very safe place for the young master in Kyoto."

  He shook his head and pulled at the black cloth strip on his face.

  The middle-aged man in the wheelchair knew that apart from listening to what the young lady said, even if he were his own master, it would be impossible for him to command him, so he could only sigh and persuade: "Things in Kyoto will surely subside when the master returns, why must you take him away?"

  "I don't trust your master."

  The middle-aged man slightly frowned, seemingly disgusted by the other's words. After a brief pause, he said: "Can you do things like feeding children, teaching them to read and write?" He sneered coldly: "Blind fool, what else can you do besides killing people?"

  That person didn't get angry either, and gently pushed the bamboo basket behind him: "Lame man, it seems you only know how to kill people."

  The middle-aged man smiled faintly: "This time, it's just those royal nobles in Kyoto who made a move. Once the master returns, I will naturally start cleaning them up."

  The blind boy shook his head.

  The middle-aged man's hand gently stroked the wheelchair, as if guessing what the other was afraid of. After a moment, he frowned and said: "I know what you're afraid of, but in this worldly world, who else can protect him from that unknown danger except for the child's father?"

  The blind boy suddenly spoke up, his voice still devoid of emotion: "A new identity, an undisturbed life."

  The middle-aged man thought for a moment, smiled and nodded his head.

  "Where?"

  "Yazhou Port, Master's mom is living there now."

  After a moment of silence, the blind boy finally accepted this arrangement.

  A middle-aged man smiled and pushed the wheelchair to the back of a blind boy, stretched out his hands to take down the child in the bamboo basket, looked at the child's icy carved snow-like lovely face, and sighed: "Really just like her mother, too beautiful."

  "He suddenly burst out laughing and said: 'This little guy will definitely make something of himself when he grows up.'"

  His subordinates standing silently in the distance suddenly heard the big man's cheerful laughter, and although their faces were still expressionless, they were deeply shocked inside, not knowing what kind of important person this little kid was.

  "Huh?" The blind youth tilted his head, reached out and took the child back. Although he was simpler than ordinary humans, he didn't want the infant's face to get too close to the poisonous snake's hand. At the same time, he expressed a purely polite inquiry with a monosyllabic word.

  A middle-aged man smiled, looking at the child's face, but in his smile there was an inexplicable and particularly terrifying flavor: "A two-month-old child can actually wipe away the blood on his face with his hand. After experiencing such a terrible thing tonight, he can still sleep so soundly, really...".

  His voice suddenly dropped very low, ensuring that his subordinates couldn't hear the words he spoke next: "...the child of a Tianmo."

  This middle-aged man held great power in Kyoto, with ruthless means. Any official who fell into his hands would reveal the truth within two days. His eyes were also venomous, but even such an extraordinary person couldn't see that this little kid wasn't sleeping sweetly, but had fainted from fright.

  ……

  ……

  Tian Mai, Tian refers to Heaven, Mai refers to pulse or vein.

  The meaning of Tian Mai is the bloodline left in the mortal world by the heavens. In the legend of this world, every few hundred years, a bloodline left in the mortal world by the heavens will begin to awaken.

  This bloodline may represent an invincible fighting force, such as the great general in the distant Nasu country who, at a critical moment when his nation was about to be destroyed by barbarians, single-handedly killed most of the members of the barbarian tribal council.

  Some of the Tianmai people show great talent in art or wisdom, such as the Western Paul the Great Master who died three hundred years ago and his playwright wife Voltaire.

  Nature did not make them the favored children of heaven, but they left behind a legacy that brought peace and many other things to mankind.

  And all the heavenly pulses eventually disappeared without a trace, and no one, not even a country, could detect any clues. They just suddenly appeared and suddenly disappeared, leaving behind only some obscure records, and nothing else to prove their existence.

  The middle-aged man in a wheelchair was one of the very few people who knew that this strange phenomenon, Tian Mai, actually existed.

  For some reason, after Fan Shen's death, his soul came to this world. It was like that... and he was reincarnated into the body of an infant, whose father or mother happened to be a mysterious Tianmo practitioner on the mainland.

  At dawn, the battlefield had been swept clean, and the carriage slowly made its way up the stone road leading east. Behind the carriage, a troop of black cavalry and a pale middle-aged man sitting on a wheel ride formed a very mysterious picture.

  The carriage jolted over a stone and bounced up, waking the baby who was lying flat on the soft silk cushion.

  The baby's eyes, somewhat lifelessly, left the faces of those who had saved his life and stared forward at the carriage, not like a normal child whose gaze would wander, but clear and unfocused, with an inexplicable flavor.

  No one knew that such a delicate little body could contain a soul from a different world.

  The gaze fell upon that place, where the carriage curtains fluttered up with the wind blowing straight at them, revealing a corner of the green mountains outside and the long stone road retreating into the distance. It was as if countless scenes were being rapidly rewound.

  In front of the carriage, a blind young man was tightly grasping an iron hammer in his hand, with a black cloth covering his eyes, which also covered this day.