Chapter 100 Past Events

“It’s over?”

Dailin was guarding outside, his hands clad in brass knuckles, ready for anything.

“Sort of. She’s still a while from dying. If you have something to do, you can leave first. I need to wait here for a bit.”

Sirian was too hot; he unbuttoned his collar, revealing his chest marked with scratches and scars.

The two climbed down a ladder, then crouched through a narrow passage.

Cool breezes greeted them as they arrived at a rusty platform. They had expected to overlook the entire Heer City from here, but thick mist enveloped the area, leaving only a grey, chaotic view.

Dailin sat down, his feet dangling, and lit a cigarette as he asked, “How does revenge feel?”

Sirian answered seriously, “It was quite exciting at first, but later, it felt somewhat empty.”

Dailin asked, “Like something long-awaited finally happened, but the result wasn’t as good as you imagined?”

“A bit, but not entirely.”

Sirian rubbed his temples in frustration, a flash of inspiration hitting him.

“I should say, it wasn’t satisfying enough.”

Sirian’s answer was somewhat unexpected, yet also seemed to be within expectations.

Dailin chuckled twice, then sighed deeply, remarking, “Good heavens, Sirian, I used to think you were just a bloodthirsty madman, but now it seems you’re far more terrifying than that… I don’t even know how to describe you anymore.”

Sirian didn’t understand what he was talking about. “What’s wrong?”

“Tania is an out-and-out villain, there’s no doubt about that. She participated in the destruction of White Cliff Town and killed everyone you loved.”

Dailin looked at the heavy mist before them and spoke slowly.

“Such a tragedy falling upon anyone, when they face their enemy again, they would more or less be consumed by hatred, unleashing their anger, killing her in the most cruel way.”

He shifted his gaze to Sirian’s profile.

“But you weren’t controlled by emotion. Your actions seemed bloodthirsty and insane, yet you always remained calm, even willing to cooperate with your enemy to a certain extent, to extract useful information from her.”

“And then?”

“You are terrifying like this. Even when facing a blood feud, you remain extremely rational… This perfectly fits the mental state of a born killer.”

“Hahaha.”

Sirian was amused by Dailin’s description. He wiped away the tears from laughing and then slowly explained.

“While it’s important for Tania to die in the most painful way, I also can’t miss out on the information from her. You know, my death list is very long, and she’s only at the very end. I still need her to dig out more people.”

“Is that so?”

Dailin observed Sirian, who had just completed the first and most satisfying revenge of his life, yet showed no obvious emotional fluctuations.

He felt no joy at his enemy’s death, nor did he shed tears for the departed.

Sirian merely sat cross-legged, propping his chin, as relaxed as if he had just gotten off work and was sitting by the river, watching people come and go.

His pathological psychology possessed multiple facets, intertwining rationality with obsession, ruthlessness with calculation, ultimately presenting a twisted yet highly self-consistent logic.

Upon realizing this, Dailin’s fear gradually diminished, replaced by a sense of longing.

“I truly envy that you are such a person, Sirian.”

“What is it now?”

Sirian frowned. Lately, these people kept saying inexplicable things, making him guess.

Dailin gave a wry smile. “I also had a long-planned revenge, but unfortunately, the outcome was not satisfactory.”

“What, you couldn’t kill him and were humiliated instead?” Sirian comforted him, “Relax. Once I’m done with these matters, we can kill him together.”

“No, she’s already dead. Although I wouldn’t say I killed her, how should I put it…”

Dailin recalled the woman’s withered and pale face. Even after many years, his heart still trembled violently.

“I felt no satisfaction from her death; instead, I fell into an even deeper pain.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Sirian made a strange sound, indicating he was still listening.

“Speaking of which, this matter has some connection to Anya.”

Dailin shifted back, pulling his dangling feet in.

“If it weren’t for Anya, I might have died with my enemy, my mother.”

Sirian sat up straight. In the narrow darkness behind him, Tania’s wails were faintly audible.

“I should have mentioned that I’m not a native of Heer City, but from another City-state.”

Dailin narrowed his eyes, as if looking into the distance, or perhaps gazing back in time.

“That City-state once had a glorious history, but with the outbreak of one chaotic event after another, high walls collapsed, buildings toppled, and even the Beacon Lighthouse was damaged, its foundation sinking and tilting to one side.

Later, nearly half of the city had turned into ruins. Grey mist often spilled from behind the broken high walls, and demons harassed day and night. By dawn, there would always be a few more corpses in the streets and alleys.”

Sirian agreed, “That doesn’t sound like a suitable place to live.”

“Indeed, it was a terrible place. Those who had the ability left, leaving only the helpless, struggling to survive there.”

Dailin shook his head helplessly. “Unfortunately, I was born there, and even more unfortunately, my mother was a prostitute. She lived off men, to the point where I still don’t know who my father is.”

The two exchanged glances and both burst into laughter.

“My surname came from my mother. From a young age, I was mocked by my peers and adults. They insulted me, bullied me, but I didn’t care. What truly made me despair was that my mother didn’t love me either.”

Speaking of these things, Dailin’s eyes did not show sadness.

“To avoid living on the streets, she had to find a man willing to let her stay for a night before dusk every day, and I would be locked in the toilet.

This went on for a long time until one day, demons invaded a corner of the city, killing almost everyone on an entire street.

After dealing with the many corpses, people feared the chaotic pollution of the place and moved elsewhere. These houses then became empty, and my mother and I moved in, making simple repairs, barely managing to live a stable life.”

Dailin paused for a moment, sighing from the bottom of his heart, “Looking back, it’s been so long. I actually miss those days a little.”

“Hmm.”

Sirian leaned against the side. He could no longer hear Tania’s wails, only the sound of the wind.

“Then… then…”

Dailin hadn’t recalled the past in so long; the once deeply etched pain was now as faint as a thin layer of ash.

“I grew up in this terrible life until one day, my mother sold me to a merchant.”

The cold wind numbed Dailin’s face. He rubbed it hard, as if crushing a layer of ice.

“To this day, I still remember the scene from that day. My mother, uncharacteristically, smiled at me, gently stroked my head, and prepared breakfast for me.

She said nothing, just watched me quietly. Just as I was immersed in this unprecedented maternal love, a group of strong men burst in and abducted me.

I screamed and pounded continuously, pleading with my mother, but she just sat there, still with that chillingly indifferent smile.”

Dailin took a deep breath, mustering the courage to tell the rest of the story.

“Later, I was sent to Heer City, becoming a slave laborer, toiling day and night in the factory, with nothing in my head but exhaustion and pain.

Only in the dead of night did I have a little energy left to think about the past and the future.”

Dailin’s bottom was getting numb, so he changed his posture and suddenly complained, “Oh, when telling such a tragic past, there should be some alcohol to soothe the nerves.”

Sirian looked at the narrow darkness behind him. “Do you have any alcohol stored here?”

Dailin retorted, “Before this was converted into an interrogation room for you, it was a safe house. Do you think a safe house should have alcohol?”

“I think it’s perfectly normal. If you’ve hidden here, you probably won’t live for many more days, so why not drink to your heart’s content?” Sirian joked, “Alcohol poisoning sounds like a good way to die.”

“You rascal! There’s no alcohol here, but there are some dried meats and such,” Dailin directed, “I’m a bit hungry, get some over here.”

“Okay.”

Sirian squatted down and squeezed through the narrow passage.

As he passed the iron door where Tania was confined, he deliberately made his footsteps heavier, imagining Tania hearing the sound, hope rising in her heart, only to fall back into despair as the sound receded… “Haha.”

Sirian laughed nervously.