An abstract trainer who taught Charmander the Incinerate move

Chapter 134 Gongping's Bizarre Adventure (Please subscribe and vote with monthly tickets)
(This article is a completely new attempt at abstract art and needs to be appreciated with an artistic eye.) Hanging in the room.

Gong Ping struggled to his feet from the cold floor.

The warm touch of Liuli's fingertips in my memory, the screams of fans in the barrage, the blissful satisfaction, all vanished like the receding tide, leaving behind only an emptiness deep in my heart and a chaotic reality.

“Miss Liuli…”

His chapped lips murmured, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping.

My gaze drifted blankly to the secondhand phone with its shattered screen. It lay silently beside the empty pencil box, like an ugly tombstone burying everything from the past.

A look of struggle appeared in Gong Ping's empty eyes.

Try again... I... I want to try again...

Although the fact that he was paralyzed in the lower limbs had long been confirmed.

But he was unwilling to accept it; he was unwilling to let it all end like this.

He was going to make one last effort!

He wanted to get back on his feet...

The screen lit up, and the constantly distorted images and frantic howling began to sweep over Gongping's senses like a tsunami.

Everything beautiful in the dream was swept away and vanished by this mudslide-like audiovisual feast.

All that remained was endless pain and inhuman torture.

Yes, even if he endures immense pain, even if he suffers inhuman torture, even if he has to overcome the deepest fear in his heart, this man named Gongping still has to face the bloody reality!
It's hard to imagine what kind of cruel spirit this man possessed, to overcome all the pain that ordinary people could not overcome, and to resolutely stride towards the cruel reality!

The white-haired singer who barked like a dog on stage couldn't do it for a long time, but this man in front of me can do it so easily!

Oh, true dragon, what a magnificent [Unova Spirit]!
Surely, the courage to face reality will create miracles!

however……

No matter how hard Gong Ping tries, it's all in vain.

He once possessed powerful lower limbs, capable of standing upright at will.

Now, however, they have become utterly useless.

"Get up!"

Gong Ping growled, trying to rouse a miracle.

He focused all his attention on recalling Liuli's gentle whispers, the hard work and sweat he put in during training, and even the overwhelming connection he felt when the water otter sprayed high-pressure water...

All the fragments that could ignite the spark of his life.

Get up!
Like when you're doing special training in a wall-mounted room!
Like the desperate comeback at the Pokémon Tournament!
Like running wildly in despair!
Please... bring about a miracle!!!

His muscles were tense, his jaw was clenched, veins bulged on his forehead, and sweat mixed with wet tears slid down his face.

Every nerve in your body is screaming for a command—Awaken! Stand up!!

That was proof of his existence, the bond that connected him to the Otter, and the only bridge that connected him to that false yet powerful Trainer identity!

However, all he received in response was dead silence.

There was no miracle, no recovery.

The past glory has completely decayed at this moment.

No matter how much he lashed out with his will, burned with memories, or cried out in despair, he could never stand up again.

"Ho...ho..."

The rapid breathing turned into desperate sobs.

Gongping's body trembled violently, not from exertion, but from fear.

Failed.

Total failure.

It wasn't a temporary setback caused by the shattering of the illusion, but a complete and utter destruction.

He was like a drowning man, struggling futilely on the surface of the water, only to find that he had exhausted even the strength to struggle, and could only watch helplessly as he sank into the dark abyss.

Tears welled up again, but this time it wasn't the heart-wrenching pain of betrayal that came before; it was a deeper, more numb despair.

Empty eyes stared intently at the screen, the image seemingly devoid of color and sound.

"useless……"

He muttered to himself, his voice hollow like the wind blowing through a hole.

"Everything... is gone..."

In this moment of despair, a blond man appeared before him.

He sat in a wheelchair, his legs, once so powerful on the field, now like rotten wood.

This is a plot from a comic that Gongping once read.

That man is Johnny Joestar, the protagonist of "The Iron Ball Run," also known as JOJO.

An accident left him paralyzed in his lower limbs, robbing him of his ability to ride a horse and causing him to fall from grace.

At this moment, Gongping deeply felt the other party's despair and helplessness, and even... he felt that he was the protagonist of the comic, Johnny Joestar.

Strikingly similar, he too suffered a lower limb paralysis due to an accident, losing his ability to ride a horse and falling from grace.

This almost identical plot happened to him, and Gongping felt a strong resonance with the man in the same space as him.

But... later, Johnny met his benefactor, Jero Zeppelin, and regained the strength to stand up again.

But I will never meet a benefactor like Mr. Mo Zhen again...

he knows.

One cannot live in a dream forever.

But now he has lost everything. What meaning does the rest of his life have besides immersing himself in writing?
Numb fingers instinctively reached out to touch the black metal box.

Empty...

He had used up all the pencils in his endless cycle of despair.

All my fingertips touched was the cold, hard wall of the box.

An anxious expression appeared on Gong Ping's face.

I need a pencil!
He wanted to numb himself with words and writing.

When writing, there is no betrayal, no pain, only warm words and pure joy.

The instinct to survive, or rather, the instinct to escape pain, drives this walking corpse.

Gongping struggled, using the last bit of strength to get up from the cold floor.

He staggered to the door and placed his fingers on the handle of the dilapidated wooden door.

Outside the door lies the perpetually gray sky of Liyong City's Lower District, a street permeated with rust, garbage, and a faint sense of danger.

He opened the door, and the light was so bright that he squinted.

That face, repeatedly washed by tears, sweat, and despair, was expressionless, only a deathly, ashen gray.

Gongping, like a puppet on invisible strings, stumbled forward in this familiar grayness...

Every step was accompanied by excruciating pain in the nerve endings.

It was not a physical wound, but a void that was torn apart from the depths of the soul.

Memories of the past are beautiful: the warmth of glass fingertips, the screams of fans in the live stream, the tranquility of cuddling on the balcony watching the stars...

All the beautiful scenes faded and peeled away rapidly.

Instead, there was the cold floor of the wall-mounted room.

Gongping wants a pencil.

A traditional pencil can help him forget his troubles.

Continuing on the roads of Liyong City's Lower District, Gongping followed his memories and continued walking.

He kept walking along the streets and alleys.

【finally found you!】

Gong Ping walked for a very, very long time.

Finally, at the entrance of a dirty alley, he saw his target—a figure wrapped in a large, tattered trench coat.

The man's hat brim was pulled low, and his face was covered by a dirty cloth, revealing only a pair of cloudy but wary eyes. He was leaning against the rusty iron wall.

He's like a signboard displaying products.

He was holding a pencil in his hand.

That pencil seemed to attract Gongping's entire soul like a magnet.

He walked over excitedly and shouted to the man in the trench coat.

"A pen... give me a pencil!"

Gong Ping's voice was hoarse and cracked.

"I've been under a lot of pressure lately, I need to write something to relax..."

The man in the trench coat narrowed his cloudy eyes.

He slowly looked at Gongping and spoke to him in a hoarse voice.

"money"

The man in the trench coat spoke in a deep voice.

"I'm asking you, do you have money?"

Gong Ping froze.

He frantically rummaged through every pocket on his body, his movements frantic and futile.

The ripped pocket was empty, not even a single cheap Union coin.

All his previous savings had long since been transformed into virtual rockets, flying into Miss Liuli's live stream. "No...no..."

Gong Ping's voice was filled with a broken cry, his forehead pressed against the cold, damp ground.

"Please...please have mercy...I...I really..."

"No money?"

The man in the trench coat chuckled, his gaze like a cold hook, turning to the blue figure—A-Shui—huddled in the shadows behind Gong Ping, trembling with fear and weakness.

The otter sensed danger and instinctively tried to shrink into the shadows, but was held in place by the man in the trench coat's gaze.

"This little gadget... it's quite unique in appearance. There are always people on the black market who like these things, or... the lab might be short of materials. Trade it for this pencil, it's yours."

He waved the pencil in his hand, which exuded an alluring scent.

"boom!"

The man in the trench coat's words struck Gong Ping like a thunderbolt.

He suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the pencil, then abruptly turned to Ah Shui.

Exchange? Exchange Ah Shui for a pencil?
This thought, like a poisonous vine, instantly entangled his already fragile sanity.

In an instant, a voice echoed in Gong Ping's mind, speaking to him.

[Pencil! Change it! Change it quickly! Give him this useless thing!]

But in the next instant, another consciousness roared angrily.

【No...no...absolutely not! You're fucking crazy! Ah Shui...it's...it's my most important companion! You useless coward, you're actually going to sell it for a mere pencil? Do you know what you're doing?! Ah Shui is my brother, at least...at least two pencils!!!】

In an instant, Gongping was excited by this audacious idea, and a crazy smile appeared on his face!
[Hehe...two...that's two pencils...ugh ...

Before Gongping could even begin to formulate this audacious idea, his fist hardened, gained self-awareness, and fiercely struck Gongping's irrational mind.

At that moment, the fist seemed to develop self-awareness and roared loudly.

[You beast! You're a complete beast! What do you take your comrades for?! Think back to what you've been through together. Is all that memory, all that bond, really worth exchanging for just two pencils?!]

At that moment, Mr. Fist's reminder awakened the blurry images in Gongping's mind.

At the cold sewer opening, he encountered this wet, shivering little blue creature...

In the wall-mounted room, they once shared the bitter taste of the last bit of moldy bread...

To become trainers, they fired guns together, trained together, and watched Miss Ruri's live stream together...

At the Pokémon Tournament, spurred on by the "three-piece set," Ah Shui unleashed that earth-shattering water gun attack in pursuit of his dream...

Memories played out like a movie, and when the last scene ended, Gongping was already in tears.

He finally understood Mr. Fist's good intentions; it was Mr. Fist that prevented the foolish brain from making the wrong decision.

【I understand, Mr. Fist, thank you! Really, besides thank you, I can't find any other words to express my gratitude... There are so many memories, Ah Shui's importance to me can't be compared to two pencils, so... I guess I can exchange him for three pencils?】

At that moment, Mr. Fist fell silent.

Because in its view, three is indeed a reasonable price.

That's enough to live up to those memories!

At the same time, it felt very proud, because it was thanks to its help that the brain, this useless thing, was able to stop the damage in time.

Just as Gongping was about to begin the transfer deal...

"Hmphh ...

Another powerful punch landed on his face.

He looked at Mr. Fist with confusion and bewilderment, but Mr. Fist gestured for him to look to his right...

Oh, so the one who just beat him up was his left hand, and now the one giving their opinion is his damn right hand!!!

(For those familiar with LPL, please explain the references in the following content.)
[Left Hand, you're a complete waste! A total pushover in competitions, you can't even fire a gun properly! Ah Shui is incredibly unlucky to have met you! Don't you know that without Ah Shui, you, Left Hand, are utterly useless?! Left Hand, you've really disappointed me! Ah Shui knows what you're thinking, and how heartbroken it must be!]

Upon hearing the opinion expressed by the right hand, the left hand lost control and roared.

[Nonsense! Without my left hand helping Gongping fire and deal damage, would that piece of trash Ah Shui have achieved what he has today?! I've had enough of him. Now, I want Bin!!! As long as we have Bin, that's enough. What is Ah Shui?! Do you even understand the current state of the team?! Only by selling Ah Shui and bringing in Bin can we save this team on the verge of collapse!!!]

His right hand immediately said with exasperation.

[Left Hand, you short-sighted good-for-nothing! You have no idea what we need right now—not just pencils, but more importantly… five! That's right, only five can save our team! With just five, we can perfectly replace Ah Shui!!!]

At that moment, Zuo Shou suddenly realized what was happening and couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

[Five of them, forever the best!!!]

Just as the left and right hands reached a historic reconciliation and decided to jointly promote the transfer deal in which Ah Shui would exchange five pencils, Gong Ping suddenly felt a sharp pain in his abdomen and curled up in agony like a rotten shrimp.

[It's me, I'm... a big eater, and I think... five isn't enough!!!]

So, in the time that followed, Gongping began to calculate frantically.

Whenever he has to make a decision, he feels like he's losing out.

Finally, Gong Ping said to the man in the trench coat.

"One hundred pencils! If you give me one hundred pencils, I'll give you Ah Shui!"

A sharp glint suddenly flashed in the trench coat man's eyes, and he unleashed a lightning whirlwind kick directly at Gong Ping!

"Fuck you!!! You're kidding me, aren't you?! A hundred pencils for a worthless rat?! How could you even think of that?!"

Gong Ping, who had been kicked over, did not raise his head. He simply curled up in the sewage, like a real puddle of mud.

He convulsed in agony, his face contorted with a manic mix of crying and laughing, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

That's right, this was a decision made after discussions involving all the organs of his body.

He knew the other party would never trade a hundred pencils for a malnourished otter.

Therefore, he wouldn't sell unless he had at least a hundred pencils.

Even after the mysterious businessman left, Gongping still wanted to write.

Only when he was writing could he forget all his past troubles; he had to find a way to get a pencil to start writing.

At this moment, he really wanted to stay home and quietly write with a pencil.

Unfortunately, he had no money in his pocket and couldn't afford to buy a pencil.

Just as despair was about to completely engulf him, another swaying figure appeared at the alley entrance.

He was a man who, like a writer, was also emaciated and had the scent of a pencil on him, and it was his favorite pencil.

Gongping unleashed astonishing power once more, pleading with the other party.

"Big brother...please give me a pencil...I'm begging you!"

Gongping's voice was pleading; he wanted a pencil.

"I really want a pencil..."

Gongping just wants a pencil, so why don't some people want one?

The man stopped and looked down at the incomprehensible thing at his feet. A look of surprise flashed in his bloodshot eyes, which was then replaced by a playful glint, like a cat catching a mouse.

His long hours of writing had numbed his senses, making him crave stronger stimulation.

A twisted and cruel smile slowly spread across his face.

"Okay, I'll give you a chance! Go and participate in the champagne drinking contest. If you win, I'll give you a pencil."

Without hesitation, Gongping agreed.

The man opened one champagne bottle after another for Gong Ping.

Gong Ping accepted the champagne and drank it as he walked.

They walked through streets and alleys, through crowds of people.

Some people even filmed their performance art and made 100,000 copies to send to the world.

In those few short minutes, Gong Ping experienced everything that Homiga could experience.

After a long while, the man kicked Gong Ping over and swaggered away.

"Pencil...where's the pencil you promised?"

Gongping used his last bit of strength to demand the pencil he was entitled to.

However, the man said humiliatingly.

"You uncultured person, you dare to write! Remember this: in this world, the strong humiliate the weak!"

Gongping has completely collapsed.

He really needs a pencil.

Gongping thought to himself, unable to get a pencil.

If I were to be the protagonist of a novel, it would definitely be a tragedy.

"You need this, don't you?"

Just as this tragic story was about to come to an end, a head of blond hair shone into Gongping's eyes.

Johnny...?!

At that moment, Gongping subconsciously thought of Mr. JOJO from "Iron Ball Run".

But when he looked closely and stared, he realized that the other person was wearing a pair of refined glasses and a white jacket that combined a technological feel with a fashionable vibe; it was not the speed demon.

But that's not the point. The point is that what he's holding in his hand is none other than the pencil that Gongping desires most!
"Give me a pencil..."

Gong Ping let out a faint, barely audible voice.

He currently has no strength left to move.

"Sure thing, I just love watching other people write. Here, this is a top-quality pencil I prepared especially for you..."

Holding the pencil in my hand.

A happy smile spread across Gong Ping's face; now he could finally go back to writing...

(End of this chapter)