An abstract trainer who taught Charmander the Incinerate move

Chapter 142 The Ultimate Insult, Facing Reality, The Ordinary Path
The deathly silence in the warehouse was pierced by the approaching footsteps and hushed conversations.

Homiga's heart clenched instantly, and she instinctively peered out through the gaps in the container.

The moonlight outlined several familiar figures moving about in the open space in the center of the warehouse, busily moving empty wooden crates, checking lighting circuits, and debugging communication equipment.

Her pupils contracted sharply!

It's Tom, the fan club president who stands in the front row at every concert, waving a huge "Homiho! The Light of Tachibana City!" light board, almost to the point of madness!

Next to him is Jerry, the concert's security captain, who always wears a T-shirt with her picture on it and does his best to maintain order backstage.

And then there's the stocky guy, Luffy, who was in charge of the stage smoke effects. He once described with a pious expression the miracle of the gas canisters' purple smoke combining with her singing.

And then there's Dick, that die-hard fan who's always spamming the internet for her and fighting off the negativity...

The people who appeared in the warehouse were all core members of the toxic smoke team whom she recognized with her eyes closed and whom she considered family!
"Damn! We've finally made it through!"

Dick's voice, filled with intense annoyance and relief, abruptly broke the silence.

He spat and slammed an empty wooden box heavily onto the ground.

"I never have to listen to that white-haired bitch howling like a banshee again! Damn it, every time she starts howling, I feel like my ears are going to get pregnant! I really want her to use that voice to howl properly where she's supposed to!"

The voices that once shouted "Long live Homiho!" are now filled with naked humiliation and hatred.

"Haha! That's right! That raspy voice is even worse than a Growlithe in heat!"

Ruff immediately chimed in, his face plastered with unrestrained sneers.

"A fucking magical voice? Pshaw! Do you think she really believes she's some kind of chosen messenger from the 'Ideal Dragon'? I really don't know why Mr. Akromma insisted on promoting this thing in the first place, just because she can make a lot of noise?"

Ruff's words trampled on Homiga's musical beliefs and personal dignity.

Homiga's face turned deathly pale, and his body began to tremble involuntarily.

She remembers that after each performance, the other party would excitedly run to her, describing how the audience was captivated by her "magical voice"—it turned out to be all fake!
"Praise her? I think Mr. Akromma is just using her for amusement!"

Jerry stopped checking the equipment, a mocking smile on his face.

"You guys didn't see how stupid she looked! She really thought she was something special! Mr. Akroma probably just thought it was fun to play with a monkey, using 'science' to package a bunch of screams into some kind of magical song that makes dreams come true, and fooled this idiot into thinking she was some kind of rock goddess! Hahaha! She was completely fooled, and she's even grateful! A complete moron!"

Jerry's words, like the most vicious insults, shattered Homiga's last shred of self-respect.

She recalled countless times Jerry, with tears in his eyes, saying after her rehearsals that her "singing touched the soul"—it turned out to be all due to his superb acting skills!

"Fun? I think it's just a toy!"

Tom's voice was filled with cold contempt; as the head of the fan club, he had completely torn off his mask.

"But that 'Back to Basics' performance last time was quite interesting. She lay on the ground and barked like a dog, wow, that's what you call 'singing' well! And the way she opened the champagne, so cool! I recorded it and watched it several times, hehe... Do you think Mr. Akroma would..."

Tom's words were like an icicle, piercing Homiga's heart.

She once regarded Tom as the confidant who understood the depth of her music the most.

It turns out that in his eyes, she was just a dog trained to be admired!

"Hahahaha, who knows? I've heard that Kanto people have a particular fondness for white-haired people. Maybe Mr. Akroma is from Kanto!"

coax--!!!
Unrestrained, malicious laughter exploded like thunder in the warehouse, repeatedly crushing Homiga, who was huddled in the shadows.

Every word, every mocking remark, precisely corresponds to the faces of those "loyal supporters" who once stirred her heart and filled her with pride deep in her memory.

Those burning gazes, devout praises, unconditional support... all twisted and deformed before her eyes, transforming into the cruelest blade of betrayal.

With each slash, a warm, shining memory was utterly stained black and torn apart.

She felt as if she was being slowly tortured, piece by piece.

The worship and cheers she once regarded as the meaning of her life, the warmth of the "family" who supported her through the darkest times, were all carefully designed deceptions!

Those frenzied shouts from the audience, those intoxicated and worshipful eyes, that immense sense of happiness that made her willing to abandon her dignity and indulge in it... all came from that pinkish-purple smoke, from Akromma's cold "science," not from the rock music she revered as divine, not from her soul-burning roars!

The magic of the stage that she had always believed in, the value she relied on for survival, her last bastion against the ridicule of the entire internet... collapsed with a bang, and even the ruins were completely crushed into dust by this vicious mockery.

She is not a rock queen; she is merely a clown for amusement, a noise-generating machine packaged with technology, and a perfect prop to cover up evil.

Her singing, her dreams, her dignity, all the emotions she gave... in the eyes of these people, they are worthless, even ridiculous and disgusting.

Tears flowed like a flood, surging down her pale cheeks.

His body trembled violently as he curled up, the cold guitar pressing down on his broken heart like a tombstone.

Goodbye, rock and roll dream.

Goodbye, illusory glory.

Goodbye, you utterly foolish Homiga.

Snapped!
A hand gently rested on her violently heaving shoulder.

Homiga was startled and looked up through teary eyes, meeting Mo Zhen's clear and calm eyes in the darkness.

His eyes held no pity, only a clear, all-knowing gaze.

"You see clearly now? So, Homika, tell me, what do you plan to do from now on?"

How to do?
Homiga's mind went blank.

She opened her mouth, but her throat felt like it was blocked with scalding sand, and she couldn't make a sound.

What could she do? What else could she do? The stage was fake, dreams were poison, singing was noise, and even her final downfall became a source of amusement and a joke for others.

The world is so vast, it seems there is nowhere left for her to belong.

Three days ago, the only thing she wanted to do was smash her head with a guitar.

But those words about the "True Dragon" and the "Unity Spirit" gave her a glimmer of motivation to keep going.

Amidst my chaotic thoughts, my father's face, etched with wrinkles by the sea wind and hard work, appeared remarkably clearly in my mind.

The salty air of the port, the huge cargo ships, the sweat-drenched figure of my father carrying goods under the scorching sun, and the expectant and warm eyes in his eyes when he handed me that cheap practice guitar...

"Honesty is more important than anything else."

My father's simple yet weighty words were like a match struck in the dark, faint yet burning brightly.

Give up? No, she had already been deceived into giving up too much, including her dignity and soul.

escape?

Where to escape to? Back to that stage built of lies and poisonous smoke to continue being a clown? That's worse than death.

A force, a mixture of immense grief and a faint, stubborn strength, struggled to rise from the depths of despair.

Homiga forcefully wiped away the tears on her face, even though new tears immediately welled up again.

She looked at Mo Zhen, her voice hoarse and trembling, yet carrying an almost tragic resolve.

"What else can we do..."

She took a deep breath, as if using all her strength.

"The rock and roll dream... is over. That was not my path, never was... just a ridiculous and pathetic trap, an unattainable false dream."

Her gaze passed over Mo Zhen, as if piercing through the cold iron walls of the warehouse, and landed on the distant harbor.

"I want to...go home."

Saying this word carries a piercing pain, yet also a sense of relief that the dust has settled.

“I want to work on a ship with my dad when I grow up. He needs help. He always tells me to be an upright person, but I…”

She choked up for a moment, then continued, her voice heavy with a hint of relief.

“I disappointed him… I have to make up for my mistakes. From now on, I just want to work hard… to be a… useful ordinary person. At least… I can no longer be an idiot and a sinner who is used by others…”

Her voice grew softer and softer until it was almost a murmur, filled with weariness, a farewell to the past, resignation to an ordinary future, and a faint yearning for redemption.

Carbin, who had been secretly observing from the sidelines, completely lost his last bit of wariness towards Homiga after witnessing this scene.

She sighed, realizing that the pitiful girl in front of her was not some gangster tycoon who controlled the Mengzi Tobacco Trade in Liyong City, but just a pitiful person who had been toyed with by fate and eventually returned to an ordinary life.

Mo Zhen stared at her tear-streaked face, and a rare, extremely complex emotion flashed across her eyes, which always held a playful and smiling tone.

Giving up dreams, accepting reality, and acknowledging one's ordinariness requires immense courage. Being able to do this means possessing true "spirit of unity."

After countless struggles and choices, Homiga finally awoke from her illusory dream and embarked on the ordinary path of reality.

At that moment, Xiaomengzi trembled with excitement, tears welling up in her eyes.

Oh my god... this... this... is just... too...

What a waste!!!

Ribbit!! My dream energy, my premium materials! Why the hell are you yelling at me?!
Mo Zhen, you useless thing! Why did you let such a trainer, who should have shone brightly in the field of poison-type trainers, go and run a ship with her good-for-nothing captain father?
It's over, it's all over. Our future is bleak. What meaning does this ordinary world, devoid of dreamlike energy, still have?

Destroy it quickly!
Just then, a series of precise, rhythmic footsteps, neither hurried nor slow, echoed from deep within the warehouse, striking the tense atmosphere like the tinkling of a cold pendulum.

Immediately afterwards, a voice that sounded as familiar as a nightmare to Homiga rang out clearly, instantly drowning out all the hushed conversations and moving noises.

"Cheer up, everyone! Tonight is the last dance, we can't afford to fail!"

Akroma's figure emerged from the shadows, her snow-white lab coat standing out starkly in the dim light, her glasses reflecting the faint glow coming from above.

He surveyed his surroundings with an air of elegance, his voice not loud, yet carrying an absolute authority.

"Keep a close eye on the process, from raw material storage to finished product packaging. Once this deal is completed, the wealth, prosperity, and peaceful life you all desire will be within your grasp."

"Yes, Mr. Akromma!"

"Understood! Don't worry!"

All the busy toxic gas team members in the warehouse instantly stopped what they were doing and turned in unison towards the source of the sound.

They bowed deeply, their movements perfectly synchronized, their faces filled with heartfelt reverence and fervor.

His posture was a hundred times more respectful and devout than when he was facing Homiga, the "captain"!
An invisible sense of order permeated the air, with only one core—Akroma!
Carbin, the handsome guy, and the others lurking in the darkness suddenly felt their pupils shrink and their hearts sink.

Without a word, the scene before us starkly revealed the truth—Akromar was the true mastermind of the Poison Smoke Team!

Homiga? He's nothing more than a pathetic puppet pushed to the forefront to attract attention.

All the clues now come together, pointing to the mad scientist's cold ambition.

However, this shocking revelation is not over yet.

The warehouse door leading to the loading and unloading platform slowly opened upwards with a slight hum from the hydraulic system.

The cool moonlight and sea breeze poured in together, illuminating a group of figures appearing at the door.

The leader was tall and wore a faded old captain's uniform. The dark captain's hat with worn edges on his head outlined a silhouette that Homiga was very familiar with in the moonlight.

He was directing the people behind him to move heavy boxes, his voice deep and rough, characteristic of a seaman.

"Here! Place it gently! This batch of goods cannot afford to be damaged..."

Om-! ! !
It felt like a bomb had exploded in Homiga's mind!

All sound vanished instantly, and the world fell into a deathly silence.

Her eyes widened, her pupils shrinking to pinpoints as she stared incredulously at the figure wearing the captain's hat. Her blood seemed to freeze and flow backward, and her limbs felt as cold as if she had fallen into an ice cave.

Her mouth was open, but no sound came out; only her heart was pounding wildly in her chest, each beat bringing a suffocating pain.

fake.

This is a dream.

Is this a dream?!
This isn't real! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up now!
The world froze completely at that moment. Homika kept calling out in her heart, her mind had lost the ability to think, she just kept struggling, trying to escape from everything in front of her.

A hint of helplessness appeared in Mo Zhen's eyes.

It takes immense courage to acknowledge one's own ordinariness.

Unfortunately, some people are destined to be extraordinary.

On this final stage, the cruelest reality is about to unfold...

(End of this chapter)