An abstract trainer who taught Charmander the Incinerate move

Chapter 242 The Darkness of the Alliance, Du's Life (Another insignificant main storyline)
My name is Yulongdu, and I'm a red-hotspot adventurer who plays the field out of pure interest.

Do you believe in fate?
Growing up in the strict Dragon Clan of Yanmo City, the word I heard most often was "fate."

From a young age, my family said I had the qualities of a king, a dragon among men, one in a million.

They say the blood of the Dragon Clan flows most purely in my veins; I am a born dragon messenger, destined to stand on the clouds and look down upon all living beings.

I could use Poké Balls when I was one year old, I could use Ultra Gun when I was two, and I was battling female trainers when I was three.

My family members clapped and laughed, praising me for being born with an extremely domineering personality and having the demeanor of a strongman.

By the age of five, I was already able to use Dratini to defeat countless opponents, and the reputation of a genius Dragon-type boy spread from then on.

My peers in Yanmo City looked at me with envy, fear, and, more than anything, a kind of indescribable alienation in their eyes.

At that time, I didn't understand; I just thought it was the attention the victor deserved.

Throughout my journey to becoming a trainer, I have defeated countless small-town trainers.

Their strength... well, it can only be described as "tragic".

At first, I thought it was because they weren't working hard enough and hadn't put their hearts into training their Pokémon.

I was even a little angry, angry at their negligence, which tarnished the name of trainer.

I used to work extra hard on the training field, my training clothes soaked with sweat, just so as not to let down the so-called "talent of a king".

I thought that anyone could become stronger as long as they worked hard.

Later I realized that this was due to racial differences.

This gap cannot be bridged by hard work alone.

My starting point may be the end point that many people can never reach in their entire lives.

Some people are born as caterpillars, and no matter how much they evolve, they will still just be caterpillars.

Some people are born like cattle or horses, and no matter how much they evolve, they will still only be cattle or horses.

This is harsh to say, but it's the reality I've witnessed firsthand.

Only a few people like me, with noble blood, can evolve into true dragons.

This is fate.

Later, as I flew out of the small world of Yanmo City, I came into contact with a more real world.

I made a major discovery: it turns out that not everyone in this world is qualified to become a trainer.

What I consider an ordinary Poké Ball is an unattainable star to them.

Their meager savings simply couldn't afford the exorbitant cost of becoming a trainer.

The cultural exams and background checks required for obtaining a trainer's license from the league are an invisible barrier.

Those who live on the fringes of the League's shadow, upon seeing us trainers with powerful Pokémon in our Poké Balls, might even instinctively kneel and kowtow, shouting "Master!"

Seeing such a scene was already surreal enough for me, but there are always more things in this world that broaden my horizons.

Some poor wretches have to have their mothers kicked and shoved by those sanctimonious PhDs in small-town research institutes just to get their children a cheap red and white ball and a yellow rat that's as common as a stray dog ​​on the street.

Even if a small-town trainer puts in their entire life's effort, they can't compare to a single, marginal Pokémon in my team. They're just background figures who get swept away by our Pokémon.

Not to mention the dark dueling laws that exist within the alliance, they are simply an ATM for the strong when they walk in the wild.

I was initially extremely confused by this sight, and even doubted whether they were human beings like me.

How can anyone live like this? Can they even be considered human? What is the meaning of their existence?
Is it merely to highlight the glory of us true dragons?

Later, when I sat in the revolving restaurant on the top floor of the Kanto Alliance Building, overlooking the brightly lit yet clearly defined city below, and listened to my family elders making decisions about resource allocation in certain areas in a tone as casual as discussing the weather, I truly understood.

They were born, and the very first breath they took carried the mark of cattle and horses.

We, the true emperors with the blood of true dragons flowing through our veins, are destined to live different lives.

This is fate.

My journey as a trainer has been one of crushing victories and triumphant advancement. The league trophies are merely decorative embellishments in my family's showroom.

Until that day, on a path deep in the Viridian Forest, dappled with sunlight, I met him.

A boy with equally flamboyant red hair.

There were no pleasantries, no probing; just a glance was enough to ignite an invisible spark in the air.

In a fierce and chaotic battle, my Dragonair danced among the clouds, while his Beedrill, like golden lightning, tore through the air, leaving only a blur.

It's hard to tell which is better.

For the first time in my life, I felt sweat on my fingertips as I touched the Poké Ball, and my blood was boiling in my veins. It was no longer a boring hunt, but the excitement of meeting a worthy opponent.

Perhaps it was that same red hair that brought us together, and that's how we became friends.

He told me his name was Yin, and that he was someone who wanted to smash the old world and reshape the new rules.

As I listened, it was like listening to a distant fairy tale; my heart remained completely unmoved, and I even felt a little...strange.

At that time, I was still indulging in the dream of the true dragon bloodline.

The rules of the world? They were written for people like us, why change them?

However, fate soon gave me a resounding slap in the face.

My family told me that in order to maintain the purity and nobility of the "Dragon Clan" bloodline, my marriage partner has been chosen—my cousin, Yu Longchun.

I was shocked, angry, and even overturned the heavy mahogany table in the Yanmo Martial Arts Hall.

I could tell from this woman's terrible fashion sense that being with her would inevitably lead to a tragedy in my life.

But the eyes of those old fogies in the family held an unyielding resolve.

They told me, "A true dragon should be accompanied by a true dragon."

I fought back, but my protests were ineffective.

It seems that my personal will, my pitiful pursuit of freedom, is as light as a feather in the face of so-called bloodline.

A massive, unbreakable web woven from blood ties, tradition, and vested interests has trapped me tightly.

At that moment, Yin's words resounded in my mind like a thunderclap.

It was then that I understood the greatness of that red-haired boy.

He aspires to change the world, while I can't even change the person I sleep with.

This is fate.

To escape that suffocating marriage contract, and to catch my breath, I joined Interpol, donned the uniform of an investigator symbolizing "justice," and began wandering the world.

Fighting crime and maintaining order is part of our family business, much like regularly cleaning out the unruly cattle and horses in a ranch.

With great power comes great responsibility, but more than anything, I need a broad stage away from Yanmo City and away from the gaze of my family.

In the process of pursuing those vicious criminals, I temporarily forgot the frustration of being unable to change my own fate and tried to find a sense of value in my own existence.

However, my boss, a bloated, cunning old fox who was well-versed in office politics, did not appreciate my work attitude.

He patted my shoulder, like he was patting a clueless child.

“Xiao Du, with your status, promotion is a natural progression! When a position becomes available, it will naturally be your turn. Why bother to personally risk your life against those desperados? It's too dangerous and unwise. Your grandfather specifically instructed me to take good care of you…” This idiot only has his own position and the chair he's sitting on in his head. He looks at me like I'm a fragile piece of porcelain, as if he's afraid that if something happens to me, he won't be able to explain it to my family.

How could a piece of trash like him understand the values ​​I'm pursuing?
Unfortunately, pure-hearted people like me are ultimately a minority.

Later, I rose smoothly to the position of senior investigator, and some people started to have ulterior motives.

Some women who were reasonably attractive but not particularly capable began to approach me, intentionally or unintentionally, attempting to use me as a stepping stone to advance their careers.

I have always despised this kind of deal, finding it dirty and ridiculous.

However, it was really just a small favor for me.

For me, promoting someone is just a matter of a word or a report.

So occasionally, when I'm extremely bored, I'll impulsively participate in such ridiculous transactions.

Watching their complex expressions of gratitude, shame, and ambition after they got what they wanted was like watching an absurd drama.

Some people work themselves to the bone, like oxen and horses, until they die, and they still only become low-level staff members.

Just like that handsome old man, he has a wealth of experience in handling cases, running himself ragged and talking himself hoarse, but he always gets the credit for others.

Some people used a promotion tool and successfully climbed above others, like Agent Lila, or perhaps Officer Lila now.

This is fate.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, my career as an investigator will likely continue in this cycle, endlessly alternating between the thrill of hunting down criminals and the daily grind of dealing with promotions.

Until that raid on the Rockets' secret base.

In the dimly lit corridor, with flashing alarm lights, I led my men into the core area, and then... I saw him.

Yin, the red-haired boy who once vowed to change the world.

He just stood there, under the Rockets logo, looking at me with a complicated expression.

The shock lasted only a moment; the fighting instinct had already taken over.

The result is no suspense.

Beedrill might be able to hold its own against Hakkarosaurus, but it's no match for the massive bee.

I won, and it was a victory I took for granted, but my heart was in turmoil.

I stared intently at him, my voice trembling with confusion that I myself didn't realize.

"Why? Yin! How could you... stoop so low as to join a place like this?!"

He laughed, a laugh filled with weariness and a piercing sarcasm.

"Depravity? You are the biggest criminal organization in this world! It is because of your existence that this disgusting order is maintained, making this world beyond saving!"

I wanted to ask more questions, to refute his claims, and to understand exactly what he saw.

But in that split second—bang! A piercing gunshot rang out!

The one who fired the shot was a quiet and unassuming teammate of mine.

Silver's body trembled violently, the light in his eyes went out instantly, and he fell straight down.

I turned my head sharply, my eyes wide with rage.

"What are you doing?! Who told you to fire?!"

The team member's face was deathly pale, but his eyes remained unusually calm.

"Sir! I was too nervous, the gun went off accidentally..."

Three days later, the case report was delivered to my desk: the team member was shot twelve times in the back in his dormitory due to excessive psychological pressure, and was judged to have committed suicide out of fear of punishment.

At that moment, I felt a chill run through me; the waters of Interpol were far deeper than I had imagined.

In order to uncover the secrets behind the silver, and also to give myself an explanation, I made a decision.

I forged my identity and infiltrated Team Rocket like a ghost.

There, I saw another side of the world.

This is not the heinous hellhole portrayed in propaganda, but rather a resistance army composed of countless resentful cattle and horses.

They are a group of people trampled underfoot by fate, trying to shake the seemingly unbreakable order with their meager strength.

They poach elves, vandalize facilities, and defy the authority of the League... their crimes are numerous, yet they also possess a spirit of resistance against their unjust fate.

However, in the eyes of Interpol, which represents justice, these actions are heinous crimes that must be eradicated.

At that moment, I stood in a dark corner, watching my familiar yet unfamiliar "comrades" enthusiastically planning their operation, and only a cold voice echoed in my heart.

Silver is right; we are no different from them in essence.

The only difference is that we are stronger, we control the discourse, so we represent "justice," while they are "evil" that must be eliminated.

From that moment on, the job of Interpol completely lost its last shred of sacredness for me.

I no longer care about anything related to work. To me, the identity of the Alliance Investigator is just a cover that allows me to continue to roam the world legitimately, avoiding the arrangements made by my family.

I have neither the ambition to change the world nor the passion to uphold justice.

I became a pure outlaw, wandering aimlessly under the rules of the League and with the power granted by those rules.

If nothing unexpected happens, my life will probably be like a blimp that has lost its way, forever drifting aimlessly above the clouds until it runs out of fuel.

Until one day, a book called "Battle Through the Spirits" crashed into my stagnant life like a meteorite.

The protagonist, Xiao Huolong, was initially looked down upon by everyone as a good-for-nothing. But through sheer grit and extraordinary encounters, he constantly broke through his own limits and defied fate!

With each breakthrough and each burst of energy in dire straits, I seemed to see a ray of light, and the passion that had been dormant for many years seemed to begin to stir again.

I want to change! Change this damn thing! Where to begin? I don't know.

Until that old ox-horse codenamed "Handsome Guy" delivered a report about "Dream Cigarettes," a new type of contraband in the United States region, to my hands.

The report also mentioned a key figure assisting in the investigation—our Interpol secret investigator planted in the United States, codenamed "Handsome Guy".

What really startled me was that the report subtly mentioned that the investigator seemed to have another identity... the author of "Battle Through the Heavens," Mo Zhenzhenzhenzhen.

As I held the report, a strange feeling spread through my heart.

Mo Zhenzhenzhenzhen... the handsome secret investigator... and that eerie Meng Ziyan...

All these coincidences are by no means accidental.

I have a feeling that this might be a sign that the gears of fate are turning again.

So, under the guise of investigating Meng Ziyan, I actually wanted to see what kind of person the author who could write Xiao Huolong's extraordinary story was in real life.

And so, the gears of fate began to turn once more.

That boy who once dreamed of changing the world, and me, the so-called true dragon struggling in the quagmire of fate...

We have finally met again in this grand game of fate.

Resurrection? A vengeful spirit seeking revenge?
Are they all coincidences? Or is it scripted?
Perhaps none of this matters anymore, to me...

This is fate.

(End of this chapter)