Night Journey

Chapter 137 Love and Peace
In the afternoon, the setting sun, like a piece of embers about to go out, dyed the sky orange-red, and was cut into narrow strips by the buildings.

Dai Lin abandoned any pretense of personal image and lay casually on the cold steps, his clothes damp and a chill seeping into his spine.

"A fantasy... life?"

Cillian carefully considered what he had just said.

His tense body relaxed, and he imitated Dai Lin, slowly lying down. The sharp edges of the steps pressed against his back like a hard, blunt knife.

Cillian's Adam's apple bobbed, but he said nothing. The only sound in the alley was the patter of water droplets falling from the eaves, as if someone was counting the time slipping away in silence.

Every second...

“I came to terms with reality a long time ago.”

Dai Lin broke the silence and began to express his inner thoughts: "In this world, there are too many people who are more in pain, angrier, and more resentful than me, and the cruel thing about reality is that it will not change because of individual will."

Dailin mocked mercilessly, "Yes, my anger is almost burning my soul dry."

and then?
I can't hold the sword, let alone wield it. I don't even have the right to stand in front of my enemy, let alone know who my enemy is.

Is this the era?
Haha... all my anger, pain, and resentment are as laughable as a child's tantrum.

Daelin suddenly turned his head and looked at Cillian lying next to him.

"I resigned myself to my fate for a while and wallowed in self-pity, but one day, Anya told me about her past."

I thought she would cry and tell me about the hardships she had faced or the injustices she had encountered, but she told me completely different stories.

Anya said that every night at the end of the night, when the guests were leaving, she would take some leftover food to feed the stray cats in the back alley of the dance hall. After she became a superhuman, she would try to set aside some time each month to do volunteer work and take care of homeless children.

Dalin nudged Cillian with his shoulder, "You didn't expect Anya to have this side to her, did you?"

"It was somewhat unexpected, but also within expectations."

“That’s more than that.”

It's like this again. Just a moment ago he looked like he had a deep grudge against her, but as soon as Anya was mentioned, Dai Lin's eyebrows started to dance with excitement.

"Anya is amazing, you can't imagine how charming she is."

Ciri thought to himself that he had clearly sensed Anya's magic in being able to tame Daelin into this state.

"At that time I asked her if her series of good deeds were to atone for her sins."

Anya countered by asking me what crime she had committed, whether it was because of her status as a dancer. But such things weren't within her control; what sin had she committed, and as for her reasons for doing these things…

He reverently repeated what he had said then.

“I don’t want to give up to this shitty era… Yes, that’s her exact words.”

Something deep within Ciri was touched.

"Wow, I think that was the moment I fell completely in love with her."

"As one of the insignificant masses, I can do nothing. I can't change this crazy era, nor can I kill those hateful enemies, but that doesn't mean I have to bow down to fate," Dai Lin said excitedly.

I could do what I could, even if it was just a weak blow to fate, it would still be my resistance.

Cirien came to his senses and understood.

"This is the reason you've been investigating the Invisible Ones, the source of your sense of justice."

“Probably,” Dalin said uncertainly. “I don’t like to describe myself as righteous; it’s too lofty. I always feel ashamed of myself. I just…”

I don't want to admit defeat.

Delin described the truth he has always adhered to: "Therefore, a perfect world cannot be imagined, much less waited for. We must do something, no matter how small."

Cillian commented, "A spirit of dedication."

"Who knows?"

With an indifferent attitude, Dalyn continued, "Cillian, just now at the party, when you looked at Wensey and Paul, you unconsciously smiled."

"That's really surprising. The last time I saw you with that expression was when you were torturing Tania."

He suddenly lowered his voice.

"So, Cillian, when you saw the perfect harmony between Wensey and Paul, what were your feelings? Was it envy, jealousy, or perhaps a kind of detached appreciation, drawing inspiration from their beauty to comfort your own heart?"

Cillian remained silent.

"To put it another way, suppose, Cillian, suppose there's another person in the world living the life you've always dreamed of, what would you think?"

Dalyn didn't wait for Cillian's reply and continued speaking on his own.

"If it were me, I would be so happy, so very happy. It's amazing that there are people who can live such a life."

Even... even to say..."

Dai Lin spoke hurriedly, unable to utter a complete sentence. After catching his breath, he spoke with longing.

"It's wonderful that someone can find happiness in this messed-up world."

The two looked up in unison, and through the gaps between the buildings, the setting sun turned into a beautiful, brilliant gold, warming their faces.

"Let's get back to our previous topic, Cillian."

Dalin jumped back to the previous conversation and said admiringly, "All your motives for killing stemmed from your love of beautiful things."

You love the brilliance of humanity and the splendor of beauty so much that even if you can't experience it firsthand, just witnessing that beauty will make you smile involuntarily and feel a sense of redemption.

Therefore, you hate evil as if it were your enemy, and vow to exterminate all the enemies of chaos.

He affirmed.

“Cillian, you are not a murderer, you are a defender of beautiful things.”

Cillian was stunned; he had never imagined that this word would be associated with him.

So many people say that Cillian is a serial killer, and even his own self-identification is very close to this image.

But now, Dai Lin's words are like a key, roughly prying open a forgotten corner of my heart.

Cillian was at a loss.

He blinked repeatedly, a subtle sense of dreaminess rippling through his mind, as if he were having a beautiful dream that he couldn't wake up no matter how hard he tried.

"There's something else I need to apologize for."

Dalin lit another cigarette. Through the smoke, his eyes were hazy, and a drunken stupor brought him waves of comfort and ease. "I overheard your interrogation with Tania that day. Don't worry, I only heard your last conversation."

You question Tania about what she destroyed.

She couldn't give an answer, but I felt like I knew. And it was precisely because I knew this answer that I told you about my past after that day, and that I'm talking to you about so-called love and peace today.

Cillian became somewhat interested and asked curiously, "Tell me about it, Daelin."

“I think what Tania destroyed was another life of yours.”

Dalyn spoke cautiously, as if she were recounting a terrible secret.

"Another life that you constantly fantasize about, beautify day and night, and even indulge in before falling asleep."

Cillian's eyes froze, his face turning ashen.

He had fantasized about it.

He fantasizes that his brothers will also become torchbearers, that he will embrace his beloved girl and tell nonsensical jokes in the restaurant in the early morning, and that White Cliff Town will get back on track and be revitalized through their efforts.

I fantasize about everyone living a peaceful life, and I fantasize about all good things descending upon the earth.

Until that night, everything came to an abrupt end.

“The chaotic evils destroyed all my illusions, which is no less than killing a world... a world I created.”

Looking back, Cillian felt surprisingly calm, or perhaps numb.

"So many wonderful expectations have vanished overnight. It's so sad."

"That's why you've become so violent, using brutal methods to seek revenge like a madman. But that's a blood debt for the whole world. How can the suffering of your enemies alone make up for it?"

"Dailin said with pity."

"But to kill the enemy for the sake of blood debt, even if the last person is killed, is too meaningless."

The narrow alley was still dripping after the rain, and the last rays of the setting sun cut in through the cracks in the wall, shattering into a patch of orange-red in the puddles.

Cillian's fingers were still damp and cold from the steps, but he suddenly grabbed Daelin's shoulder tightly—the force was not like a greeting, but like grasping at a lifeline.

"you're right."

His voice was a little hoarse, and his Adam's apple bobbed as if he were swallowing something scalding hot.

“I used to think that killing was the purest thing. When they fell in front of me, bleeding, even the blurry and distant world became real.”

Cillian looked down at his hands.

These hands once pulled the trigger with mechanical precision, and when the blade tore through flesh, one could even count the crisp sound of an enemy's bones breaking.

Cillian enjoys the feeling of being suffocated by hatred and pain, but he cannot bear the gradual disintegration that creeps from his flesh, bones, and soul.

Previously, Cillian felt this was a kind of confusion, but today, he finally saw it clearly.

That's not confusion, but a lack of self-existence.

Cillian fills his existential anxiety with violence and confirms his "existence" through killing. But the more he kills, the more it seems like he's chasing and hacking at his own shadow—when the shadow shatters, he becomes an even emptier wind.

Dailin didn't speak, she just looked at him.

"A life built on revenge is too thin and too empty, but if it's for those beautiful things... that sounds pretty good."

The gloom in Cillian's eyes seemed to have been burned through by the setting sun, revealing a glimmer of genuine light.

He raised two fingers, the fingertips trembling slightly in the air.

“If I can kill one more zombie, there will be one more couple like Paul and Wensey in Hull, and then another wedding will be held, with dozens of people attending and laughing.”

"So……"

Cillian began to fantasize.

"If I could kill one more Chaos follower, one more Chaos offspring, or even one more evil, how many more cities would stand, and how many more people would attain perfect happiness?"

He paused, his voice softening, carrying an unprecedented certainty.

"Great, Dalin. As long as someone is killed, someone will be happy. This deal is too good to be true."

Despite all that, Dalin still couldn't understand Cillian's thought process or his ecstatic, neurotic remarks.

But Daly could tell that Cillian's morbid psychology was developing in a positive direction.

As for whether he misinterpreted his own meaning, or whether he filled in the blanks with his own imagination and created some kind of positive but strange fallacy...

never mind.

Dalin didn't aim to correct Cillian's values ​​back to normal; he only hoped that Cillian's morbid psychology could become a little more normal.

Once, absurdity was everything to Cirion.

The world is a meaningless desert, but Cillian insists on searching for meaning, so he can only run wildly in the void until this moment, when he suddenly sees the first flower in the desert.

Those "beautiful things".

The so-called "life that everyone fantasizes about and expects" is no longer a grand slogan, but the smile lines at the corners of Wenxi's eyes, the wine splashed in Elton's glass, and the fingertips of Maefuni brushing her hair.

These concrete, fragile, and mundane facts became the anchor points for Cillian to resist the collapse of his self-existence.

"After saying all this, I feel like I'm a preacher."

"Then what am I, a lost sheep who has finally turned back?" Cillian shook his head. "I will never turn back. I prefer to wallow in the mire of hatred and suffering, for..."

Dai Lin raised an eyebrow, his tone probing.

"For love and peace?"

Cillian smiled.

His laughter was no longer the fragile shell he wore in the bar, but a genuine laugh that welled up from his chest, tinged with self-deprecation and a sense of relief.

Therefore, Cillian stopped denying it and affirmed it.

"For love and peace."

He stroked the Boiling Sword, full of anticipation.

"So, we still have a lot of people to kill."

(End of this chapter)