Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

My mother was attacked by three masked men on her way home from grocery shopping at the market. They ran away after the attack, and no one saw their faces.

When he arrived at the hospital, his mother was lying in the corridor of the emergency room, unattended. Her face was covered in bruises, her eyes were swollen shut, and her lips were cracked and peeling. When she heard his voice, she struggled to raise her hand to touch his face and said, "Qinghou, Mom is fine, don't worry."

The mother already had high blood pressure and heart disease, and this beating completely broke her down. On the third day of her hospitalization, she lay in bed holding his hand, her voice as soft as a feather: "Qinghou, don't sue anymore, Mom is fine. We are just ordinary people, we can't fight them."

He held that hand for twenty-two years. He used to work in a garment factory, operating a sewing machine. His fingers were covered in calluses, and in the winter they would crack and bleed from the cold. Yet, he still painstakingly saved up for his tuition, supporting his piano lessons for fifteen years.

He knelt beside the hospital bed, his forehead slamming against the cold edge with a thud, drawing blood. He roared until his voice was hoarse: "Mom, I will get justice! I will make them pay!"

My mother passed away a week later. The doctor said it was due to multiple organ failure, and she could not be saved.

He stood at the entrance of the ICU, still clutching the enamel mug his mother had used when she was hospitalized; the peony flower on the bottom of the mug was worn away and almost invisible.

He smashed the cup on the ground, scattering ceramic shards everywhere, like his shattered home that could never be pieced back together.

The police said the assailant has been arrested, sentenced to two years in prison, and ordered to pay 150,000 yuan in compensation.

150,000 yuan isn't even enough for three days in the ICU.

He asked why the sentence was so lenient and why the mastermind wasn't investigated, but the only answer he received was: "We couldn't confirm a direct link between the assault and the death; the case is closed."

He knelt in front of the police station for a whole day, his knees were chafed and his pants were bleeding, but no one paid him any attention.

Passersby looked at him with strange eyes, as if he were a madman.

He raised his head and roared at the sky, his voice echoing in the empty corridor. No one stopped, no one was willing to help him.

"Your mother died in vain, and you live in vain. A piece of trash is a piece of trash."

Gu Yanzhi's voice was still ringing in his ears, each word like a red-hot iron pressing on his nerves, making him tremble with pain.

"People like you are born to be our stepping stones."

After Gu Yanzhi finished speaking, he turned around and prepared to leave. His back was frivolous, and he even hummed a tune, the same tune Shen Qinghou played when he participated in the competition, "Guangling San". The tune was crooked and twisted, as if he was deliberately trying to disgust him.

Shen Qinghou's gaze was fixed on the back of his neck, where the skin was exposed above the shirt collar, its whiteness dazzling.

He remembered his mother's calloused hands, the shattered enamel cup, the cold cement ground in front of the police station, and the moment when he knelt on the ground and roared at the sky, but no one paid any attention to him.

The hatred simmering in his chest finally exploded completely.

"Gu Yanzhi!!!"

Shen Qinghou let out a low growl, squeezed from deep in his throat, like the dying howl of a wounded beast, so loud that the windowpane vibrated.

He lunged at Gu Yanzhi like an enraged leopard, his hands reaching for his throat.

The old wound on his wrist tore open again when he exerted force, and blood seeped out, staining the white gauze red, and dripping onto the ground.

His eyes were bloodshot, the muscles on his face were contorted, and his mouth was wide open, as if he wanted to devour Gu Yanzhi alive.

"I'm going to kill you!!!"

With their fingertips still half a meter from Gu Yanzhi's throat, the four bodyguards hidden in the shadows moved simultaneously.

Shen Qinghou was pressed to the ground, his face against the cold cement floor. Dust and shards of glass choked him, and he coughed violently until tears streamed down his face.

He struggled frantically, kicking and thrashing his limbs like a trapped wild beast, his bones creaking under the pressure. He felt no pain, only a burning hatred that made him feel like he was about to explode.

"I'm going to kill you!!! I'm going to kill you!"

His eyes were fixed on Gu Yanzhi, his pupils almost popping out, blood vessels covering the entire white of his eyes, as if they were about to bleed.

Someone pressed his knee down hard on his back, his ribs were about to break, but he still desperately twisted his body and crawled forward, his fingernails digging into the cracks in the cement floor, his fingernails flipped up, blood splattered all over the ground, leaving red streaks on the gray ground.

"Gu Yanzhi! You'll die a horrible death! You fucking die a horrible death!"

Gu Yanzhi turned around, looked down at him lying on the ground, and his smile deepened.

He took out his phone and slowly took a few photos of Shen Qinghou, then recorded a video, the camera clearly showing Shen Qinghou's ferocious face.

"You launched an attack, and the evidence is irrefutable. This time you'll be in jail for a while." Gu Yanzhi's voice was laced with laughter, as if he were talking about a trivial matter. "Oh, by the way, I've already had the case file for your mother's case destroyed. Even if you appeal to the central government, no one will pay any attention to you."

Shen Qinghou was still struggling, his voice had become hoarse from shouting, and the sounds he made were like a broken bellows, hoarse and slurred with blood.

"I'll haunt you even as a ghost... I'll haunt you even as a ghost..."

The bodyguard holding him down grew impatient and raised his hand to chop hard on the back of his neck.

Shen Qinghou's consciousness blurred instantly, and his body felt as if all his strength had been drained. He collapsed softly to the ground, and Gu Yanzhi's figure grew farther and farther away in his vision, while the footsteps around him grew fainter and fainter.

He didn't want to die like this, nor did he want to just let it go.

He hadn't avenged his mother, his wrist tendons hadn't healed, and after playing the piano for eighteen years, he still hadn't won the championship that should have been his.

On what grounds?

Why are these people allowed to take everything from him, kill his mother, and still stand in the sunlight laughing so happily?

Why should he suffer the fate of having his family destroyed when he did nothing wrong?

Hatred spread through his body like venom, and just as his consciousness was about to completely sink into darkness, a dark purple light suddenly crashed into his sea of ​​consciousness.

That light was warm, like the hot water bottle his mother used to use to warm his hands in winter. It flowed through his veins and warmed his almost frozen soul.

He "saw" the seed; its dark purple shell was covered with dense patterns, like the strings of an ancient zither. Each pattern was vibrating slightly, making a sound in sync with his heartbeat.

The seed floated in the center of his sea of ​​consciousness, rotating slightly. Streams of information overflowed from the surface of the seed and merged into his consciousness. Every word was clear, as if it were engraved on his bones.

Sound wave annihilation

[Using mental energy as a guide, one infuses their emotions into sound waves, which then propagate through media such as air and solid objects. The frequency of the sound waves can be adjusted according to the host's will. Low-frequency sound waves can shatter solid matter and damage internal organs, while high-frequency sound waves can directly affect the target's nervous system, causing hallucinations, excruciating pain, or even brain death. The range and intensity of the sound wave propagation are directly proportional to the concentration of mental energy; the more intense the emotion, the stronger the destructive power of the sound wave. The host can amplify the power of the sound waves through resonant media such as strings and glass, or condense the sound waves into lines for precise, targeted attacks. Prolonged, wide-range release of sound waves will damage the host's vocal cords and cause hearing loss, and in severe cases, permanent deafness.]