A Young Woman's Heart

She only had half her health left, but Duanmu Ji still had a character with full health.

He was a muscular tough guy I'd never seen do before, with a Japanese flag strapped to his forehead.

"I've already won," Duanmu Ji said calmly, glancing at her deliberately.

"Tch, how could I possibly lose here!" Mo Xueyao started shaking the joystick vigorously. "Watch me combo you to death!"

However, this is unlikely.

The two sides traded blows, and Mo Xueyao's health was about to reach zero.

At this moment, Duanmu Ji suddenly made a serious mistake—he attacked in the wrong direction.

Mo Xueyao, unable to celebrate, instinctively unleashed a combo, sending his character flying into the air before crashing to the ground, followed by a large 'K.O.' on the screen.

"I won! Hehe, how about that, I'm still the best, right?"

Duanmu Ji's lips curled slightly, and he smiled helplessly: "Impressive."

……

Section Two Appendix: Shadows

This chapter is a collection of essays written on my own reflections, and it is not closely related to the main text.

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In the dim night, the clouds and the flowers by the pond blended together.

The sky, devoid of stars, was reflected in the water, with a pale crescent moon hanging high in the air.

There was a false sense of noise in the village.

You can hear the chirping of insects and birds, and the babbling of flowing water.

But no human voices could be heard.

Everyone seemed to be suppressing their voices, and even their breathing became faint.

The candlelight on the candlestick was blown out, and he lay down on the bed with his hands crossed over his chest.

His face was distorted and ferocious, but he seemed to be bound and unable to move.

However, he was not bound by ropes; he was only wrapped in blankets.

The village was finally plunged into darkness, with only the pale moonlight casting long, trailing shadows.

At the village entrance, a person with long hair covering their face is nailed to a cross, next to which lies blood that once flowed but has now dried.

In its slumber, it seems that everything is about to come to an end.

His shadow could no longer bear the deathly silence and struggled to break free.

The dark shadow slowly stood up, glanced back at its master who was sleeping peacefully on the bed, and picked up the candlestick placed on the table.

I slipped through the crack in the door and left this closed-off home, which felt like a coffin.

The shadow remained silent as it continued walking forward, passing the bloodless corpse.

This is the Son of God who has been put on the cross, but if he is God, why can't he resist mortals?

I'm afraid this isn't the son of God at all, but merely the son of a man who has bled dry.

The shadow silently brushed past him, and the faint candlelight in his hand lit up once more, illuminating the dim road ahead.

The pale moonlight enveloped him; there was no road ahead, only a desolate wilderness.

The boundless darkness in the distance seemed poised to devour anyone who might approach.

The shadow walked in, almost merging with it, but the candlelight rippled through the darkness, separating the shadow from the blackness.

In a daze, it seemed that there was no darkness or light in the world, only chaos all around, and the city was completely silent.

It was as if an invisible force was pressing down from the sky; it was so powerful that it rendered people powerless to resist.

The shadow walked forward, wanting only to see what this being that had silenced its master was.

I saw faintly glowing figures by the roadside, but I couldn't make out their faces.

All I could hear were their voices of obstruction and their voices of doubt.

All I could see was the child praying silently, as if he wanted a share of his light.

The shadow, unable to see pain and confusion in the child's eyes, concealed its meager pity, silently pushed the child aside, and continued walking in the boundless wilderness.

The sky hung high, and the pine trees beside it stretched straight upwards.

The bright moon was reduced to a hazy shadow, and soon only the faint candlelight in the shadow's hand remained in the darkness.

He heard a strange roar, a sound unlike that of any wild beast.

It seemed to be getting closer and closer, causing the shadow to nervously grab onto a nearby branch.

But nothing came; he just felt his hands and feet were ice-cold, and the air was filled with an endless chill.

A dark shadow walked through the pitch-black night, a candle flickering and then going out again in the cold.

He clutched his left chest, feeling as if something there was about to shatter.

This caused him to collapse to the ground in agony, as if he were about to fall into eternal slumber.

But suddenly his chest burst into flames, emitting a light like that of an oil lamp.

The air around him was icy cold, but his chest was burning hot.

"Do you think you'll be burned to death first, or frozen to death first?"

The blazing flame asked.

The shadow gently brushed away the coldness from my skin—

"I have more important things to do."

He said.

"Then burn this fire out completely."

The invisible shackles on his body were burned off, making the shadow feel light all over.

He pulled the fire from his chest and held it in his hands—

Then he continued forward.

Some people in the darkness say that the world has long lost its light.

The shadow remained silent and did not respond.

Some people began to silently follow behind him, watching the burning flame he held in his hands.

Is that the sun?

A child asked.

No, that's not it.

An adult answered.

But they continued to follow, and the procession grew larger and larger, though no one knew exactly how big it was.

Because the darkness swallowed everything, all that could be seen was the shadow holding the fire.

The shadow heard someone fall, heard someone go mad with screams.

But he never looked back, and just kept walking forward seemingly without any purpose.

He raised the light in his hand high, so that more people could see this place, see this light in the darkness.

The light flickered, the light burned, and the shadow's body grew cold.

The roar grew closer, and a strong, fishy stench filled the air.

The shadow kicked something, making a metallic clanging sound.

On the ground ahead lay corpses, one after another, like a battle line that had ultimately failed to hold, like a battlefield that had long been abandoned.

He staggered forward, climbing over hill after hill piled high with corpses.

In the end, it collapsed on the road, and that faint ray of light fell away.

He looked up at the light, reaching out his hand unwillingly, but his cold body had already frozen him in place.

He saw someone walk past him again; it was another shadow. He picked up the fire he had dropped and took another ball from the left side of his chest, making it bright again.

The people behind continued to follow the new shadow forward, and then saw some scattered lights appearing ahead.

These shadows, holding the light in their hands, converged together, like a new moon.

Is that the sun?

A child asked.

“No, that’s not it,” an adult replied.

But the voice seemed to belong to the child who first asked the question.

The light grew stronger, dispelling swathes of darkness.

People saw again the wildflowers by the pond that seemed to blend into the clouds and mist, and the pale reflection in the pond.

But that pale light wasn't moonlight; it was the firelight held in the hands of the shadows.

The roaring sound seemed to fade into the distance, as if some invisible force had quietly retreated.

People still fall in the darkness, and shadows still disappear silently.

But similarly, more new shadows will take their place, bringing even more light.

It also illuminates more roads and dispels more fog.

People seem to have forgotten whether the sun originally existed in the world; they simply spontaneously draw firelight from the left side of their chests.

The firelight was initially a pale white, but later it turned a vibrant red.