novellk Chapter 1696 - 39:
Chapter 1696 - 39:
...F?Su Ming’an widened his eyes, why was it F? Clearly, the concept of A and F were the same...
Wait a minute.
Could there be a possibility of concept inconsistency?
...
[Hang Xin will accept punishment.]
...
The next moment.
Before the punishment descended, a taller figure rushed into the E door, following closely behind Hang Xin.
Even though that was already the wrong door, she still followed Hang Xin and rushed in.
...
[Incorrect answer, the correct answer is, F.]
[Talia will accept punishment.]
...
The mother did not stop the daughter from taking risks.
Because if the daughter answered wrongly...she would follow along, even if the path ahead was hell and flames.
...
["How could a mother not love her own child?" Bai Chun said surprisedly.]
...
This was Su Ming’an’s first time seeing the punishment level with his own eyes, maybe because it was diverted, the people traveling together could see the sufferings of the punished.
Behind the dust-like door turned into a virtual view—a beige wallpaper, half-wilted green ivy, a black and white piano, with sporadic sheet music and literacy stickers on the wall.
A scene that feels familiar.
...
[Punishment level: Piano keys and ruler.]
[Rules: One must play the specified simplified version of the piece "To Alice." If a note is played incorrectly, the other party must use a tool to administer punishment. The strength of the punishment must meet the effective standards set by the system. If one fails to complete the performance, or if the other does not strictly execute the punishment, both will die.]
...
"Is the punishment set based on the scenario, does this scenario have special significance? Or is it generated automatically based on the Source Point?" Najasha raised an eyebrow.
Several players controlled themselves not to look towards Su Ming’an, they basically all know the special significance of this scenario. From this scenario, it can be seen that this "Source Point" journey cannot be without familiar hands involved.
Su Ming’an almost instantly recognized this as the scene of his own home, the only difference being the mother and child inside the scene. Past pain carved deep in his heart, he subconsciously recalls the memories associated with this scene. The continuously falling rods, the excruciating pain, the endless scolding, the crushing of a child’s self-esteem...
A small room, a family’s epitome, an incurable childhood trauma.
Inside the scenario, Hang Xin sat on the piano bench, Talia stood beside her, various tools displayed nearby. Rattan sticks, wooden rods, broom...
"Mom..." Hang Xin’s face was pale, she didn’t expect Talia would rush in too. Talia’s lifespan far exceeds hers, why follow along? Anyway, she’ll die of old age, why not let her perform a reckless act of heroism one last time?
"My love for you is unrelated to my lifespan, nor do I want to stop you from becoming a hero, otherwise I wouldn’t have let you answer. But if you are in danger, I must come. Let’s begin, together." Talia said, "But if you have danger, I must come. Let’s start, together."
The clock emitted ticking sounds, hesitation was no longer an option, Hang Xin had to begin playing immediately.
Though the method of reading the score was marked, it was after all a staff notation, too difficult for a novice to perform, very soon a wrong note was played.
"Click." The weapon rack rotated, stopping at a slender rattan stick.
The air suddenly became silent, the wall clock ticking away.
Hang Xin instinctively closed her eyes tight, body tensed, waiting for the beating, the punishment, the judgment.
Talia raised the rattan stick.
"Snap."
She flipped the rattan stick, lightly striking Hang Xin’s hand with the smooth end.
...
[Insufficient punishment strength. First warning. Next time must reach the standard.]
...
Hang Xin opened her eyes, seeing her mother’s red eyes.
Talia’s voice was slightly hoarse: "Next time, I’ll apply more force."
Then Hang Xin made another mistake. Talia grabbed chopsticks, using the broadest side to strike down.
"Snap."
[Insufficient punishment strength. Second warning.]
"Mom, hit harder!" Hang Xin was anxious, "Hit harder! I’m not afraid of pain! We have to survive!"
The third time, Talia increased the force, yet the display still showed inadequate strength.
"Hit me, Mom." Hang Xin clenched her teeth, prepared to face the storm, "Hit me hard, only then can we survive, please..."
She didn’t feel the suffering, a mother protects her daughter, a daughter wants to protect her mother, it should be like this.
"The previous note is here, next time you see this little tadpole, press this black key next to it, got it?" Talia pointed at the piano keys, helping analyze the staff, helping Hang Xin remember the positions.
"Got...got it!" Hang Xin nodded vigorously, straining to memorize.
—"Got it? Got it? So clumsy!" The stick came down with a swoosh, the boy recoiled in pain.
—"One last chance!" The stick struck again.
Hang Xin, with Full Concentration, recalled mother’s tips, the keys burned like fire, skin on her fingers peeled, pain extreme.
"Swish! Swish! Swish!"
The rattan stick drew blood marks, the rod left blood seals, Talia’s heart bled, in extreme anguish she gradually realized what strength was needed for certification—a mother’s hateful strength toward her child.
It was also the strength Su Ming’an endured in those days.
That strength was too heavy, causing Talia to call out the scenario’s irrationality, she believed no mother would punish a child out of hatred like this. Her grief was overwhelming, feeling her heart on the verge of breaking, each strike on the daughter, was more like striking herself. She wished she could sit at the piano, taking double or triple the suffering, rather than having her child continue to endure pain.
Yeah, how could there be parents in the world who treat their children like this!
Talia had never encountered this and couldn’t believe such people existed.
——"Stupid! You can’t even play such simple scales! What’s the point of having a brain!" The chopsticks struck heavily on the boy’s back again and again.
——"Dare to dodge? I’ll make you dodge!"
——"Play! Don’t even think about eating if you can’t play this piece well today!"
——"Crying? You have the nerve to cry? You’re playing like a ghost wailing; my face is utterly disgraced by you!"
"Cough..." Hang Xin coughed up a mouthful of bloody foam, her vision began to blur, and gradually she couldn’t see the sheet music clearly, her bloodied and raw fingertips fell continuously. The piano sound was intermittent, mixed with groans of pain.
Talia’s tears had long dried up. Warm blood from her daughter dripped down, her eyes were bloodshot.
No, if this continues, her daughter will surely die.
"I will protect you... I will figure something out..." Suddenly, Talia aimed in a direction, as if making some kind of decision, muttering.
——"Mom..."
——Finally, the blood-stained cane stopped, the woman walked to the piano board, pressing her hands on it.
——The boy’s figure seemed frozen, his hands were still on the black and white keys, his gaze flickered, everything before his eyes seemed to move in slow motion, he watched as the woman slowly pressed the piano board down onto his ten fingers...
"Swipe!"
Talia used all her strength, suddenly rushing to the tool rack, pulling out a short blade!
A flash of cold light suddenly appeared!
"Thud—!"
The muffled sound of a sharp blade cutting into flesh, shocking and terrifying.
A calloused hand flew through the air, spinning for a moment, landing on the ground, spreading a large stain of blood, startling Hang Xin into shouting.
Talia had chopped off her own hand.
She knew if she kept hitting, Hang Xin would no longer have the strength to play the piano, this piece would be impossible to finish, there had to be another way to break through. For example, making herself, the Judicator, lose the ability to act.
In an instant, with the rise and fall of the knife, blood fell like a fountain over the full keys.
——"Boom!!!!"
——Like a heavy black curtain, the piano board came crashing down.
——The sound of the piano board grinding bone was chilling to hear, easily audible, if the boy had not pulled his hands out at the last moment, who knows what kind of tragedy would have occurred. Even so, his hands still burned hot, blood slowly seeping out, as if they had been forcibly broken.
——The cane danced in the air, spinning briefly, landing on the ground, spilling a trail of blood like cold plum blossoms.
The images in memory seemed dyed with the blood of dusk, thick, dull, dreary, like a damp rosy hue tightly covering the face, thick enough to choke one.
Su Ming’an gazed toward the distant Star Sea, the stars inlaid in a black velvet curtain, the longer he stared, everything about himself seemed to gradually become void.
Finally, Hang Xin stumbled through the piece, Talia had already fainted from blood loss, blood flowing from her severed limb.
"Mom... it’s done... it’s done... let’s... go home..." Hang Xin was filled with regret, carrying Talia on her back.
If she had known her mom would come in, she definitely wouldn’t have... would never have walked through the door. She was just like a child, wanting to prove to the world that her mom wasn’t wrong, that she was a good child worth being proud of. But she never meant to let her mom suffer!
"Go home... go home..."
Carrying her unconscious mother, for a moment, all notions of "Hero" and "Savior" seemed to dissolve into smoke, no longer important, she just wanted to go home, she really wanted to go home, not to the family mocked by others, but back to the small home she shared with her mom.
Suddenly, a strange sweet smell abruptly wafted into Hang Xin’s nostrils.
Sickly sweet, lingering.
...Is it red bean soup?
So fragrant, the red bean soup... it seemed to be coming from the hall.
But why does this sweet scent mix with a pungent smell of blood, so sickly sweet it makes one nauseous, as if what’s boiling isn’t red beans, but gushing blood.
Making one’s stomach contract at the mere whiff.
"Huff, huff, huff—"
Hang Xin suddenly smelled a scent of burning, mixed within the sweetness.
She rushed out of the room, only to find that somewhere within the scene, flames had ignited, as if determined to take their lives. The tongues of fire greedily licked the off-white wallpaper, spreading rapidly, lighting up the curtains, devouring the furniture. Thick smoke billowed up, covering the view in an instant.
"I clearly finished playing, how can it...!"
Hang Xin didn’t know the structure of this house, she instinctively carried her mom and started to flee. The blood stuck together like glue, turning them both into figures of blood.
The flames had already sealed off the doorway, the dense smoke made her cough violently, the weight on her back and the pain across her entire body made each step stumble, her whole body hurt as if it was going to explode.
The ground started to get hot, the ceiling burned, raining down fragments and sparks.
Suddenly, in the hall, she saw a bowl of steaming red bean soup, scarlet and thick like a bowl of coagulated blood—there was a phantom of a boy standing there, holding the bowl, quietly watching her.
The boy looked at their supporting figure, then at the scattered blood on the piano, murmuring:
"So that’s how it is."
He seemed to understand something, nodding to himself.
"... So it can be like this."
His dead eyes quietly watched them, as if seeing some destined form.
Hang Xin noticed, the boy’s hands were even more terrifying than hers, covered densely with marks from being struck by chopsticks, many wounds healed only to break open, break open to increase anew, his back laid bare, even the pale part beneath his trousers was tinged with blue and purple.
No time left.
Hang Xin, carrying Talia, bare feet stained with blood, stepping on the burning floor, across the sticky pool by her mother’s severed arm, brushed past the boy, staggering toward the door.
As she passed the boy, she heard a naive, confused, puzzled question.
There was not a trace of jealousy or malice in that voice, only the purest confusion.
"Then, can you tell me?"
"Are both your mother’s and my mother’s love, love?"
The play of light and shadows of blood and fire danced across the boy’s face, he held a bowl of scarlet "red bean soup", his eyes as clear as fresh snow.
The scars on his body were shocking, old and new overlapping, seemingly a story both similar to and utterly different from Hang Xin’s.