The Creatures That We Are-Chapter 1179: Salvation

Western Suburban Park.

At the center of the large patch of grass was an artificial lake, the center of which was a small island, occupied by a cabin straight out of a fairytale. Tonight, though, the cabin had been razed to the ground, replaced by the throne of Wrath. The roughly constructed red chair stood out with a unicorn's horn twisting and reaching toward the night sky like a crimson spire.

Hundreds of strangely-shaped horns protruded from the lake around the island. From afar, they looked like decayed wood growing out of the water.

Mark sat on the throne, wearing only a pair of shorts. With his hands on his knees, he leaned forward with his head lowered. Despite his stillness, he radiated an agitated and wild energy.

In the amusement park five hundred meters away, a man and a woman stood on the rail of a rollercoaster, looking down at Mark through tactical binoculars rather than approaching.

The Three Double-Hours of Heavenly Tribulation had descended quite a while ago. Enough time had passed for War Tiger to figure things out.

One Stone was losing her patience. She looked around and asked, “Why hasn’t Uncle Xin come?”

War Tiger perched on the rail with his back arched like a large cat. He narrowed his eyes with a finished cigarette dangling in his mouth. Taking the last drag, he spat out the cigarette butt and stood up, stretching. “Didn’t I tell you? He isn’t coming.”

“He’s not joining the fight?” One Stone still thought War Tiger was pulling her leg. “Why? What can be more important than the final—”

“He died,” War Tiger cut in.

“What?!”

“He was destined to die at midnight. That was the price of Judge.” War Tiger turned to her. “Have I made it clear enough?”

“But, but...” The bad news came so suddenly that One Stone struggled to wrap her mind around it.

“He didn’t want that to influence Gao Yang, so he asked Vermilion Bird to help him hide the truth.” War Tiger stroked his chin. “I only learned about it yesterday.”

“So it’s the two of us...” One Stone blanched. “Against Wrath?”

“No.” War Tiger grinned. “It’s me against Wrath.”

One Stone’s eyes widened in shock. “War Tiger! Are you out of your mind?”

“Go, One Stone.” War Tiger waved at her. “If you stay, you will die.”

“I’m not afraid of that!” One Stone snapped, but she wasn’t as confident as she sounded. “No, I’m quite afraid of dying, but I can’t just watch you—”

“One Stone.” War Tiger’s smile dropped, his eyes freezing over. “This is my family matter. No one is interfering with it tonight. Listen while I’m talking nicely, or I will cut you down, too.”

One Stone shuddered, her heart halting for a few beats. War Tiger wasn’t kidding. He would kill whoever blocking his way.

“War-War Tiger...” One Stone tamped down her fear, voice trembling. “I know about your history with Mark, but this isn’t the time to let emotions rule...”

“But I will. I am.” War Tiger stepped toward One Stone with a sneer, his presence so domineering that she almost fell off the rail. “What does the doomsday have to do with me? What does humanity’s victory have to do with me? I’m going to be reckless today. What are you going to do?”

One Stone was terrified, but she didn’t back down. “War Tiger, I’m not abandoning you even if you kill me.”

War Tiger blinked, his cold mask breaking. He sighed. “Do you really want me to spell it out for you? Wrath may be second only to Pride in terms of explosive power and offensive power. Once the battle breaks out, you won’t even leave a body for burial, let alone survive.”

“You’ll only be a distraction by staying here, One Stone. Then I’ll stand a worse chance.”

One Stone fell silent. Without Uncle Xin, she would be a burden.

“Go,” War Tiger said. “Don’t worry. I’ll kill Wrath.”

One Stone’s eyes reddened. She acquiesced. Not only because of his reasoning, but more so because of the conviction and determination he was showing. She had a sudden hunch that this would be goodbye, forever.

Silence lingered for a moment.

“Be careful, Vice Captain.” One Stone offered him a hand.

War Tiger took it.

One Stone was going to pull back after two seconds, but War Tiger didn’t let go. He had on his face his usual crooked smile.

“Seriously, you’re just going to shake my hand? Give me a buff.”

One Stone snorted, activating Condition. “Didn’t you call me a distraction? I thought you didn’t need it.”

“Haha, I was trying to act cool, but I might have gone overboard.” War Tiger felt energy streaming into his body. He frowned and said, “This isn’t enough. Wrath would think I’m not being serious! Turn it up to the limit!”

One Stone’s brows furrowed. “You sure? The side effects will be severe. You’ll be exhausted in twenty minutes.”

“A fight at this level won’t take more than a few minutes.” War Tiger flashed her a confident smile.

“Okay.” One Stone injected War Tiger with maximum Condition. In five minutes, War Tiger’s physical and mental conditions would peak.

“Done.” She let go of his hand. After a moment of hesitation, she asked, “If—and I do mean if—you...do you want me to relay your message to anyone?”

“Hm...” War Tiger crossed his arms, lips pursed. After pondering, he shook his head. “No.”

One Stone nodded. “I’ll take my leave.”

“Oh!” War Tiger called out. “Tell Qing Ling that my weapons are hers.”

One Stone paused. “Okay.”

She jumped off the rail and made a quick retreat. War Tiger lit another cigarette, exhaling deeply once before placing it on the edge of the rail, like an incense stick lit for another.

With a powerful leap, he landed on the grassy land. He strode toward the throne at the heart of the artificial lake.

In the monochrome world, the night wind quietly rustled the grass. Like a pencil sketch, the colorless shoots swayed and overlapped.

War Tiger remembered his mother, unbidden.

His memory of the woman was blurry, but he remembered the beautiful sky of that May, the smell of humid wooden floor drying under sunlight, the sounds of steak sizzling on a pan like bubbling anticipation being burst while no one was paying attention.

His mother had put on makeup to cover the bruises on her face. She wore a black dress with a gray cardigan, her hair running softly down her shoulders, covering the injuries on her body.

His father wasn’t home. His mother made him a big lunch—a rare occasion. Usually, they had simple meals with little thought put into them.

His mother poured him a glass of orange juice and herself a glass of wine. She was in an unusually good mood and good spirits. She talked a lot more, too.

She talked about her hometown and childhood. There was an orchard in the back of their family house. In May, the tree branches were heavy with sweet tangerines. She and her friends stole tangerines from the orchard, but a big dog found them. They fled. One of the boys got his pants torn, revealing his butt. For the summer, he had been subject to friendly jeers and jokes.

His mother told the story with vivid details. He enjoyed the story while eating the not-so-delicious steak.

For the first time, he allowed himself to be optimistic: perhaps Mother’s illness will get better, perhaps everything will get better.

After lunch, War Tiger returned to his room to assemble models. His mother grabbed a canvas bag, leaving to get groceries at a nearby supermarket.

His mother didn’t return that night, and neither did his father. The old man must have gotten so wasted that he blacked out in a bar’s restroom or a random alley.

The next morning, the neighbors found his mother’s body in the small lake on the ranch. She had overdosed on sleeping pills and drowned.

The sun was bright that day, and the air clear. Standing by the lake, War Tiger watched as white cloth covered his mother’s drenched body. She was then lifted onto a stretcher and carried into a van.

At that moment, he didn’t feel sadness, but understanding.

Yes, he understood his mother.

Why had his mother been in such pain? Why couldn’t she get better no matter how much medicine she took? It was because she could not accept her fate yet didn’t have the power to change it.

Why was his mother so happy yesterday, as if she had a full recovery? Because she found the third path outside of accepting and changing fate—letting go.

Letting go of her life.

Was that bravery or cowardice? Was that beautiful or cruel? Was that right or wrong?

War Tiger had wondered about it for a long time. He didn’t have an answer.

Then War Tiger stopped thinking. He even forgot about it.

For some reason, the question came to his mind again today.

He finally realized that no unanswered question ever disappeared completely. It simply melted into the flesh and blood and molded the soul. And one day, it would hit the chest like a ram hitting fate’s bell.

The sentimental had given it a wonderful name, a kind name:

Self salvation.