Chapter 1120
Obik: I'll just take a look at this chapter.
"Alright, stop talking and get the documents organized." Ju Jianhui raised her hand and clapped her hands twice, the crisp sound interrupting the faint whispers in the office. Her tone was crisp and decisive, and her eyes swept over everyone as she added, "Don't worry about Cui Ming. Just do your own job and don't cause him any trouble."
Everyone nodded in agreement. Although the curiosity in their eyes hadn't completely faded, they were well aware of Megumi's personality—she was always calm and decisive, and her instructions must have been well-considered. However, just thinking of Cui Ming's perpetually gloomy and cold-eyed face, everyone silently worried for the Crow People: this time, someone was really going to walk into the line of fire and suffer a terrible fate.
From the depths of the corridor, sharp, desperate screams echoed intermittently, shattering the base's silence. Yoshioka, carrying a neatly stacked pile of documents, hurried past, his steps instinctively halting. He listened intently for a moment; the pain in the screams seemed to pierce the door. He then shook his head helplessly, lowering his voice to sigh, "Sigh, Old Cui's temper is something else entirely..."
Just then, Megumi walked slowly out of the lobby and heard these words clearly. A faint, knowing smile appeared on her lips as she softly echoed, "Yes, it seems he's really angry." As soon as she finished speaking, Sawai walked slowly out of the office with his hands behind his back. His gaze swept seemingly casually toward the interrogation room, and he raised an eyebrow, clicking his tongue as he said, "Tsk tsk, I guess he didn't sleep well and has a bellyful of anger with nowhere to vent."
Yoshioka nodded repeatedly in agreement, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the document in his hand, making a soft sound, and added, "Most likely. Every time he wakes up from that special state, he's never in a good mood. Judging from this commotion, he's clearly been holding back and is taking it out on the crow people."
The two stood side by side at the corner of the corridor, listening to the faint sounds of clattering chairs and muffled reprimands coming from the interrogation room, their expressions calm and unwavering. Passing staff couldn't help but cast puzzled glances, after all, Sawai, who always upheld the principles of peace and sought restraint and tolerance in all things, seemed completely oblivious to Choi's "outrageous" interrogation, offering not a single word of advice.
Sawai seemed to see through the doubts hidden around him, and slowly spoke, his tone calm but with an undeniable firmness: "We have always advocated peace, but peace is never about unlimited indulgence and concession. Those crow people specifically target innocent people, capturing them to be slaves and using them to commit all sorts of atrocities, such as burning, killing, and looting. Such evil deeds do not deserve to be treated kindly."
Yoshioka nodded in agreement, a cold glint in his eyes, and his tone became sharper: "That's right. There's no need for formalities when dealing with such inhuman scum. Old Cui always knows his limits; he can vent his anger while also getting crucial information out of them. Let's just observe and see what happens; we don't need to interfere."
Megumi stood silently to the side, nodding in agreement. Sawai's thoughts coincided perfectly with hers—Cui Ming's pent-up anger needed an outlet, and the numerous atrocities committed by the Crow People deserved their due punishment. The two lingered for a moment, listening as the noise in the interrogation room subsided, then each turned and left with their files, leaving only the intermittent screams fading into the empty corridor.
……
Night fell like thick ink, enveloping the city in darkness, shrouding buildings and streets in gloom. Only the dim glow of streetlights offered a slight respite from the darkness, casting dappled shadows on the ground. A cool evening breeze swept past the street corner, swirling a few fallen leaves in its wake. Cui Ming finished his night shift, shedding his tense aura and guarded demeanor. Following a familiar path, he traversed several intersecting old alleys and found his old friend Obik's place—a small, low house tucked away deep within an alley. Dim light seeped through the window cracks, offering a comforting warmth in the chilly night. He pushed open the slightly ajar wooden door and stepped inside. A faint aroma of cooking, mixed with the scent of wheat, wafted out, dispelling the chill. Obik was squatting in front of a small coal stove, intently cooking noodles. The broth in the iron pot bubbled and steamed, wisps of white vapor rising and filling the small room with a rich wheat aroma. Cui Ming pulled over a slightly worn wooden chair and sat down, his gaze falling on the flickering flames in the stove. The warmth reflected on his face softened his otherwise cold and aloof demeanor, and he casually asked, "Hey Obik, can't you monsters try to integrate into this ever-changing world?"
Obik slowly stirred the noodles in the pot with a wooden spoon, his movements leisurely and his tone somewhat nonchalant: "Hey, it's nothing special. I came back this time not to linger here, but to let my friends in the tribe get ready to come back to the Ultra Universe with me."
Cui Ming raised an eyebrow, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the chair surface, making a rhythmic sound. He clicked his tongue and said, "Tsk, I don't understand your thinking. This world isn't perfect, with monsters causing trouble and constant conflict, but it's still more stable than the Ultra Universe, which is constantly embroiled in war and danger, right?"
"Hahaha, if you don't understand, you don't understand." Obik laughed heartily, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling together, revealing a sense of relief and composure. "We monsters are just born to be out of step with these trendy gadgets and fast-paced times." As he spoke, he carefully scooped the cooked noodles into two rough porcelain bowls, casually sprinkled a few bright green scallions on top for flavor, and handed one bowl to Cui Ming, the rim of the bowl still warm to the touch.
Cui Ming took the bowl, the warmth of the porcelain spreading from his fingertips to his heart, slightly soothing the lingering resentment. He then heard Obik sitting opposite him, his tone gradually becoming serious: "Times are changing too fast. Skyscrapers are getting taller and taller, old things are becoming increasingly rare. In trendier places, monsters are either completely forgotten by time, or turned into unrecognizable urban legends by later generations. But those urban legends aren't us at all—they're all fabricated illusions, embellished and lacking the warmth and humanity in our bones, and the roots and soul firmly planted in the old times."
“That’s true…” Cui Ming lowered his head and slurped up a mouthful of noodles, the warm broth sliding down his throat, and mumbled his reply. He understood this better than anyone else, after all, he still had an eight-foot-tall woman living at home as his wife, and those absurd rumors circulating in the marketplace were far inferior to the real, flesh-and-blood monsters with a touch of everyday life.
Obik sat across from me, munching on his noodles, his gaze fixed on the old alleyway outside the window, his eyes filled with longing for the past: "I never intended to stay here long. The Ultra Universe is more to my liking. Those Showa-era old folks, they seem stubborn and conservative, clinging to their old villages and refusing to move or accept new things, but for us monsters, that slow-paced place, where we stay true to ourselves, is the most secure and comforting home."
"Japan in the Ultra Universe, after all these years, probably hasn't changed much." He paused, scooped up a spoonful of noodle soup and put it in his mouth. His tone was calmer, but it contained a firm conviction. "But it is precisely this unchanging perseverance that is most appealing to us monsters and old friends. Only there can we truly find a sense of belonging."
Cui Ming said nothing more, simply eating his noodles quietly. The warm noodles dispelled all his fatigue and anger. A gentle evening breeze drifted in through the open door, carrying the unique scent of grass and earth characteristic of the old alley. The crackling fire cast flickering shadows on their figures. There were no excessive pleasantries or probing questions about the past, yet a tacit understanding unique to old friends lingered—some choices need no words; mutual understanding is enough. (End of Chapter)