On the Materialism of Bloodlines / Psionic Revolver

No matter how unwilling Ying Zhou was to admit it, the facts lay right before him, leaving him no choice. Si Ming might have learned the other fist techniques long ago and kept them hidden, but Ying Zhou knew the Vulture Demon Fist was different. The only version in the world was the one passed down in his family; there were no other branches.

"Denying something just because you can't accept it? That doesn't fit with materialist values."

After they exchanged a hundred moves, Si Ming had already grasped the fist intent of the Vulture Demon Fist. The shadow of a giant bird of prey loomed faintly behind him, and every move held an ineffable profundity. Ying Zhou had only seen his father practice the Vulture Demon Fist to such a realm.

The instant he thought of his father, Ying Zhou's heart wavered. His already precarious defense could hold no longer and was breached in an instant.

Si Ming seized Ying Zhou by the neck and slammed him to the ground. He crouched in a bow stance, his upper body bent forward, his right hand pinning Ying Zhou so he couldn't get up. His left hand rested pointlessly on his waist, forming a bizarre pose that nevertheless had a peculiar beauty to it.

"Why is this...?"

Ying Zhou's eyes were somewhat vacant. His bright red skin had returned entirely to its normal color, and not a trace of that madness remained.

Si Ming gave a couple of smug grunts. "This is revenge from the inhabitants of Meow Planet. Haven't you heard? Watch Blue Cat, learn from Blue Cat. I have a pose, and I'm proud."

Chapter 24: On the Materialism of Bloodlines

"According to the usual routine, it's time for a tearjerker after the fight. Come on, what circumstances left you with no choice? Were enemies threatening you with a hostage, for instance, or did you have some miserable, tragic past? Tell everyone so they can feel sorry for you, and give your popularity a boost while you're at it."

Si Ming pinned Ying Zhou down with one hand as he questioned him.

Ying Zhou had only one response: "Hmph!"

What Si Ming had said was tantamount to saying, "What's making you unhappy? Tell everyone so they can have a laugh." Even if Ying Zhou had originally intended to be candid, he would never say anything now. That would only be asking to be humiliated.

"Fine, don't tell me. What's the big deal? You're acting like I really want to hear it. If you were a girl, you could at least be a yandere, but when a guy turns dark, he can only be a villain."

Si Ming let go, dropped the pose, and stood up. He brushed the dust off his clothes and complained, "We've been fighting so long I'm hungry, and I'm filthy too. I've got to go home and take a bath. Do whatever you want."

Ying Zhou climbed to his feet, disbelief written all over his face. For a moment, he seemed unable to understand what was happening, and his expression shifted unpredictably. "You're just letting me go like this?"

"What else should I do?" Si Ming asked. "Hang you up and beat you? Or lock you up and train you? Let me make this clear: I'm not interested in men. I can't stand the way you torture and kill small animals, but there's no law expressly forbidding it. Since you haven't broken the law, and there's no deep-seated grudge between us, I can only let the matter drop. Of course, it would be another story if you'd treated your own kind the same way."

"...You're a little different from those adults who only put on airs and spout lofty principles. Sometimes you say a lot of nonsense I can't understand at all, but the parts I do understand aren't so hard to accept. And you're completely different from how you used to be, almost like you've become another person."

Ying Zhou accidentally aggravated the bruise on his chest, and the pain drew his brows together. Still, he was tough enough not to make a sound. He merely reached up to rub it, without circulating his True Qi, because he had exhausted it in the fight. Level-three internal cultivation was not particularly deep to begin with; adults had level-four internal cultivation at a minimum.

Si Ming turned back and asked, "You mean my talent for martial arts?"

He wasn't worried about Ying Zhou seeing through him. Leaving aside the fact that the guy was just an eleven-year-old elementary school student, the two of them barely knew each other. Most importantly, Ying Zhou's relationships with others were even worse than the previous owner's. Even if he told anyone, no one would believe him.

The previous owner had merely lacked a presence and was easily overlooked, but one look at this guy was enough to tell he had more enemies than friends. He went around all day wearing a face that said everyone owed him money. It would be hard for him not to make enemies.

"That did shock me too, and even now I can hardly believe it. But I'm more concerned about the change in your personality. You weren't nearly this cheerful and confident before. You wouldn't talk to anyone except that girl whose face and name I can't remember. Your situation was much like mine. How exactly did you change yourself?"

Ying Zhou hadn't even considered anything unscientific. Accepting that someone had changed their personality was like learning a classmate's grades had suddenly jumped from sixty to ninety: surprising, but not impossible to accept.

Si Ming said, "My situation used to be a lot better than yours, all right? Where did you get the confidence to think I was like you? You've met Liu Qingqing plenty of times. Even if you can't remember her face, you could at least remember her name, couldn't you?"

"That's not important! Just tell me, how did you do it?"

Was this kid the sort of person who would ask someone for help? Shouldn't he be the sort to keep burrowing into a bull's horn, refusing to communicate even on pain of death?

Si Ming was thoroughly puzzled, marveling that he had never noticed it before.

He didn't know that Ying Zhou had actually let down his guard because misery recognized its own. They were both orphans, both had flaws, and both were rejected by outsiders. Someone who, like him, was clearly destined to be cast out by society had changed his fate, and this example right before his eyes gave Ying Zhou hope.

If Si Ming had been an outsider who suddenly appeared, Ying Zhou wouldn't have yielded in the slightest, even if Si Ming had beaten him flat with overwhelming force. At most, he would have chosen not to resist with force, but he would never have spoken candidly.

"Changing yourself isn't all that hard. First, you have to see clearly what kind of person you are and accept that reality. Then decide what kind of person you want to become and set a goal. Finally, make a plan to get from reality to your ideal, and follow it step by step. Once you've taken the first step, the next ninety-nine become much easier."

"See myself clearly...? Once I do, won't I feel despair? No matter how much I change, I can't change the fact that that man's blood flows in my veins." Ying Zhou's expression was one of immense pain.

Si Ming hurriedly said, "Stop, stop, stop. I'm not discussing these metaphysical philosophical questions with you. What is blood? On a material level, it's a mixture of plasma, blood cells, and platelets. The blood in your body really doesn't have much to do with your father. Most of it comes from the food you eat every day. All your father gave you was a string of genetic factors. Unless he gave you a blood transfusion before, your blood is your own.

"Besides, the vast majority of blood types are A, B, AB, and O. If you really want to be exact, all it means is that your father has the same blood type as you. Apart from that, there's no other connection."

Ying Zhou listened in a daze. This was probably how an idealist felt when confronted with a materialist; he couldn't even indulge his literary melancholy. What Si Ming said was certainly right, but it seemed a little off from what he had meant.

"B-but... our Lineage's blood seems rather special, different from other people's. Most of us are bloodthirsty and quick to anger. And you saw it just now: whenever I can't control the beast in my heart, I go berserk, and my abilities grow stronger in every respect."

Good thing your hair didn't turn yellow when you got angry, or I'd have had no choice but to grab your tail.

Si Ming gave a couple of grunts to himself. I used to work in ideological education. Surely I can talk a little brat like you around.

"Let me ask you: your father must have had a father too, right? He couldn't have just popped out of a crack in a rock."

Ying Zhou nodded. "I never met my grandfather, but I heard people say he died a long time ago."

"As long as you had a grandfather, that's enough. Your father's blood must have come from your grandfather, and what about your grandfather's blood? That must have come from his father. Follow it back generation after generation, and you'll reach your ancestor. He's the source of your generation's bloodline. Your father was only an heir, just like you. If you insist on putting it that way, it's not your father's blood flowing in you, but your ancestor's. Do you have any objection to that fact?"

You could explain it that way!

Ying Zhou felt as though a light had suddenly dawned, as if a door to a new world had opened before his eyes.

He was unwilling to admit that he had inherited his father's bloodline, but he had no objection to inheriting his ancestor's. After all, he didn't know what sort of person his ancestor had been, so he could perfectly well imagine him as a good man.

"What family doesn't have an unworthy descendant? Your father being a bad man doesn't mean your grandfather and your ancestor were bad men too. Rather, precisely because your father was a bad man, you should all the more strive to be a good man, set the family's conduct right, and make up for the misfortune of your Lineage!" Si Ming spoke with righteous conviction.

Ying Zhou instinctively asked, "Then what should I do?"

"Being quick to anger isn't such a big deal. Maybe you're short on calcium, or maybe it's hyperthyroidism. Of course, it could also be psychological. The former is easy enough to handle: just get the appropriate nutrients. As for the latter, it's not a big problem as long as you find a reasonable outlet." Si Ming racked his brains for a solution as he made things up. "That's right, you could play rock music!"

Chapter 25: Psionic Revolver

"What's rock music?"

Ying Zhou's question reminded Si Ming that there was no rock music in the Sea Continent world, or else it was so obscure that even he had never heard of it. Besides, the question was too profound and required too broad a range of knowledge; even a real musician would have difficulty explaining it clearly.