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Chapter 116: The Hidden Rain Dragon
Rain.
Endless, ceaseless rain.
The icy rain hammered against the tin roof, producing a monotonous and oppressive plink-plonk sound, as if it were the eternal background noise of this world.
Dragon slowly opened his eyes.
What met his sight was a dimly lit, damp ceiling. The air was thick with the mixed scent of rust and mold.
He tried to move his fingers, and an unfamiliar feeling of weakness radiated from every limb and bone.
The power that could stir up storms and subvert the world had vanished without a trace.
Right now, he was just a powerless young boy.
Dragon calmly sat up, examining this new body.
Thirteen or fourteen years old. The body appeared somewhat thin due to long-term malnutrition, and the skin was a pale white from rarely seeing the sun.
"Arashi... you're awake?"
A gentle but heavily exhausted voice came from beside him.
A woman with a haggard face walked over carrying a steaming bowl of unidentifiable mush. Seeing Dragon sit up, a trace of joy appeared in her eyes.
"That's great. You've been asleep for a whole day. Hurry up and eat this; your body will feel better."
The woman handed the bowl to him.
Dragon accepted it silently. From the fragmented memories of this body, he knew that the woman before him was his mother in this life.
And his name now was "Arashi."
He didn't speak, just taking small sips of the strange-tasting food with a spoon.
He needed time to sort out this chaotic situation.
Just then, the corner of his clothes was gently tugged.
Dragon looked down and saw a little girl of about six or seven standing timidly by the bed. She had beautiful short blue hair, and her amber eyes looked like those of a frightened fawn, watching him cautiously.
In the little girl's hand, she pinched a somewhat crooked purple flower folded from paper.
She hesitated for a moment, then handed the paper flower to Dragon.
"Big Brother... for you."
Her voice was very small, carrying a hint of timidity.
Dragon looked at her. In her amber pupils, his reflection was clearly visible.
This was his sister in this life, Konan.
Dragon reached out and took the paper flower.
His movements were very light, as if afraid of startling this fragile little life before him.
"Thank you."
He spoke. His voice was somewhat hoarse, but they were the first words this body had spoken since waking up.
Receiving a response, Konan's eyes brightened, and a faint smile appeared on her face.
"Arashi, how do you feel? Does your head still hurt?" his mother asked worriedly, reaching out to feel his forehead.
"I'm fine." Dragon shook his head and began to actively seek information. "Where is Father?"
At the mention of his father, the woman's eyes dimmed, and the sorrow on her face deepened.
"Your father... is still at the front line. There hasn't been any news for half a month."
She sighed, gazing out the window at the gray curtain of rain.
"When will this damned war end... Lord Hanzo the Salamander will surely lead us to victory, right..."
Hanzo the Salamander.
War.
Front line.
A few simple terms instantly outlined the cruel contours of this world in Dragon's mind.
This was the place he had chosen.
A tragic nation sandwiched between three great powers, reduced to a meat grinder of war, where the people lived in pain and despair.
He finished the food in the bowl and handed the empty bowl back to his mother.
"I'm going out for a walk."
"The rain is heavy outside; don't go far," his mother urged, not stopping him too much.
Dragon put on a worn-out raincoat and pushed the door open.
Freezing rain and cold wind immediately poured in, causing his weak body to shudder involuntarily.
He walked on the muddy street.
The entire village was like a giant tomb composed of cold steel and pipes, devoid of vitality.
towering metal spires pierced the gray sky, and complex pipes wound around every building like giant pythons.
Passersby on the street looked hurried, each face wearing numbness and exhaustion, as if all hope had long been worn away by this endless gloom and rain.
Occasionally, ninja patrols in uniform wearing breathing masks walked by. Their indifferent gazes swept over every civilian, making the already oppressive atmosphere even heavier.
Here, there was not a trace of sunlight.
Here, not a shred of hope could be seen.
Here was a corner abandoned by order, the truest portrayal of those kingdoms under the rule of the World Government.
In Dragon's eyes, there was no anger, nor any pity, only a bottomless coldness.
He chose this place not to experience despair.
But to ignite the spark that could start a prairie fire within the deepest despair.
He returned to the cramped and damp room, closing the door to shut out the noise of the outside world.
Konan was sitting by the table, quietly folding various small animals out of scrap paper.
His mother was at the side, sewing a piece of clothing with a hole in it.
This scene was the only trace of warmth in this cold world.
Dragon sat cross-legged on the bed and closed his eyes.
He tried to sense that power which once belonged to him, strong enough to stir the winds and clouds.
Empty.
That power was thoroughly sealed by the rules of the dungeon.
But he wasn't discouraged. He continued to calm his mind, carefully sensing this brand-new body.
Suddenly.
He felt a weak energy, distinctly different from Haki and Devil Fruit powers, slowly flowing within his body.
This energy was very weak, like a candle in the wind, but it truly existed.
Chakra.
The power system of this world.
It turned out the original owner of this body had also practiced the most basic extraction training.
Although negligible, this... was a starting point.
Just as Dragon prepared to study this novel energy in depth.
Bang!
From outside the house came the sound of a door being rudely kicked open, followed by a man's arrogant cursing.
"Get out of the way! Your family is still short by half for this month's grain tax!"
Immediately after came a woman's pleading voice, laced with sobs.
"Lord Ninja, I beg you, our family truly has no surplus grain left... The children's father is still at the front line... Please give us a few more days..."
"Cut the crap! If you can't hand over the grain, use something else as collateral! I think your daughter looks pretty good!"
"No! I beg you, let my daughter go!"
The woman's pleading turned into a shrill scream.
Inside the room, the face of Dragon's mother, who was sewing clothes, instantly turned pale. She subconsciously hugged Konan tightly in her arms, her body trembling slightly from fear.
Konan was also terrified, burying her small face in her mother's embrace, not daring to make a sound.
Dragon opened his eyes.
Those eyes, originally calm as a deep pool, were now icy cold.
He slowly stood up and walked silently toward the door.
He knew that what was happening outside the door was a tragedy enacted every day in this village.
He also knew that with his currently weak body, rushing out would be no different than striking a stone with an egg.
He knew even better that as a qualified revolutionary, the most rational choice at this moment was to endure, to accumulate strength, and wait for the right time.
But.
When he saw the bodies of his mother and sister trembling in fear.
When he heard the girl's desperate crying from outside the door.
He knew he couldn't do it.
Some things had nothing to do with reason, nor with strength or weakness.
They only concerned... choice.
He placed his hand on the cold door handle.
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