Chapter 281: Domineering

Chapter 281: Chapter 281: Domineering

Kuzan shuddered all over, looking up in a daze at Charlotte Linlin’s beautiful face backlit by the light.

This sentence was like a thunderclap, exploding in his chaotic heart and stirring up monstrous waves.

"My heart and my actions are as clear as a mirror... everything I do is justice..."

Not the justice defined by others, but a justice that originates from a clear judgment within one’s own heart, a justice that belongs to oneself?

Each word was like a heavy block of ice, smashing into his chaotic mind and stirring up even more turbulent waves.

This statement sounded incredibly overbearing, even a bit... unreasonable.

Placing one’s own will above everything else, and whatever one deems to be justice is justice?

This was completely different from the "justice" he had vaguely understood since childhood, derived from stories and rumors—that axiom with clear standards of good and evil, meant to protect the weak.

"But... in that case," Kuzan’s brows were tightly locked, his confusion almost solidifying,

"If... if a person’s ’true heart’ is wrong? If he thinks burning, killing, and looting is right? Then isn’t his ’justice’ a disaster for others? Just like... just like the pirates who killed Grandpa Mo, they certainly don’t think they are wrong!"

He looked up at Charlotte Linlin, trying to find a deeper answer on the face of this "father" who had delivered such astonishing words.

There was no smile on Charlotte Linlin’s face, nor was there any displeasure at being questioned. She just looked back calmly.

"So what?" she asked back, her tone calm and waveless, "You’ve found the root of the problem, haven’t you?"

Kuzan was stunned.

"The point of this statement is not that ’justice’ can be defined at will," Charlotte Linlin said slowly, as if polishing a piece of raw jade,

"But that it must be ’as clear as a mirror’." She tapped her own heart,

"Can your heart, like a clear mirror, accurately and clearly reflect your own true thoughts, as well as... the reasons behind your every action?

Don’t deceive yourself, don’t make excuses, don’t follow the crowd. What are you swinging your fist for? Is it for the pleasure of looting, or to protect something?

Is the justice you speak of a dogma instilled in you by others, or is it something you truly identify with from the bottom of your heart and are willing to bear the consequences for, after seeing and feeling it for yourself?"

She paused for a moment, letting the sea breeze carry her words into Kuzan’s ears.

"Evildoers immerse themselves in desire, using ’freedom’ to whitewash their atrocities. Their heart-mirrors are covered in dust, reflecting only twisted self-satisfaction. They may call themselves righteous, but that mirror is filthy; they can’t even see themselves clearly, so how can they talk about being ’clear and bright’?"

"And some people," her gaze seemed to drift away for a moment,

"Follow the rules and ’justice’ imposed by the outside world, but have never examined whether those rules themselves are reasonable, or whether that ’justice’ truly benefits all living beings. Their heart-mirrors are smooth, but they only reflect the shadows of others, with no image of themselves. This is another form of blindness."

Kuzan listened, understanding only half of it, but deep inside, a certain rigid, black-and-white framework was indeed pried open by these unprecedented remarks.

He no longer obsessed over pursuing an absolutely correct definition of "justice," but began to vaguely realize that "justice" might not be a static destination, but a dynamic process of pursuit closely linked to self-cognition.

"So... there is no absolutely ’right’ justice, only... something you choose to believe in and persist in after seeing yourself clearly?" Kuzan tried to summarize, his voice a bit uncertain.

Charlotte Linlin raised her eyebrows noncommittally: "You can understand it that way. But remember,’seeing yourself clearly’ is the most difficult step. Many people spend their whole lives just spinning in self-deception."

She changed the subject, once again adopting that familiar, unsettling teasing tone,

"For example, are you thinking right now, ’I want to become stronger, I want to find out the truth, I want to protect people like Grandpa Mo so they don’t get hurt anymore,’ or are you thinking, ’I’m so scared, I want to find a safe place to hide, the Marine doesn’t seem safe anymore’? Or both? See them clearly, acknowledge them, and then... make your choice."

Kuzan was silent for a long time, the sea breeze drying the tear stains on his face. He looked at Grandpa Mo’s simple grave, then at his own dirt-stained hands, and finally looked up at the vast, boundless sea that nurtured everything and swallowed everything.

"I... I want to become stronger." He finally spoke, his voice not loud, but with much less confusion than before, and a bit more calmness,

"Strong enough to see more truth, strong enough to... at least let the people I care about not die for such absurd reasons."

He did not directly say this was "justice," but this was already the clearest image in his "heart-mirror" at this moment.

Charlotte Linlin watched him, the corners of her mouth finally curling into a subtle arc. She reached out and ruffled Kuzan’s hair.

"Then remember everything you felt here today. Remember this helplessness, this anger, this confusion, and what you just said to yourself."

She straightened up, her massive figure casting a long shadow in the sunset,

"As for ’justice’... carry this question and live on. Use your eyes to see, use your experiences to fill in the answer. Perhaps one day, you will have a deeper understanding of this statement, or... find another statement that belongs to you."

She turned around and began walking down the mountain, her pace still unhurried.

"Let’s go, son. Debts won’t be automatically written off just because someone died; you still have to work hard to pay it back."

Kuzan stood in place, taking one last look at Grandpa Mo’s grave, and said softly, "Goodbye, Grandpa Mo. I will... find my own justice."

Then, he turned around, taking steps that were still a bit awkward but firm, to catch up with the tall, pink-and-purple figure in front.

The setting sun cast their shadows onto the rugged mountain road, gradually lengthening and merging.

In Kuzan’s heart, that simple dream of being a Marine hero had cracked open, letting in complex and dazzling light.

And in that interplay of light and shadow, a new seed was quietly buried—a seed about the self, a seed of pursuing one’s own "justice."

It would slowly take root and sprout in the storms and choices of the future.

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