Chapter 1239: A Sudden Turn of Events

“A fake corpse?”

Shanren and Furong both looked over.

“Yeah, it doesn’t match what I saw in the Spirit Communication Dream.”

Baimu nodded. The Banette that rushed over later in the dream hadn’t realized, yet he was inexplicably watching from a third-person view, seeing everything clearly—

The blast was far too close. From that instant on, Long He’s flesh and blood were torn apart all over his body, completely losing human shape, left with only half a breath.

That was very different from the largely intact, undamaged remains in the coffin.

Of course.

If you really wanted to argue, you could say that the Banette later somehow gathered up Long He’s body, which wasn’t impossible, but the kinship report was enough to prove his judgment correct, and that everything he saw had been real.

Too tragic.

Even now, recalling what he saw and heard in the dream, Baimu still felt shaken. He instinctively reached for the Pokeball holding his own Pokémon, and his tense mood eased a little.

He took a deep breath and recounted what had happened in the dream to Shanren and Furong.

After replaying the memory once, although it felt a bit like offending the dead, he still couldn’t help sighing over Grandfather Long He being dogged by damned bad luck.

Ever since the arena, his luck had been off.

After barely surviving the explosion, he then ran into one misfortune after another: losing his Pokémon, being detected by the enemy, all his Dragon-type Pokémon losing combat strength, being spotted by enemy reinforcements, suffering serious injuries, and running into those who still hadn’t escaped.

If even one of these had failed to happen, Grandfather Long He would probably have already escaped the underground and embraced the light. But he ran into all of them, and so a brilliant Dragon Tamer died with regret deep beneath Pyrite Town.

When he finished speaking.

Furong, long accustomed to life and death, fell silent, and Shanren could only sigh quietly.

When death is at the door, how many people can, like Long He, willingly go to their deaths to carve out a sliver of hope for others?

Even if he had chosen to regroup with those ahead and given up holding the rear, no one would have blamed him.

But Long He chose to take the bomb and turn back to find the pursuers.

Even though no one would ever know what he’d given, how much blood and tears he’d shed, how many regrets and sorrows caught in his throat at the moment of death, as he lay buried forever in an unknown corner.

To go against the current sounds easy; doing it is brutally hard.

Precisely because of that.

Heroes are worthy of respect and yearning.

“What Grandfather Long He did won’t stay buried,” Shanren said seriously.

Baimu understood that he intended to spread Long He’s name, at least within the Rescue Organization, so they would know Long He had once risked his life in devotion.

Long He deserves far greater honor, and he should be remembered by far more people.

“All right.”

He nodded.

Some people think that everything after death is just empty fame, that talking about it once a person has died is meaningless; others think a life lasts only a handful of decades, and only if their deeds are passed down do they not come to this world in vain.

Long He’s own views can no longer be verified, but as his juniors, they must do what should be done.

To give meaning to those who fell along the way!

“…”

Furong couldn’t interject. As a Spirit Communicator, she had witnessed many partings between people and people, people and Pokémon, and Pokémon and Pokémon.

But the stories that had unfolded on this land of Ore were beyond anything she’d ever imagined before.

Being able to understand the words of the dead, she was even more aware than Baimu and Shanren of the unknown sacrifices. These fragments she’d once failed to grasp now, through Long He’s deeds, were gradually knitting together in her mind into a grand history spanning decades.

A saga carved out by the Ore People and some Foreigners, marching fearlessly toward freedom.

On this soil steeped in blood and flame, there were not only the Shadow Team and the entrenched vested interests, but also countless idealists and fighters who had rushed forward one after another.

And now.

Countless sacrifices made before dawn were hoisting the flame of hope high, giving Ore a new life!

Long He might have been the beginning, or perhaps a piece of the long process.

Though she had never slacked off in this task, she thought that maybe she needed to be even more meticulous, to bring a bit more solace to those who should not have to weep.

“I’ll give it a try. Maybe I can get Banette to come out of the Spirit Realm entrance.”

When Furong first spoke, her voice lacked confidence, but as the words came out, she grew firm.

Baimu and Shanren’s eyes lit up at that.

“That would be perfect! Is there anything you need or any constraints?”

“I need its cooperation.”

Banette’s greatest wish was to wait for Long He’s return, while their greatest aim was to open the Spirit Realm entrance and let the lost Soul go in.

With that core conflict resolved, what else could be too hard?

Only, both of them understood that Furong probably didn’t have much confidence. Otherwise, she’d have spoken up earlier instead of waiting until now.

Hope is better than no hope.

Baimu washed his face and looked at himself in the mirror, thinking it was no wonder Elder Lidi and the elders said he looked like Long He—

Their faces were basically eighty percent alike!

It’s just that once he smiled, the difference between them became apparent.

Grandfather Long He’s smile instantly conveyed warmth and friendliness, while his own, if you didn’t look at his eyes, only made people feel he was cold.

Which goes to show, innate genes are important, but the experiences that shape a person later are no less powerful.

Still, thinking about it, Grandfather Long He died early in the underground. So where did he come from?

…Yet another mystery.

Baimu only knew that tiny slice of the story about the destruction of the underground arena. Grandfather Long He’s life had to have lasted at least a dozen or twenty years. Perhaps he’d had someone special on the surface of Pyrite Town, or somewhere else?

They’d talk about it later.

None of that was the focus right now.

“Furong,”

He stepped out of the bathroom and spoke to the two of them.

Shanren held up his phone and said, “Should I have them separate the remains from the personal effects?”

“Please do.” Baimu nodded. He was worried they wouldn’t be able to find Long He’s real remains, in which case the personal effects would serve as the proof of a Tomb of Clothes.