Chapter 1: Ding-a-ling
rty practically begging me to take him in! He... oh, here he is. Hazel, this is Mr. Eznabi, a longtime client of ours."This is the translated text. It seems like you're trying to translate a sentence..."Leaving my hometown, I carry my pack... Often dreaming of my beloved girl... Being far away, my heart is at home..."
The heavy rain came and went quickly, leaving a humid air thick with the faint smell of earth. The cobblestone streets gleamed under the intermittent sunlight.
On the street corner, outside a two-story general store, a young man leaning on his broom hums a tune nobody seems to understand. He lazily watches the people flowing back and forth on the street.
This is a young man about 1.83 meters tall. His slender figure, even more standard than a model's, makes his rough burlap work clothes look like a finely tailored handmade suit. His raven-like, dull black hair is slightly curly and styled with an old-fashioned thick fringe that completely obscures the upper half of his face. Coupled with a pair of aesthetically questionable oversized black-rimmed glasses, it's almost impossible to see what he actually looks like.
After finishing the near-zero progress sweep, the young man turned his head to look at the general store behind him. The storefront was old and run down, the merchandise was meager and scarce, with only a handful of customers each day. The rickety wooden sign above swayed precariously, and the cartoon octopus painted on it had faded so badly that its shape was almost unrecognizable.
This makes the young man wonder how long this grocery store can last.
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"Haze! Don't slack off at the door, come here and help move!"
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A dull, alcohol-laced voice crept from the doorway: "Slacking off again Don't you want your pay"
The young man named Heath turned pale, helplessly leaning his broom against the wall and brushing dust off his hands before walking into the house. The lyrics he hummed also changed.
“Holding a steamed bun in my hands… There's not a drop of oil in the vegetables…”
Ding dong!
When the shop door opened, a clear bell rang.
As soon as you entered, you were greeted by rows of shelves arranged in six columns. Two of the shelves were relatively newer looking. Almost one-third of the shelf space was empty, and what was there consisted mainly of low-quality everyday items, cheap instant snacks, and some wilting fruits and vegetables. The truly valuable goods, such as cigarettes and fine liquor, were locked away behind a counter made of thick, sky-blue glass.
The ceiling fan whirred feebly, emitting a grating groan as it struggled to turn. Pushing open the door, Heather's gaze fell upon the figure behind the counter.
Jack the Old Man, he's the owner of this 'Octopus Jack's Department Store'.
"What are you looking at Did young Master Hai forget he swept the floor"
His portly belly strained against his soiled, floral-patterned shirt, while his face was covered in a tangle of white whiskers like tangled electrical wires. His sparse hair, barely enough to count on one hand, failed to conceal his shiny scalp. Coupled with his textbook-perfect beer gut, this short, stout old man's first impression wasn't exactly charming.
Jack's Old Man was half-paralyzed on the dilapidated sofa behind the counter, his short, stubby fingers like turnips, he pointed to the back room and began to grumble in a voice hoarse from smoke and alcohol: "You're only good for your strength. Get moving! Bring out ten cases of Si Lu sparkling water."
“Ten boxes With our store's traffic, do you want to sell until 2009, old man This is a 1982 Dadamir, and this is a 1999 Silu. You're being arrogant!”
"The language has switched from Chinese to the common tongue of this world. Haizer, while walking towards the back storage room, grumbled: "I've even come up with slogans for you – 99 years of Si Lu sparkling water, ten years of precipitation, a noble experience, an intoxicating aroma, letting you experience all sorts of hospitals."
"Quite rhythmic... Where did you come up with so much nonsense"
Jack's old man, realizing what had happened, roared with anger. He saw Heather slip into the storeroom and shook his head: "Pretty good kid, too bad he's got a big mouth."
Two months ago, one late night while I was driving to get supplies, I found this kid in his pajamas lying on the side of the road unconscious. I don't know what came over me, but my head got hot and I brought him back.
Yes, if we just leave him there, by morning he'll probably only be found as remains on an illegal black market surgeon's operating table.
Although he remained dazed for a long time after waking up, I have to admit the kid has some real strength. Taking advantage of his status as my savior, and with free room and board plus a low salary, I hired this amnesiac kid without signing any contract. I gave him all the odd jobs in the shop.
Then he found that he had made a profit.
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He is incredibly strong, seemingly tireless and unfazed by hardship. He doesn't mind his living conditions and while he doesn't show much respect for himself, he takes any tasks assigned to him seriously. His only drawbacks are his large appetite and tendency to talk too much.
Here's your response:
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What The salary is too low
A mysterious illiterate who claims to have amnesia and lives independently, taking care of himself, receives 10,000 yen per month. Isn't he a saint already
For a moment, Jack's father was touched by his own kindness. Wiping away a tear, he reached under the cupboard and pulled out half a bottle of whiskey. He took a big swig.
Ding dong!
The door was pushed open and a tall man in a black hooded sweatshirt walked into the general store, smiling and greeting Old Jack: "Hey, old Jack."
"It's been over two months, Izanabe. Aren't supplies running low"
Jack's Old Man wiped the wine stain from his lips: "I just don't get you. Is it so thrilling to practice in the deep mountains and old forests If it were me, I'd suffocate from boredom in a day."
The tall man, known as Izenabe, smiled gently and walked to the shelf of household goods. "While I'm picking something out," he said,
“This is the mainstream cultivation method of our school. It’s pretty good once you get used to it. By the way, last time I was here, I caught you with your handyman complaining about going back home. Have you hired any new people recently”
Old Jack shrugged. "I suppose so."
"Really hired"
Ezana looked back at Old Jack with a hint of surprise: "With your dreadful reputation, you're still able to recruit new people Wait, did you trick some naive young lads from the countryside again"
“I apologize! I apologize to the version of me you imagined!”
Jack Sr. fumed, "This time it was the other party practically begging me to take him in! He... oh, here he is. Hazel, this is Mr. Eznabi, a longtime client of ours."
This is the translated text. It seems like you're trying to translate a sentence that ends with "
". Let me know if you have any other text you'd like me to translate!
Izenna turned her head and saw a young man with an obscured face, carrying five boxes of sparkling water in each hand, walking steadily towards them.
"Hi."
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"You're a regular here, aren't you" Heather nodded to Essie. "That must be tough."
Izanabe watched as the young man named Haze effortlessly placed ten boxes of sparkling water in front of the container. It was as if he were carrying ten boxes of foam padding. When the stacked boxes were set down, there wasn't even a tremor. One couldn't help but wonder if the boxes had been glued together.
Your physical fitness is excellent, and your coordination is superb. Only a seasoned expert who has trained for a long time could possess such skill.
Eizen subconsciously rubbed his stubble-covered chin. Such a talented young man could make a name for himself anywhere, so why would he willingly end up in Old Jack's shop and let him exploit him
Ding dong!
>
Three men in leather jackets, reeking of alcohol, burst into the general store. The one in the front, with green hair and a mohawk, surveyed the shop, spitting out his toothpick.
Jack's father yawned, his short, thick fingers waving towards the shelves.
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"Welcome, please browse the shelves for what you want. Our store adheres to the principle of honest business practices and offers quality goods at reasonable prices, striving to serve our customers to the best of our ability..."
I've run out of polite greetings.
The menacing muzzle of the gun pointed straight at Jack's red, bloated nose. The old man immediately raised his hands in surrender.
Two more redheads, one with a broom haircut and the other with a plane-shaped haircut, also drew their guns from behind their waists, aiming them at Heather and Iznabi respectively.
“This is a rundown place, looking utterly impoverished. Well, I suppose it's to be expected in a desolate mountain town.”
Green-haired Mohawk pointed his gun steadily at Old Jack with his right hand, and beckoned with his left: "Don't make a sound, slow down old man, crawl out from behind the counter slowly, let me see your hands...good, don't even think about making any moves. You two, go tie up these two unlucky bastards, and take their money too."
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Izana raised her eyebrows slightly, subtly adjusting her body into a position that made it easier to strike.
These three guys held their guns very steady, seeming to have done this sort of thing before. And they weren't wearing masks, clearly not intending to leave any witnesses alive.
On both moral and practical grounds, he wouldn't stand idly by while Old Jack and this groundskeeper named Haze died before his eyes.
Suddenly, Izana found a very strange point—although Old Jack was pointed at the head with a gun, the fear on his face seemed rather insincere.
Is this still that cowardly Jack That's not right!
>
In the next instant, a blurry black shape flashed before his eyes.
>
With three sickening cracks, the three robbers were sent flying backward like they'd been hit by a locomotive!
The shop door and the nearest shelves were smashed to pieces! Blood, splintered wood, and broken merchandise were flying around in the small shop. The muffled blast echoed for a long time.
Old Jack instinctively shielded his head, then roared when he saw what had happened: "Heather! You've wrecked my shipping container again! And the old shop door!"
Izanabe stood stiffly at the side, even with his powerful kinetic vision he could only barely catch the afterimages of what had just happened.
The young man named Heather struck three robbers in quick succession with punches that moved at near-instantaneous speed, delivering blows with force exceeding two tons each, all within less than half a second.
Looking at the three deformed corpses, blood slowly pooled beneath them. There were two streaks on the ground, still emitting a wisp of blue smoke. These were the marks left by Heather's shoes as they scraped against the ground at high speed.
This is definitely not something an ordinary human could achieve!
Izana instinctively gathered her ki in her eyes, focusing on Heather who was arguing with Old Jack while picking up scattered merchandise by the shelves.
Although rare, at this very moment, Haze's body was indeed covered in a thin veil of ki that resembled the stillness of a silent river.
Izunagabe's cold sweat finally trickled down his forehead.
A natural-born Nen user!
>ling water in each hand, walking steadily towards them."Hi."Let me know if you have any other text you'd like me to translate!"You're a regular here, aren't you" Heather nodded to Essie. "That must be...