Chapter 17: The Policy of Starvation

When Wen Luan regained consciousness, he suspected he had fallen into a junkyard.

It wasn’t that this place was dirty or smelly; rather, various objects were haphazardly piled around him in disarray. He found himself lying on a large fragment of a flying saucer’s control panel, with a tipped-over European-style wooden cabinet before him. Resting against it was half an robotic arm, its severed end still crackling with electric sparks emitting blue flashes.

Slowly, he crawled to his feet, but saw no sign of Jim.

Wen Luan attempted to call out through their mental link: “Xi’er?”

His call was swiftly answered.

“This is still the White Whale Galaxy, serving as a temporary warehouse for the interstellar pirate organization known as ‘Blood Skull.’ Jim has gone off with some other pirates to commit robbery. For now, you’re safe, master,” Xi’er replied calmly.

“Where are you?” Wen Luan silently asked within his mind.

“In this very warehouse. Just moments ago, Jim and a group of pirates tried to find the operational interface on me. I feigned damage from the intense spatial jump vibrations, producing smoke, so they discarded me. There’s a surveillance device mounted atop my head, making movement inconvenient,” Xi’er explained steadily. “Master, the exit lies seven hundred meters directly ahead and slightly to your left. That’s where I am right now.”

Following Xi’er’s instructions, Wen Luan took several steps forward but soon realized it was impossible to move even an inch here; there wasn’t a single spare spot beneath his feet. He imagined what it would feel like trying to climb a mountain within a warehouse.

Numerous sparkling tubes, bottles, or metallic components lay scattered about—more numerous were iron boxes and chests. Wen Luan dared not step on them recklessly because he spotted a banded python coiled inside one transparent-sided box.

As Wen Luan cautiously “climbed” through this obstacle course, he suddenly heard a burst of malicious laughter.

Lifting his head, he discovered that two robots standing against the wall actually contained operators. Without any regard for caution, they stomped over, crushing many objects in their path. Some shattered parts immediately erupted with thunderous explosions.

The box containing the python was also smashed open. The angry snake lunged upward, but its body was brutally gripped by a robot’s metal hand. As the massive claw closed down, dark red blood sprayed out instantly, splattering fragments of flesh everywhere across the floor.

In a cruel gesture, the severed snake head was flung directly at Wen Luan.

A serpent’s head, as large as a water bucket, hurtled towards him. Instinctively, Wen Luan retreated a step before making a sudden leap onto a wooden cabinet. The snake head collided with the corner of the cabinet, and in a single bite, half of it disappeared into the python’s maw.

Fortunately, this European-style wooden cabinet was of inferior quality, with merely a thin layer of wood veneer on its surface. Inside, it remained stiff and solid—a synthetic material from the future. The python’s venomous fang became lodged within the cabinet, while its head slowly drooped downward.

In the distance, those two pirate operators controlling their robots were greatly surprised by Wen Luan evading the attack. They opened the visors of their robots’ helmets, revealing their ashen skin tones and menacingly ugly faces.

They spoke in a language Wen Luan couldn’t understand and even leaned forward from their cockpits to display their bulging pectorals and muscular arms prominently to him.

“…”

Wen Luan’s gaze froze momentarily as he thought silently: At last, I’ve seen firsthand what they mean by “arms so broad one could gallop horses across them” and “fists large enough for people to stand upon.” As for these formidable chests—well, even the women running for office in America wouldn’t wear such ample sizes.

Monsters! How could anyone bear to show themselves looking like that? Wen Luan regarded them with sympathy.

Though language barrier prevented communication, eyes convey emotions universally understood. Wen Luan’s unmistakable expression of disdainful pity infuriated the pair. Just as they roared and charged towards him, a powerful force swept both men—and their mechs—aside violently. They stumbled and collapsed to either side.

Wen Luan’s pupils contracted sharply; he had to take back his previous words—the newcomer who just appeared was truly the “monster”!

An octopus-like creature dressed in transparent space attire, resembling an illustration from early science fiction novels, stood before them. Its bald, bulbous head bore two large eyes that swiftly examined Wen Luan from top to bottom. Then, with fluid movements of its tentacled limbs encased in spacesuits, it nimbly traversed across the warehouse towards him.

Just as Wen Luan was about to leap off the shelf and flee, the octopus spoke up:

“Hello.”

It was impeccable English.

Wen Luan nearly tumbled headfirst from his perch on the shelf.

“Welcome,” continued the octopus. “I’ve always longed for a companion who is intelligent and agile.” With one of its tentacles, it brushed aside the snake heads obstructing the path between itself and Wen Luan. The body within the spacesuit then abruptly changed color to orange-red. Showing consideration for the shock Wen Luan had endured, it maintained a distance of roughly—well, let’s say three meters.

The octopus gestured at the nearby robot crawling back onto its feet using its tentacle, speaking disdainfully:

“Those crude, foolish creatures with brains overshadowed by muscles are truly an eyesore. Oh dear, look at your slender arms and limbs… I must say, if only your head were larger, like mine, I would truly admire you immensely.”

“…”

Darkness crept into the corners of Wen Luan’s vision.

God above, he thought, could this be nothing more than a nightmare?

Wen Luan swayed slightly. Before he could even call out to Xi’er, he felt his body lighten suddenly. Then, as if he had just taken a hot shower, a warm and comfortable sensation washed over him from head to toe, nearly causing him to moan with pleasure.

Crackle. The octopus’s tentacle landed on a fragment of broken circuitry emitting blue sparks, eliciting a slight shudder from the creature due to the electric shock.

The snow wolf fur coat wrapped around Wen Luan had vanished without a trace.

In the distance, two robots were still struggling upright, having missed Wen Luan’s sudden and audacious dash away. Only the octopus pirate silently used its tentacle to retrieve a piece of plastic-like material from the ground and handed it to Wen Luan.

“My clothes… Oh, my god!” Wen Luan exclaimed upon opening his eyes. In a panic, he swiftly pulled the plastic sheet up to cover himself before asking irritably, “Where did my clothes go? What happened here… Ah, thank you.”

“No need for thanks.”

Wen Luan froze, slowly raising his gaze inch by inch until he finally realized who it was that kindly offered him the plastic sheet.

The octopus pirate remained entirely orange-red in color. It waved the tips of its tentacles at him reassuringly, speaking in perfect English, “We belong to different species, so your earlier actions were not remotely offensive to me. It’s akin to how I wouldn’t bother you if I ran naked before your eyes—you’d feel no qualms about it either.”

Indeed, compared to an ordinary four-meter-long giant octopus, Wen Luan was more bothered by one wearing a spacesuit.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is…” The octopus pirate emitted a series of sounds akin to bubble-popping noises before switching to English, “Of course, you can call me by my human name, Caesar. As far as I know, this was the title of a renowned human conqueror—a king! Hello, pleased to meet you.”

Wen Luan felt somewhat petrified.

How do you do, God? An octopus had just used a greeting typically reserved for newly arrived American exchange students—the kind no one actually employs in daily conversation. Was this cephalopod merely reciting textbook English?

“Wen Luan,” he mumbled, still dazed.

Mimicking the formality, Wen Luan switched back from Chinese to his everyday language, “You may call me ‘Luan.’ It’s very… nice to meet you.”

No, not at all; he wasn’t even slightly happy about it.

“Is your clothing some special type of mecha? Why did it vanish so instantly?” The octopus named Caesar curiously supported its head with a tentacle, tilting its eyes as it asked.

How could Wen Luan possibly know? He was still utterly confused himself.

At that precise moment, a commotion erupted at the warehouse entrance. Numerous pirates, clad in spacesuits or operating small mechs, tossed in a chaotic array of items.

“Oh! These rude fellows!” The octopus roared, his eight tentacles whirling like a windmill as he reached the warehouse door in a blink. With a flick of his arms, he sent three pirates flying away before bellowing loudly, “Have you no manners left?! Arrange these properly for me!”

“Good evening—wait, is it even evening yet? Let me check my watch.” Another peculiar figure appeared at the warehouse entrance. His attire seemed more fitting for an 18th-century American film: a black trench coat, a dark cloak, a bowler hat, and a long cane. As if on cue, he produced a golden pocket watch from somewhere and glanced at its face.

The term lost individual immediately sprang to mind for Wen Luan.

“A night of abundance, alas, with little rare treasure to be found,” the gentleman lamented, spreading his hands wide. Leaning on his cane, he sauntered over with a swaying gait. The haphazardly scattered objects on the ground seemed to have no effect on him; he walked as though treading effortlessly upon sharp box edges.

Bald Jim also materialized, jogging after the gentleman. Upon reaching Wen Luan, Jim grinned broadly and gave him a forceful pat on the shoulder:

“Luan, this is our boss—the leader of all four interstellar pirate crews in the White Whale Galaxy, Lord Saitra,” Jim said with a meaningful wink at Wen Luan. “Just like us, exactly alike! You understand, don’t you?”

Could he truly be a lost citizen?

Had the staff members at Deep Blue’s Household Registration Office deceived him? How could so many lost citizens fail to return home and instead end up here?

The pirate chief removed his bowler hat, slightly tilted his head, and performed a very gentlemanly salute.

To be fair, this fellow wasn’t bad-looking. However—

Wen Luan felt that Xi’er was more attractive, let alone incomparably surpassing the beauty of that… stunner… whom he had glimpsed on the Frozen Plain by chance.

“Return the gesture, my friend,” Jim whispered hastily upon noticing Wen Luan’s daze. “This guy comes from nobility; he tends to ramble a bit—you’ll just have to bear with it.”

The corner of Wen Luan’s mouth twitched. Despite Jim’s attempt to lower his voice, his usual booming tone made for a rather tragic effort at discretion. Unless one were deaf or standing ten meters away, there was no escaping its reach.

Replacing his bowler hat, the pirate chief smiled warmly. “Welcome. Jim has already introduced you to me. In truth, I’m not actually noble—oh, I do hold some title, but I’m far more passionate about business. I own plantations in southern America… And I’ve even visited your homeland before—a mysterious Eastern realm!”

Wen Luan remained on guard; after all, he knew Jim had something to hide from him.

“What do you need me to do for you?” Wen Luan asked skeptically. He couldn’t believe such a coincidence—falling into a trap from the sky, being warmly received by the boss himself just moments after joining a pirate organization.

The pirate chief waved his cane and casually spread his hands, saying, “No no, it’s not as serious as you think. The Chinese say ‘A lone stranger in a foreign land’, feeling lonely, uncertain, and also…”

Jim glared fiercely: Enough already, don’t overdo the act!

“Cough, yes, exactly like this,” continued the pirate chief. “When I see people with similar experiences, I feel a sense of closeness. Apart from the Deep Blue Kingdom, which generously treats its lost citizens, other countries in the White Whale Galaxy aren’t like that. I was incredibly unlucky myself—I didn’t appear on Deep Blue. After enduring much hardship, I’ve finally established this small influence here. Naturally, I would be delighted to accommodate you.”

The leader of four interstellar pirate forces calling himself merely a “small influence”?

Before Wen Luan could respond, the pirate chief pointed at the Octopus Pirate with his civilized stick. “This is Caesar, my warehouse manager. He lacks an assistant, and I believe you’ll get along well together! Now then, without further ado, may your new life proceed happily!”

Having spoken these words, the pirate chief once again removed his hat, bowed deeply in respect, then left as if attending to his own affairs.

Wen Luan stared at the octopus with a dark expression—this was to be his future colleague? Well, it did indeed meet the requirements: no need for robbery, temporary opportunities for learning, and communication barriers. However—

“Is he also one of Earth’s lost… lost seafood species?” Wen Luan asked Jim, turning his head.

“Oh, please use ‘him.’ Caesar is an intelligent being!” Jim explained further. “He can speak over three hundred languages and possesses vast knowledge. He belongs to the native species of the White Whale Galaxy; this galaxy had civilizations even before humans appeared.”

Wen Luan nodded woodenly.

“Ah, right, Caesar expresses his emotions through colors. Orange-red—my friend, he’s very satisfied with you as a new colleague! Enjoy yourself, farewell!”

With those words, Jim swiftly caught up to the pirate chief, and the two muttered in a language Wen Luan couldn’t understand.

“Damn it, he just finished eating, do you realize that?” the pirate chief said angrily. “The Eastern Demon specializes in consuming dreams! And yet you overlooked what he wore—the Deep Blue planet has neither frozen plains nor snow wolves; all of that is fake, part of the exiles’ nightmare of death! The snow wolf pelt on Wen Luan… actually served as unconscious sustenance he brought along! You failed to notice this?”

Jim innocently expressed his bewilderment: “I didn’t know he could maintain the form of dream-borne illusory objects even after leaving the dream realm.”

“It’s clear; those were provisions he unconsciously brought with him!”

The pirate chief abruptly halted, casting an approving smile towards the distant, industrious Octopus Pirate before murmuring, “Thankfully we have Caesar. Otherwise, when would Wen Luan have swallowed all his stored provisions? Our goal is to leave Wen Luan without food—hunger will swiftly send him back into hibernation! Then Deep Blue will be safe!”

“Agreed, I’ll strive to achieve this!” Jim waved his arm and barked out orders loudly, “From now on, anyone who dares to sleep near the warehouse shall be executed immediately!! Do you hear me, executed!!”

In the midst of chaos, the silver metallic sphere nestled among the debris gently trembled.

Xi’er rapidly analyzed the conversation between Jim and the pirate chief.

So Wen Luan can consume dreams.

This made Cyrus seem even more miraculous as a Dream Demon!

He confirmed that Deep Blue was not real—it was merely an enormous dream realm.

But why did Jim’s group aim to protect Deep Blue? They were space pirates—why bother safeguarding the Deep Blue Kingdom? Could there be some unspoken pact between them?

“This information overload is truly overwhelming,” Xi’er muttered to himself.