Chapter 7: The Frigid Silence of Ice Town

Wen Luan was frozen awake.

The cold—unimaginably frigid—was like hell itself to him, accustomed as he was to living year-round in a small western town.

Instinctively curling up, even before his consciousness fully returned, Wen Luan groped around on the ground for something with which to warm himself. But all his hands encountered was thick accumulated snow.

Struggling to fully awaken, the biting wind sliced across his face like knives. In an instant, Wen Luan shrank nearly half his size, crouching there trembling while staring dumbfounded at his surroundings.

Before him stretched an endless expanse of icy plain.

In the sky floated colossal shuttle-shaped warships, each less than three hundred feet from the ground. The sight of those massive black gun muzzles sent chills down Wen Luan’s spine. Ten such warships were arrayed in a single line across the heavens.

Ahead loomed a vast golden force field, its overall shape curved into a semicircle, its height astonishing—a sudden barrier of gold rising abruptly at the edge of the ice field. Now, a gap had appeared within this shield, through which the foremost black warship slowly sailed, entering the interior of the force field.

This force field was transparent, but dense fog pervaded it; only powerful searchlights could penetrate the murk.

The blinding glare reflected off the ice field below, casting an eerie brightness over everything. Forced by the intensity, Wen Luan had no choice but to close his eyes tightly.

Just moments ago, he had been wandering through the city district, searching for his way. How could he suddenly experience this vision blackout, only to be teleported out of the city without warning?

The statues atop the buildings in the city center frightened him so much that cold sweat poured down his back. Desperately, he sought out secluded paths devoid of any sculptural pillars, but his search yielded horrifying results: the entire city was under the watchful gaze of these statues. The only possible blind spot might have been the sky itself.

Wen Luan couldn’t fathom why the statues had spared him, refraining from directly bombarding him with their energy cannons.

After all, those robotic voices weren’t speaking English—how could he possibly understand them?

The harbor lights were as bright as snow, and even warships suspended in mid-air cast powerful beams onto the ground below. The accumulated snow near the city’s protective barrier quickly melted, revealing dark gray rocks beneath.

No living creature could hope to slip unnoticed into such a heavily monitored environment.

Feeling the heat gradually encroaching upon him, Wen Luan hastily took refuge behind a block of icy rock. He dared not imagine what would happen if discovered; whether the warships would immediately open fire, reducing him to nothing more than shattered debris.

Friendly coexistence? Kindness towards lost individuals?

These concepts vanished entirely from Wen Luan’s mind when he realized that every statue adorning the city buildings possessed formidable lethal capabilities.

Wen Luan’s premonition of danger was so accurate as to be uncanny. Throughout his life, he had escaped countless disasters by relying on this ability alone. The most perilous instance occurred during a series of chain collisions when he suddenly drove the bus like possessed into a roadside store at a highway service area. With its front end lodged at the entrance, those inside the shop were merely startled; moments later, several trucks collided one after another, involving over ten vehicles on the road in total. Flames from explosions spread for hundreds of meters—yet only Wen Luan survived by abruptly veering off the highway with the bus.

Initially, this fog-shrouded city merely made Wen Luan feel uneasy. However, upon entering their temporary lodging, a strong urge to leave immediately arose within him.

The searchlight swept across the icy plain. As expected, Wen Luan found a blind spot—a corner just outside the warship’s surveillance range.

On the warship’s life scanner display, signs of living beings appeared beneath the ice field. Yet the officer in charge of the monitoring room paid no heed. This vast expanse of flatland housed sparse wildlife, members of races deemed lowly by the kingdom (often referred to as “pariahs”), and exiled criminals. So long as these individuals didn’t approach the port’s guarded zone, he couldn’t be bothered to press the switch activating the energy cannons.

After all, they needed to conserve energy reserves too.

Finally, all ten warships had entered the city area. The gap in the defensive shield closed up, and one by one, the powerful searchlights extinguished themselves. Through the faintly glowing protective barrier, dense fog could be seen spreading again within, enveloping the warships anchored at the harbor until their full forms were no longer visible.

Wen Luan stiffly shifted his body, collapsing onto the ground with a thud.

The temperature inside the city hovered around twenty-eight or twenty-nine degrees Celsius; outside, it was an icy landscape of snow and frost.

Escaping from a city riddled with surveillance might seem ideal, but there was undoubtedly another dead end awaiting beyond its walls—no matter how Wen Luan tried to recall, he couldn’t remember how he’d ended up on this ice field.

It seemed as though everything had gone black before his eyes, and when he woke up again, he found himself here.

Could it be that the city defense system automatically expelled “unidentified individuals without identification”?

Wen Luan began regretting his hasty decision to discard the wristband earlier, yet that very device also represented a particularly perilous threat (of course, it was a live-streaming recorder used by Vampires, capable of directly exposing every move Wen Luan made to countless dark creatures for their amusement).

Wen Luan admitted that each Sunday, during the small town church services, his participation had been perfunctory at best, lacking any genuine piety. But even in such a place, where miscreants abounded, why had fate singled him out alone to be cast into the future?

In his vexation, Wen Luan noticed a faint sound approaching from behind him.

Feigning ignorance, he glanced backward with a sidelong look.

“Give me some food…”

A knife-wielding fellow hadn’t finished speaking when Wen Luan kicked him down onto the icy rock with a single blow.

It wasn’t that Wen Luan possessed extraordinary martial prowess; rather, this man was simply too thin—no thicker than a chair—to offer any resistance. His entire body seemed nothing more than skin stretched over bones, yet his belly protruded outward—a pitiful sight of a starving refugee such as one might see only in documentaries.

The impact left the man’s face splattered with blood. Struggling to crawl up from the ground, he growled menacingly at Wen Luan like a wild beast. However, hunger had sapped all his strength, rendering this threat as empty as if it didn’t exist at all.

Wen Luan couldn’t understand what he was saying, but given that ferocious expression, he could guess the general meaning. Ignoring the man, Wen Luan took a detour and walked away.

Even the ice plain had a sheltered side, protected by a sloping stone ridge.

This spot also faced the sun, making it slightly warmer. Brown moss-like plants even grew in the rocky soil near the cave entrance.

Squish.

With a dejected air, Wen Luan withdrew his foot—the seventh person he had kicked aside today.

These fellows were all dressed similarly, clad in tattered clothes and wrapped in the fur of some unknown animal. Their bodies remained clean (after all, there was no shortage of water on the ice plains), but each one had been reduced to mere skeletons by hunger. They had ambushed him along his route, their attacks viciously cruel; however, they too possessed only enough strength for a single strike. Against Wen Luan, who harbored a premonition of danger, such assaults proved utterly ineffective.

If these guys hadn’t been starving, Wen Luan would have been hacked down long ago.

At times, physical strength could be this ruthless—determining life or death with absolute finality.

Wen Luan felt uneasy. If he couldn’t find food soon, within three days at most, these people would kill him. In this place where sustenance was scarce, even when dead, could anyone hope for a proper burial?

Finally finding shelter in a wind-sheltered cave, Wen Luan squatted inside, deeply pondering his predicament.

He had just wrested a weapon from one of the attackers—a bone knife crafted from the bone of some unknown creature.

Wen Luan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The city several kilometers away represented future high technology, yet the refugees wandering across the ice plains seemed as if they belonged in an ancient tribal society. If his memory served correctly, the planet beneath his feet was supposed to be the capital of some kingdom—how could it possibly look like this?

The ice plain knew no night. Judging by the sun’s position in the sky, Wen Luan deduced that this place must roughly correspond to Earth’s Arctic Circle, currently experiencing the perpetual daylight of midsummer.

Wen Luan grew increasingly cold. He draped an unknown animal’s fur pelts—taken along with his weapons over himself—and instantly felt somewhat warmer. His hands and feet remained icy stiff; too much heat had been drained from his body, and now even hunger began to assail his senses.

The ice-covered plains stretched out in a boundless whiteness. It was impossible to gaze directly at the sunlight, and one couldn’t keep their eyes open for long without discomfort—it truly seemed like an absolute desolation.

Pressing a hand against his stomach, Wen Luan viciously plucked moss growing between crevices in the soil, preparing to try filling his belly with this meager sustenance. Suddenly, he paused mid-action, slowly collapsed onto the ground, and lay still as death.

A fierce gale howled across the icy expanse, causing granular snow in the depressions to churn incessantly.

Shattered ice fragments danced in the wind as well, shattering into fine mist upon colliding with hardened rocks.

The hungry predators lurking in the snow sensed something amiss. They cautiously scanned their surroundings. In previous years during this season, had there ever been such strong winds accompanied by freezing fog?

Their momentary confusion quickly dissipated as they resumed their search for food. Here, surviving each day was the greatest challenge of all.

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Half a year later.

Darkness enveloped the icy plains; it had become even colder here. Indistinct roars often echoed from within the shadows. This was the most brutal and adverse period—not a single trace of moss could be found. Those struggling to survive battled fiercely against the relentless blizzard that blanketed the skies.

Wen Luan emerged listlessly from his cave, letting out a self-mocking laugh.

The potential of humans is truly boundless, he thought. Look, despite such an appalling environment, I’ve managed to survive.

Luck played a crucial role indeed. The deep fissure hidden within the cave he’d discovered extended far underground, remaining covered with moss throughout the entire polar day. Initially, when he started eating it, the taste was somewhat bitter—but one grows accustomed to anything over time—damn right, “accustomed” being the key word! The Deep Blue Star’s Household Registration Office claim about lost individuals must have been an enormous lie. Why hadn’t he successfully returned yet?

Forget about just one month—it had nearly been six already!

Each day that passed, Wen Luan carved a tally mark on the rock wall using a bone knife as a record.

Excluding the days he miscounted due to sleepiness, it truly had approached half a year. During this time, he also spotted warships sailing through the sky several times, gradually approaching the distant city in the horizon.

To those on the frozen plain, the world behind that energy shield was heaven, while the depths beyond them—undoubtedly hellish—harbored fearsome beasts.

Though Wen Luan appeared lazy, his mind hadn’t been numbed by the icy winds of the frozen plain.

How could he possibly allow himself to degenerate into such a terrifying state as the refugees? Although food scarcity wasn’t an issue for him, safety still required consideration. Those half-starved individuals, barely capable of launching feeble attacks or managing even a single strike, made perfect targets. Once Wen Luan realized there was nothing more to learn from these people, he resumed his earlier practice: kicking any who crossed paths with him aside without mercy.

Wen Luan did everything in his power to maintain the appearance befitting someone from the “civilized world.” The ice surface served as the best mirror. He had no intention of spending his entire life here like some pitiful wretch, waiting for another chance to get “lost” again. Naturally, he needed to consider what would happen if he encountered city dwellers out on the frozen plain. This facade at least ensured others wouldn’t mistake him for a refugee and shoot him on sight.

At times, he would also doubt his situation.

Can eating moss truly provide all the energy my body needs? Wen Luan had only attended the small-town public school, so his knowledge was limited, but there was no issue with his intelligence. Naturally, he found it peculiar that he was still alive.

Perhaps the moss on Deep Blue is simply more special than elsewhere?

He guarded a crevice abundant with moss, and later managed to occasionally catch snow hares and ground squirrels to improve his diet. However, the taste of raw meat was far more horrifying than the bitterness of the moss.

No matter how doubtful he felt, Wen Luan could only silently ponder: Surviving this long is undeniably true. Instead of wasting away to skin and bones, he had actually grown much stronger, even mastering a set of lethal combat skills along the way.

That damned God—could it be that one day when he returns home, he’d no longer drive buses but become an assassin instead?

However, good days eventually came to an end. The bitter cold froze all the moss to death. Wen Luan knew he must find new food within three days; otherwise, this frozen plain would indeed become his final resting place.