Chapter 8: Who Are You?

Six months was sufficient for Wen Luan to become thoroughly familiar with this wind-swept frozen plain.

Where there were icy rocks, beneath the frozen layer still lay land; further ahead stretched the sea. This area was close to the city’s energy shield, and as warships and transport vessels entered and exited, their residual warmth alleviated the extreme cold somewhat. However, deep within the frozen plain it became terrifying—the fierce blizzard blew so strongly that one could barely keep their eyes open.

Moreover, what use would it be for him to walk towards the coast?

Could he possibly cross the vast ocean just to reach an uninhabited small island and struggle for survival alone?

Wen Luan braved the gale-force winds and stepped out from his dwelling in the stone cave. Outside, everything was pitch-black, the wind howling shrilly like countless ghosts letting out piercing laughter. Yet Wen Luan felt invigorated; even his consciousness, previously dulled by hunger-induced dizziness, now sharpened into clarity.

He cautiously scanned his surroundings.

In this place, many caves suitable for shelter existed, and few ice plain refugees ever appeared in this direction. Nevertheless, he remained concerned about the safety of his temporary abode. After all, once the harsh winter passed, moss would again flourish in the crevices at the bottom of his cave.

Guided by intuition, Wen Luan randomly chose a direction to follow.

He wrapped his neck with the fur of some unknown animal, ensuring even his ears were protected. Due to the language barrier, he still hadn’t figured out where these frozen plain refugees obtained such cold-resistant materials. The fur was snow-white, its texture soft, and remarkably water-repellent—it wouldn’t get wet despite contact with moisture. Upon closer inspection, one could discern that the skin’s hair was divided into three layers, thick and densely packed. It must have come from a beast native to the icy tundra.

Yet Wen Luan had never seen any animals larger than rabbits in this place before.

After walking for approximately an hour, Wen Luan encountered nothing at all. He felt perplexed; could it be that every single one of those frozen plain refugees had perished? He’d planned on trailing one of them to discover exactly what these people ate during winter.

A hint of blood wafted through the frigid wind.

To Wen Luan, whose mouth had grown bitter from eating moss day after day, this scent was as distinct as a lighthouse beacon piercing the darkness of night.

It was the aroma of life itself!

On the frozen plain, even a snow hare’s blood seemed more vibrant than that of the refugees. This essence defied easy description—it was the intense fragrance of living beings. The malnourished survivors’ blood barely differed from freeze-dried soil, hard and brittle enough to crumble like stale bread left overnight.

In truth, this keen sense had been honed by weeks of deprivation—days when meat remained a distant memory, elusive as a mirage in the desert.

Wen Luan followed this scent, nimbly running across the frozen plain.

His path chose the areas with the least wind within this terrain, while also avoiding potential crevices in the ice. Before long, he spotted the furtive figures of the frozen plain refugees ahead.

These individuals were hidden in a shallow depression on the ice, their eyes intensely focused straight ahead.

Wen Luan was greatly astonished; he had never seen two frozen plain refugees able to travel together amicably. They always attacked each other, engaging in deadly struggles… So why now were they cooperating so seamlessly in an ambush?

Wen Luan’s arrival caused a slight stir among the frozen plain refugees, but aside from the anger and killing intent flickering in their eyes, they did nothing else. In fact, they even voluntarily yielded a prime vantage point for Wen Luan to observe from.

This gesture immediately made Wen Luan realize there must be a substantial target up ahead.

On the frozen plain, where starvation and freezing death lurked at every turn, everyone constantly sought to conserve energy as much as possible. Engaging in unnecessary combat would indeed be foolish behavior. The absence of internal strife among such a group further indicated that what they were lying in wait for was a significant prize—food enough for all present without fail. However, it seemed somewhat challenging; wary of acting recklessly, they welcomed Wen Luan’s addition, appreciating the extra fighting power he brought to the collective effort.

“Ah…”

Despite his mental preparation, Wen Luan still flinched at the sight before him as he approached.

A group of burly figures, wielding finely crafted metal longswords or bayonets, had formed into a disciplined square formation. Their movements were synchronized and ruthless as they engaged with a pack of snow wolves.

The wolf pack was truly formidable. Even on all fours, each animal stood nearly one meter tall, and when standing upright, their size was even more astonishing.

Their fur blended seamlessly with the Frozen Plain, making them appear like terrifying ghosts in the howling gales. With blood-red eyes, saliva dripping from their sharp fangs, and hot breath puffing out as foul-smelling white vapor, they cut an eerie figure against the landscape.

Wen Luan instinctively clutched the thick fur covering his body tighter. He finally understood where this material came from.

These wolves likely inhabited the harsher sea ice plains beyond, regions rich in food but inaccessible during summer months. Only in winter, when temperatures plummeted and sustenance grew scarce, would they venture here.

And those hunting down the wolf pack—were they residents of Deep Blue City?

So, were these frozen plain refugees waiting here to reap the spoils?

Whew.

Suddenly, one wolf sniffed the air and turned its gaze towards them.

The refugees were hiding downwind, their bodies emitting an truly awful scent. Just as Wen Luan had said, there was no way the wolf pack would ignore fresh prey to attack when they could instead opt for dry, crumbly day-old sandwiches from the previous night. Thus, despite being less than a kilometer away from the battlefield, they remained relatively safe.

The problem lay in the fact that Wen Luan himself wasn’t a day-old sandwich!

Having suffered defeat in his initial assault, the famished wolf—having gone half a day without food—instinctively detected the presence of fresh prey nearby. Without hesitation, it leaped forward, snuffling at the icy surface as it charged with a roar.

The frozen plain refugees scattered in terror upon sight.

Wen Luan ran alongside them, but the hungry wolf locked onto him as its target, pursuing relentlessly without giving up.

When flight became impossible, he had no choice but to fight. Sliding along the ice-covered plain, Wen Luan used the momentum to twist his body mid-air, delivering a forceful kick aimed squarely at the wolf’s waist. Yet unexpectedly, the starved wolf proved even faster than him, swift enough to leave afterimages in the air.

“Damn!” Wen Luan finally couldn’t hold back a curse; instinctively, he shrank his neck inward.

A razor-sharp wind whistled past his throat, tearing through even the thick layer of insulating fur meant to keep him warm.

Wen Luan retreated to a block of icy rock, his back pressed against its frozen surface so cold it made him stiffen. With caution and fear, he watched as the starving wolves slowly approached him.

With his current abilities, even if he encountered wild wolves in the western wilderness, two or three would pose no problem for him.

But these were the snow wolves of Deep Blue’s frozen plains. Their speed and strength were simply too otherworldly! Wen Luan could clearly see how deeply the famished wolves’ claws gouged into the solid ice—considering this harsh climate, animals must surely have thick layers of fat, especially those living in the sea. Without exceptionally powerful paws, how else could wolf packs hunt their prey?

Howl!

The pack lunged directly at Wen Luan.

In this life-or-death moment, Wen Luan still managed to dodge with an accurate small step. Though he tumbled to the ground, his blood boiled with determination. He swiftly sprang up again, forcefully throwing himself onto one of the wolves’ backs. Wrapping his legs around the wolf’s abdomen, he began pounding on the protruding spine along its back with all his might.

Each blow from Wen Luan’s fist was both ruthless and precise.

The pain caused by these strikes made the famished wolf writhe uncontrollably on the ground, desperately shaking its body as it opened its massive jaws wide, eager to tear into flesh. Yet Wen Luan clung tightly to the thick fur on the wolf’s back, refusing to let go.

They slid down along a shallow slope, rolling all the way to the snow-covered valley floor. Wen Luan was dizzy from the impacts, his throat tingling with sweetness as his vision blurred into obscurity. But if he were to let go now, he would become food for the famished wolves; he could only cling on by sheer force of will.

Yet human strength has its limits after all.

In the end, Wen Luan collapsed. As consciousness slipped away, he thought mockingly: This isn’t time travel—it’s nothing but a living nightmare. Alas, back at the Meteorite Town tavern when drinking beer, if someone had told him one day he’d be bitten to death by wolves, Wen Luan surely would have smashed their face with his beer mug until it dripped blood, then laughed uproariously while declaring that even if a wolf appeared on the road, he’d dare drive straight into it headfirst.

Even just having a gun right now would make such a difference!

Wen Luan fell pitifully onto the ground, his clothes torn by the wolves’ claws. The uneven temperatures—cold and warm—caused the exposed skin on Wen Luan’s body to freeze instantly against the icy surface beneath him.

Fetid hot breath erupted from the famished wolf’s mouth. Suddenly, it paused for a moment before violently shaking its head. Hunger brought clarity once more, driving it to viciously pounce again, intent on biting through Wen Luan’s neck.

The snow wolf, sensing the scent of fresh prey, excitedly opened its jaws wide—but then inexplicably froze mid-action.

“Howl.” The earlier struggle had alarmed a distant pack of wolves. Several more famished creatures followed the scent towards them. Upon seeing their packmate holding down the captured prey from afar, they became agitated immediately, hurtling towards the scene at full speed.

The imminent danger of losing its prey once again jolted this famished wolf from its stiffness. The intelligence of snow wolves was by no means low; it sensed something peculiar about this catch. Under normal circumstances, it would have warily retreated. But now its stomach was empty, and after accompanying the pack on their long journey, all its energy had been exhausted in the struggle. Hunger made it disregard any caution. In an instant, one claw swept towards Wen Luan’s neck.

At that moment, a streak of silver light suddenly cut through the wind-blown, snow-covered darkness of the night sky.

Moving with incredible speed, it burst forth from the energy-shielded city district and came to an abrupt halt above the Frozen Plain.

With a thunderous roar, a beam of silvery radiance struck down like an arrow, pulverizing the snow wolf into dust.

The control over power was remarkably precise—Wen Luan beneath the wolf’s claws remained unscathed, not even a hair harmed. However, the splattering blood and chunks of flesh hurled him awake with brute force.

Struggling, Wen Luan crawled up from the ground just in time to see several other starving wolves lunging at him. Each was instantly skewered by beams of light, exploding into masses of dark gray remains scattered across the plain.

“…”

Stunned, Wen Luan gazed upon the swirling blizzard, so absorbed he failed to notice even as layers of frozen skin were torn away along with the ice covering his body.

Hovering above his head hung an utterly bizarre silhouette—one that could never possibly appear in the future—not even in the wildest dreams—and certainly not in some small American Western town. Its presence defied imagination itself.

The flying horse, its wings spread wide, was as graceful and perfect as a statue—its snow-white feathers gleaming like polished marble. Upon its back sat a knight clad in exquisite silver light armor; even behind him fluttered a cloak, making this resplendent attire seem straight out of a Renaissance fresco.

What made this knight particularly remarkable was his innate ability to emit light: both rider and steed glowed with a soft white radiance.

From this knight, Wen Luan sensed an overwhelming aura of danger—he dared not move a muscle.

As if I’d joke about it, he thought—the chunks of snow wolf carcass were still fresh in his mind.

With a beat of its wings, the flying horse began a gradual descent. Finally, its hooves hung suspended mere half a meter above the ground.

Wen Luan’s pupils contracted sharply. The open snowy-white wings of the flying horse… were actually reflecting light? They shone like sharp metal edges!

As the creature lowered further, Wen Luan finally got a clear look at the knight—a sight almost too incredible to believe. The eyes of the flying horse were small glowing screens displaying numbers that scrolled across them one by one. Those muscular limbs and powerful wings all shimmered with a metallic sheen, revealing no seams whatsoever. Yet the mane floating wildly on its back against the gale-force winds existed only as an illusion.

Similarly, the knight atop the flying horse appeared entirely unreal. His fair skin seemed crafted from high-quality silver itself, while strands of hair drifted ethereally around him, each strand nothing more than a phantom image.

The knight slowly raised his arm with stiff movements, gradually pushing up his visor to reveal a handsome face. Unfortunately, the knight’s eyes—those same electronic orbs flickering with blue light—clearly proved he was no human.

“Raymond Gaeton holder detected—a danger condition met for emergency autonomous activation. Reporting status: Xi’er at seventy percent activation, selecting autonomous mode—ground combat configuration.”

The knight descended from the flying horse at a leisurely pace. Though he stood barely two meters tall, when one foot touched the ice surface, it caused a violent shudder. Massive cracks radiated outward along the sole of his boot.

His other foot remained frozen mid-air as his electronic eyes flashed once more:

“Activating anti-gravity device.”

After this mechanical voice finished speaking, the knight steadily lowered his remaining foot without any further disturbance.

He closed his eyes then, resembling nothing so much as an elegant noble—save for his slow and rigid gait. Placing his right hand on his chest, he bowed towards Wen Luan in a gesture of respect:

“Designated target location reached. Awaiting next orders.”

Even the flying horse followed suit, bending its front hooves and lowering its head in deference.

Wen Luan understood not a single word spoken by the knight. However, having been thoroughly bewildered by this nightmarish scene, he could only gape before eventually closing his mouth again. Finally, instinct took over, prompting him to ask hesitantly, “Wh-who… who are you?”

The knight abruptly raised his head; this movement was so swift that Wen Luan swore he heard the terrifying sound of metal scraping against itself.

Symbols flickered madly within the knight’s eyes at such speed that they left Wen Luan dizzy just trying to follow them.

“Language analysis… No match found in database search. Linking to Deep Blue’s highest research institute—no result… Linking to Deep Blue’s museum—target confirmed: English, specifically used for lost persons and lost research purposes. Data replication and transmission ongoing… Hmm, include this one too—all data being copied.”

Three minutes later, the knight’s eyes finally returned to normal. This time, when he spoke again, it was with a perfect London accent:

“Greetings, holder of Raymond Gaeton. I am Xi’er.”

“…”

In a humane gesture, the knight tilted his head slightly before bowing deeply once more. “You possess the highest authority. From now on, I will obey your commands.”

Wen Luan found himself utterly bewildered. After staring blankly for several moments, he could only manage to utter, “Who are you?”

Who is this guy?! What exactly is going on here?

“My name is Xi’er…” The knight paused after responding, his electronic eyes continuing their frenzied display for another five minutes. Then, his cold yet handsome metallic visage swiftly reconfigured into a smile. “Based on the description provided using this language,” he said, “I should be what you call—a mecha.”