Author: Oilinstor

Over a dozen hours later, Yang Zicang, Robin Lo, and Liang Xi trailed behind the motley crew of the elderly, weak, and frail led by Chief Wang, marching beneath the hazy moonlight. The canyon this decrepit organization had to traverse lay within an abandoned B-grade dimensional space. Though many had entered this time-accelerated zone, the…

Passengers wandered in sparse twos and threes. Beneath the dim streetlights, a man in a woolen overcoat tucked a business card into the inner pocket of his clothes. He glanced at the eternal, unchanging full moon in the sky, then pressed down on his hat, retracing his steps through the stone-paved alleyways, weaving among all…

{Who else is here? Why are there only a few weak bugs like you?} The alien words transmitted from the outside into the mind paused; the thunder ceased momentarily. –I-we were locked in here… by someone.– {So you’ve been restrained too. Did the owner of the crystal flee? Hah, a cowardly fool, trying to use…

But the drawbacks were also obvious. The results of years of training within that space didn’t carry over to his actual body; it seemed he would have to retrain this physique from scratch. Still, at least the experience remained in his mind. If it required more time and effort, so be it. Hang on… Yang…

BOOM! The bonfire violently erupted, its raging flames swept outward like a storm, and the phantom sound faded into nothingness amidst pathos. As the dust settled, Yang Zicang’s gradually recovering form emerged. Athna did not exist, yet Yang Zicang felt an added surge of power within himself. At that moment, with a few screams from…

Suddenly, the crowd stirred, eyes shifting toward the bonfire. Several leaders scrambled over in a panicked crawl, then breathed a sigh of relief. It turned out that the shaman, who had been sitting cross-legged, nearly teetered over—yet immediately straightened his spine and propped himself back up. Beside the shaman, a middle-aged man, after steadying him,…

–Hey, so now you know you were wrong?– Yang Zicang, however, had no intention of getting angry at the primitives. –Woo-woo-woo-woo.– The leader, whose entire coat of fur was scorched bald, crawled forward a couple of times on the ground. –Too bad I’m not the Dragon King, and I can’t put out your fire.– In…

Yang Zicang pulled out the cork, and the child hastily peered in with one eye, tilting the jug as if trying to see inside more clearly by holding it up to the sunlight. Then the first sip went straight into her eye instead. –Wawa!– The child was stunned. She had heard the rescued man describe…

Yang Zicang lowered his head to gaze at his own hand and the flint resting within it. Though it appeared the same as when he first entered, a full decade had passed—and even with the power of acceleration, he had still lived through nearly two years firsthand. –Though this is a dream, for those within…

–Well, now you know you were wrong, huh?– Yang Zicang, for his part, had no intention of holding a grudge against these primitives. –Woo-ow, woo-ow.– The tribal chief, his fur completely singed off, crawled forward on the ground, nudging ahead twice. –Too bad I’m not the Dragon King, so I can’t put out your fire…