Chapter 25: High-Risk Experimental Subject  

The train, carrying supplies, left car after car at various destinations, picking up speed as it went. The seventy-two-hour window was rapidly shrinking.  

Only two carriages remained on the narrow train, and only the two of them were left on board.  

Jing Rong operated the train while Jue sat beside him, watching the boiler.  

Jing Rong held the control lever with one hand and studied the map with the other. “Up ahead is the last war zone, Bividok. According to the Orc military’s previous orders, we’ll be the last to evacuate. We need to stop early.”  

Jue nodded. “Alright. This time, I’m going with you. We’re members of the Geographical Association.”  

The scenery outside the window flashed by. Jue took off his combat uniform and changed into his well-worn cape.  

His cape had been cleaned by the people at the laundromat. When they reached Jieke Town, they sewed the rabbit fur Jing Rong had brought into the lining of the cape, transforming it from a thin garment into something warm enough to withstand the cold.  

Seeing that the time was almost up, Jing Rong also stood and changed into a more ordinary, worn-out outfit—a coat with the collar turned up, a windproof cap on his head, and a pair of amber-tinted goggles.  

He handed the other pair of goggles to Jue. “Put these on. We’ll be trekking through the snow for a long time. They’ll prevent snow blindness.”  

Jue knew about snow blindness. He nodded, took the goggles, and examined them but didn’t put them on immediately, instead tucking them into his pocket.  

Jing Rong looked at him questioningly.  

Jue explained, “I’ll cover my eyes with cloth. I’m worried about damaging these.”  

They were a beautifully crafted pair of amber-tinted goggles—unlike any other in this world, unique to him, and a gift from Jing Rong. He wanted to treasure them.  

Jing Rong nodded. “That works too.”  

The scenery outside gradually slowed as the town ahead came into view.  

Jing Rong gently pulled the hydraulic lever, slowing the locomotive. When the train came to a stop, he raised his hands to the Orc soldiers outside. “I’m a geological surveyor from the eastern front. You should have received word—the War Train’s tracks are cut.”  

Jue followed behind him, pulling up the hood of his cape and carrying a heavy suitcase.  

Jing Rong stepped off the train with Jue, facing the barrels of guns pointed at them from all sides. With one arm shielding Jue, he used his other hand to unlatch the suitcase and opened it for inspection.  

“Clear. No issues,” one soldier said. Another, noticing Jue’s red hair, moved to frisk him.  

Jing Rong blocked him with an arm, a faint smile in his eyes but no warmth in his voice. “He’s my survey assistant. Keep your hands to yourself.”  

The soldier flinched at the icy tone and quickly backed off.  

Bividok’s train station wasn’t large, but it was heavily guarded—strict and impenetrable. It was dangerously close to the western border, the first stronghold for rebel counterattacks. It controlled the only land passage to the archipelago and severed the sole route home for the people of the Isle of Blazing Fire.  

After layers of scrutiny, Jing Rong and Jue finally passed through the station’s inspection.  

They hadn’t brought much luggage—just dry bread, cocoa powder, and geography books thicker than bricks in their suitcase.

“What a strange thing,” the guard at the sentry box muttered as Jing Rong stepped out. “We all want to go home, yet there are still people coming this way at a time like this.”

Jing Rong smiled and handed him a cigarette.

The guard, both baffled and flattered, accepted it. “Sir?”

Jing Rong asked, “Hello, is there still fighting recently? We came from the capital and haven’t seen the war firsthand. We’re wondering how difficult it is to survey this area. In case of stray bullets or something…”

The guard immediately laughed upon hearing this. “That’s easy. You don’t need to worry, as long as you don’t go to the Great Ice Sea.”

“The Great Ice Sea?” Jing Rong inquired.

“The Great Ice Sea is the deepest combat zone. Soldiers who go there never return,” the guard said with a mocking laugh. “That’s how it used to be, but now it’s only the dead there. It’s extremely dangerous—the Sin Island People hide there, using the natural terrain to fight us, which is why the battles are so brutal. As for us, we haven’t received any secret orders to go to the front lines yet.”

Hearing this, Jue raised his hand and lightly touched Jing Rong.

Jing Rong turned his hand over and gently brushed Jue’s elbow, signaling that he understood.

“Where is the Great Ice Sea? We’ll avoid it when the time comes,” Jing Rong said.

The soldier pointed to the distant mountains. “Further west—see those dark blue peaks? Let me tell you, those aren’t mountains. That’s an entire massive glacial range. It just looks like mountains because it’s so enormous.”

“But don’t worry,” the soldier added, glancing at Jing Rong. “That glacier is out at sea, still 300 kilometers away from us. There’s plenty of mountains and snowfields in between. You wouldn’t go that far, would you?”

Jing Rong smiled. “Of course not. Thank you for the guidance.”

Jing Rong and Jue left the train station.

As soon as they were out of the crowd, the two found a high vantage point and gazed into the distance.

Jue said, “Brother, that guard’s words don’t add up. Our people are all on the eastern front. I’ve never heard of us fighting in a place called the Great Ice Sea.”

Jing Rong listened carefully, then nodded. “Got it. I’ll make a note of it.”

He picked up his binoculars and scanned the horizon.

There were too many obstructions—nothing was visible except the glacier.

Jing Rong asked, “626, can you see anything?”

626 replied, “No luck. My communication functions seem to be malfunctioning slightly.”

Jing Rong raised the binoculars, slowly tilting them upward until he saw the distant cloud layers. The sky there was shrouded in dark clouds, clearly divided into different hues—surreal and eerie.

Damp air drifted through the atmosphere.

Jing Rong said, “That soldier just said the sea is still 300 kilometers away from here?”

Jue answered, “Yes.”

Jing Rong shook his head. “If that were true, the air here wouldn’t be this humid. The sea must already be very close to us.”

Jue’s eyes widened. “What’s going on?”

“Let me think.”

Jing Rong sat down on the ground and spread out two maps from his pocket.

One was an expensive map he had bought in the capital, dating back fifty years. The second was a rough sketch he had drawn based on their journey so far.

If they followed the original map, they should have reached Bividok—a place three hundred kilometers from Ork’s border and equally distant from the capital of the Isle of Blazing Fire.  

The Isle of Blazing Fire itself was a border dependency of Ork’s enemy nation. In theory, as long as they traveled westward, the first sea they encountered would be Oakvilleke, the capital Jue was meant to reach.  

But why had the first sea appeared so early?  

Even with drastic geological shifts, a sea couldn’t have moved three hundred kilometers closer in just a decade.  

Jue asked, “Could we have gone in the wrong direction?”  

His gaze fell on another sea marked at the center of the map. “We might have veered too far east or west and ended up near a different, closer sea.”  

Jing Rong remained silent for now.  

This land was fraught with too many mysteries. Languages had fractured over time, and knowledge of nature and history survived only through oral traditions. The closer they got to their destination, the scarcer reliable information became.  

Jing Rong said, “There’s one possibility.”  

Jue asked, “What?”  

Jing Rong replied, “This map is wrong.”  

Jue was surprised. “But earlier—”  

“The earlier routes were correct. My measurements matched up until this point. But now, they don’t. According to the map, the sea should still be three hundred kilometers away, but I can tell from the scent of the wind that it’s only thirty kilometers ahead.”  

Jing Rong continued, “Fifty years ago, Ork’s higher-ups altered the maps. Their War Train construction only extended this far, and the last warzone planning stopped here. They called this place Bividok.”  

Jue still stared at him in disbelief.  

Jing Rong looked toward the distant icebergs, beyond which eerie, churning storm clouds split the sky into layers of shifting colors.  

Suddenly, Jing Rong said, “The capital of the Isle of Blazing Fire lies at the westernmost edge of the Ork Continent, an archipelago stretching toward the Stretkin Wales Glacier.”  

Jue recognized the passage he was reciting—from a book.  

He had read it too. On countless sleepless nights when he wondered if he’d ever return home, he had memorized those words, engraving them deep into his memory.  

“The people here are warm, hospitable, and fearless. Rather than settling on islands more suited for fishing and sailing, they chose to establish their capital at a mainland port, facilitating trade with other regions.”  

“Their hair is a fiery red, not rose-red, not auburn—a shade no color chart can capture, described as a dazzling Red Glow Color. The author believed it resembled the hues of sunset. The archipelago is home to the Archipelago Wolf Pack and rare birds, with many animals and plants also displaying this striking hue.”  

Jing Rong mused, “I’ve always wondered about the author’s descriptions of colors—he wrote of many shades supposedly impossible to replicate on a color chart.”  

“When he described the color of mermaid scales, I couldn’t imagine it—until the day I caught one myself,” Jing Rong said.  

Jue listened intently, wholly absorbed. He didn’t react with skepticism, no matter how fantastical Jing Rong’s words sounded.  

To Jue, Jing Rong’s stories painted a world beyond—untouched by war and smoke, yet vivid and real.

Jing Rong said, “The author of this ancient biological glossary is very precise with their wording. The color of a mermaid’s scales truly cannot be displayed on a color chart. So now I’m thinking about how they defined the color of the sunset.”

“Generally speaking, the Red Glow Color is almost the same as the color of the sunset. But the author said it’s not Red Glow, not rose red, not maroon—it’s a color that cannot be shown on a color chart.”

“I’ve been wondering.”

Jing Rong looked up at the sunset behind the mountains. “Where could the sunset be so unique that it can’t be captured with a paintbrush or described in words?”

Jue seemed to sense something. He followed Jing Rong’s gaze in the same direction.

They had arrived at four in the afternoon. In winter, the sun sets early, and in twenty minutes, they would witness the sunset over Bividok Town.

Jing Rong didn’t speak, and neither did Jue.

They sat on the rooftop of an abandoned building, cross-legged. Jue shared his Cape with Jing Rong, leaning against him.

The silence around them was broken only by the sound of their breathing.

Twenty minutes passed quickly.

The sun darkened, turning into a dim, inward-glowing circle. Yet the glow behind it was golden, the sky a churning dark blue, with glaciers wedged into the seams of the sunset, revealing a faint white.

The deep wind surged, the light swelling inch by inch, then reddening inch by inch, rolling, exploding, and compressing in the silence before finally exhaling its lingering warmth.

It was a surging crimson, mingling with the magnificent, mysterious hues of the sunset and the glaciers, forming the Sunset Melted Gold.

Jing Rong stood up, took two steps back, and his gaze settled on Jue’s hair.

It was the exact same color.

The author of that ancient biological glossary hadn’t lied. This was an identical shade.

Jing Rong said, “Now I understand why.”

He looked up at the distant clouds. “This is where ocean currents, land, and glaciers converge. The sky here is constantly undergoing intense atmospheric ionization, which gives this place its myriad colors, transforming an ordinary sunset into something bizarrely beautiful.”

626 said, “Such intense activity has also altered the creatures living on this land. They’ve evolved hair and fur colors matching the sunlight, forming a protective camouflage.”

Jing Rong lowered his head, smiling as he took Jue’s hand.

He whispered, “Bividok, Oakvilleke—they changed the name of this place.”

He said, “Beneath your feet. This is your homeland.”

*

This was his homeland.

The unexpected news struck like a hammer, landing heavily and shattering memories open.

Jue’s expression remained calm as he looked up at the distant sun.

He recognized this color. In that instant, memories revived in his mind.

—A young Jue stumbled, holding onto the Master beside him.

The crimson sun hung high in the sky.

The young Jue asked, “Where are we? How far have we fought?”

The man replied, “We’ve reached our homeland. We’re home.”

The young Jue nodded. He bandaged the man’s wounds and laid him flat against the trench.

The man said to him, “Come here, child. Their bombers will take some time to reload. You can rest for a while.”

So Jue crawled over and nestled in the man’s arms. Almost instantly, he fell asleep.

As he drifted off to sleep, the adult stopped breathing. The battlefield grew quieter and quieter until it fell completely silent.  

All sounds seemed to have been sucked away by a vacuum, yet the red sun still hung high in the sky.  

“That memory.”  

Jue said, “I know what’s wrong.”  

He gazed at the dazzling sunset before him, and earlier memories began to surface—memories from before he could even remember, from when he was still in swaddling clothes.  

In that memory, there were no other people, no words, nothing else. He had been placed on the snow-covered ground, beside a pile of garbage, waiting for death.  

How would a newborn, abandoned infant wait for death? Perhaps unknowingly.  

But he was born SSS-Rank. Infants of this level possessed a unique perception of danger and fate. He didn’t remember the face of the person who had abandoned him. The first thing he saw when he opened his bright blue eyes was the sun in the sky.  

It was an incredibly, incredibly beautiful sun—a peerless, radiant red sun.  

The sunlight nourished him for the first time.  

Jing Rong looked up.  

Jue said, “The sun—the sun is wrong. They tampered with the sun. That scene wasn’t my hometown either. The sun in Oakvilleke isn’t like that.”  

Jue said, “They altered everyone’s memories, everyone’s impressions. They altered the maps, erasing Oakvilleke’s existence from them.”  

Jing Rong said, “Not erased—replaced.”  

Jue said, “This is already Oakvilleke. If those soldiers are still being sent further west, then where are they fighting? Do they even know they’ve left the country, that they’re no longer where they were supposed to be fighting?”  

Jing Rong said, “I’m afraid they don’t.”  

About this matter, he already had a vague suspicion in his heart, but he hadn’t yet reached a conclusion.  

Jing Rong handed the Cape back and fastened it for Jue: “Regardless, we’ll stay in this town for two nights. After that, we’ll decide how to proceed.”  

Jue nodded. “Alright.”  

He followed Jing Rong as they jumped down from the rooftop.  

The supplies Jing Rong had ordered earlier had already been delivered to the inn.  

Jing Rong paid the delivery fee and purchased some mountaineering equipment.  

Tonight, they didn’t plan to rest at the inn. Instead, they set up a tent in the outskirts and lit a bonfire outside.  

While they were cooking soup, they encountered a few middle-aged passersby—some with red hair, others with different hair colors.  

Drawn by their equipment, the men approached and greeted them: “Hello, are you folks from out of town?”  

Jing Rong added a portion of cream to the soup and nodded. “Yes, we’ve come from very far away. We’re members of the Capital Geographic Exploration Society, here to survey natural landscapes.”  

“Oh?” The middle-aged men exchanged glances, intrigued. “Where are you heading, sir? We’re something of adventurers ourselves. If it’s a place we know, we might be able to offer some help.”  

Another man eyed the soup pot hungrily. “We won’t ask for payment—just a share of your soup. Would that be alright?”  

Jing Rong smiled. “Of course.”  

Jue quietly took out extra bowls and ladled soup into them. He didn’t join the conversation but listened carefully.  

“We’re a local exploration team.”

The leader was an Auerke man. He said, “Auerke people, Red Islanders—yes, we call Sin Island the Red Island because they are all our trusted friends.”

Jing Rong asked, “Do you actively form teams like this?”

“Why not?” The leader held his soup bowl and laughed heartily. “Aren’t you and your companion doing the same?”

“There are always people in the world who grow weary of conflict and war,” the leader continued. “We prefer to venture into more mountains, searching for herbs and edible food for the children, and we’d rather help each other than make things difficult for one another.”

Jue spoke up: “That’s very good.”

He sat by the fire, stretching his legs, his expression serene. His blue eyes reflected the flames, making them exceptionally striking.

Jing Rong said, “We want to climb the mountain on the western route and take a look near the Great Ice Sea.”

At these words, the surrounding people fell silent for a moment.

Clearly, no one had expected these seemingly experienced adventurers to make such a reckless request right off the bat.

“The Great Ice Plain is the fiercest frontline battlefield… those who go there never return,” the leader said slowly. “And getting there from the mountain is impossible. That’s an extremely dangerous peak, with treacherous paths. With just the two of you, it’s far too risky.”

“Our team once tried climbing it to see what lay on the other side, but the weather was too harsh. The mountain is perpetually battered by blizzards, with avalanches a constant threat. We had to turn back halfway.”

Another person added, “There have been others who entered the mountains before… but the same thing happened. None of them ever came back.”

“Is that so?” Jing Rong roughly estimated the challenge. “It does seem hard to climb, and the altitude is very high. Oxygen would start thinning out by the time you reach the halfway point.”

“Sir, you seem quite knowledgeable about the wilderness. You must understand our warnings are genuine,” the leader said. “You’re still so young. You shouldn’t go to such a dangerous place.”

“So, no one has ever returned from there?”

Jue spoke again, posing an unexpected question: “How do the soldiers here get there, then? Aren’t they fighting on the frontlines?”

His question made the people before them tense up momentarily, but seeing the sincerity in his gaze, the leader softened. “From what I know, they march there secretly overland… Their local branch here has many supply trucks and armored vehicles. Every half-month, a new batch of soldiers is sent to the front.”

“Have any of those soldiers ever returned?” Jue pressed.

“Uh… that… I’m not sure.”

The leader thought carefully. “We don’t interact much with the military… but I’ve heard that soldiers sent to the front rarely come back.”

“After all, it’s been over twenty years of war.”

A red-haired man nearby chimed in, “There’s always resistance at the front, and the Olke Empire refuses to yield… War is just that brutal.”

Jue glanced at Jing Rong.

Jing Rong nodded at him and handed over a steaming bowl of creamy potato soup.

Jue held it in his hands, sipping slowly, and said no more.

The group of adventurers finished their soup, thanked them quickly, and soon departed.

After everyone had left, Jue said, “We must go there to see what kind of war secret the Olke Empire is holding.”

Jing Rong nodded. “Alright, we’ll set off tomorrow.”

The campfire crackled and burned.

Jue placed an aluminum cup by the fire to warm, gazing absentmindedly at the horizon.

He didn’t understand atmospheric ionization, but the nights here were just as dazzling and magnificent, with the Milky Way stretching across the sky like a vast curtain adorned with fantastical hues.

He had reached his homeland faster than he’d imagined.

This was good, even though he didn’t have many more memories of it.

All of this had been brought to him by the person beside him.

Staring at the sky, Jue suddenly asked, “Brother, what was your homeland like?”

Jing Rong paused.

It was clear Jue wasn’t asking about this homeland in the Olke Empire.

In truth, Jing Rong had never hidden his actions or thoughts from him, though he never volunteered explanations either. Given Jue’s intelligence, he knew Jing Rong wasn’t from this world—but he wouldn’t ask outright.

After a moment of thought, Jing Rong answered honestly, “It was in a place whose name I’ve forgotten.”

Jue asked curiously, “Why did you forget?”

“Because I moved around a lot,” Jing Rong said. “And went through many things.”

Jue murmured, “You must have seen a lot of war—I can tell.”

Jing Rong replied, “More or less.”

Jue lifted his eyes, but what he really wanted to know was something else: “Then… were you badly injured?”

Jing Rong fell silent. His lashes lowered as he thought for a long time before answering truthfully, “Perhaps. Because I don’t remember many things.”

Jue shook his head. “Not that. I meant your Mental Power.”

Jing Rong asked, “Because I don’t have any?”

“You did once, but it shattered—just like mine used to,” Jue said, studying his expression like a cautious little animal. “Were you hurt so badly back then that all your Mental Power broke apart?”

And no one helped him piece it back together.

626’s system was running in the background, currently sweating bullets and nearing overheating.

626 internally screamed, *Holy shit! He just asked it outright!*

Truthfully, 626 also wanted to know the answer.

As a new colleague who had only worked with Jing Rong for two hundred-odd worlds, 626 was intensely curious about this Executor—the most reckless yet seemingly lacking in normal behavior among the Execution Bureau.

The other systems were just as curious but too afraid to ask, so they’d begged 626 to find out.

626 wasn’t afraid to ask—it was just that Jing Rong wouldn’t remember even if he did.

This time, Jing Rong thought even longer, his expression serious, not evasive.

Because it was his little wolf asking, he answered earnestly.

“I truly don’t remember,” Jing Rong said. “Perhaps things are as you say—I suffered such a severe injury that my Mental Power shattered completely. At the time, I might have been fighting alone, or perhaps those around me lacked the ability to gather the fragments.”  

Throughout his years as an Executor, he had never failed to complete a mission. Though the process wasn’t always smooth, given his abilities, there were very, very few things capable of harming him.  

The only possibility was certain entities within the vast world-space.  

“Oh.”  

Jue withdrew into his cape, lost in thought.  

He didn’t wish to pry deeper.  

His Brother had his own origins and path—Jue was only concerned about his injuries.  

No one could have imagined that the fleeting glimpse of the Adjudicator in the underground laboratory would become a part of his destiny.  

Jing Rong said, “If you’re worried, you can come in and take another look.”  

Jue hesitated. “I… can?”  

Jing Rong chuckled. “Some people used to call me ‘darling,’ saying it might hurt a little. Why are you so hesitant now?”  

He turned to look at him, his dark eyes reflecting Jue’s figure, a clear, teasing light in their depths.  

Jue flushed at his words, grabbing his collar and flipping him onto the ground.  

Jing Rong gazed at him calmly. “Go ahead. There’s a shard of yours inside me.”  

Now that the mystery was unraveled, Jue would no longer have to face death alone—he could return it.  

Though Jue had pinned him down, his movements were gentle. He lowered his head, peering deeper into the other’s eyes.  

His Mental Power surged forward, inch by inch, into the abyss of dark mist.  

Jue found the deep-blue shard, nestled deep within Jing Rong’s consciousness.  

But at the same time, he saw something else—unlike the empty void of black mist from his last visit, this time, something new had taken root within it.  

It was too soft, too beautiful. Born from its owner’s consciousness, it was a fusion of memories and impressions.  

It had become a newly formed Spirit Shard—one that belonged to Jing Rong himself.  

Jue held his breath.  

He admitted he wanted to see.  

The Chief admitted he wanted to know everything about Jing Rong.  

The process still stung a little. A sheen of sweat formed on Jing Rong’s brow, his eyes locked onto Jue’s.  

Jue saw…  

A glacier, bathed in a sunset so stunning it took his breath away, painting the sky and earth in the same hues.  

A small… red wolf was rolling playfully on the ice, utterly delighted, its fur blending into the twilight, its nose dusted with snowflakes.  

The little wolf opened its eyes—they were a brilliant blue.  

This was the only shard that had grown within Jing Rong’s consciousness.  

Jing Rong had raised a little wolf.  

He was his little wolf.