books44 Chapter 492 [Empire] Soup
Chapter 492 [Empire] Soup
It was just dawn, the morning light filtering through the gaps in the curtains into the dormitory, the air still a touch chilly. I'd already rolled out of bed and quickly washed up. Though still not fully awake, my body had long since grown accustomed to the intense pace of training. Today was another group practice session, and the atmosphere was tense as usual. Everyone was focused on the challenge that lay ahead.
On the training ground, the air was thick with sweat and tension, the ground muddy from the continuous training. With the instructor's whistle, we began a quick warm-up. Our muscles warmed up with the gradually accelerating movements, and our heartbeats began to accelerate. Qianmo and I worked in perfect harmony, him on defense, me as the front runner.
But today's state was different. I felt exhausted, my movements less agile than usual. Every time I leaped, my footwork seemed weak, and my attacks were slower. During training, I was pinned down by my teammates several times, and I couldn't help but feel a little down.
Qianmo's defense remained rock solid, his plant powers unleashed to their full potential, forming a solid barrier that blocked all attacks. Every time I charged, he was able to block it with a quick reaction. Though his expression showed a hint of fatigue after each counterattack, he managed to remain calm. I could sense his subtle observation of my movements, always reacting in time. Although there was no verbal communication, his eyes seemed to remind me: Keep going.
I felt a tinge of irritation. After all, I wasn't entirely satisfied with my performance today. While our coordination remained seamless, I knew my attack power had diminished, affecting both speed and accuracy. With each failed attack, I felt a growing sense of frustration, and a heaviness in my body. It was as if my body and mind, accumulating exhaustion, were gradually losing momentum.
The training lasted nearly two hours, and I stopped several times to catch my breath. Although I gritted my teeth and persevered, I could clearly feel that I was approaching my limit. Every joint in my body ached, and anxiety began to spread.
During lunch break, I sat on the sidelines, wiping the sweat from my forehead and gazing out at the training ground in the distance, feeling a bit heavy-hearted. My fingers unconsciously tightened around my water bottle, the air thick with the approaching afternoon heat, yet it offered no relief.
During these days of training, I deliberately didn't bring the cyan seedlings and transparent vines. Perhaps it's because I feel I shouldn't rely on them all the time. After all, their energy consumption is increasing, and I can't keep asking them to fight for me. Especially the cyan seedlings, their energy needs are increasing at a rate that I don't like.
The cooling effect of the transparent young vine has diminished. While its attack power remains potent in certain battles, it's gradually becoming dependent on and depleting its energy. I can clearly sense the energy consumption each time it casts an ice sculpture, especially during training. If used for extended periods, I'll see its transparent vines tremble slightly, as if warning me that its energy reserves are quietly dwindling. It no longer exerts its power with the ease it initially did, and the duration and range of each cooling release have shortened. I can no longer burden it with such excessive power.
The green seedlings are even more pronounced. Their branches and leaves seem to grow more luxuriant with each battle, but they also require more energy to sustain their growth. Sometimes I can sense their uneasy "needs." Whenever their energy reserves drop to a certain level, their leaves droop slightly, as if hinting at something. Behind their seemingly docile and vibrant appearance lies a considerable pressure. The more they eat, the faster they grow, the more energy they consume. I know I can't rely on them forever; they need rest, and their energy can't always be available.
I haven't brought them with me these past few days of training, and I've actually felt a surprising sense of relief. While each of my attacks seems extraordinarily labored without their powerful support, and my defense is somewhat limited, at least I'm no longer relying on these plants to compensate for my shortcomings. Perhaps I should re-evaluate myself and reclaim my own strength, rather than relying solely on external help.
I know the cyan seedlings' energy demands are increasing, so I have to carefully balance their use. As for the transparent vines, while they're already somewhat stretched, they're still one of my most trusted companions. I'm not prepared to overuse them, which means I must focus even more on increasing my own strength.
I sighed softly inwardly. The training ground before me was bustling with activity, filled with the sounds of sweat and heavy breathing. Watching my classmates immersed in their own training, I suddenly felt a little reluctant to join in the frenzy. After all, relying on combat plants and the outside world is ultimately insufficient. Their power is always limited, and we can't rely on them forever, especially when their abilities reach a bottleneck or are no longer strong enough. This reliance harbors a hidden danger that could collapse at any moment.
I slowed down and took a deep breath. A bitterness welled up inside me. Those external forces I could rely on gave me temporary strength, bringing me immediate success and achievements, but their power was always limited. Every leaf was constantly expending energy, and once its energy was exhausted, nothing remained. I peeled away their help, peeled away those layers of coating, and ultimately returned to my most primitive self. Neither the devouring green seedlings nor the chilling chill of the transparent young vines could conceal the fragility deep within me.
I remain myself, someone who cannot fully rely on any external forces. In other words, someone who must rely on my own strength to move forward. External support is merely a temporary shield; it cannot replace my true strength or my own hard work.
I looked up and ahead.
I leaned against the railing, the vast training ground before me. The setting sun cast a faint golden glow across the landscape. There was a chill in the air, a cold wind brushing across my face, bringing a biting chill. I frowned slightly, but my mind wasn't fully focused on the scene before me, drifting away carelessly.
"Qianmo, you say, there's no ice-free period on this planet?" I murmured softly, my voice almost swallowed by the wind. I raised my hand and casually grasped a strand of stray hair. Lowering my head slightly, I looked at my fingertips, which had been corroded by the cold, and couldn't help but shiver slightly. The people on the training ground bustled about, their voices lingering in the distance, yet they couldn't match the warmth I longed for in my heart.
This planet's climate is perpetually cold and freezing, with almost no warm spells. Whether it's winter's snow or spring's frost, the changing seasons are shrouded in icy cold. And I, too, constantly struggle within this chill. Occasionally, there are moments of warmth, but they're like a dazzling shooting star, fleeting and rare. Whenever I think of this, I can't help but feel a sense of fatigue, as if I'm constantly battling this cold.
Qianmo stood beside me and was silent for a while. As if he understood the mood behind my words, he replied in a low voice: "Perhaps, the temperature of each planet has its own rules." His voice was gentle, but with a hint of calm thought.
I nodded, a mixture of emotions welling up in my heart.
No one likes the cold, I guess.
I stood by the railing, quietly observing the scene before me. The sunset's glow gradually faded, and the air around me grew colder. A chill wind blew relentlessly from afar, stinging my skin, as if it could penetrate every layer of clothing and reach my very bones. I hunched my shoulders slightly, but even though I moved, I couldn't escape the chill in my heart.
"No one likes the cold," I murmured, a faint sigh etched in my voice. The cold wind blew relentlessly, seemingly freezing me from the inside out. And this chill wasn't just the chill of the weather; it was also a deep, pervasive loneliness. I suddenly felt like I was standing on a lonely island in this endless winter, everything around me frozen, and even my heart, unable to escape this invisible chill.
The surrounding training grounds gradually quieted, everyone dispersing after a busy day. I didn't leave immediately, but remained leaning against the railing as the world before me slowly faded into darkness. Despite this, the cold remained pervasive, as if every inch of air and every blade of soil on this planet were etched with the mark of icy cold. It was the very essence of this planet, and I, too, seemed to be growing accustomed to living in this environment, becoming increasingly unavoidable.
In truth, I know no one likes the cold. Even the strongest can feel powerless in the face of this icy touch. Even I often long for warmth, even a tiny ray, to warm my numb heart. But perhaps, it's precisely this very cold that makes me stronger. Every moment of endurance, every moment of perseverance, seems to remind me that I'm still alive and can keep moving forward.
I closed my eyes slightly, took a deep breath, and let the biting cold wind brush across my face. It was as if in this cold world, I gradually gained my own tenacity and perseverance.
The distance is still far away. But there is a hand holding mine.
I froze for a moment, my gaze shifting from the distant horizon to see Qianmo standing beside me. His face remained as gentle as ever, but his eyes were a little darker, as if he were also a little tired in the cold night air. I suddenly realized that, without knowing when, he had quietly walked over to me and gently held my hand.
The warmth of his palm radiated from me, warm and firm. That hand, without any affectation or excessive words, seemed simply to offer me simple comfort. And this comfort, in the cold wind, became especially precious, like a warm stone, quietly and silently, carrying a tacit power.
He whispered, "Have some hot soup, please?" His voice was low, yet clear enough, tinged with gentle concern, as if it wasn't just a suggestion, but a request. His gaze never left me, his dark eyes piercing with worry yet also with determination, as if he wanted to use this simple bowl of soup to dispel the coldness that surrounded us.
I froze for a moment, the nameless chill in my heart gradually melted away by this warmth. The cold wind still howled through the air, but his warm hand felt like my most cozy haven in this chilly night. I realized how exhausted I had become, exhausted enough to need such delicate care.
I lowered my head, looked at his hand, and felt his warmth and delicate concern. In fact, I didn't need words, just this little warmth was enough to make me feel at ease.
"Okay." I nodded slightly, and my voice was a little softer than usual.
Qianmo breathed a sigh of relief, a warm and sincere smile spreading across his lips. He gently took my hand and led me towards the cafeteria.
Qianmo walked over to me, carrying the bowl of steaming hot soup. Steam curled up from the white porcelain bowl, and the warm air spread with the wind, seeming to dispel the cold around me. His steps were neither hurried nor slow, as if every movement was filled with caution, afraid to accidentally spill the warmth.
He stood before me, looking down at me, a subtle hint of anticipation in his eyes, as if waiting for me to take the bowl of soup, yet also a touch of unease, afraid I'd refuse. Unlike his usual composure, he seemed cautious, like a child navigating unfamiliar territory. That caution, tinged with a touch of shyness, seemed like something he'd never done before, yet because of me, he was willing to do it.
"Drink it." His voice was low, but with a gentle concern, and he gently handed the bowl of soup to me.
The hot steam from the soup rose gently, carrying a familiar fragrance. I lowered my head slightly and saw some green vegetables and meat pieces floating in the soup. They were bright in color, and the aroma emanating from the steam made the air seem to become a little warmer.
I looked up, about to take the bowl of soup, when Qianmo's eyes met mine. There was a moment of hesitation in his gaze, as if waiting for my decision. My fingers touched the rim of the porcelain bowl, feeling the warmth emanating from within. He slowed his movements, seemingly casually handing me the bowl more steadily, as if afraid I'd lose my balance.
I nodded slightly and took the bowl.
"Thank you," I whispered, a touch of tenderness in my voice. It was a feeling of profound gratitude. After all, in this cold moment, such warmth was truly rare.
He looked at me, sighing slightly in relief, the smile on his lips even more relaxed than before, as if this little response was enough to ease the tension in his heart. He didn't rush to turn around, but stood quietly beside me, watching me sip my soup, his eyes so gentle that I almost couldn't bear to look directly at him.