books44 Chapter 507 [Empire] Ice Planet
Chapter 507 [Empire] Ice Planet
Chapter 507 [Empire] Ice Planet
The street scene was depressing. Stalls scattered along the dilapidated streets, leaving the once bustling market reduced to shattered remains. The ground, a mixture of snow and mud, creaked with every step. The buildings on both sides of the street were nearly all damaged, their paint peeling off, revealing mottled concrete or metal frames. Many window panes were gone, leaving only broken frames.
The vendors struggled to maintain their stalls, their eyes filled with frustration and fatigue. The fabrics on their stalls were tangled by the wind, and the scattered merchandise looked unworthy. Perhaps these vendors had no choice but to eke out a living selling these shabby items. Despite this, they continued to try to maintain the most basic business operations, and the sounds of bargaining could be heard from the sidelines.
Some of the goods on the stalls were clearly post-war supplies: damaged leather, worn tools, and even strange discarded mechanical parts—these items seemed to have no practical use, at best providing temporary relief to those in dire need. Each item exuded a sense of helplessness, enduring the effects of this war-torn land, gradually fading with the passage of time.
What was even more unbearable was the piles of garbage and debris beside the stalls—they, along with the items, created a scene that was unbearable to look at. Even if I wanted to buy some, I might find some daily necessities, but facing all this, I simply couldn't muster any interest. The chaotic scene on the street left me extremely disappointed.
If you really want to buy, you can only look for those vendors who have survived the baptism of war. However, their products, in addition to scarce supplies, are mostly about the chaos and helplessness after the war.
This shabby street was truly unsuitable for shopping; there wasn't much worth buying. Furthermore, the scene before me left me in no mood to bargain. Instead, I felt a sense of silent bewilderment.
I lowered my head, looked at my steps, decided to give up shopping, and turned to leave this desolate neighborhood.
Qianmo followed me silently like a shadow. The wind from the street blew by, bringing a cold breath and ruffling my hair, but he always kept a few steps away, as quiet as an immovable vine, tightly wrapped around me without making the slightest sound.
His pace wasn't as hurried as mine, but rather leisurely and composed, as if he'd long since grown accustomed to following my pace. His eyes were downcast, never once meeting my gaze, his entire attention focused on the emptiness ahead, as if by some unspoken understanding, he knew I didn't want to be disturbed.
That quietness was particularly striking on this dilapidated street. The surrounding noise and chaos didn't touch him. He stood quietly behind me, as if blending into the city's stillness. Occasionally, a gust of wind blew, and the corner of his clothes swayed gently, as if everything seemed so natural. Each step was silent, as if he was deliberately keeping a subtle distance from me.
I couldn't help but feel a little confused. Why did he keep following me without asking me any questions, or even responding to the casual hints I'd made earlier? But even so, I didn't seem uncomfortable. Instead, this silent companionship brought me an inexplicable sense of security. Perhaps he knew that sometimes, silence is more powerful than words.
His footsteps made no unnecessary noise, and the entire street seemed even quieter because of his presence. The feeling of being surrounded by unspoken understanding actually gave me a subtle sense of dependence. It was like a tree with roots deeply embedded in the soil. Even though it knew it didn't need to say anything, it still felt a sense of unspoken support.
But I still didn't turn around, and continued walking on this dilapidated street at my own pace.
Qianmo's shopping basket was filled with a variety of small items—some that looked like fresh local ingredients, a few packets of seasonings and unknown spices, and small bags filled with dried grass, shredded leaves, and what looked like fruit peels. Each item seemed insignificant, yet each possessed a rustic quality that compelled a second glance. Their color was somewhat dull, perhaps due to the unique climate and soil of this planet, yet they possessed a pristine charm, as if they were the essence of life extracted from this frozen world.
In addition, there were several small packages of dried herbs and tools of unknown purpose, all of which were miniature objects, such as small knives for tending plants, delicate tools for pruning branches, and even a small stone chisel with a few cracks on the surface, as if it had been used countless times. Although these small tools looked simple, they revealed a certain ancient and simple power.
He put these things into his bag one by one, his movements light and practiced, as if he was already accustomed to this kind of small-scale purchase, not even glancing around. Occasionally, he looked up and exchanged a few words with the stall owner. After a simple transaction, he quickly packed up everything, put on his backpack again, and continued walking behind me.
This quiet, calm figure and the rare focus and composure in his words made me feel an inexplicable sense of security. In such a noisy environment, Qianmo was like a careful observer, finding his own piece of peace in the chaos. His quietness made me want to rely on him.
The beverage shop looked rather shabby, with a slightly weathered wooden sign hanging over the doorway, its handwritten inscription proclaiming "Ice Refreshing Drinks." Empty ice buckets sat on a small table beside the stall, their icy gleam in the sunlight, almost making one forget that this snow-covered world was supposed to be warm. Despite the chilly surroundings, the atmosphere of this small shop managed to evoke a sense of warmth. From within, a faint, murmur of music, like that played from an old radio, unexpectedly brought a touch of humanity to this icy world.
Approaching the stall, I could see the owner was an elderly man with a graying beard and a calm expression, as if at one with the frigid planet. He picked up a block of ice, deftly placed it in the shaker, and began to gently swirl it. Behind the stall, a small glass case was filled with transparent ice cubes, each one meticulously carved, appearing both like ice and a work of art. These large blocks of ice were so pure, flawless, and crystal clear that I couldn't help but want to touch them and feel the cooling sensation they brought to my skin and soul.
I stood in front of the stall, a bit bewildered. I'd assumed a planet covered in ice and snow would have hot drinks, even the usual hot chocolate or warm soups, but here, surprisingly, all they had was cold drinks. The stall owner glanced up at me, as if sensing my confusion, a patient smile playing on his lips. "You mean hot drinks? This place... is an icy star region. Hot drinks aren't our specialty here. Everyone's used to these icy, refreshing drinks." His words, though simple, carried a natural, unspoken air of indifference.
I paused for a moment before noticing the dazzling array of drinks displayed on the stall. Each one was filled with ice, some even containing crushed ice, like a refreshing drink enhanced by the chill of the snow. Their colors ranged from azure blue to mint green, even a hint of purple. They looked fresh and inviting, like a unique flavor from this planet. The coolness washed over me, and I could almost feel the coolness of ice water sliding across my lips.
The stall owner picked up a glass of iced drink and handed it to me: "Come, try our signature iced juice, which comes from the native fruits of this planet. It is guaranteed to keep you refreshed all day long." His voice was gentle, as if he was recommending a lifestyle rather than just a drink.
We made our way to the rendezvous point. The snowy plains and frozen ground stretched endlessly in the distance, the air frozen to a near-frozen state, the only sound remaining was the gentle crunch of footsteps on the snow. This silence, combined with the long-dead artillery fire, created a subtle sense of oppression. Every face on our "goalkeepers" was etched with fatigue, their bodies radiating an undisguised fighting spirit. The "naturally hardened" troops, however, presented a completely different image. They were stocky and dark-skinned, and while they lacked our heavy armor, their fearless demeanor conveyed an innate strength.
By the time we reached the assembly point, the sky was gradually darkening, the gloom still thick, and the heavy clouds made it almost impossible to breathe. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the front. The seemingly solid military academy building seemed lonely amidst the snow and ice, and the surrounding emptiness made it hard to resist a chill. Even standing still, the wind was biting, but we maintained our formation, doing our best to appear unwavering in this harsh environment.
The "goal gods" stood at attention, their cheeks stinging from the cold wind, but no one lowered their heads. We faced the snow-covered horizon, no words spoken between the ranks. A familiar silence hung in the air, as if everyone was waiting for some order.
The "naturally hardened" members of the logistics squad were somewhat undisciplined, yet they maintained sufficient discipline in this environment. They occasionally chatted in low voices or stretched their limbs, frozen by the cold. Unlike us, their equipment was not elaborate; most of it was casual clothing specially adapted for this icy world, appearing heavy and practical. Their eyes held a toughness befitting this planet, as if they had spent years in the ice and snow, having long since learned to coexist with the cold.
The instructor stood in front of the team, his eyes swept over everyone, finally stopping at us, and whispered: "Are you all ready? The battlefield has been cleaned up, return to school to prepare, and continue training tomorrow." His tone was not much ups and downs, but every word carried a sense of oppression, making people involuntarily feel the invisible pressure from their superiors.
As the instructor finished speaking, everyone began to move. I turned to look at Qianmo. He remained calm, as if accustomed to this kind of environment. He said nothing, his gaze fixed on the front. Our two teams began to form up and march back to school. Although we were exhausted, both physically and mentally, no one complained. It seemed as if this training had become part of our lives.
Along the way, only the sound of snow and the whistling cold wind broke the silence. Those "naturally hardy men" remained steadfast, burdened with heavy luggage and tools, their steps unwavering, as if accustomed to this arduous daily routine. We continued our march until we reached the vast military academy. The snowy plains before us were once again enveloped in the icy air, a scene that almost made one forget the passage of time.
When we arrived at the school gate, our team dispersed neatly and quickly, returned to our respective dormitories, and began a short rest.
Finally, in the dormitory, I eagerly shed my heavy uniform, feeling a sense of relief. The icy air quickly seeped into every inch of my skin, but compared to the heavy gear, the chill gave me a sense of long-lost freedom. I peeled off my shoulder armor and armbands one by one, and with a few resounding metallic clicks, I could finally feel my own body. Every muscle felt like it was liberated. Although my clothes and gear offered little warmth in the extreme cold, within seconds, my body temperature rose rapidly, and my fatigue gradually subsided.
I glanced down at my clothes, completely coated in a mixture of sweat, snow, and dirt. My skin, unwashed for so long, smelled faintly familiar, perhaps the indescribable bitterness of battle, mingled with the pungent chill and the faint scent of gunpowder. Though my body was nearly numb, I could feel the dampness of my clothes against my skin, the fine, icy particles leaving marks on my skin. The long absence of a shower had left my skin feeling tight, and an itchy feeling spread. I felt a subtle irritation; even simple cleansing had become a luxury these days.
Fortunately, the freezing temperatures of this land of ice and snow seem to offer us a kind of "invisible barrier." Even though sweat doesn't evaporate easily in this cold, the body can temporarily avoid the unpleasant odor caused by moisture. Regardless, this condition is better than a scorching heat, and at least it can prevent the growth of some basic bacteria.
After removing my gear, I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the weight instantly lift from my shoulders. Thinking back to those days of constant guard duty, mission execution, and constant readiness for action, my body felt more exhausted than ever. Every joint reminded me of its presence, waves of soreness washed over me, especially in my back and ankles. After changing into simple casual clothes, I didn't immediately wash up. Instead, I stood quietly, closed my eyes, and savored the tranquility of the moment.
The acclimatization to the extreme cold and the prolonged fatigue made me feel as if I were in another world. This long-lasting heaviness made it hard for me to believe I had regained consciousness.
I instinctively looked up and out the window, watching the snowflakes continue to fall. Suddenly, I felt as if I were in another world, and I couldn't help but smile bitterly. I should have gotten used to this kind of day by now.