Chapter 25: High-Risk Test Subject

Chapter 25: High-Risk Test Subject

The train, carrying supplies, dropped off car after car at various destinations, gaining speed as their seventy-two-hour deadline loomed closer.

Only two cramped train cars remained, with just the two of them left on board.

Jing Rong manned the train controls while Jue sat beside him, monitoring the boiler.

With one hand on the control lever and the other studying the map, Jing Rong said, "Up ahead is the last warzone, Bividok. According to the previous orders from the Ork military, it will be the final evacuation point. We need to stop early."

Jue said, "Alright. This time, I’ll go with you. We’re members of the Geographical Society."

The scenery outside the window whizzed past as Jue stripped off his combat gear and donned his tattered cloak.

The cloak had been washed by the laundry shop workers, and after reaching Jiek Town, they sewed the rabbit fur lining Jing Rong provided into its lining. Now, it had transformed from a thin cloak into a garment warm enough to withstand the cold.

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

He handed the extra pair to Jue. "Wear these. We’ll be hiking through snowfields for a long time. They’ll prevent snow blindness."

Jue knew about snow blindness. He nodded, took the goggles, examined them, but instead of putting them on, tucked them into his pocket.

Jing Rong gave him a questioning look.

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

The goggles were exquisitely made, with a hue unseen in this world—meant only for him, a gift from Jing Rong. He wanted to treasure them.

Jing Rong nodded. "That'll do."

Outside, the scenery gradually slowed as the approaching town came into view.

Jing Rong gently pulled the hydraulic brake, slowing the locomotive. When the train came to a stop, he held up his hands to the Ork sentries outside. "I’m a geographical surveyor from the eastern front. You should have received word—the war train’s tracks are severed."

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

Jing Rong stepped off the train with Jue, facing the rifle muzzles pointed at them. With one arm shielding Jue, he used his other hand to unlatch the suitcase and opened it for inspection.

"All clear, no issues," a soldier said. Another, noticing Jue’s red hair, stepped forward to pat him down.

Jing Rong blocked him with a hand, his eyes holding a smile devoid of warmth. "He’s my exploration assistant. Please remove your hand."

Though his gaze held amusement, there was no warmth in it.

The soldier flinched back, startled, and quickly backed away.

Bividok’s train station was small but heavily guarded, as it lay dangerously close to the western border—the first stronghold for rebel counterattacks. It choked the only land passage to the archipelago and severed the sole route home for the people of Flame-Ridden Isle.

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

They traveled light—just dry bread, cocoa powder, and geology tomes thicker than bricks.

"Strange," a guard muttered as Jing Rong stepped out. "We all want to go home, yet here are people heading toward the warzone."

Jing Rong smiled and offered him a cigarette.

The soldier, confused but pleased, accepted it. "Sir?"

Jing Rong asked, "Is the fighting still ongoing? We’re from the capital and haven’t seen war. We’re wondering how difficult surveying here will be—what with stray gunfire and such..."

The soldier chuckled. "No need to worry. Just avoid the Great Ice Sea, and you’ll be fine."

"The Great Ice Sea?" Jing Rong echoed.

"That’s the deepest warzone. No soldier who goes there ever returns," the soldier said with a mirthless chuckle. "It used to be that way, but now it’s just corpses. It’s extremely dangerous—the exiles from the island hide there, using the terrain to fight us. That’s why the fighting’s so fierce. As for us, we haven’t received orders to advance yet."

Hearing this, Jue reached out and gave Jing Rong’s arm a light tap.

Jing Rong turned his hand and gently brushed Jue’s elbow in silent understanding.

"Where is the Great Ice Sea? We’ll avoid it entirely," Jing Rong said.

The soldier pointed toward distant mountains. "Westward. See those dark blue peaks? Let me tell you—those aren’t mountains. That’s an entire glacial range. It’s just so vast it looks like mountains from here."

"But don’t worry," the soldier added, eyeing Jing Rong. "That glacier is out at sea, still 300 kilometers away. There’s plenty of land and snow plains between here and there. You won’t be going that far, will you?"

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

Jing Rong and Jue left the train station.

Once they left the crowd, the two immediately sought higher ground to scan the horizon.

Jue said, "Brother, that soldier’s words don’t make sense. 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. "Noted. I’ll remember that."

He raised his binoculars, but beyond the glacier, obstructions blocked the view.

Jing Rong called, "626, can you see anything?"

626 replied, "No. My signals seem disrupted."

Jing Rong adjusted the binoculars, tilting them upward until they caught distant clouds—leaden and foreboding, splitting the sky into eerie, shifting bands.

The air carried a salt-tinged dampness.

Jing Rong frowned. "That soldier said the sea is still 300 kilometers away?"

Jue confirmed, "Yes."

Jing Rong shook his head. "If that were true, the air wouldn’t be this humid. The sea can’t be more than 100 kilometers away."

Jue’s eyes widened. "What’s going on?"

"Let me think."

Jing Rong sat on the ground, spreading two maps from his pocket.

One was an expensive, fifty-year-old map he’d bought in the capital. The other was a rough sketch he’d drawn based on their journey so far.

According to the original map, they should have reached Bividok—300 kilometers from Ork’s border and equally distant from Flame-Ridden Isle’s capital, Okvilk.

Flame-Ridden Isle itself was a border territory of Ork’s enemy nation. In theory, heading west until they hit the first sea should have led them straight to Okvilk, Jue’s destination.

But why was the first sea appearing so far east?

Even with drastic geological shifts, an entire sea couldn’t have moved 300 kilometers closer in just a decade.

Jue wondered, "Could we be going the wrong way?"

His gaze fell on another stretch of sea at the center of the map. "We might have gone too far east or west and reached a closer stretch of sea."

Jing Rong stayed quiet.

There were too many mysteries on this land—broken lineages of language, nature and history passed down only through word of mouth. And the closer they got to their destination, the fewer reliable pieces of information they could gather.

Jing Rong said, "There's one possibility."

Jue asked, "What?"

Jing Rong replied, "This map is wrong."

Jue looked surprised. "But earlier..."

"The earlier routes matched. My measurements along the way aligned perfectly. But here, they don't. According to the map, the sea should still be three hundred kilometers away, but judging by the scent of the wind, I can tell it's only thirty kilometers from us."

Jing Rong continued, "Fifty years ago, the Ork high command altered the maps. Their military rail lines only extended this far, and the last planned combat zone ended here. They called this place Bividok."

Jue still stared at him in astonishment.

Jing Rong looked at the distant icebergs, then at the ominously churning clouds beyond, their layers split into a spectrum of colors.

Then Jing Rong said, "The capital of the Isle of Flames lies at the westernmost edge of the Ork continent, an archipelago stretching toward the Stikine-Wells icefield."

Jue recognized the passage he was reciting from that book.

He had read it too—countless sleepless nights when he didn’t know if he’d ever return home, he had memorized those words, etching them deep into his memory.

"The people who live here are warm, hospitable, and fearless. Unlike other islanders who prefer easier access to the sea and fishing, they chose to build their capital on a mainland port, facilitating trade with distant lands."

"Their hair is a sun-fire red—not rose-red, not auburn, a shade no color swatch can reproduce. It could be described as a radiant, fiery crimson, though the author believes the color of the setting sun comes closest. The archipelago is home to packs of island wolves and rare birds, many of which share this same hue in their fur and feathers."

Jing Rong said, "I’ve long pondered about the author’s descriptions of colors. He wrote about many shades he claimed couldn’t be reproduced on a color chart."

"When he described the color of mermaid scales, I couldn’t imagine what it looked like—until the day I caught a mermaid myself."

Jue listened intently, utterly rapt. He didn’t react with disbelief, no matter how fantastical Jing Rong’s words sounded.

To him, Jing Rong’s stories were like glimpses of another world—untouched by war and gunpowder, yet vivid and real.

Jing Rong continued, "The author of this ancient bestiary was precise in his descriptions. The color of mermaid scales truly couldn’t be matched to any color chart. So now, I’m thinking about his definition of the setting sun’s color."

"Generally, crimson and sunset shades are similar. But the author insisted—not crimson, not rose-red, not auburn—a color no chart could capture."

"I’ve been wondering," Jing Rong lifted his gaze toward the sunset behind the mountains, "where on earth does a sunset be so unique that neither brush nor words could capture it fully?"

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

They'd gotten there at four in the afternoon. In winter, sunset came early. In twenty minutes, they would witness the sunset over the town of Bividok.

Neither spoke.

They sat on the rooftop of an abandoned building, Jing Rong sharing Jue’s cloak as they huddled close.

The silence around them was broken only by their breathing.

Twenty minutes passed quickly.

The sun darkened, shrinking into a dull, self-contained orb. Yet the light behind it was gold, the sky a roiling indigo, the glaciers caught in the sunset’s crevices, glowing faintly white.

A fierce wind rose. The light swelled inch by inch, then reddened inch by inch, undulating, bursting, condensing in the silence before releasing its dying warmth.

It was a pulsing scarlet, mingling with luminous, enigmatic tones of twilight and glacial blue—liquid gold of dusk.

Jing Rong stood, taking two steps back, his eyes settling on Jue’s hair.

It was the exact same color.

The author of the ancient bestiary hadn't exaggerated. This was the very shade he had described.

Jing Rong said, "Now I see why."

He looked up at the distant clouds. "This is where ocean currents, land, and glaciers converge. The sky here experiences continuous, intense atmospheric ionization, which bathes this land in infinite hues, turning an ordinary sunset into something otherworldly and magnificent."

626 interjected, "Such intense activity also alters the creatures living here. They’ve evolved hair and fur the color of sunlight as protective coloration."

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

He said quietly, "Bividok, Orkwellk—they changed this place’s name."

He added, "Under your feet. This is your homeland."

This was his homeland.

*

The realization hit like a hammer blow, shattering long-buried memories.

Jue’s expression remained calm as he lifted his face toward the distant sun.

He recognized this color. In that instant, memories surged back.

—A younger version of himself, stumbling, clinging to an adult beside him.

A blood-red sun hung motionless in the sky.

The child Jue asked, "Where is this? How far have we fought?"

The soldier answered, "We’ve reached our homeland. We’re home."

Young Jue nodded. He bandaged the man’s wounds and laid him down against the trench.

The man said to him, "Come here, child. Their bombers need time to rearm. You can rest awhile."

So Jue crawled over and nestled against the man. He fell asleep almost instantly.

By the time he woke, the man had breathed his last. The battlefield grew quieter and quieter, until there was complete silence.

It was as if all noise had been swallowed by silence. The crimson sun still hung high in the sky.

"That memory," Jue said. "Now I know what was wrong."

He watched the incandescent sunset before him, and even earlier memories surfaced—ones from before memory, from when he was still a babe in swaddling.

In that memory, there were no people, no speech, nothing. He had been left on the snow-laden earth, beside a heap of refuse, left to die.

How does a newborn, abandoned infant await death? Perhaps unknowingly.

But he was born SSS-rank—infants of this level possess a unique perception of danger and fate. He doesn’t remember the face of the person who abandoned him. The first thing he saw upon opening those bright blue eyes was the sun in the sky.

It was an extraordinarily, extraordinarily beautiful sun, a crimson sun unlike any other.

The sunlight nourished him for the first time.

Jing Rong looked up.

Jue said, "The sun... there’s something wrong with the sun. They changed the sun. That scene wasn’t my homeland either. The sun in Ockwelk wasn’t like that."

Jue said, "They altered everyone’s memories, everyone’s impressions. They altered the maps, erasing Ockwelk’s existence from them."

Jing Rong said, "Not erased—replaced."

Jue said, "This place is Ockwelk now. 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?"

Jing Rong said, "Probably not."

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

Jing Rong passed the cloak back and helped Jue fasten it. "Regardless, we’ll stay in this town for two nights. After that, we’ll figure out our next move."

Jue nodded. "Alright."

He followed Jing Rong as they hopped 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 climbing gear.

That night, they didn’t plan to rest at the inn. Instead, they pitched a tent out in the wild and lit a bonfire outside.

While they were cooking soup, they encountered a few middle-aged passersby—some red-haired, others not.

Drawn by their equipment, the group approached and greeted them. "Hello, are you outsiders?"

Jing Rong stirred some cream into the soup and nodded. "Yes, we’ve come from very far away. We’re members of the Capital Geographic Exploration Society, here to study the land."

"Oh?" The middle-aged men exchanged glances, intrigued. "Sir, where are you headed? We’ve done our share of adventuring. If it’s a place we know, perhaps we can offer some help."

Another man eyed the soup hungrily. "We won’t ask for payment—just a share of your soup. Is that okay?"

Jing Rong smiled. "Of course."

Jue quietly got more bowls and ladled out the soup. He didn’t join the conversation but listened intently.

"We’re a local exploration team," said the leader, an Orlk. "Orlks, Red Islanders—yes, we call the Isle of Exiles ‘Red Island’ because we trust them all."

Jing Rong asked, "Do you often team up like this?"

"Why not?" The leader laughed heartily, cradling his bowl. "Isn’t that what you and your companion are doing too?"

"There are always people in the world who are tired of fighting," the leader said. "We’d rather go into the mountains to find herbs and food for the children, and we’d rather help each other than cause trouble for each other."

Jue spoke up. "That’s good."

He sat by the fire, stretching his legs out, his expression serene. His blue eyes reflected the flames, glowing beautifully.

Jing Rong said, "We plan to climb the mountain on the western route, to get near the Great Ice Sea."

At this, the group fell silent for a moment.

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

"The Great Ice Plain is the fiercest battleground on the frontlines... No one who goes there comes back alive," the leader said slowly. "And getting there through the mountains is impossible. That’s an extremely dangerous peak—the paths are treacherous. 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," another man added, "but the weather was too harsh. That mountain is constantly hit by blizzards year-round, with avalanches a constant threat. We had to turn back halfway."

"Some others have gone into those mountains before," another said, "but... well, none of them ever came back either."

"Is that so?" Jing Rong roughly estimated the difficulty. "It does seem tough to climb, and the altitude is high. You’d start feeling lightheaded by the time you reach the midway point."

"Sir, you seem quite knowledgeable about the wilderness. You know we’re not exaggerating," the leader said. "You’re both still so young—you shouldn’t go to such a dangerous place."

"So no one has ever returned from there?"

Jue spoke up, asking an unexpected question. "Then how do the soldiers from here get there? Aren’t they fighting on the frontlines?"

His question made the group tense slightly, but seeing the sincerity in his gaze, the leader softened. "From what I know, they sneak overland in secret... The army base here has plenty of supply trucks and armored vehicles. Every two weeks, a new batch of soldiers is sent to the front."

"Have any of those soldiers ever come back?" Jue pressed.

"Uh... that... that’s a difficult question. I’m not sure."

The leader thought carefully. "We don’t interact much with the military... but I’ve heard that very few soldiers sent to the front ever return."

"It’s been over twenty years of war," a red-haired man added. "The resistance on the front never lets up, and the Orlk Empire won’t back down... That’s war for you."

Jue glanced at Jing Rong.

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

Jue held it in his hands, sipping slowly, and said nothing more.

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

Once they were gone, Jue said, "We have to go there and see for ourselves—what kind of military secret the Orlk Empire is hiding."

Jing Rong nodded. "Alright. We’ll head out tomorrow."

The bonfire crackled, its flames dancing.

Jue set an aluminum cup by the fire to warm, staring blankly at the horizon.

He didn’t understand atmospheric ionization, but the nights here were just as dazzling—the starry sky stretched like a vast canvas, adorned with strange, shimmering colors.

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

That was good, even if he had no memories left of it.

All of this was thanks to the person beside him.

Looking up at the sky, Jue suddenly asked, "Brother, what is your homeland like?"

Jing Rong paused for a moment.

The homeland Jue referred to was clearly not the one in the Ork Empire.

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

Jing Rong thought for a moment, then said calmly, "In a place whose name I’ve forgotten."

Jue asked curiously, "Why would you forget?"

"Because I’ve moved between many places," Jing Rong said. "And experienced many things."

Jue murmured, "You must have seen a lot of war. I can tell."

Jing Rong replied, "Something like that."

Jue lifted his eyes, his question shifting to something else: "Then… have you ever been badly injured?"

Jing Rong fell silent. His eyelids lowered, and after a long pause, he answered honestly, "Perhaps. Because I don’t remember many things."

Jue shook his head. "Not that. I meant your psychic energy."

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

"You did once. It was shattered, just like mine used to be," Jue said, watching his face like a wary animal. "Were you hurt so badly before that it destroyed all your psychic energy?"

And no one helped him piece it back together.

System 626 was running in the background, currently sweating bullets and close to overheating.

626 screamed internally, *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 just over two hundred worlds, 626 was intensely curious about this Executive—the most reckless yet oddly detached member of the Executive Bureau.

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

626 wasn’t afraid—it was just that Jing Rong wouldn’t remember even if asked.

This time, Jing Rong pondered longer, his expression serious, not dodging.

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

"I truly don’t remember," Jing Rong said. "It might be as you said—I suffered such severe damage that my psychic energy shattered completely. Maybe I was fighting alone at the time, or maybe no one around could collect the fragments."

In all his time as an Executive, he had never failed a mission, though not all had gone smoothly. Given his abilities, exceedingly few things could harm him.

The only possibilities were certain entities within the larger dimensional space.

"Oh."

Jue drew back into his cloak, thoughtful.

He didn’t want to pry deeper.

His brother had his own origins and path—Jue was only worried about his injuries.

No one could have imagined that a fleeting encounter in an underground laboratory would make this Arbiter part of his destiny.

Jing Rong said, "If you’re worried, you can look inside again."

Jue hesitated. "I… can?"

Jing Rong said teasingly, "Someone once called me ‘darling’ and said it might hurt a little. Why is he too scared to move now?"

He turned to look at him, his dark eyes reflecting Jue’s image, amusement glinting in their depths.

Jue turned bright red at the teasing, grabbed his collar, and pinned him to the ground.

Jing Rong gazed at him calmly. "Go ahead. There’s one of your fragments within me."

Now that the secret was out, Jue wouldn’t have to face dying alone—he could return it.

Though Jue had him pinned, his movements were gentle. He leaned in, gazing deeper into his eyes.

His psychic energy advanced slowly into the dark mist.

Jue found the dark-blue fragment, resting deep within Jing Rong’s consciousness.

But he also saw something else—unlike the featureless black fog from his last visit, this time, something new had grown within it.

It was too soft, too beautiful, formed from his master’s mind—a blend of memory and feeling.

It had formed into a newly grown fragment of psychic energy, belonging to Jing Rong himself.

Jue caught his breath.

He admitted he wanted to see.

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

The process still hurt a little. A light sweat formed on Jing Rong’s brow as his eyes remained fixed on him.

Jue saw…

A glacier, under a sunset so magnificent it turned sky and earth the same color.

A little… red wolf was rolling happily on the ice, its fur almost matching the sunset, its nose speckled with snow.

The wolf opened its eyes—they were a bright, clear blue.

This was the sole fragment that had formed in Jing Rong’s consciousness.

Jing Rong had kept a little wolf.

He was that wolf.