109 Fellow Travelers in Misfortune

After walking for a while longer, a small river suddenly appeared in the woods. The gentle sound of flowing water was so pleasant to the ear, yet Zhong Yun felt as if his burning throat grew even drier and more parched.

At last, the group came to a halt. Amidst great cheers, a group of native women and children emerged from behind a wall made of parasol tree trunks, running toward their families. The atmosphere resembled that of a joyous festival.

The two natives who had been holding Zhong Yun were each taken aside by two equally tall native women, embracing them warmly.

Only then was Zhong Yun free to move and look over at Zhang Xiao, who had been laid on the ground. Fortunately, Zhang Xiao was still alive. As Zhong Yun tried to rouse him, a group of strong natives surrounded a native woman and approached.

Feeling a sharp gaze upon him, Zhong Yun looked up and immediately saw the distinctive native woman. Unlike the others who wore minimal clothing covering only their chests and waists, she was entirely wrapped in garments, her face painted in vivid reds and greens reminiscent of Earth’s Native American tribes.

The respectful demeanor of those around her made it clear she was their leader.

This woman was extraordinary. Gazing into her amber eyes, different from the other natives’, Zhong Yun sensed an unusual emotion swirling within them.

She approached with her group, her eyes first resting on the unconscious Zhang Xiao. She said something to a man beside her, who then took Zhang Xiao away.

Zhong Yun did not stop them. If they intended harm, they would have acted earlier.

Suddenly, the native woman spoke to him in an unfamiliar language.

Zhong Yun was stunned. Though he could not identify the language, it was certainly not a simple native tongue with few syllables. She then spoke another language, equally complex.

He was baffled. How could an uncivilized native woman command two such intricate languages?

Seeing his confusion, she frowned, clearly disappointed, and tried to speak again.

Zhong Yun was petrified as an incredible thought rose in his mind...

When he failed to respond, the woman’s amber eyes revealed deep disappointment. Resigned, she lowered her head and turned to leave.

Suddenly, Zhong Yun snapped back to consciousness and reached out to grab her. But four or five hands shot out, restraining him and pinning him to the ground.

The native woman waved her hand, halting them, then looked at Zhong Yun with a questioning gaze.

He licked his dry lips and suddenly clapped his hands together. The “bodyguards” surrounding the woman tensed once again.

Ignoring them, Zhong Yun focused on clapping a rhythm.

After a moment, the woman’s eyes lit up with a burst of joy. The woman joined in clapping, their rhythms merging perfectly.

After two more segments, Zhong Yun could clap no further. He looked at the woman—no, the fellow stranded soul on this alien world—with eyes full of warmth.

She stopped clapping and met his gaze. Suddenly, a mist clouded her amber eyes, and a tear slid from their corner.

Zhong Yun’s rhythm was a universal distress signal used by cosmic civilizations, taught to him by a staff member when boarding the ship. In dire straits amid the stars, one could repeatedly send this signal from a life pod; any spacecraft, regardless of type, would recognize it.

Learning this native leader was like him—a survivor of a cosmic civilization stranded here—Zhong Yun felt a wave of relief. Exhaustion flooded his consciousness, overwhelming him. Before closing his eyes, the last image he saw was her rushing toward him.

Nearly ten days without water or food had left his body weak, sustained only by a fierce will to survive. Now, encountering a “kindred spirit,” the pressure eased suddenly, and he fainted.

“Yun Qi—”

Zhong Yun jolted upright, cold sweat dripping from his forehead, gasping as his heart pounded wildly. After a long moment, he murmured, “It was just a dream...”

His breathing gradually steadied, and only then did he notice his surroundings: a room with a strong exotic flair. The dominant hue was pale green, with simple yet grand lines softened at every curve, devoid of sharp angles, creating a comforting space.

From the ceiling hung several strings of colorful stones tied with rope, adding a touch of authenticity to the room.

This must be her room, Zhong Yun thought, recalling that vividly painted face and those amber eyes.

As he pondered, the door opened, and he met those same amber eyes.

Because of the language barrier, neither spoke. Zhong Yun rose from the bed to the floor and realized that his body seemed fully restored—the hunger and thirst vanished, and his energy was abundant.

He wondered how a single sleep could restore him so completely.

The amber-eyed woman gestured, albeit awkwardly, but Zhong Yun understood she was asking if he felt better.

He nodded and mimicked her gestures, trying to inquire about Zhang Xiao’s condition. After several attempts, she understood but shook her head apologetically.

His heart sank. Could it be that Zhang Xiao was beyond help?

Having endured this harrowing journey together, Zhong Yun and Zhang Xiao had forged a brotherly bond, and the possibility of his friend’s demise weighed heavily on him.

Seemingly sensing his mood, the woman beckoned for him to follow.

They stepped outside, where the scene was different, but Zhong Yun had no heart to observe.

She led him to a nearby room. As soon as they entered, Zhong Yun saw Zhang Xiao lying on the bed. The woman tactfully left and closed the door behind her.

Zhong Yun checked Zhang Xiao’s pulse—it was faint but present. Gently placing his hand back on the bed, he silently prayed, “Zhang Xiao, you must not die.”

Outside, the amber-eyed woman stood guard. Every native passing by, regardless of age or gender, displayed genuine reverence toward her, affirming her exceptional status.

Each time someone passed, she merely nodded slightly. After about half an hour, Zhong Yun emerged. The woman perceptively noticed subtle changes in him, though she could not pinpoint exactly what.

She said nothing and silently walked on, with Zhong Yun following two steps behind. Together, they traversed the entire village.

The village was large; their walk lasted over two hours.

The perimeter was enclosed by a ten-meter-high wall made of parasol tree trunks, tightly sealed. Every few hundred meters stood a native sentinel armed with a spear, their chests proud and expressions stern. A palpable aura of vigilance and severity filled the air.

Zhong Yun realized this place was far from safe; otherwise, the defenses would not be so stringent. But what were they guarding against?

After touring the village, Zhong Yun gathered some understanding. Metal was scarce; tools were wooden, likely crafted from parasol tree wood.

Judging by their appearance, these tools were remarkably durable. He saw a native digging with a wooden hoe-like tool.

Curious, Zhong Yun borrowed it. Since the leader was present, the native readily handed it over.

The tool was surprisingly light, perhaps less than half the weight of an iron piece of similar size. The handle bore spiral grooves for grip, and the blade was razor-sharp. Wiping off the soil, there was no sign of wear.

At the bend of the hoe, a dark, dense object was tied on, presumably to add weight. This suggested the parasol wood was even lighter than Zhong Yun had estimated.

Raising the hoe high, Zhong Yun struck the ground with all his strength. The blade sliced silently into the soil, dislodging a large clump of moist earth. Zhong Yun nearly fell forward.

He marveled at the tool—light, wear-resistant, and hard. Truly an extraordinary natural material.

To Zhong Yun’s knowledge, even the so-called hardest steel wood paled compared to parasol wood.

Returning the hoe, he wondered how they managed to craft such durable tools from this wood.

Lost in thought, a sound resembling a horn echoed through the village. The native immediately dropped his tool and rushed inward.

Zhong Yun glanced at the woman, who made a gesture mimicking eating. Ah, it was mealtime.

---

At the Ministry of Aviation in Wol City, Wol Star, Davo:

“What? The Tongguang Star has been out of contact for ten days?” An elderly bald man, upon hearing the report, leapt to his feet and exclaimed so loudly it made the ears of the man bowed over the desk ring.

The latter swallowed nervously, realizing his misfortune in being the bearer of bad news. “Yes, the Tongguang Star sent its last message to headquarters ten days ago and nothing since.”

The bald man suddenly felt dizzy, clutching the desk edge to steady himself.

Over thirty years ago, when Davo advanced to intermediate civilization status, the Gean Empire not only opened a spatial jump point for Davo but also gifted five spacecraft capable of spatial jumps.

These five ships were Davo’s most precious assets. Unless a major interstellar event occurred, they were not to be deployed.

Moreover, after their deployment, daily contact was maintained via spatial sensors provided by the Gean Empire.

Invited to participate in the Interstellar Youth Martial Arts Competition, the parliament decided to send the Tongguang Star. The Minister of Aerospace felt uneasy.

This was the ship’s first interstellar voyage, and its captain was notoriously mediocre. Unfortunately, the Tongguang Star was under the direct jurisdiction of the presidential palace, not the aerospace ministry, and the captain held a highly prestigious identity.

“Make every effort to contact the Tongguang Star. Do not slack for a moment.” Though chances were slim, the bald man ordered firmly. “I will personally report to the presidential palace.”

The man below, relieved, acknowledged and quickly left the oppressive office.

Alone, the bald man slumped into his chair, his usually spirited face seeming to age ten years overnight.

If anything happened to the Tongguang Star, as Aerospace Minister, he would bear responsibility. Someone had to answer for this.

---

Meanwhile, in a deluxe room at the Mingzhu Grand Hotel in Mingzhou City:

“What? The Tongguang Star is in trouble?” Yang Yunrong’s face darkened upon hearing the assistant’s report.

He stood abruptly and paced the living room before stopping and turning to the assistant. “Tell me the full details.” His face was as cold as frost.

The assistant recounted the news in detail.

“Lost contact...” Yang Yunrong sank back onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes.

How could he explain this to Yun Qi? Bitterness filled his mouth.

Yang Yunrong had exerted much effort behind the scenes for Zhong Yun’s selection to the base training. When Zhong Yun was admitted to the Mingzhu School as Wol Star’s top student, he was astonished. Zhong Yun’s progress was remarkable—could he have been a late bloomer?

Regardless, Zhong Yun’s achievements pleased him. In his heart, the former Zhong Yun was unworthy of his sister, but now, though still lacking, he was starting to show promise. With further training, perhaps he could become someone of note.

Holding this hope, he pushed for Zhong Yun’s selection to the base. Zhong Yun’s performance there astonished him further, revealing not only talent but excellent aptitude.

Later, learning of the upcoming intermediate civilization youth martial arts competition, he secured a quota for Zhong Yun. Otherwise, given Zhong Yun’s background, he would never have qualified. Yang Siqing also contributed greatly behind the scenes.

If the Tongguang Star had truly met disaster, Yang Yunrong would bear the greatest responsibility for Zhong Yun’s death.

That night, a visitor came to Zhong Yun’s home—the very Yang Siqing who once lived there for a time...

---

On an unknown planet, Zhong Yun and the amber-eyed woman sat side by side, eating. There were only two foods: small pink fruits the size of quail eggs, tart and sweet, reminiscent of plums but juicier; and roasted meat, unseasoned but naturally salty.

Zhong Yun watched as she tore the meat into small pieces, eating with delicate, refined manners.

Suddenly, he tapped his chest and said, “Zhong Yun,” then pointed to her.

Her amber eyes narrowed slightly as she pointed to herself. “Yu Daoqing.”

The name...

Zhong Yun frowned, about to speak, when a sharp sound cut through the air from afar.

Yu Daoqing’s expression changed. She dropped the half-eaten meat, grabbed a nearby spear, and stood.

“What’s happening?” Zhong Yun frowned, rising and following her.

Outside, chaos reigned. Strong male natives rushed out of their wooden huts, clutching weapons tightly.

Seeing their grim expressions and the sorrowful look on the woman’s face, Zhong Yun seemed to understand. No matter how many light-years apart, human emotions were always the same.

They were going to war.

ps: Desperately calling for votes!