DPM Chapter 89-Reunion
Translated by Snowfall77
In the split second that he entered a black hole for the second time, it was finally plain to Wu Xingyun how he’d died ‘in the past.’
His first few years living in the last days, he’d been on guard, wary of everything. Even though he knew it’d ultimately be useless. Still, as time passed, the matter faded from the forefront of his mind. Maybe he’d grow old and die of natural causes, like from a sudden heart attack. One way or another, death would come for him.
But now, white radiance bloomed before Wu Xingyun’s eyes. Yet before the burst reached him, the faint golden glow of an energy shield was cast over his body.
The shield was so familiar. Wu Xingyun’s memories took him back to when the three star stellar system had exploded. How Mozun, using his own strength, had spread a defensive cover while protectively clutching Wu Xingyun to his chest.
That explained why, when the two of them had married, Mozun’s gaze had been so strange and melancholy.
And on their wedding night, when Mozun had been about to die, he’d said all those baffling things.
No wonder……
Wu Xingyun had started believing he still had a long time to be together with Mozun. He’d forgotten that fate had a way of throwing boulders into peaceful waters, stirring up a thousand waves, and putting everything in upheaval.
Maybe this was Wu Xingyun’s time to die, but he had too many regrets. Too much undone.
If his body were torn to pieces, Wu Xingyun wouldn’t have to live with his regrets long. What about Mozun though? He’d suffered two thousand years of loneliness, only to enjoy a few brief moments of happiness before being plunged back into endless pain.
In a twinkling of an eye, Wu Xingyun fell into the black hole, heart aching inside. Could he have ever guessed how much grief he’d feel for Mozun’s future?
" "Darkness surrounded Wu Xingyun. He couldn’t see anything, he couldn’t feel anything.
He never knew how long he floated. A million years? A moment?
He opened his eyes, finding himself on an unknown planet.
Red grains of sand stretched out in all directions as a fierce wind blew, drenching the sky with red dust.
Wu Xingyun’s body was still invisible and felt uninjured.
Where was he? What had happened to him? Moving his arms and legs around, Wu Xingyun found everything intact. Concentrating on his inner energy, his body eventually emerged amongst the swirling sands.
His body was normal, he hadn’t died. It was back to the question of where was he and when was he?
Wu Xingyun scanned what he could see of the land, finding no signs of population. He couldn’t help worrying—the last time he went black hole exploring, he ended up two thousand years in the past. He wouldn’t have gone twenty thousand years into the past, right?
Giving himself a slap on the head, Wu Xingyun started walking in a random direction.
After wandering for about an hour, Wu Xingyun saw in the distance what looked like buildings.
It seemed to be a Federation-style base, with a semicircular, mostly submerged bunker with the Federation symbol at the top.
Beyond it was a large expanse of cultivated land, protected from the red sand by glass alloy greenhouses.
Wu Xingyun couldn’t tell how many greenhouses there were, though he immediately recognized what was growing in them. A special variety of yam, researched and developed by the Federation, that easily adapted to growing in any climate.
Then Wu Xingyun spotted what looked like a man closing one of the glass doors against the sandstorm a little ways off.
Closing and opening the glass doors should be automated. They’d only require manual operation if they were stuck.
Nevertheless, the sandstorm was so intense, Wu Xingyun figured the door must have jammed.
Noting that the man was wearing Federation farming attire, Wu Xingyun was about to go ask the farmer where and when he was.
However Wu Xingyun only made it two steps before realizing he’d gone back to being invisible. If he materialized out of nowhere, he’d probably scare the poor farmer witless. But just as Wu Xingyun was summoning the energy to appear, the man at the greenhouse door turned around.
Seeing the man’s face, Wu Xingyun froze in astonishment.
It was a familiar face, with light gray eyes, faintly wrinkled, topped by short hair. The figure was still tall and thin. Although the hands had changed, the skin looking rough from work and exposure.
Wu Xingyun was unconsciously holding his breath. It was……it was Wen Nuo……
He was no longer the company commander with the gentle smile from Wu Xingyun’s memories. Yet without a doubt, peering at that face, Wu Xingyun knew it was Wen Nuo.
From the looks of it, Wen Nuo was about twenty years older than when Wu Xingyun last saw him, time having left its subtle traces.
Then, amidst the raging dust and wind, Wen Nuo stared blankly for a moment in Wu Xingyun’s direction.
Only to see nothing except for sand ceaselessly blowing.
“I thought……you’d come……” Wen Nuo muttered to himself before turning back around, shoving hard at the stuck door.
Still invisible, Wu Xingyun softly walked over to the other man.
What had happened in the past years? When Wu Xingyun had left, Wen Nuo had risen to the rank of admiral. Why was he a farmer now? Had he been banished to this awful place where even a bird wouldn’t bother to shit?
The wind and sand was getting more and more dire, sand piling atop sand, making Wen Nuo’s task extra difficult.
When Wen Nuo had fired a nuclear warhead at Wu Xingyun years ago, Wu Xingyun had been grieved. But he’d never held a grudge against Wen Nuo.
Now, watching Wen Nuo strain, Wu Xingyun couldn’t stop himself from extending an unseen hand and helping Wen Nuo finally close the door.
It shut with a bang. Wen Nuo leaned against it for a second, before heading towards the base.
Wu Xingyun followed, the storming sand erasing his footprints, his presence undetected.
Halfway there, Wen Nuo covered his nose and mouth, running the rest of the way to the entrance. The entrance slowly slid open. Wu Xingyun took advantage to enter alongside Wen Nuo, reading the sign of it as he slipped in—Federation South Galactic Border Farm Base.
The base was tiny, consisting of a small landing area, a random assortment of farming equipment, and about ten houses.
Catching sight of a time meter, Wu Xingyun saw the date. According to the Federation calendar, it was September 10, 2034.
He was truly back? Had the ten years he’d spent in the past, in the last days, been just a dream?
Wu Xingyun looked down at his body. No, he was still couldn’t be seen.
If it wasn’t for the constancy of his invisibility, Wu Xingyun might have thought his decade with Mozun was a figment of his imagination.
Wen Nuo approached his private room. Wu Xingyun stayed back, still trying to process that he’d returned to where he belonged, just two decades later.
Going into his room, Wen Nuo closed the iron door, then removed his coat. Shaking the sand off himself, he sighed and sat at the table.
The room was spartan, hardly different than a prison cell. Not what Wen Nuo would have pictured for himself.
Sentenced by military tribunal, Wen Nuo had been exiled to the border, where he’d been farming yams for about two decades.
In all those years, he’d never left the planet. And he’d never forgotten how he came to be there.
The galaxy’s state of affairs had changed a great deal, but what did it have to do with him? His mind was always caught in the past, replaying the sound of a young man’s voice filled with absolute trust. A calm voice to the very end, saying: “It doesn’t matter, I don’t blame you.”
Burying his head in one hand, Wen Nuo reached into a drawer with the other, pulling out a bottle of wine.
His only companion on this desolate planet had been a dog.
Three days ago, the faithful dog had died of old age, leaving Wen Nuo the last one left.
The honor and the glory of supposedly killing the Night Shard, the brilliant achievement of ambushing the Alliance Demon, had long since vanished into thin air. Wen Nuo understood his situation clearly. He would spend the rest of his life on this hellhole of a planet.
Or, more likely, when the Night Shard was done completely vanquishing the Federation, he’d kill Wen Nuo.
It didn’t matter. For everything he’d done, Wen Nuo felt no regret and had no guilt. Except for one thing.
What had happened to Wu Xingyun. Almost every night Wen Nuo woke up from nightmares about it.
He’d dream about Wu Xingyun’s trusting, serene face, hear quiet words.
“It doesn’t matter, I don’t blame you.”
“I will always remember you.” Wen Nuo had told the soldier in return. And now Wen Nuo was reduced to whispering, “I’m sorry……,” to an empty room.
Drinking for a while, eventually Wen Nuo got up and walked to the base’s observatory.
The observatory was old, built to view stars that weren’t the Federation’s territory.
Besides the farming, Wen Nuo’s other main task was to monitor the neighboring Andromeda Galaxy.
Giving the records his habitual onceover, Wen Nuo lit a cigarette, noting that the blazing sandstorm was finally over.
As was also his habit, Wen Nuo made his way up the rooftop, where he’d be able to stare into the vastness of that other galaxy.
Taking a seat, Wen Nuo recalled for no good reason what he’d said to Wu Xingyun one night: “I could fly you there……we could go to Andromeda galaxy……”
Then, with his own hands, Wen Nuo had killed that person.
Lighting another cigarette, Wen Nuo gloomily smoked as he gazed up into the cosmos.
“I’m sorry, Wu Xingyun,” Wen Nuo muttered. His life was very boring and very lonely. He didn’t have much else to do other than talk to himself.
His voice grew even lower: “It’d be so good if you were alive……”
“I used to think honor, victory, was important, but it’s been twenty years, and I finally get it……I had no right to ask you to sacrifice yourself……”
“I don’t know, if you’re in the underworld, can you hear me……” Wen Nuo took a deep drag on his cigarette after giving a bitter laugh, “I don’t think I deserve to be forgiven……”
The furrows between his brows were deeper, a few stray white hairs showing on his scalp. He was a middle-aged failure of a man on a still night, staring up at starry skies while hopelessly thinking of a small soldier who’d once been under his command.
Little did he know that very soldier was standing behind him, listening to him quietly.
Part of Wu Xingyun’s silence was that he’d never considered, so many years after his ‘death,’ that Wen Nuo would still be repenting and blaming himself for what had happened.
Wen Nuo’s hair was turning grizzled, his face no longer young and smooth. Time was a merciless thing.
An ashen smoke ring puffed out from Wen Nuo’s lips and Wu Xingyun couldn’t help himself anymore: “I don’t blame you.”
Suddenly turning around in surprise, Wen Nuo took in the most incredible sight of his life.
DPM Chapter 89-Reunion
Translated by Snowfall77
In the split second that he entered a black hole for the second time, it was finally plain to Wu Xingyun how he’d died ‘in the past.’
His first few years living in the last days, he’d been on guard, wary of everything. Even though he knew it’d ultimately be useless. Still, as time passed, the matter faded from the forefront of his mind. Maybe he’d grow old and die of natural causes, like from a sudden heart attack. One way or another, death would come for him.
But now, white radiance bloomed before Wu Xingyun’s eyes. Yet before the burst reached him, the faint golden glow of an energy shield was cast over his body.
The shield was so familiar. Wu Xingyun’s memories took him back to when the three star stellar system had exploded. How Mozun, using his own strength, had spread a defensive cover while protectively clutching Wu Xingyun to his chest.
That explained why, when the two of them had married, Mozun’s gaze had been so strange and melancholy.
And on their wedding night, when Mozun had been about to die, he’d said all those baffling things.
No wonder……
Wu Xingyun had started believing he still had a long time to be together with Mozun. He’d forgotten that fate had a way of throwing boulders into peaceful waters, stirring up a thousand waves, and putting everything in upheaval.
Maybe this was Wu Xingyun’s time to die, but he had too many regrets. Too much undone.
If his body were torn to pieces, Wu Xingyun wouldn’t have to live with his regrets long. What about Mozun though? He’d suffered two thousand years of loneliness, only to enjoy a few brief moments of happiness before being plunged back into endless pain.
In a twinkling of an eye, Wu Xingyun fell into the black hole, heart aching inside. Could he have ever guessed how much grief he’d feel for Mozun’s future?
" "Darkness surrounded Wu Xingyun. He couldn’t see anything, he couldn’t feel anything.
He never knew how long he floated. A million years? A moment?
He opened his eyes, finding himself on an unknown planet.
Red grains of sand stretched out in all directions as a fierce wind blew, drenching the sky with red dust.
Wu Xingyun’s body was still invisible and felt uninjured.
Where was he? What had happened to him? Moving his arms and legs around, Wu Xingyun found everything intact. Concentrating on his inner energy, his body eventually emerged amongst the swirling sands.
His body was normal, he hadn’t died. It was back to the question of where was he and when was he?
Wu Xingyun scanned what he could see of the land, finding no signs of population. He couldn’t help worrying—the last time he went black hole exploring, he ended up two thousand years in the past. He wouldn’t have gone twenty thousand years into the past, right?
Giving himself a slap on the head, Wu Xingyun started walking in a random direction.
After wandering for about an hour, Wu Xingyun saw in the distance what looked like buildings.
It seemed to be a Federation-style base, with a semicircular, mostly submerged bunker with the Federation symbol at the top.
Beyond it was a large expanse of cultivated land, protected from the red sand by glass alloy greenhouses.
Wu Xingyun couldn’t tell how many greenhouses there were, though he immediately recognized what was growing in them. A special variety of yam, researched and developed by the Federation, that easily adapted to growing in any climate.
Then Wu Xingyun spotted what looked like a man closing one of the glass doors against the sandstorm a little ways off.
Closing and opening the glass doors should be automated. They’d only require manual operation if they were stuck.
Nevertheless, the sandstorm was so intense, Wu Xingyun figured the door must have jammed.
Noting that the man was wearing Federation farming attire, Wu Xingyun was about to go ask the farmer where and when he was.
However Wu Xingyun only made it two steps before realizing he’d gone back to being invisible. If he materialized out of nowhere, he’d probably scare the poor farmer witless. But just as Wu Xingyun was summoning the energy to appear, the man at the greenhouse door turned around.
Seeing the man’s face, Wu Xingyun froze in astonishment.
It was a familiar face, with light gray eyes, faintly wrinkled, topped by short hair. The figure was still tall and thin. Although the hands had changed, the skin looking rough from work and exposure.
Wu Xingyun was unconsciously holding his breath. It was……it was Wen Nuo……
He was no longer the company commander with the gentle smile from Wu Xingyun’s memories. Yet without a doubt, peering at that face, Wu Xingyun knew it was Wen Nuo.
From the looks of it, Wen Nuo was about twenty years older than when Wu Xingyun last saw him, time having left its subtle traces.
Then, amidst the raging dust and wind, Wen Nuo stared blankly for a moment in Wu Xingyun’s direction.
Only to see nothing except for sand ceaselessly blowing.
“I thought……you’d come……” Wen Nuo muttered to himself before turning back around, shoving hard at the stuck door.
Still invisible, Wu Xingyun softly walked over to the other man.
What had happened in the past years? When Wu Xingyun had left, Wen Nuo had risen to the rank of admiral. Why was he a farmer now? Had he been banished to this awful place where even a bird wouldn’t bother to shit?
The wind and sand was getting more and more dire, sand piling atop sand, making Wen Nuo’s task extra difficult.
When Wen Nuo had fired a nuclear warhead at Wu Xingyun years ago, Wu Xingyun had been grieved. But he’d never held a grudge against Wen Nuo.
Now, watching Wen Nuo strain, Wu Xingyun couldn’t stop himself from extending an unseen hand and helping Wen Nuo finally close the door.
It shut with a bang. Wen Nuo leaned against it for a second, before heading towards the base.
Wu Xingyun followed, the storming sand erasing his footprints, his presence undetected.
Halfway there, Wen Nuo covered his nose and mouth, running the rest of the way to the entrance. The entrance slowly slid open. Wu Xingyun took advantage to enter alongside Wen Nuo, reading the sign of it as he slipped in—Federation South Galactic Border Farm Base.
The base was tiny, consisting of a small landing area, a random assortment of farming equipment, and about ten houses.
Catching sight of a time meter, Wu Xingyun saw the date. According to the Federation calendar, it was September 10, 2034.
He was truly back? Had the ten years he’d spent in the past, in the last days, been just a dream?
Wu Xingyun looked down at his body. No, he was still couldn’t be seen.
If it wasn’t for the constancy of his invisibility, Wu Xingyun might have thought his decade with Mozun was a figment of his imagination.
Wen Nuo approached his private room. Wu Xingyun stayed back, still trying to process that he’d returned to where he belonged, just two decades later.
Going into his room, Wen Nuo closed the iron door, then removed his coat. Shaking the sand off himself, he sighed and sat at the table.
The room was spartan, hardly different than a prison cell. Not what Wen Nuo would have pictured for himself.
Sentenced by military tribunal, Wen Nuo had been exiled to the border, where he’d been farming yams for about two decades.
In all those years, he’d never left the planet. And he’d never forgotten how he came to be there.
The galaxy’s state of affairs had changed a great deal, but what did it have to do with him? His mind was always caught in the past, replaying the sound of a young man’s voice filled with absolute trust. A calm voice to the very end, saying: “It doesn’t matter, I don’t blame you.”
Burying his head in one hand, Wen Nuo reached into a drawer with the other, pulling out a bottle of wine.
His only companion on this desolate planet had been a dog.
Three days ago, the faithful dog had died of old age, leaving Wen Nuo the last one left.
The honor and the glory of supposedly killing the Night Shard, the brilliant achievement of ambushing the Alliance Demon, had long since vanished into thin air. Wen Nuo understood his situation clearly. He would spend the rest of his life on this hellhole of a planet.
Or, more likely, when the Night Shard was done completely vanquishing the Federation, he’d kill Wen Nuo.
It didn’t matter. For everything he’d done, Wen Nuo felt no regret and had no guilt. Except for one thing.
What had happened to Wu Xingyun. Almost every night Wen Nuo woke up from nightmares about it.
He’d dream about Wu Xingyun’s trusting, serene face, hear quiet words.
“It doesn’t matter, I don’t blame you.”
“I will always remember you.” Wen Nuo had told the soldier in return. And now Wen Nuo was reduced to whispering, “I’m sorry……,” to an empty room.
Drinking for a while, eventually Wen Nuo got up and walked to the base’s observatory.
The observatory was old, built to view stars that weren’t the Federation’s territory.
Besides the farming, Wen Nuo’s other main task was to monitor the neighboring Andromeda Galaxy.
Giving the records his habitual onceover, Wen Nuo lit a cigarette, noting that the blazing sandstorm was finally over.
As was also his habit, Wen Nuo made his way up the rooftop, where he’d be able to stare into the vastness of that other galaxy.
Taking a seat, Wen Nuo recalled for no good reason what he’d said to Wu Xingyun one night: “I could fly you there……we could go to Andromeda galaxy……”
Then, with his own hands, Wen Nuo had killed that person.
Lighting another cigarette, Wen Nuo gloomily smoked as he gazed up into the cosmos.
“I’m sorry, Wu Xingyun,” Wen Nuo muttered. His life was very boring and very lonely. He didn’t have much else to do other than talk to himself.
His voice grew even lower: “It’d be so good if you were alive……”
“I used to think honor, victory, was important, but it’s been twenty years, and I finally get it……I had no right to ask you to sacrifice yourself……”
“I don’t know, if you’re in the underworld, can you hear me……” Wen Nuo took a deep drag on his cigarette after giving a bitter laugh, “I don’t think I deserve to be forgiven……”
The furrows between his brows were deeper, a few stray white hairs showing on his scalp. He was a middle-aged failure of a man on a still night, staring up at starry skies while hopelessly thinking of a small soldier who’d once been under his command.
Little did he know that very soldier was standing behind him, listening to him quietly.
Part of Wu Xingyun’s silence was that he’d never considered, so many years after his ‘death,’ that Wen Nuo would still be repenting and blaming himself for what had happened.
Wen Nuo’s hair was turning grizzled, his face no longer young and smooth. Time was a merciless thing.
An ashen smoke ring puffed out from Wen Nuo’s lips and Wu Xingyun couldn’t help himself anymore: “I don’t blame you.”
Suddenly turning around in surprise, Wen Nuo took in the most incredible sight of his life.
