The night had grown deep.
The blood moon was occasionally veiled by clouds, casting alternating light and shadow across the wasteland. The wind whispered low through the grass, stirring up faint rustling sounds.
Mingzhou and Lin Chuan sat a short distance away from Ye Lingxi, a translucent holographic screen floating before them—the interface projected by their personal terminals.
“Have all of today’s language data been imported?” Mingzhou asked in a low voice.
“Mm.” Lin Chuan’s fingers swept rapidly across the screen. “The Guide said quite a bit. We can begin preliminary analysis of the underlying logic of the language system. The personal terminal’s processing power is limited—at the current computation speed, it’ll probably take until the latter half of the night to finish.”
On the holographic screen, a percentage progress bar was crawling forward at a snail’s pace, the number inching from 23% to 24%, then to 25%.
After a pause, Lin Chuan pulled up another set of data. “Deciphering the language system will take time, but for some high-frequency recurring words, the AI can already provide preliminary translations.”
On the screen, streams of waveform graphs scrolled past, eventually condensing into a few isolated words.
Lin Chuan read them aloud:
“‘Coffin’—based on contextual analysis, it most likely refers to ‘a container used for burying the dead.'”
Mingzhou’s brow furrowed.
Coffin?
A container used for burying the dead?
The Guide had mistaken the hibernation pod for… a coffin?
No wonder she was so terrified.
Lin Chuan continued: “‘Blood slave’—cannot be precisely parsed. Based on root word analysis, it may be related to ‘blood’ and ‘slave,’ pointing to some entity forced to provide blood.”
Mingzhou’s brow furrowed even deeper.
Blood? Slave?
The Guide thought they wanted to make her a blood slave?
“Vampire.” Lin Chuan read out the third word. “This one’s parsing is fairly complete. It refers to a legendary creature that lives by drinking blood and sleeps in coffins… typically appearing in the horror legends of less advanced civilizations.”
Mingzhou fell silent.
He remembered the way Ye Lingxi had looked at them during the day—terrified, wary, poised to flee at any moment.
She thought they were vampires.
Those monsters that existed only in legends, creatures that fed on blood.
That was why she resisted drinking blood so fiercely, why she was so afraid of boarding the ship, why she fought against sleeping in the hibernation pod.
She thought they were going to keep her as a blood slave, or turn her into one of those monsters.
Mingzhou suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.
“Commander…” Lin Chuan looked at him, hesitating as if wanting to say more.
Mingzhou waved a hand, his voice very soft: “I understand.”
He shut down his personal terminal, his gaze landing on the small figure wrapped in a blanket not far away.
She wasn’t sleeping peacefully. Her brow was slightly furrowed, her body curled into a tiny ball, like a hedgehog burying itself away.
She was afraid.
Afraid of them—these “vampires.”
But they weren’t.
They were Sentinels—soldiers of the Federation, beings meant to protect Guides.
And she was the one person on this desolate planet they wanted to protect above all else.
Mingzhou was silent for a long time before he said, in a low voice: “Tomorrow, we find a way to tell her—we’re not monsters.”
Lin Chuan nodded, saying nothing.
The two sat for a while longer before returning to their own positions, closing their eyes to rest.
…
The night deepened further.
The blood moon was hidden behind clouds, and the wasteland was plunged into heavy darkness.
Shi Qi crouched on a slightly elevated rock. He glanced toward Ye Lingxi’s direction—the Guide was sleeping soundly, wrapped tightly in her blanket with only half her head poking out. It was an adorable sleeping posture.
Satisfied that the Guide was safe, he closed his eyes to rest as well.
Sleep was a luxury for high-pollution Sentinels. Under the erosion of Turbid Qi, their mental landscapes and bodies endured tremendous pain at every waking moment.
Suppressants could only provide some relief—and even then, their supply was critically low. Everyone was using the minimum dosage.
At that dosage, it could only keep their minds clear and prevent them from entering a Berserk State in the short term…
Bone-gnawing pain exploded within their minds, as if something was devouring their very souls.
Twelve high-pollution Sentinels—nearly every one of them endured this suffering at every moment.
Pei Jin leaned against a withered tree, his breathing gradually growing long and even.
Ji Xiao lay on his back not far from Pei Jin.
Lin Chuan sat with his back against a rock, as still as if in deep meditation, his breathing steadying as well.
This was the Sentinel way of resting—not true sleep, but the body’s need for recuperation.
Only Mingzhou remained in his seated position, one leg stretched out, the other bent, back against a rock, eyes closed, ears always attuned to the sounds around him.
He was an SS-class Sentinel—his five senses were keener than those of other Sentinels.
The clouds veiled the blood moon. It was the darkest hour of the night.
Ye Lingxi’s eyes opened, silently.
She didn’t move. She lay still in her blanket, her pupils slowly shifting as she observed her surroundings by the faint light.
Shi Qi—crouched on the rock, head resting on his knees, asleep.
Pei Jin and Ji Xiao—leaning against each other, asleep.
Lin Chuan—sitting cross-legged, breathing steady, presumably asleep as well.
The other Sentinels were sprawled about, all having fallen into a state of sleep.
Only Mingzhou remained.
Ye Lingxi’s gaze landed on the figure closest to her.
He was leaning against a rock, eyes closed, completely still.
He should be… asleep too, right?
Ye Lingxi waited for a while, confirming that no one was stirring, before she extremely slowly pulled her hand out from under the blanket.
No sound.
She waited a few more seconds, then, even more slowly, bit by bit, pushed herself up.
The temperature-regulating blanket was very light, producing almost no friction sound.
She sat up and glanced back at Mingzhou.
Still no movement.
Ye Lingxi’s heart pounded wildly, but she forced herself to steady her breathing, gently lifting her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder.
Then, she began to edge away.
One step, two steps, three steps…
She didn’t dare stand up, so she stayed crouched, like a cat prowling at night, inching her way into the distance.
Ten meters.
Twenty meters.
Thirty meters…
The silhouettes of those Sentinels behind her grew increasingly blurred, about to be swallowed by the night.
Ye Lingxi’s heart beat even faster.
Almost there, just a little farther—once she entered those woods, she could…
“Guide.”
A low voice sounded from behind her.
It wasn’t loud—in fact, it was quite soft—but in the silence of the night, it was as clear as if it had been spoken directly into her ear.
Ye Lingxi’s body froze abruptly.
Her blood seemed to turn to ice, her entire frame locked in place, even her breath forgotten.
She didn’t turn around.
Didn’t dare turn around.
Behind her came the faint sound of footsteps, treading on wild grass, rustling softly, growing closer and closer.
Ye Lingxi closed her eyes, only one thought in her mind…
It’s over!
She’d been caught.
Mingzhou walked up to her side and stopped.
He looked at Ye Lingxi’s rigid back, at her tense shoulders, at her hands death-gripping the backpack straps, and something in his chest gave a gentle tug.
She was afraid.
Even with her back to him, he could feel that terror, almost solidified into substance.
He softened his voice, speaking in the gentlest tone: “Guide, it’s not safe at night. Please don’t wander off?”
Ye Lingxi couldn’t understand the Federation language.
Although the tone behind her was very gentle, she was still terrified, afraid that in the next moment a figure would suddenly lunge at her, sinking teeth into her neck.
She slowly turned her head, meeting those pitch-black eyes.
In the night, the black tattoos on the man’s face seemed to come alive, gleaming with a cold, eerie light in the dim illumination.
She swallowed hard, forcing out a smile uglier than tears: “Hehehe, I… I just got up to take care of some… business, you know, nature calls, hehehe…”
Mingzhou watched her.
His Personal Terminal was on.
Ye Lingxi’s voice continued to be recorded, the AI still analyzing the underlying logic of the language system.
A few seconds later, a mechanical voice sounded in Mingzhou’s earpiece.
[Language analysis progress: 93%. Estimated 20 minutes remaining to complete analysis.]