Chapter 35: A Person’s Race, Section 2

The pitch-black starry sky held not a trace of light. Outside the window, it was utterly dark, impossible to see even one’s hand. Sitting quietly in his seat, Blackhair had his eyes slightly closed, seemingly in a state of dormancy as well.

It was already the second day. A long time had passed since he entered this strange space along with those angel-like creatures. Yet those creatures showed no sign of stopping. The crew of the Wind of Fury had all entered dormancy as per protocol, leaving the entire ship empty except for Blackhair, who remained seated in the cabin. The spacious command room was dimly lit by only a few faint lamps, creating a very gloomy atmosphere. If anyone looked from outside, they would see that the Wind of Fury had merged with its surroundings, like a dark shark silently lurking in an ink-black abyss.

There was nothing he could do. It wasn’t that Blackhair didn’t want to turn on the lights; in this strange space, he simply couldn’t find any more energy to use.

Because this place was not anti-space at all.

By God, Blackhair had never seen such a bizarre space. Contrary to his initial assumptions, it wasn’t anti-space at all, nor did it resemble any of the realms he knew. No matter how hard he tried to guess, he couldn’t find any clues. Aside from the energy-degradation rules unique to anti-space still holding true, he couldn’t find anything familiar. What was even more unacceptable was that, for some reason, all of the Wind of Fury’s energy systems were severely affected—even its ever-operating energy core began to function poorly. Energy production had dropped to almost zero.

In short, there was no energy.

Without energy, the Wind of Fury was as good as losing everything. Its once-proud warship had turned into a living coffin. And since the crew needed to be in dormancy, Blackhair had to divert all the remaining energy to the dormancy pods. This made his situation even more difficult. Not only could he not activate the engines, but he could no longer maintain even the most basic holographic camouflage.

Fortunately, this space was also pitch black. Even without energy, the Wind of Fury could hide under the cover of darkness and avoid being detected by those strange creatures. Moreover, from Blackhair’s observations, those creatures seemed unable to adapt here as well. There were no more scans of mental wave frequencies, and their movements had become extremely slow. It was because of this that the Wind of Fury, with only one auxiliary engine still working, managed not to fall behind.

Only one engine can function… Kurokami shook his head, a faint bitter smile on his face. Those who had never faced such difficulties could never imagine how much effort Kurokami had put in for this insignificant auxiliary engine. Under normal circumstances, this auxiliary engine would never have drawn anyone’s attention—it was among the smallest of Li Feng’s nearly a hundred engines, its usual function merely adjusting the ship’s attitude. But now, it had become Kurokami’s only lifeline. Although its thrust was low, Kurokami had no choice. And to get it working, he had been busy all day long. He ran around the massive ship, opening various storage compartments and energy transmission pipelines in search of any usable energy source, then connecting them all to this engine. That was the task Kurokami had to carry out. Moreover, to keep Li Feng in flight, he had to modify the engine so that it could adjust its thrust direction at any time. These seemingly simple tasks left Kurokami utterly exhausted. After all, this place followed the same energy degradation rules as anti-space. So an engine that usually required only a small amount of energy now consumed almost all available resources. As a result, Kurokami’s workload soared. If not for his unparalleled physical strength, he might have collapsed before even finishing connecting all the energy pipelines. But now, he could sit lazily in his seat, quietly observing the movements of those strange creatures ahead. The dim lights flickered, casting uneven shadows on Kurokami’s face. Everything around was hazy, so quiet that not even a sound could be heard. Normally, in such a dark environment, people would feel some panic. But Kurokami was different. On the contrary, he felt extremely comfortable. The thick darkness around him was like a solid shell enclosing him, allowing him to hide inside and secretly watch the creatures outside. This contrast between light and dark made Kurokami want to moan in comfort. His feelings grew even better when he saw those creatures flying around, completely unaware of anything. Unconsciously, another day passed. Kurokami didn’t know how far he had followed them. He could see that those “angels” showed no sign of stopping, but there was nothing he could do. He could only worry silently about how much longer Li Feng’s energy would last. The surrounding space remained pitch black, preventing Kurokami from distinguishing anything. Fortunately, those creatures emitted bright white light; otherwise, Kurokami would have lost even this minimal sense of direction.

It took two days to follow like this. By the night of the third day, Kurokami finally achieved what he wanted. A small island suddenly appeared before his eyes. It was an island only a few hundred kilometers across, with pointed ends at both the top and bottom, resembling a double-cone. It floated quietly in the pitch-black space, emitting faint white light. Countless white orbs, large and small, surrounded it, dense as fireflies on a summer night. Yet Kurokami wouldn’t really think they were fireflies, for even just by sight, he could tell what was at the center of those orbs. “Angels”! All of them were exactly the same as the ones he had been tracking!! But among these orbs, some angels were enormous, half the size of a Ryūfū, while others were tiny, only the size of a normal human. There was a huge difference between them, but without exception, they all had the same appearance: long golden hair gently floating, blank faces, bodies covered densely with golden scales, and two huge white wings fluttering slightly. They emitted a soft white light, forming beautiful spheres that slowly and erratically flew around the island. Vaguely, Kurokami could even “hear” that familiar song. That empty feeling returned in his heart. Kurokami frowned, his expression darkening instantly. He faintly sensed that this song seemed to have some inexplicable connection to him, simultaneously restraining his emotions. As a warrior, Kurokami disliked this feeling greatly, for he knew that having one’s emotions manipulated meant being controlled in life and death. In any battle, failing to concentrate led to tragedy. Kurokami certainly didn’t want his life and death to be at someone else’s mercy. So he quietly stretched out a finger and made a cut on his right wrist. Bright red blood flowed out, accompanied by slight pain, which jolted Kurokami’s senses, reducing the influence of the song. Only then did he continue to focus on the island. He saw the angels he had been tracking form neat formations and swiftly fly above the island. At the same time, a huge orb in the sky above the island also slowly approached them. It was the largest angel, about half the size of a Ryūfū. It stood before the returning angels like a commanding officer, glanced around for a while, then emitted a unique frequency.

Li Feng’s receiver successfully captured this frequency, displaying a mess of chaotic lines. Hei Fa knew that must be their language—only he couldn’t translate it. So he could only watch quietly.
The frequency of the giant “angel” vibrated rapidly. In less than a minute, it stabilized. Then, with a wave of its massive hand, the returning “angels” scattered immediately, turning into glowing orbs just like their companions surrounding the island. The ethereal singing resounded once again, and the giant “angel” turned around.
At that moment, Hei Fa’s spirit jolted. His expression changed slightly as he suddenly felt that the giant “angel” seemed to glance in his direction when it turned. Though it was just for a moment, it gave him the feeling of being stared at by a venomous snake.
Had he been discovered?
His heart beat faster, and the surge of adrenaline made him tremble. For some reason, he suddenly felt nervous—yet also a hint of excitement.
“Are you telling me it’s a match for me?” Hei Fa stared at his hands silently, a faint smile appearing on his face. Without hesitation, he turned and quickly left the room.
Soon, a small hatch opened on Li Feng’s massive ship, and Hei Fa, clad in a pitch-black spacesuit, floated out like a fish. In the dense darkness, he silently moved toward the island…
The island remained bright, with the ethereal singing growing louder as he got closer. The sensation grew stronger with each step. Unconsciously, his fingers began to tremble. His black spacesuit concealed him well from the surroundings, making him nearly invisible from afar. Yet even so, he felt as if he were exposed in public, uneasy. Fortunately, his progress wasn’t slow. After fifteen minutes, he was finally just a mile away from the island.
Suddenly, a glowing orb left its orbit around the island and rushed straight toward him…