【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

I trembled and trembled. Even the air felt like frozen iron, scratching my throat with every breath. But I couldn't breathe.

The sticky blood spread across the ground, seeping up through the cracks in the boots. Hot, cold, all blood.

The smell penetrated into the nose, throat, stomach, and then went up along the spine, crawling into the brain inch by inch.

I can almost hear it sloshing around in my head, like it's churning inside me.

My stomach began to twitch, but my consciousness held me back.

I have never admitted that I am weak.

I dare not.

It was an instinct that had been etched into my bones a long, long time ago - I couldn't show any flaws in front of anyone, and I had to hold my head up no matter how painful it was.

But now, my body is betraying me.

My fingertips trembled, even my breathing became irregular. The trembling wasn't from the cold, but from a sense of utter powerlessness. I looked at the bodies wrapped in white cloth—some were once my comrades, some had even spoken to me.

But now they are nothing, just a number, a table, a line in a record.

I know it's not my fault.

I know.

I can't stop this, and I've never been asked to.

My mind told me again and again: This is just part of the war, and no one is wrong.

But I can't listen to what reason says.

At that moment, my brain felt like it was filled with ice water and then poured into boiling soup. All the sounds became blurry, and the wind, shouts, and the sound of metal rubbing were getting farther and farther away from me.

Only that "sticky" feeling is left churning.

My steps were unsteady, and I could barely stand. Someone passed by me, and I instinctively tried to look up, but I found my neck was stiff as if it was frozen.

Blood, white cloth, snow, mist, breath...all merged into a dazzling light.

I heard Qianmo calling me, but the voice was blown away by the wind several times.

I don't know if I responded.

I seem to know that "admitting one's weakness" is not as simple as saying it.

It is a kind of collapse, the moment when you know you can't hold on, but still want to pretend that nothing is wrong.

I was forced to face the part of myself I had never dared to look at.

A hand suddenly grasped mine, the force so strong that it nearly crushed my finger bones. The pain lashed through my nerves like a whip, pulling me back to reality from my hazy state.

I turned my head sharply, and at that moment, I saw—

That face.

Ye Lin.

Blood and mud mixed together, winding down his jaw. His once meticulously crafted uniform was now torn and stained, with dried blood even sticking to his shoulders.

That was a version of him I had never seen before.

It was no longer the face that was high and mighty, as cold as a wall, on the Capital Star, nor was it the sharp look that pointed at me and said, "You don't deserve it."

He looked like a beast torn apart by a whole war, disheveled, exhausted, and even a little... real.

"You're a soldier."

He gritted his teeth and spoke each word clearly. His voice was hoarse as if it had been ground by gravel, and a cold air mixed with blood, wind and snow penetrated into his ears.

It wasn't a rebuke, nor an order, and certainly not like his usual sarcasm.

It was more like a reminder, or even pulling me back from the edge of collapse.

At that moment, time seemed a bit disjointed. Snow fell between us like a thick curtain. I stared at him blankly, my mind blank, not even able to tremble my lips.

He didn't wait for my response. He just let go of my hand and turned around, his back looking incredibly solid in the wind and snow.

He was a man who had long been accustomed to the battlefield.

He walked on the snow, stepped on the blood, and left without looking back. The wind blew his cloak behind him like a tattered flag.

My hands were still numb, and the marks from my grip were still aching. But the pain was so sharp it was almost blinding.

"You are a soldier." Those words were like nails stuck in my mind, hammering at me over and over again.

I suddenly realized that he was not giving me orders - he was telling me that no one could really go back on this road.