Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei's War Journey

"Nono!" Lu Mingfei shouted, suddenly sitting up in bed, his chest heaving violently and his forehead covered in cold sweat, but the next second he was completely stunned.

Before him was a scene so familiar it couldn't be more so: walls covered in faded cartoon patterns, a desk piled high with clutter, and a creaking single bed beneath him. He was still wearing that faded old T-shirt and loose beach shorts.

Everything was exactly the same as before he left.

He... came back? Back to his uncle and aunt's house? Was the month or so he spent in the Andes just a long, incredibly real nightmare?

He immediately jumped out of bed and practically pounced on the desk, frantically flipping open the old laptop. The screen lit up, and the time was clearly displayed in the lower right corner.

2008年9月14日，12:30

Only half an hour had passed since he remembered taking an afternoon nap.

"Really... just a dream?" Lu Mingfei slumped into a chair, looking up at the familiar ceiling, and muttered to himself.

But if it was a dream, why did it feel so real? That chill that seeped into his bones, as if it were freezing his soul, still lingered within him.

Just thinking about the snow-capped mountains makes his teeth chatter and gives him goosebumps.

Even though it was a sweltering afternoon with temperatures over 30 degrees Celsius outside the window, he couldn't feel any warmth; the bone-chilling cold was always with him.

Just then, a heavy, cold object slipped from his loose T-shirt and fell to the floor with a dull thud.

Lu Mingfei looked down, his pupils suddenly contracted, and his breathing almost stopped.

That was a gun, a classic-looking revolver!

He was very familiar with this gun, not only because it appeared in countless Hong Kong gunfight movies, such as Jackie Chan's character Chan Ka-kui in "Police Story" and Mark Gor in "A Better Tomorrow"... but more importantly, he personally used this gun to end the lives of four people in that icy hell!

The moment his gaze fell upon the gun, several lines of eerie blue text, like game prompts, suddenly appeared in front of his retina.

Smith & Wesson M10 Revolver (Ghost Gun)

[Six-round magazine, effective range 30 meters]

The bomb nest refreshes every ten minutes.

[Special Skill: Unlimited Ammo (Duration: 1 minute, usable once every 24 hours)]

[Note: This is a gun filled with resentment. Someone begged you to end their painful life, but you failed to do so. The resentment of that soul, who died in prolonged torment and extreme suffering, clings to this gun.]

[It can absorb the souls of the dead to level up.]

Lu Mingfei reached out with trembling hands and picked up the revolver from the floor.

As he gripped the gun handle, he could almost hear a faint wail filled with pain and despair lingering in his ears. He even vaguely saw, on the cold metal surface, the co-pilot's ashen face contorted with agony.

"It wasn't a dream...it was all real..." Lu Mingfei's voice trembled uncontrollably, and that bone-chilling cold returned, eroding his body once more.

He suddenly stood up, rushed to the wardrobe, and frantically rummaged through all the thick clothes inside.

He hurriedly put on the clothes one by one, layering them on and off until he looked like a bloated dumpling, even pulling up the hood of his down jacket tightly.

Even though he was wrapped up tightly, his body was still trembling violently and uncontrollably, and his teeth were chattering.

"Lu Mingfei, my mom's calling you out for dinner..." The chubby Lu Mingze finished his tutoring class and swaggered into the room.

But when he saw Lu Mingfei, wrapped up like a ball and shivering in the stuffy room, he was stunned, his eyes wide open.

"Lu Mingfei, what's wrong with you?! Wearing a down jacket in this sweltering heat?! Did you get your brain caught in a door?" Lu Mingze looked at him like he was an idiot, his tone full of incredulous sarcasm.

"I'm just a little cold..." Lu Mingfei said, his head down, his voice muffled from his thick collar. He subconsciously tightened his down jacket, as if that would ward off the pervasive cold from another world.

Lu Mingze looked him up and down suspiciously, then curled his lip and snorted dismissively, "You're crazy! I can't be bothered with you! Mom's calling you out for dinner!"

After saying that, he threw down his backpack, took out his phone, slumped in his chair, and started playing with it, completely ignoring Lu Mingfei.

"Lu Mingfei! Are you dead in your room?! Do you need to be begged to eat?! Are you deaf?!" Auntie's booming voice, as always, rang out from the living room.

Upon hearing this, Lu Mingze immediately rushed out, and Lu Mingfei also took a deep breath and followed him into the living room.

When Lu Mingfei's uncle and aunt saw him wrapped up like a rice dumpling and trembling slightly, they both had extremely strange expressions on their faces.

"Mingfei, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Uncle put down his newspaper and asked with some concern.

"No...it's nothing, I just caught a bit of a cold," Lu Mingfei mumbled, lowering his head as he moved to the dining table and sat down.

"Hmph! It must be because he eats junk food every day and ruined his stomach! He brought it on himself!" Auntie snorted coldly, then ignored Lu Mingfei and started rambling on about how vegetable prices had gone up again and how successful the neighbor's kid was.

Seeing this, the uncle shook his head and picked up the newspaper again, while Lu Mingze had already picked up his chopsticks and began to devour the plate of glistening braised pork in front of him.

Only Lu Mingfei, like an outcast, sat there stiffly.

He stared at the greasy braised pork in the bowl. The dark brown chunks of meat began to distort and deform in his eyes, gradually overlapping with the dark red, paper-thin slices of meat on the aluminum plate...

"vomit……"

He suddenly covered his mouth, gagged violently, and his face turned deathly pale.

"Lu Mingfei! What are you doing!" Auntie slammed down her chopsticks, her eyebrows raised in anger.

"You're disgusted by my cooking, aren't you? If you don't want to eat, then get out! Who are you trying to impress with this awful look? Bringing bad luck on a holiday like this!"

"Sigh... the child might really be feeling unwell, so say less..." the uncle quickly tried to smooth things over, but his voice also sounded somewhat helpless.

Lu Mingfei could no longer hear what they were saying. The nausea churning in his stomach and the bloody images swirling in his mind made it impossible for him to think. He suddenly jumped up from his chair, rushed into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

"Lu Mingfei! You're not getting any dinner tonight! You've ruined a perfectly good Mid-Autumn Festival! You jinx!" Auntie's relentless roar came through the door.

At this moment, Lu Mingfei was already lying on the side of the toilet, retching violently. Since his stomach was already empty, he could only vomit some sour bile and gastric juice.

Each spasmodic vomiting seemed to pull him back into that cabin, back into that pool of blood, back into that suffocating smell of blood and the sound of chewing.

After a while, the nausea finally subsided. He was completely exhausted. He stood up, leaning on the sink, turned on the tap, and splashed the cold tap water hard on his face, trying to stop himself from thinking about those terrifying memories.

Water dripped down his chin and the ends of his hair as he looked up at the mirror.

The person in the mirror was deathly pale, with wet hair plastered to his forehead and lingering fear in his eyes. The thick down jacket collar was turned up, making him look like a frightened ostrich.

He took a deep breath, tried to calm himself, and pushed open the bathroom door.

The three people in the restaurant stopped what they were doing and all eyes turned to him.

The uncle was worried, the aunt was undisguisedly annoyed, and Lu Mingze was simply curious to watch the spectacle.

They couldn't understand why this usually submissive and somewhat cowardly loser was behaving so strangely and abnormally today.

"I...I'm not feeling well, I'll go back to my room first." Lu Mingfei avoided their gazes, his voice hoarse as he finished speaking, then lowered his head and quickly walked back to his room.

Leaning against the thin wooden door, Lu Mingfei seemed to have all his strength drained away. He slowly slid down to the floor, panting heavily, as if he had just gone through a life-or-death struggle.

"Mingfei, are you feeling unwell? Should we go to the hospital?" came the hesitant knock and concerned inquiry from outside the door.

"No need... Uncle," Lu Mingfei replied in a muffled voice, burying his face in his knees.

Have my parents called me recently?

There was a moment of silence outside the door, followed by my aunt's mocking voice: "What are you hitting for! Your parents are very busy, making big money abroad! They don't have time to worry about you! What? Expecting them to bring you foreign candy? Dream on!"

Despite receiving the expected answer, Lu Mingfei's heart sank involuntarily, as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.

He subconsciously wrapped his heavy down jacket tighter around himself, but the chill felt even more biting, as if it were seeping out from between his bones.

"I understand... Don't call me for dinner... I... I want to get a good night's sleep," he said softly, his voice filled with undisguised exhaustion.

Outside the door, the uncle's footsteps faded away hesitantly, accompanied by the aunt's low but still clear muttering: "Always causing trouble, can't even have a peaceful holiday..."

The world finally fell completely silent.

Lu Mingfei leaned against the door, curled up on the cold floor, and hugged himself tightly.

The thick down jacket made a rustling sound from rubbing against each other, which was amplified infinitely in the deathly silent room, sounding particularly jarring.

He hugged his knees tightly, burying his face in them, trying to draw a little bit of pitiful, self-comforting warmth.

But the chill that penetrated to the bone, originating from the soul, seemed to emanate continuously from his body, and no amount of clothing or warmth from the outside could dispel it.

He sat there motionless, like an ice sculpture forgotten in a corner, seemingly separated from the bustling, ordinary, and vibrant world outside the door by only a thin door panel, yet feeling as if they were separated by an insurmountable space and time.