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Volume 5 Dance of the Ice Dragon Prologue Traveler (Part 1)

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    I finally opened a new volume. The previous one was so long that I almost went crazy while writing it.

    The moonlight shines on the land covered with thick snow, giving the ground a cold, silvery glow that makes people feel palpitating and want to escape.  A traveler is the only living thing in this dead world.  He walked on the fluffy snow with one foot deep and one foot shallow. His feet made a creaking sound like a shaking skeleton.

    The traveler was only wearing a thin shirt that was not warm.  The shirt frozen by the frost clung to the traveler's body, but he still moved forward stubbornly as if he couldn't feel the cold.  He gasped violently, but no white air came out.  His face was ashen as a result of hypothermia, as if he were a body that had been dead for a long time.

    His reason told him that he could no longer hold on.  He was mentally exhausted and in desperate need of rest.  Even if he was lying in the snow that could freeze a person into an ice sculpture, he wanted to have a good sleep.  However, he couldn't feel any physical fatigue at all, and he didn't even feel the coldness of the freezing weather around him.  His body is like an alchemical puppet with an energy core installed, as if it is a perpetually moving mechanical device, moving forward tirelessly.  The contrasting senses terrify the traveler.  He struggled to find the source of his fear.  However, except for some incomplete and unclear memory fragments, he really couldn't remember anything more.

    The traveler's heart is filled with sadness and depression.  He felt at a loss, as if he had been abandoned by the world.  The only thing that could comfort him was that there was always a voice and a belief in his empty heart.  He couldn't hear clearly what the constantly ringing voice was saying, but he could vaguely feel that it was an oath.  A vow engraved deep in his soul that has become his body's instinct.  It was precisely because of its existence that the traveler's heart, which seemed to be dead, was rekindled with a strong desire to survive, and he did not stop.

    When the traveler climbed to the top of a hill an hour later, he saw a sight that made him jump for joy.

    At the foot of the dark mountain, there is a bright light.  The yellowish fire penetrated the boundless thick darkness, suppressing the breathtaking and despairing silver moonlight, like a lighthouse standing on the cliff by the sea, guiding the direction of the lost.

    The atmosphere in the brightly lit hotel is exciting.  The roaring fire in the fireplace danced to the music and crackled happily.  Scantily clad waitresses shuttled back and forth, filling glasses of strong drinks for the men, while the men held their glasses high and gave the most enthusiastic cheers to the dancers dancing on the stage.

    "Squeak¡ª¡ª"

    The hotel¡¯s old door made an unpleasant noise.  The sudden cold wind blew in, causing the guests standing by the door to stop what they were doing.  They shuddered and stared angrily at the guy walking through the door.

    The traveler stood at the door.  A few traces of blood that had not been wiped off were vaguely visible on his face.  The torn shirt, trousers that were almost strips of cloth, and dull eyes made him look like a poor guy who had been patronized by a robber.

    ¡°What an unlucky guy.¡± Someone beside him muttered.

    ¡°I really don¡¯t know how this guy survived.¡±

    "Goddess of luck bless you."

    The traveler turned a deaf ear to their judgments and remained as motionless as a sculpture, with only a pair of eyes remaining alive.  He rolled his eyes and glanced at the crowded hotel. His blue eyes were as cold and ruthless as the gaze of death, making people shudder.  The guys who looked at him couldn't help but avoid looking, trembling in fear in the dark.

    Only a careless guy didn't notice the strange behavior of the traveler and shouted loudly to the traveler: "Idiot! Close the door! You want to freeze to death, but I don't!" When the traveler hooked the handle with stiff fingers and closed the door,  He still cursed a few times before turning his gaze back to the stage in the hall.  For him, it was the dancer's enchanting body that attracted his attention more.

    The hotel owner immediately noticed the guests who came to his shop near midnight.  He almost instinctively planned to kick out the travelers who were so desperate that they could not pay their rent.  However, when he thought about the freezing weather outside, he still didn't feel cruel.  He stepped forward.

    "Guest, is this your first time coming to the inn?" the hotel owner said in a respectful tone.  He had a businessman's unique hospitality smile on his face, but his smile looked very sincere, making travelers feel no hypocrisy or disgust.

    The traveler was puzzled by the hotel owner¡¯s attitude.  "Yes, why did you" he said slowly, his voice tight.

    The slightly lowered gaze of the hotel owner shows respect, and also allows him to look at him carefully when the traveler is not aware of it.

    ???????????????????????????????????????????¡­The board discovered the dignity of the traveler's identity.  The shirt on the opponent's body, which could only be used to cover his body, was made of expensive, smooth silk; even though the scabbard buckled on his belt was full of mud and ice, the coat of arms could still be seen on it.  These all illustrate the identity and status of the traveler.

    "I am the owner of this hotel, Warren. What is your name?"

    Warren smiled and subtly changed the subject in a questioning manner.

    "My name?" The traveler was obviously stunned for a moment.  His eyes became dull, as if he was in some strange state.  His fists were clenched, veins were protruding, and cold sweat was pouring out, as if he was suffering from great pain.  He felt as if his head was being stuffed with an ever-expanding sponge, as if it would explode the next moment.  After a while, the swelling and pain eased, and the traveler's ugly face gradually returned to normal.  He took a long breath and said in a hoarse voice, "Xiayou can call me Charlotte."

    Warren looked frightened and confused at the terrifying appearance of the traveler Charlotte, but wisely did not ask too much.  He just asked politely: "Mr. Charlotte, have you encountered a robber?"

    "Yeah" Charlotte answered vaguely.

    To be honest, even Charlotte herself didn¡¯t know what happened to her.  His memory was like a mush.  What a mess.  Countless broken pictures are mixed together in no order, like garbage discarded in a corner.

    Warren nodded in understanding.  He thought Charlotte wouldn't want to talk too much about the terrible memory.

    "Then, Mr. Charlotte, please come with me." Warren said as he guided Charlotte through the noisy bar. "What you need now is a piece of thick clothing and a good glass of wine."  Strong drink, and then enough rest to forget all about the pitiful misfortunes that have befallen you."

    "Yeah." Charlotte responded absently.  He did not refuse the hotel owner's kindness.  Following Warren's guidance, he walked to the fireplace and sat down.  In the fireplace, the firewood burned enthusiastically, and the mischievous flames surrounded Charlotte with a sigh-of-satisfaction warmth.  However, Charlotte felt no more heat from the flames than he felt the cold.

    A deep-seated fear gripped his heart.  He didn't know what was going on with his body.  He felt like a monster.  His body began to shake violently.  Even when he was trudging through the snow, his mind was wandering and hallucinations abounded, he was not so weak.  He awkwardly tried to thrust his hand into the hot flames.  But when he half-stretched his hand, he shuddered at the loud laughter that surrounded him.  He quickly retracted his hand and hid it under his shirt, which became wet and steamy as if to cover it up.  His face was ashen.

    Warren, who left temporarily, quickly returned with some things.  He was holding a dinner plate and a thick cotton jacket draped on his arm.

    "Mr. Charlotte," the innkeeper said apologetically, "the hotel is full because of the damn weather. If you don't mind, you can just stay here for one night. There's a glass of dwarf liquor here, and some  food."

    "Thank you for your hospitality." Charlotte tried to control her emotions and tried her best to look like a normal person.  Therefore, he couldn't wait to wrap his cotton-padded jacket around him, took a glass of strong wine from the hotel owner, and took a big gulp.  The strong smell of inferior wheat coming out of the bursting bubbles made him cough loudly.  Other than that, he felt nothing else - not even the burning sensation of the liquor.

    monster!  monster!  A voice suddenly appeared, roaring in his heart.  Charlotte tries to argue, but all the evidence he finds proves to him that the voice is right.  Despair, more terrifying than fear, spread quickly like a plague, trying to take over Charlotte's mind.

    "Mr. Charlotte? Mr. Charlotte?"

    The hotel owner¡¯s timely shout helped Charlotte escape from the dark abyss.  His back was arched like a shrimp, like a fish out of water gasping for air, and the coldness projected in his blue eyes made the hotel owner tremble.

    Warren swallowed, lowered his body as if to escape, picked up the wine glass that Charlotte had dropped on the floor, placed it on the low table next to him, and signaled a waitress to refill the liquor.

    Warren tried his best to put on an ugly smile.  "Are you still thinking of your companion?" he asked.

    Charlotte seemed to have not heard anything and remained silent.

    He lowered his head, like a soldier who had lost his fighting spirit, and slumped on the couch like the lowest maggot.

    "Mr. Charlotte, please forgive me for talking too much." After thinking about it, Warren still considered it carefully and said slowly, "You are luckier than your companions."?Because, you are still alive.  "

    Warren¡¯s words made Charlotte prick up her ears and made him intend to listen to other people¡¯s opinions.  But he remained silent.

    "No matter what," Warren said, "as long as people are alive, there will be hope - whether it is revenge or something else."

    The hotel owner may have seen through the comings and goings of people and has the simplest view of things.  However, he said it was simple, but it was extremely difficult to do.  Charlotte didn't even know if he was still alive when he looked like this - his body seemed to belong to the monster in the night that people feared, howling like ghosts and wolves - and he didn't even know if he had any hatred at all.  Who made him become like this?  Wizards or gods?  Should I hate them?  He didn't know anything.  He was trapped and tightly bound in the heavy fog, surrounded by despairingly hard stone walls in front, back, and left, hiding from the light of day.  He tried his best to think, but he still couldn't find a clue.  He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he didn't hear what Warren said next, and he didn't even know that Warren had left.
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