"Beep~"
"Thought fluctuations detected, starting scanning program."
"Beep~"
"Genetic testing complete, meets Nuoga civilization main body standards."
"Beep~"
"Abnormal thought fluctuations, excessive activity detected, initiating emergency protocol."
"Beep~"
"Emergency protocol initiation failed, reporting to main program."
"Beep~"
"Main program connection lost, initiating default command."
"Beep~"
"Insufficient energy."
"This program is dormant. Following the civilization main body's final command, initiating emergency procedures. Emergency Armor installation complete."
"Beep~ Main program dormancy complete. Awakening expected after three Nuoga Star revolutions."
"Beep~~"
...It took An Chang quite some time to bury all his emotions deep in his heart. By the time he was in the mood to consider his own situation...
He found himself wrapped in swaddling clothes and tied to a man's chest. The person who tied him probably hadn't considered that he was still an Infant, as he was bound both tightly and awkwardly.
With his limbs splayed out, what made him uncomfortable was that he was facing the man's chest. From the corner of his eye, he could see the dim scenery continuously rising and falling as it receded. From this, he deduced that the man was riding a horse and had begun his journey in a hurry at sunrise.
At this moment, he could do nothing—or so he thought. Because right now, he was an Infant.
Suddenly, a beep similar to an access control system opening sounded in his ear, followed by incomprehensible mechanical words.
An Chang was a bit curious. He felt certain that it was only after this sound occurred that he had woken from that strange state and turned into an Infant. He roughly guessed that all these changes were caused by this sound.
So, when the sound rang out again, hope rose in his heart. But soon, the meaningless sounds faded away, and he found to his disappointment that nothing had happened.
Time passed quietly during the bumpy journey, and An Chang began his cultivation.
Strictly speaking, this was the first time he had cultivated while conscious.
Just as he mobilized the Qi gathered at his Energy Center, this vast, ocean-like Qi—like a Husky breaking free from its leash—impatiently and frantically surged from the Energy Center toward every part of his body.
This Qi passed through fascia, crossed tendons, washed over bones, and bored into the deepest parts of the marrow. Going even deeper, it permeated cell walls, passed through ground substance, and headed straight for the most distant reaches.
In an instant, the Qi that An Chang had spent an unknown amount of time cultivating vanished without a trace, not a single shred remaining.
Amidst his shock, a tremor from the deepest part of his soul caused him to lose consciousness instantly.
At the same time he lost consciousness, wisps of Qi emerged from the deepest parts of his cells, spreading out into an invisible field that followed the shape of his body. This field clung just a millimeter above An Chang's surface, yet remained connected to the innermost depths of his physique.
Then, the field suddenly retracted to the deepest part of his body and just as suddenly surged out again. Round and round it went, repeating a verifiable 3.3 billion times in a single millisecond. From then on, this cycle of retraction and surging never ceased.
The dark purple patterns on An Chang's chest unwillingly peeled away bit by bit within the field's cycle, finally turning into a dark purple necklace hanging from his chest.
Within the cycle of the field, a type of energy—extremely thin yet omnipresent in this land—seemed to be drawn in, slowly joining the cycle along with sunlight and heat... Ned rode his warhorse, galloping through the wilderness.
Fortunately, the warhorse Ned was riding had originally belonged to the Kingsguard Oswell. During yesterday's battle, it had bolted in fright and avoided the aftermath of the conflict. Afterward, the horse returned to find its master and was taken by Ned.
As he galloped, the sun rose slowly, radiating fierce malice toward the Northman. Heat surged, and the air was scorched into distorted shapes. The resilience of Northmen was tempered in bitter cold; they were truly ill-equipped to face the vicious sun of the Dorne border.
Thus, Ned was soaked as if he'd been fished out of water, having taken a rather dirty bath in his own sweat. His horse was also panting incessantly.
If it hadn't been for the seven of them not hiding their tracks while searching for Lyanna, their movements being almost entirely exposed to both friend and foe, perhaps Ned wouldn't have been traveling so relentlessly.
Originally, the seven had traveled light to catch the royalists off guard. But not only had they returned empty-handed, only Ned and a heaven-sent Infant survived. Having delayed for another day, no matter how slow the royalists were to react, they wouldn't just watch one of the enemy leaders, Ned, return safely to his base.
The pursuing knights were surely on their way by now, which was why Ned dared not stop. At the first light of dawn, he had mounted his horse and headed north.
As the sun climbed higher, Ned had to admit that the heat of the south and the cold of the north were entirely different trials. Especially with the sweat soaking the wound on his right leg, the pain was becoming unbearable.
Suddenly, the heat seemed to recede. Ned felt a coolness emanate from his chest, gradually spreading through his whole body, causing him to let out a long, involuntary sigh.
Looking down at the Infant in his arms, the child seemed to be asleep; his shallow breathing was impossible to catch without listening closely.
Ned's feelings were complicated. The Infant in his arms falling from the sky was already beyond normal imagination, and the current peculiarities only made it clearer that this was no ordinary human child.
"Whoa~"
Ned pulled the reins and stopped. Galloping relentlessly from sunrise until the sun was high, the horse was nearly at its limit. If he didn't stop now, Ned would have to finish the journey on foot.
After dismounting, he took out the fodder and water he'd packed yesterday to feed the horse and grabbed a few quick bites for himself. Benefiting from the coolness in his arms, he was about to sit down and rest for a moment.
A faint, muffled sound of hooves, flickering in and out of hearing, caused Ned's expression to change drastically. He gritted his teeth and tightened the bandage on his right leg wound; the cloth's original color was no longer visible, stained a dark red by blood.
He vaulted onto the horse, driving the reluctant animal into a gallop.
After half a day of hard riding, he had left the Dorne border and entered The Stormlands, which should have been under Robert's control. However, ever since Lyanna was abducted and his father and brother were brutally killed in King's Landing, and his foster father Jon Arryn raised the banner of rebellion against the Mad King, the entire continent had been filled with undercurrents. Outside the North, there were few he could trust besides his foster father and Robert.
Moreover, his foster father and Robert should be leading their armies toward King's Landing by now; there was no way reinforcements could come to his aid. Those dense hoofbeats must be pursuers circling around from The Reach. Most likely, it was a cavalry unit from Rhaegar's guard.
Hearing the hoofbeats meant the cavalry was already extremely close. Logically, he should have spotted them earlier on his journey, but he hadn't.
As he galloped, the hoofbeats grew closer. Ned pulled his reins with a grim face because the sound was coming from ahead, not behind. He could already see the Dragon Banners fluttering in the wind.
A disciplined troop of cavalry appeared.
Ned had no intention of surrendering without a fight, but he and his horse were exhausted. Even if he managed to turn around and gamble that there were no pursuers coming from Dorne, he wouldn't get far. Surrender seemed to be his only choice at this moment.
Considering Robert's army was approaching King's Landing, Ned would likely be captured to be used as a hostage to force Jon Arryn, Robert, and the others to surrender.
But that wasn't the case!
The cavalry company of a hundred, seeing Ned standing still on his horse from afar, didn't slow down. Instead, with a shout, they broke formation and accelerated into a semi-circular charge.
The hoofbeats suddenly quickened. The charge of a hundred cavalrymen exuded an unstoppable momentum, especially since their target was just one man and one horse. It seemed that in the next second, Ned would be swept away and torn to pieces by this torrent of riders.
There was no communication, nor was any needed. The order this cavalry had received was to kill everyone they saw on their path. Whether it was a lowly commoner or a noble lord, everyone encountered on this mission was to be put to the sword.
The warhorse snorted uneasily. Before the momentum of the knights' charge could overwhelm Ned, it had already nearly driven the beast into a panic. Ned struggled with all his might to control the horse, his mind racing to find a way to survive this death trap.
Currently, he was within The Stormlands, near the border of Dorne. Perhaps due to the climate, aside from some slightly rolling terrain, the area was an open wilderness as far as the eye could see. Even a proper grove of trees was hard to find, which was why the hundred knights could form a charge. It seemed like a certain death trap for him.
Fortunately, they were over fifty meters apart; if they hadn't been in the open wilderness, they wouldn't have spotted each other at all. To Ned's left, there was a sparse grove of trees.
He had no intention of giving up. The moment the cavalry charged, he made the wisest choice: he turned sharply left and bolted toward the grove. Though it might be a deathbed struggle, and he might very well be swept away by the torrent before reaching the trees, it was the best survival move he could make.
Amidst swirling dust and flying hooves, Ned pulled out a short dagger and stabbed it into the warhorse's rump. The horse shrieked in pain and galloped forward with all its might.
By the narrowest of margins, he darted into the woods before the charging cavalry could reach him.
The charging cavalry shifted direction with Ned, finally slowing down reluctantly before the woods and halting their momentum. However, they only paused briefly before the hundred riders split into twenty small squads and also plunged into the forest, startling flocks of birds into flight.
The woods were not dense—in fact, they were quite sparse. They were enough to stop a charge of a hundred knights, but clearly not enough to escape their pursuit.
Unless the old gods manifested today, Eddard Stark was surely a dead man.
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