Yanling woke up to a looming shadow standing a few steps away from her. Her vision was still adjusting to the dim bluish glow of the strange world, but she could clearly make out the outline of a man. He wore long, black, unfamiliar clothes—something between ancient warrior robes and modern tactical wear. The fabric shimmered faintly, almost alive, and though the outfit was strange, it gave him an unnervingly attractive aura.
For a moment, she just stared.
The cold silence around them felt heavier, as if the moonlight itself was holding its breath.
Taking a cautious step forward, she asked,
"Hey! Do you know what this place is?"
The man turned toward her slowly.
That instant felt like the awkward, tense moment when a strict teacher suddenly asks a student a question—silent, weighted, expectant.
And then…
He burst into laughter.
Not threatening, not sinister—just mocking. Full amusement at her confusion.
Her jaw dropped.
"Are you serious?! Why are you laughing like a dog?"
He stopped laughing, blinking in disbelief.
"Wait… did you just call me a dog?"
She folded her arms, irritated.
"Haven't you ever seen a person before?"
His expression tightened as he looked her up and down.
"And haven't you seen yourself? You look like a wild wolf."
Yanling froze for a second.
Wild wolf?
But then she remembered: her long brown coat, the rough texture, the tall brown boots… okay, maybe from far away she did look like a wolfish creature.
She shook her head.
"Wolf? Forget that… anyway—"
She stepped closer, her voice firm.
"I'm asking again: what is this place, and why does everything look so strange?"
The man's mocking expression faded. Instead, his eyes sharpened with suspicion.
"Which clan are you from? And what's your name?"
Yanling stared at him. Clan? Was this guy mentally stable?
She let out a tired sigh.
"Let's introduce ourselves properly, maybe that will help. I'm Yanling, CEO of Yanling NovaTech Company, from Beijing. Now please tell me where—"
He cut her off, confusion twisting his face.
"What… are you talking about?"
Her patience finally hit its limit.
Exhausted, annoyed, and starving for a real explanation, she muttered,
"I think I'm wasting my time. I should talk to another person."
And then—the final blow that made the veins on his temple twitch—
"You are really annoying."
She turned to walk away.
But before she could take even a single step, something cold and sharp slid against her neck.
A blade.
Thin as air.
Silent as death.
Her breath hitched.
The mocking man was no longer laughing.
And the world around her grew even stranger.