The Whole Empire Raises Me - Chapter 34

 

Chapter 34

Wen Xingze glanced at the credit card in his hand, then handed it back to him. “You can keep your money. As a first-time customer, you’re eligible for a discount, and we’ll deliver it to you for free.”

Lei Qi: “!!!”

Ding dong! Congratulations to the dragon parents for completing half of the PK task ‘Get a Hug from the Cub.’ There are six and a half days left until the task ends. Keep up the good work!

Astor and Lei Qi stood there, stunned by the unexpected news. Then, they transformed into elementary school kids, bickering and play-fighting:

“You’re such a big dreamer! Your whole family is full of dreamers, haha.” 

“You’re also part of our clan, and you’re so black, literally.” 

“Don’t you think golden scales are tacky?”

“Huh?”

While most dragons flew less gracefully than Astor, they all landed awkwardly in front of Wen Xingze. Amidst the noise:

“Clan Leader, you’re too cunning!”

“I want Cub to hug me and give me nose boops too!” 

“Seconded.”

Silver dragon Will lowered his head and nuzzled Wen Xingze with his snout. Just like Lei Qi, Wen Xingze slid five meters across the snowy ground.

Wen Xingze made a decision: “No problem, one by one, line up.”

The previously rowdy dragons fell silent and obediently formed a queue. Shameless Lei Qi even managed to position himself at the front, still playfully pushing and shoving with Astor.

Wen Xingze shook his head. “No fighting. You two go to the back of the line.”

Lei Qi quickly changed his tune. “This isn’t fighting. Trash Astor is my best brother.”

Astor chimed in, “Exactly. Waste Lei Qi is my best big brother.”

They hugged each other, pretending not to be disgusted, and tried to push each other into the snow.

Wen Xingze watched their antics. In the spirit of their enthusiasm, he hugged Lei Qi again, then Astor, patting their noses and heads.

It was Wen Xingze’s first time petting dragons.

Thanks for the invitation; it was quite enjoyable. I’ll come back next time.

Like cats, the dragons loved chin scratches. When hugged, they purred, sometimes even flipping over to expose their bellies, turning Wen Xingze into a slide on their tails.

But what puzzled Wen Xingze was that after being hugged, some dragons would run to the side and “lift” large rocks, like Lei Qi. Facing a mountain-sized boulder, Lei Qi clumsily extended his claws to lift it, only for the rock to crumble disappointingly.

Wen Xingze raised an eyebrow. “?”

“They’re practicing hugs,” Will stammered. Wen Xingze noticed that Will now wore oversized dragon glasses, looking scholarly:

“Hugging humans is a complex matter for dragons. I consulted the Academy of Sciences and reviewed some literature. Still researching diligently. The draft of my paper is ready, but plagiarism checks are pending…”

Wen Xingze blinked. Dragon research papers with plagiarism checks? Is this real?

Due to limited space on the snowy mountain, not all dragons had come. They held a lottery, and only a few dozen attended today. Wen Xingze hugged each one, eventually reaching the end of the line.

At the tail end stood Chi Yan, eyes downcast, playing Sudoku on his phone.

Out of habit, Wen Xingze hugged him too, then tilted his head to pat Chi Yan’s nose and chin. “Good boy.”

Chi Yan: “…”

Wen Xingze: “…”

Wen Xingze covered his eyes. “Sorry, professional habit.”

Chi Yan’s lips twitched, and he quickly averted his gaze. His ears turned slightly red, but Wen Xingze attributed it to the cold wind.

Chi Yan: “It’s fine.”

And Wen Xingze continued down the line.

The snowy mountain, an attached space, wasn’t vast. At its edge lay the sea—probably the Merfolk’s domain. This space was like a jigsaw puzzle, pieced together.

Near the snowy plain, the sea appeared calm, but Wen Xingze sensed something unusual. He couldn’t resist crouching down to take a closer look.

That’s when he noticed the pale blue fins.

Wen Xingze: “Wu Zhu?”

The mermaid, hidden beneath the water’s surface, shyly and excitedly flicked his tail. After a moment, he resurfaced, half his face submerged, making bubbling sounds. His eyes darted around. “I heard there’s a celebration here… where I can hug the Emperor…”

Most Merfolk were reserved, and Wu Zhu was a typical example. He struggled to form complete sentences, burying his head underwater to cool off after uttering half of the word “hug.”

Wen Xingze blinked.

When Wu Zhu finally surfaced again, Wen Xingze didn’t wait for more words. He reached out and gently touched Wu Zhu’s head.

Underwater, the mermaid’s hair felt like silk, slightly sticky in the air. Wen Xingze was about to lean in for a hug, but Wu Zhu suddenly collapsed with a “boom.”

“Your Majesty, thank you,” Wu Zhu pressed against his own fin. “That’s enough; I might die if this continues.”

Like an overheating alarm, Wu Zhu’s neck and even his fins turned red. Then, the mermaid swiftly turned and disappeared into the water, leaving ripples behind.

Wen Xingze: “…Huh?”

Not far away, Elder Cang discreetly revealed deep golden eyes above the sea’s surface. First, he coldly glanced at Chi Yan, then submerged again.

Elder Cang: “Wu Zhu ran away. What about you? Are you going to join the queue?”

Elder You: “Queue for what? I don’t like him. Do you like him?”

Elder Li: “Ha, who likes him? I’m not Dahei.”

The three elders exchanged glances, recalling the scene they had just witnessed. Wen Xingze had earnestly hugged all the dragons, his gaze soft, his voice sweet as he called their names, and he’d even patted their noses and chins…

A hint of jealousy crept in.

But if they were in his shoes…

Boom.

Like Wu Zhu, the three Merfolk elders blushed from their necks to their fins and quickly vanished into the deep sea.

Although the rewards for this PK task were indeed generous, for the Merfolk, the difficulty was… too high!

In the Mustard Seed Space, time flowed differently from Wen Xingze’s world. Since this space belonged to him, he could control the time ratio within certain limits.

However, regardless of the time ratio, staying in Mustard Seed Space for more than three hours would trap the soul there permanently.

The dragons’ three hours had already passed, and Wen Xingze supervised their departure from the space.

The dragons hesitated, looking back repeatedly, especially Lei Qi. He forcefully placed a small package in Wen Xingze’s hands, insisting it was a souvenir from his trip and should be opened before bedtime.

________________________

Three hours in Mustard Seed Space equated to ten minutes on Earth, and Wen Xingze and the others still had time before the evening variety show recording.

“Teacher Chi,” he said to Chi Yan, not rushing to leave the space. “I want to talk to you about something…”

Chi Yan didn’t seem surprised. He stirred the fire with a stick, motioning for Wen Xingze to sit closer.

Perhaps because Wen Xingze’s control over the space wasn’t sufficient, day and night alternated freely in Mustard Seed Space. It had been daytime moments ago, but now the starry night sky stretched above them.

A perfect atmosphere for a serious conversation.

Wen Xingze: “Actually, I’m not human…”

Chi Yan: “?”

Chi Yan: “Okay.”

Wen Xingze: “…Wait! I am human! I misspoke.” Why did Chi Yan just say okay? What was he accepting?

Next, Wen Xingze shared everything with Chi Yan—from the game “Desolation” three years ago to the recent release of “Cub Raising Program.”

These were things he’d never discussed with anyone outside the parents’ group. Initially stumbling, he gradually found his flow, even recalling memories he thought long forgotten…

“Desolation” was a base-building strategy game.

It started as a single brick, and progress depended on hard work. The most challenging part was the early stages. Back then, Wen Xingze stayed up late or even pulled all-nighters playing the game.

Three years ago, when Wen Xingze began playing, it corresponded to thirty years ago in the parallel universe.

At that time, the Universal Alliance hadn’t formed, and there was no Muse or Utopia. The universe was chaotic, with power struggles, bizarre systems, and many abnormalities alongside slavery.

Wen Xingze had painstakingly cultivated farmland on the desolate planet, established small towns, and even opened a spaceport for interstellar travel.

This meant that his desolate planet could finally communicate with the outside world, allowing him to recruit talent from various regions. As a result, he attracted an assortment of peculiar individuals:

Several eccentric dwarf scientists who had been expelled from their original nation due to their quirky temperaments.

A mechanical life form covered in rust and oil stains, whose program crashed daily.

A seemingly schizophrenic poet from the dark elves.

A mermaid who had escaped from a slave auction.

A blind military officer, bleeding and near death, who was universally wanted and described by the system as “at risk of death, blindness, and not recommended for rescue.”

Regardless of their backgrounds or the discrimination and insults they faced in their original countries, Wen Xingze willingly became their refuge. This led to early Muse being mockingly referred to as a “garbage containment station” by other nations.

Even the game assistant in “Desolation” frequently reminded him to carefully consider the composition of his citizens. Otherwise, the later development of the empire would be extremely challenging. The assistant hinted that Wen Xingze should eliminate some of the elderly, weak, and infirm.

Of course, Wen Xingze ignored the advice. Initially, almost all of his citizens were elderly, weak, or infirm…

As the administrator of this “garbage containment station,” Wen Xingze maintained a positive attitude.

The blind military officer with black hair and silver eyes crash-landed in their starport due to an accident. When Wen Xingze dug him out of the escape pod, the officer was nearly at death’s door, with only 1% of his health remaining. The system description labeled him as a “highly priced, universally wanted fugitive, at risk of death and blindness, not recommended for assistance.”

The top-tier life-saving emergency kit cost a whopping three hundred credits—equivalent to Wen Xingze’s monthly food budget.

It was the first time Wen Xingze spent such a large amount in “Desolation.” He sacrificed his entire month’s food money to buy the emergency kit for the officer. For the next month, Wen Xingze survived on compressed biscuits, bewildered by his impulsive decision.

“Please don’t die,” Wen Xingze would say every day when logging into the game, checking on the officer. “If you die, I’ll… call customer service to get my three hundred credits back…”

He checked during the day and even held a lantern to read at night. It was winter, and the game system constantly posed challenges. Sometimes it asked him to keep the little people warm, find specific herbs, or attend to a pale-faced, coldly demanding character who needed water and food.

Not just any water—distilled water. Wen Xingze burned the midnight oil, leveling up the tech tree to obtain the distillation set.

After seven or eight days, the officer finally escaped immediate danger.

Twenty days later, the blind officer could now get out of bed and move around, but his eyes still couldn’t tolerate light; it caused pain and tears.

“On your birthday, happy birthday,” Wen Xingze ordered a light-blocking eye mask for him online, pure black. “Now you can go out and enjoy the sun tomorrow morning.”

The officer seemed surprised, quiet for a moment, and then asked, “How did you know my birthday?”

Wen Xingze: “…”

He hadn’t thought of a reason for the gift; it was just a casual remark. Unexpectedly, the game’s little character was so intelligent.

“I don’t have a birthday,” the officer said with a detached expression and an icy tone. “I’m an artificial being, with only a manufacturing number and production date.”

Wen Xingze told the truth: “Brother, I just wanted to give you a gift. Don’t make it difficult for me. If you don’t want it, forget it.”

Wen Xingze considered taking the eye mask back, but the officer held onto the gift box, unmoving.

Wen Xingze: “Do you secretly want it?”

Officer: “…”

Officer: “No.”

Wen Xingze tried to take the gift box, but the system blocked him with an immense force—he couldn’t budge it.

Wen Xingze gave up. “Fine, fine, it’s yours.”

The officer held the gift box, examining it for a moment. Suddenly, his lips tightened. He turned away, hiding his expression from Wen Xingze.

“Thank you,” the officer reluctantly said.

However, the game system completely betrayed him. From Wen Xingze’s player perspective, the officer had a giant “+1000 Favorability” floating above his head.

And with a considerate voiceover, it added, “The blind military officer decided that from now on, he would treat today as his birthday. This is the year 413 of the Galactic Era, December 25th…”

Wen Xingze: “…So stubborn!”

On another note, this date seemed to be Chi Yan’s birthday as well.

Wen Xingze didn’t think too much about it because, at the time, he was viewing “Desolation” from a game perspective. He couldn’t clearly distinguish the appearances of the paper characters—after all, there were significant differences between the two-dimensional and three-dimensional worlds.

However, the officer’s personality did resemble Chi Yan’s. Wen Xingze often suspected that the blind officer and the later Utopian monarch were the same person. Yet, during their mission together, the officer acted as if they’d never met.

“You must be good at acting too,” Wen Xingze observed the officer. At that time, he was going through a career slump in real life, playing minor roles in many forgettable films. Reflecting, he said, “I’m an actor too, but my acting skills aren’t great… If we ever meet in another world, I hope you can teach me.”

The officer hesitated.

He looked at Wen Xingze seriously.

After that, Wen Xingze couldn’t quite recall what happened next. He didn’t remember the officer’s exact response. Perhaps the officer hadn’t understood Wen Xingze’s words at all, remaining silent and closing his eyes.

Wen Xingze didn’t disturb the officer any further and left the room.

Last night, the desolate planet had received snow. The PN-4 combat robot had already risen early to shovel snow. When it saw Wen Xingze, it hobbled over and draped a thick blanket over him. The robot’s core program wasn’t fully repaired yet, so it could only utter simple phrases:

“Emperor, cold, sick, warmth.”

Wen Xingze almost got buried in the snow by the heavy blanket. He stood on tiptoe and patted the robot’s head to express gratitude.

After being petted, the robot’s irises suddenly flickered. Its hands moved aimlessly up and down, and a wisp of smoke emerged from its head. It emitted strange mechanical sounds, as if it were about to malfunction.

Wen Xingze: “…”

He had to retrieve some oil from the storage shelf and sat on the ground, lubricating the robot’s joints to prevent it from falling apart.

As Wen Xingze finished oiling the robot, he noticed a long queue forming behind it. Other robots, who had been shoveling snow elsewhere, also hurried over. Some robots had just been oiled last night, yet they intentionally disassembled one of their arms, pretending to be injured.

Wen Xingze: “…”

After finally resolving everyone’s issues, Wen Xingze continued walking toward the outskirts of the town.

He wanted to check the starport for any new arrivals.

This was the first time he encountered the black dragon, Lei Qi.

At that time, the dragon’s home planet lay within a treacherous asteroid belt, isolated from the outside world. The harsh climate and murky waters created an atmosphere of danger and claustrophobia. The young black dragon lay submerged in a particularly stagnant pool, its presence hidden until it chose to attack.

The dragon’s battered form bore wounds and exposed scales, worse off than even the blind military officer.

As the dragon exhaled heavily, flames flickered to life and then extinguished. Its voice rasped, saying, "Human, my time is short. Before I die, I hope to return to my homeland. I am the leader of the Dragon Clan…"

Wen Xingze realized this was a scene of desperate plea before death. Following the typical progression, the black dragon might entrust its entire clan to him.

Shocked, Wen Xingze immediately interrupted the dragon:

"Wait, I can take you back to your homeland, but don’t make such hasty arrangements. I can’t currently afford to care for so many dragons. I might end up parading your entire clan on the streets, playing the suona and dancing the dragon dance."

An image formed in his mind.

The dragon retorted, clearly displeased. Despite struggling to breathe moments ago, it now managed to flip over. Its golden eyes, once filled with fury, gradually softened, revealing a touch of sorrow as it regarded Wen Xingze.

That gaze struck Wen Xingze.

He recalled descriptions of the dragon’s home planet in newspapers—a “dead planet” located in the dangerous asteroid belt, perpetually snow-covered and frozen. Many had sought the dragon clan, either lured by legends of their hidden treasures or coveting their combat prowess. These self-proclaimed “saviors” vowed to rescue them at any cost.

The black dragon had been deceived into venturing beyond its world, chasing dreams that turned out to be illusions. What awaited it were repeated disappointments and betrayals.

No one was willing to brave the dangers of crossing the asteroid belt, venture to that desolate star, or endure the harsh winters alongside them.

With each breath, the dragon exuded the scent of blood. As it neared its end, its golden eyes gradually dimmed.

Self-deprecatingly, it asked Wen Xingze, "I’m about to die, and the Dragon Clan is fading… You, an ordinary human, an Emperor of an insignificant nation—how can you save me?"

Wen Xingze remained silent.

Don’t underestimate others.

In another universe, Wen Xingze quietly pulled out his wallet.

Channeling the tone of a certain arrogant mermaid, he coldly retorted, "Financial power."

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