Dan Heng

This quiet, reserved young man serves as the express's guardian on its long pioneering expedition. He wields a spear known as Cloud Piercer. Dan Heng doesn't like to talk about his past. In fact, he joined the express train crew in the hopes of escaping from his past. But will the express train help him with this? Another unremarkable day had dawned on board the giant ship. The morning dew still sparkled here and there, but the market had already opened. For the young man crossing the street, this scene seemed very unusual. The sun's warmth pleasantly warmed his neck. He had not yet had time to note all the differences between the real city and the one described in the book.

For the first time, he was able to look at his body. His own body, bearing his current name. Upon arrival at the port, the escort removed the last shackles from the young man. The boy walked forward without looking back, feeling the gazes on him, full of hatred, albeit implicit.

Only when the ship had moved away did the young man turn around and take one last look at the place: the ship was indeed majestic and magnificent, just as the book described. He glanced at it briefly and then turned away again, to where the stars shone dimly and the future seemed to be in a fog. The young man stepped off one ship and immediately onto another. He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't want to know. There was no place in the world he wanted to go. He wanted only to get lost, to run away from his native land. The population of such ships is constantly changing, which means that none of the crew members will have any suspicions about the guest as long as he is ready to work. But he couldn’t get rid of the pursuer with the bestial gaze.

If others in his homeland hated him, this man clearly intended to kill him - and even destroyed the ship he was on. His pursuer had already died before his eyes, but soon reappeared.

And in unknown lands a free life awaited him - a life in which everything was possible.

Having defeated the monsters, the traveler disembarked at the next port. Although he thought that he would remain unnoticed among the countless ships sailing away from the pier, a stranger with fiery red hair suddenly approached him and expressed gratitude to him for saving the ships, on one of which she was sailing.

The young man was about to turn around and leave when he suddenly noticed a slowly stopping train behind the stranger. — Where is your next stop? — I haven't decided yet.

• Maybe you'll come with us then? — ... — We are repeating our previous route — we want to visit again where we have been before. We need a protector... and an archivist. — ...
• You can get off the train at any time, as soon as you decide where you want to go.
• Fine. The young man rubbed his eyes, realizing how long it had been since he had gotten a good night's sleep like this. He had no intention of staying on the train, so he had refused the room that had been prepared especially for him and had made himself a bed on the floor of the archives. There he read articles until late at night and before he knew it he had fallen asleep. Opening the door, the new passenger saw the conductor. She had come to scold him for staying up all night, since he risked not making it in time for a hot breakfast and thereby upsetting the crew that had given him shelter. The young man nodded, and the conductor, having calmed down with satisfaction, gently pushed him into the carriage.

The fiery-haired fellow traveler—Himeko, it turned out—greeted her new companion with a smile. The chestnut-haired man sitting opposite her, Mr. Yang, remained silent, although it seemed as if he wanted to ask his unexpected companion many questions. At that time he did not yet realize that he would be facing many more days like this.

It was not easy to follow the same route, primarily because of the numerous obstacles created by Stellaron. Sometimes the young man encountered a huge monster that he had already defeated before. Once, the crew even discovered a huge block of ice, in which a living girl had somehow ended up.

The express train's journey continues. What incredible adventures await it ahead?

Dan Heng has accepted the power of his past incarnation, the Moon Eater, which reveals the true form of the Vidyadhara. He who accepts the majestic crown of horns accepts all the virtues and faults of that person. But he would always remain only himself. In the pitch darkness, it seemed to him as if he had returned to the egg of the vidyadhara, and now he was covered by restless sea waves and dreams.

He dreamed that he was standing on the altar, singing a sacrificial song calling for rain. The songs and gestures were just an appearance, but the fire in his eyes and the seething blood were his essence. He wove smoke-like waves with his hands in the Scaly Gorge and pacified the furious dragon, imprisoning it in the overgrown giant Tree. After the last echo of the dragon's roar dissipated, a serene peace reigned in the Scaly Gorge for hundreds of years. Thus his mission was fulfilled. Having finished the ceremony, he turned around. On the stone steps leading to the exit, he saw a crowd of venerable vidyadharas, dressed in silk robes. It is unknown how long they had been standing there. Each of them had dragon horns on their heads. They were mirror images of each other, their sleeves billowing in an awkward dance that ended with them turning to leave. Their orderly, countless ranks formed a staircase that reached into the sky, and their faces were copies of the face he saw in the mirror every morning. His face. No, the face of the first Supreme Elder. With a bitter grin, he covered his face with his hands, as if testing whether he could pull off the mask and return it to its true owner. In the pitch darkness, he felt as if he had returned to the egg of the Vidyadhara, and now he was covered by restless sea waves and dreams.

The pilot flying past doesn't hold the line at all - she shoots randomly, releasing flaming crossbow arrows into the advancing Borisin regiments.

A grey-haired warrior makes her way to the starry skiff, brandishing a blade. Her movements are so brisk that it is difficult to follow the reflections of the sword - even her comrades do not dare to come close, only covering her from behind. On ordinary days, the chatty and cheerful lieutenant of the Cloud Knights is in no mood for jokes - holding a glaive in his hand, he and the detachment entrusted to him defend themselves from the Borisin infantrymen attacking from the flank.

The artisans marching in the rear are tuning and testing the huge aurumatons. Perhaps one of them, known for his straightforwardness and willfulness, is also working hard now, because these giants, tens of meters tall, are their trump card against the mechabeasts. Then he saw how the current general, Teng Xiao, shrouded in golden thunder, like the embodiment of the Lord of the Heavenly Arc himself, rushes swiftly through the enemy ranks, sweeping away the mechabeasts with his own shadow... The defeated Borisinians are fleeing. Now it is time for him to fulfill the mission entrusted to him. He allowed his mind to dissolve in the storm and hail - let the thunder roar for him, let the tsunami spew its wrath for him. He hung in the clouds, looking at his enemies swallowed by the abyss, the lands left behind, and his comrades, humans, vidyadharas, and foxes, who would never return home. His dragon heart told him that this was just a small speck of dust, brushed off the face of the earth. Wars have their price, but life will always prosper, for the vidyadharas are not the only branch of Lun's descendants. However, his human heart ached for those comrades who, like him, had warm blood in their veins, and for those mortals who might live longer, but would never return home. In the pitch darkness, it seemed to him that he had returned to the egg of a vidyadhara, and now he was covered by restless sea waves and dreams.

• Shuhu is dead... we have won, but how many more victories will we be able to achieve? How many more such prices will we have to pay? — Look, the Ambrosia Tree is still standing. And as long as it lives, the monsters... will return again and again. The war of the Xianzhou people, the Fox People, and the Vidyadhara against the Abominations will never end. "Yes, we are no different! Each of us only has one life to live, to sacrifice and go to death... it is our own choice. Just like she chose to save you and Jingliu... just like she chose to let more people live on!" The war and the lives that were cut short in the war were living beings just like him. He closed his eyes tiredly, remembering their faces, and made a decision. "If there is a chance... we will also choose the opportunity to allow her and many more people to live on. We, vidyadhara, have our own path of salvation. I can try." A dream within a dream, an incarnation outside the flesh. He returned at the moment when he was about to disappear forever. With an indifferent gaze, he watched as his body, writhing and twisting like a shadow of flesh and blood of an unknown transformation, acquired a draconic appearance. In this deathbed illusion, the messenger of the gods showed him an amazing picture - the stars slammed shut and expanded again like red blood cells, and the universe fell into the abyss of temptation and corporeality. The dragon's heart beat faster. Angrily exhaling clouds of air, the dragon bared its claws and fangs ... But with all his power, he could not resist the messenger of the god of life. The fallen star skiff stuck into the ground like an arrow. He saw a girl trying to get out of the wreckage - high above her head she holds the disk of an absolutely black "sun". In this short, but seemingly eternity, moment he sees how her hands disappear, how her face dissolves, how she herself disappears - the thing above her head created a strong whirlwind that swallowed and ground everything around into a fine powder. Including the girl.

In the pitch darkness, it seemed to him as if he had returned to the egg of the Vidyadhara, and now he was covered by restless sea waves and dreams.

He dreamed that a dragon-slaying harpoon was thrust into his body, and his paws were chained in coral gold, hanging him in the dark dungeon of the House of Shackles. He dreamed that the wisest ones came and went, interrogating him about the truth of the magical rite of Arcanum Transmutation and the location of the dragon's heart. But he only remained silent. He dreamed that judges came to him and read out the death sentence. And he just remained silent.

He dreamed that a gray-haired lieutenant of the Cloud Knights came to him and told him about the results of the negotiations with the judges: the Vidyadhara would not allow him to leave or die. But he only remained silent. He dreamed that he was raising his cup again at the same table with them; he dreamed that he was losing his dragon scales; he dreamed that he was back in the egg and becoming a different person.

He dreamed of a whole series of events, similar to an endless stream of transformations into “himself.”

After another transformation, a clearer, but still incomprehensible image appears. He saw himself languishing in exile, he saw himself boarding a train, he saw himself flying away without looking back towards the distant starry sky.