Chapter 180 - Windchime
West Milton was surrounded by two anti-sand walls, but despite that, the city was still covered in yellow sands. The sand reached up to half a meter in height on the roads, and anyone walking along these sandy roads was sure to leave behind deep footprints, though it would not take long before they got covered by more sand brought along by the whipping gusts of wind.
Many grey buildings, which seemed to at least be a few hundred years old, could be seen everywhere in the city. Luckily, decent defenses were in place to protect residents against extreme weather conditions. Also, walls of every edifice were reinforced concrete of thirty centimeters or so thick, while the doors and windows were doubly or sometimes even thrice reinforced.
With a blanket wrapped around his head, Xia Fei walked down the narrow and gloomy streets. From afar, he looked like a nomad from the grasslands. Most of the locals were dressed similarly, wrapped in thick clothes which made it difficult to distinguish whether they were male or female.
Not many people were on the streets at this time, and the few who were shuffled along the walls to avoid the wind; they all seemed to be in a hurry.
Following the instructions from the microcomputer, Xia Fei managed to find Windchime Bar.
The bar was located on a relatively wide street. It had a tall, thick, alloy door. A sign, which had seen better days, hung near the establishment’s entrance; it was covered in thick layers of yellowish dirt, making it difficult to make out what was written on it.
It was quite lively inside the bar. It was noon, yet the bar had quite the customers, chatting and laughing so loudly they could be heard outside.
Through the first door was a hallway. Xia Fei shook off the dirt from his body and hung his blanket on the rack before spitting to the ground. Despite having the protection of the blanket, sand still got into his mouth and nose; even his spit was the color of yellow.
After ten or so minutes later, a woman covered in a black cloth appeared from the back entrance of the bar.
“Sister Windchime.”
“Sister Windchime.”
All the men in the bar greeted this lady one after another, and no matter what their ages were, they respectfully referred to her as ‘sister’. It seemed that this woman was quite famous around these parts.
Xia Fei curiously checked her out. Windchime seemed to be around thirty years old. She had dark skin and a red birthmark on her left cheek. Her eyes were slightly curved making it appear as if she was smiling even when she was not.
Her body, her looks, and the way she dressed were all quite normal. She also seemed quite approachable. Xia Fei knew that her ordinary looks and smile were just on the surface. She would hardly have the respect of so many men if there was not something extraordinary with this woman.
Windchime glanced at Xia Fei and appeared to be slightly shocked. She then looked outside through the window, saying plainly, “It’s getting late; let’s close the bar for today.”
“Yes.” The teenager in the apron and the barkeep, who looked to be in his fifties, grabbed pieces of wood from the corner of the room, sealing off the windows from the outside.
The patrons left the bar after footing their bills. It could be seen from their facial expressions that these people were not too happy about this situation. It was noontime, and closing down the bar at this hour was considered quite early. Of course, it was not common to have bars opening during the day either.
After the patrons left one after another, the doors to the bar were closed shut. The teenager and the barkeep also read the room and left the two alone in the room.
After seeing her subordinates away, Windchime locked the back door. She then sat opposite Xia Fei.
“You’re Xia Fei?” questioned Windchime.
Xia Fei nodded. “That’s me.”
Her eyes turned into crescents as she said with a smile, “I didn’t think you’d be so young.”
Xia Fei smiled as well. “I didn’t think Uncle Porter’s friend would be a woman—one brimming with character at that.”
Windchime covered her mouth, letting out a pleasant laugh. “You sure do have a way with your words, much better than that stubborn as a mule Porter.”
There was seemingly a hint of affection when she said those words. ‘Could she be Uncle Porter’s lady?’ Xia Fei thought slyly.
“Let’s stay on the topic; what happened to Uncle Porter.”
The mention of the man wiped the smile off Windchime’s face, and in its place was a somber sadness.
“Porter came here over a year ago,” said Windchime. “I don’t know why he returned here from the Alliance, either.”
“Returned?”
“What? Has Porter never mentioned his past to you?”
Xia Fei shook his head. “No. I only know that he used to be in the military; I have no clue outside of that.”
“That’s right. There used to be an Alliance fleet that would come to the Death Trio Star Region for their patrol once a year. Porter was the chief logistics officer of that fleet. Unfortunately, a few years back, the Alliance began to pay us less attention until the only fleet they had stationed here was recalled,” Windchime said as she reminisced.
The chief logistics officer of the Alliance’s secret service fleet was hardly a low ranking position to hold. It was probably the third highest position in a fleet outside of the admiral and the chief of staff. It was true that Porter had been in the military when he was young, but he definitely was not just some foot soldier.
Nonetheless, why would he go to a desolate warship graveyard and open a repair shop there? To survive? Impossible. Any senior military officers would not have to worry about their survival no matter how useless they were; Porter must have had his reason for doing so.
Xia Fei asked after some thought, “When did Uncle Porter serve as the chief logistics officer of the secret service fleet?”
Windchime replied a few moments later, “Fifty-two years ago.”
Xia Fei was not surprised at all. He already knew the link between age and cultivation level. Old Porter looked to be around seventy. If he was the chief logistics officer fifty-two years ago, he should be over a hundred years old. Xia Fei did not dare to guess Windchime’s age; she was Porter’s friend, so her age could not be far from his.
“Did he say why he came back?” Xia Fei asked another question.
Windchime shook her head. “He never brought it up, though he often scurried around from place to place by himself. From his expression, he would seem a tad disappointed each time. The last time was when he called me over uncharacteristically and handed me this thing.”
Windchime then produced a golden disk from her spatial ring. This was the main body of the ancient communications system. Using it, messages could be exchanged no matter the distance.
“How did he tell you?” Xia Fei hurriedly asked.
“He told me about you and to contact you using this if he’s not back within a month’s time.”
“To tell me to come?”
“No”—Windchime shook her head—”to tell you not to go after him.”