Sky-cracking Rider

In the undulating expanse of the vast Xingdu Kush Mountain Range, a peculiar buzzing noise suddenly pierced through the chaotic mountain wind.

The air vibrated violently and the sound quickly turned into a rumble echoing between the mountains.

A crude-looking gyroplane lacking even an outer shell skimmed the ridge's wild grass at high speed, gradually descending and diving toward a relatively flat hillside.

The tricycle's three fixed wheels soon pressed down onto the gravelly ground; the rough landing causing the gyroplane, colloquially known as a "tricycle," to lurch once, twice, three times before the slope neutralized its forward momentum, sliding to a stop after a short distance.

"Warning, warning, number 4489, you have entered Aircrew Base 911's airspace control zone, please leave immediately, Warning! Warning! No.4489, … "

The public frequency radio on the two-seater gyroplane suddenly blared warnings in multiple languages.

The gyroplane's pilot with high brows, a prominent nose, and a face full of weathered beard picked up the radio's handset and responded irritably, "What's with all the yelling? Bloody hell, it's constant nagging. I'm leaving right now."

After a string of curses and with visible annoyance, he hung up the microphone, unbuckled his safety belt, and climbed out of his seat, still grumbling under his breath about the "melon-headed private contractors at Aircrew Base, using feathers as Mandate Arrows, precious like a dragon's... "

The Empire's graveyard, a land of a hundred battles, with harsh mountains and waters—the tough people of this cursed land are just so bold!

The gyroplane pilot proactively helped the passenger in the back seat unload the luggage from the rack, then skillfully gestured with his thumb, index, and middle finger extended.

No offense meant, time to pay up!

"I can only take you this far, a thousand Star Yuan as agreed, no receipt."

In the Xingdu Kush Mountain Range, who needed a receipt for flying unregistered? "Tricycles" didn't pay taxes, and picking up passengers was just a side hustle while going out for groceries; it wasn't even considered a proper self-employed business, just akin to setting up a market stall.

"Uncle, how about we use Alipay?"

The young passenger was about to pull out his phone.

The bearded gyroplane pilot shook his AK automatic rifle that was slung haphazardly behind him, nodded towards the surroundings nonverbally, and said, "Uncle, my ass, I'm only nineteen this year. Electronic payment? Do you think there's a civilian mobile communication base station nearby?"

His colloquial speech was definitely of Level 8 proficiency, even rarer with the regional dialect.

Nowadays, with the education rate reaching 80% of the global population, starting from kindergarten, children learn to read and speak. There's even a formal oral language grading system, which has the great benefit of making their historical texts accessible again.

Hearing fluent dialects from economically developed regions in the Xingdu Kush Mountain Area was not surprising at all.

Without the right accent or neat calligraphy, even finding a job can be tough.

Three hundred years shift from east to west, now it's the turn of fate, no more barbarians, the time of the Han prospers.

"Er..."

Only then did the young passenger notice that there were no electronic payment system stickers on the "tricycle" and realized it wasn't by accident.

Looking around, and due to the distance from the city's clamor, the view was excellent, and within a ten-kilometer radius, there was indeed no sight of the familiar signal poles.

After all, the Xingdu Kush Mountain Range was simply too vast, sparsely populated, and not an economic zone, no one would randomly plant poles everywhere.

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The hand that had been reaching for the phone shifted to pull out a wallet, counting out ten golden banknotes and handing them over.

The crystal energy that had taken over as the new source of alternative energy upheld the joint currency of the Blue Star Realm and the Cangqiong Realm, the "Star Yuan," and was valid in every corner of both realms. The old currency system had been declared completely transitioned over a decade ago, which included the physical currency of the Cangqiong Realm.

The balance of Star Yuan cash left in the wallet was only five yuan and eighty cents, and it wasn't clear if it would be enough even to buy a steamed bun.

In the Xingdu Kush Mountain Area, the most common and convenient transportation was the flying "Tricycle." These cheap, double-seated gyroplanes didn't have much in the way of technical complexity, and as long as there was a flat surface, one could simply flag one down to take off and land. They were economical, and sometimes not only carried people but could also take off with a donkey in tow. Although they weren't fast, their speed was actually an advantage in mountainous regions. Speed has its benefits, but the steadiness of going slow was at least a guarantee not to miss the destination.

Despite these small flyers looking a bit unreliable, their safety was guaranteed. Even if the engine failed, there was no fear of stalling as they could glide down to an emergency landing using the gyroplane's rotors. Anyway, coming back alive was not a problem.

They were unlike the more advanced flight vehicles; in an emergency, there wasn't even time to jump with a parachute. Falling freely with the machine, no one had a body of steel; it was naturally a total loss. It was better to rely on the "Tricycles" that roamed the mountains much like taxis.

After neatly pocketing the cash, the nineteen-year-old bearded gyroplane pilot tossed over a stiff paper card.

"This is my business card; there's a QR code on it. Call me if you're out and about, I'm available on demand. I'll take you for a pot, a genuine Patan mutton pot, the taste is absolutely this." Using the flight app, the commission would be taken, but direct calls to old customers were more economical for both parties.

As he spoke, he even gave a thumbs-up. Drumming up business and selling mutton pots, this strategy could work.

However, the handwritten name on the business card was Karzai, while the name of the pilot on the flight app was Muhammad, surprisingly not the same.

Had he just flown with an unregistered flyer?

"Mmm-hmm! See you!"

Fearing to speak amiss and be greeted with a burst from an AK, the young passenger mumbled his farewell and waved to the double-seated gyroplane as it fired up its engine.

"See you next time, off I go!"

The bearded gyroplane pilot released the handbrake and the double-seated gyroplane turned its head and rushed down the slope, picking up speed.

The "Tricycle" began to eagerly bounce again; once, twice, thrice, the vehicle suddenly sank and then vanished below the slope.

This slope did have an end, and below was a steep drop of hundreds of meters—deadly!

"Littl..."

The young passenger's heart lifted as he witnessed this scene. Before he could shout out the word "little," he saw the double-seated gyroplane reappear, quickly climbing with the help of an updraft, and could even hear the distant, strained singing of the bearded pilot.

"I'm sending you away, thousands of miles apart…"

What year was this old song from? He couldn't remember!

When the humming of the gyroplane's blades stirring the air disappeared into the sky, the young passenger looked down at the electronic map and satellite positioning on his phone screen. Indeed, there was no signal from the mobile communication base station, only the satellite position signal remained. Looking around at the desolate, uninhabited mountains, he let out a long breath.

I, Chen Fei!

Damn, I've been had!

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