Chapter 49

Chapter 49

In the highest-level office of the Vermilion Bird Star Domain’s Red Feather Army central territory, military files were neatly categorized on orderly shelves. The heavy floor tiles reflected cold, gleaming light, and the meticulously arranged decor fully embodied the owner's precise working style.

Standing before the floor-to-ceiling window was a tall man in a crisp military uniform. The fading twilight cast its glow on his sharply defined face, while his light-gray pupils, unusually pale, resembled exquisitely carved crystal.

Chi Yan, the supreme commander of the Red Feather Army, was born with impaired vision. Equipped with the latest mechanical ocular implants, he could often assess battle situations at a glance on the battlefield, earning him the title "Eye of the Empire."

At this moment, the man whose mere gaze was usually enough to make others tremble was focusing his attention on a holographic screen not far away—[Hello! The record rankings for Assessment Project No. 5536 have been updated. Your ranking has been surpassed. Please continue working to restore your honor!]

Chi Yan couldn't remember how long it had been since he last received such a notification.

After a brief moment of thought, he quickly retrieved the relevant details from his memory.

Assessment Project No. 5536: a solo mecha race worth 40 military points.

Chi Yan recalled that when this project was first updated, he happened to have some free time and casually secured the first completion, claiming the top position.

The training system on the military network held varying degrees of significance for someone of his rank. Whenever a new project was released, the several legions almost tacitly chose certain content to claim portions of the rankings. Since each legion had its own strengths, there was rarely any obvious conflict over positions.

Now, who had suddenly shown interest in Assessment Project No. 5536?

After a moment of contemplation, Chi Yan calmly logged into the intranet. His gaze paused briefly when it swept over the name ranked first.

A temporary account.

Such accounts were randomly generated temporary IDs, more akin to "guest credentials" on a platform. They were typically registered by various military districts themselves, and the data retention period would not exceed six months at most.

Chi Yan used his authority to perform an operation.

According to the feedback, no relevant records were found for this account—it was outside his jurisdiction.

This temporary account did not belong to the Red Feather Army, and its registration location was not in the Vermilion Bird Star Domain.

Chi Yan took another look at the new record's data. After a moment of thought, the only possibility that came to mind was someone capable of achieving such a feat. He took out his terminal and dialed a number.

Shortly after, Qing Yileng's flat, uninflected voice came from the other end: "What is it?"

Facing another of the Four Great Armies' commanders, Chi Yan was direct: "Have you been training on the intranet?"

Qing Yileng: "?"

Though there was no verbal response, the silence on the other end of the call already gave Chi Yan his answer: "It seems I was mistaken."

"Mistaken?" Qing Yileng, a man known as the human machine, was rarely intrigued. "What happened?"

Chi Yan's light-colored eyes lowered slightly, lingering on the lit holographic screen: "It's nothing. I just received a notification from the intranet that my ranking in a small project was surpassed."

"A small project?" Qing Yileng quickly identified the crucial point among all the information. "By how much?"

Chi Yan answered truthfully: "The elimination count within the same time frame is 20% higher than the record I left. Moreover, it seems to have made the ranking in a single attempt."

The information was clear.

Making the ranking in a single attempt meant the record-setter hadn't undergone long, repeated training sessions—the achievement was not accidental.

After a brief silence, Qing Yileng said: "I recall such rankings display names."

Chi Yan replied calmly: "Temporary account. Identity concealed."

Qing Yileng finally understood why Chi Yan had contacted him suddenly and offered a possibility: "Jin Wumian has been particularly unoccupied recently."

"He isn't skilled in this type of multi-target combat operations. He couldn't achieve something like this."

Chi Yan objectively dismissed Qing Yileng's speculation. His crystal-like eyes calmly gazed into the distance, and his measured words resembled the detailed debriefs he often delivered during meetings. "I know you're not someone who spends time on such matters, but based on my understanding of military officers, you're the only one capable of such a feat. However, it seems I was mistaken."

Mistaken.

Anyone who knew Chi Yan would understand how discordant these words were with the image of the Red Marshal.

Qing Yileng asked: "Are you certain I'm the only one capable of this?"

After these words, the conversation fell into brief silence. It was a long while before Chi Yan's voice sounded again: "There is indeed one other, but they weren't within consideration this time."

Without needing to say it explicitly, Qing Yileng knew who Chi Yan was referring to.

His typically emotionless voice even let out a mechanical chuckle: "Sorry, it really wasn't me. But if needed, I can investigate the source of that temporary account for you."

Chi Yan didn't refuse: "I'd appreciate that."

Qing Yileng responded: "No need. After all, I'm rather curious as well."

As the call ended, the office fell into prolonged silence.

Chi Yan remained standing before the floor-to-ceiling window for a long time before finally turning slowly and walking to his desk. From the bottom drawer, he retrieved a simple, unmarked wooden box.

After passing the retina scan, the genetic lock clicked open, revealing a silver-gray pistol resting inside.

It was a rather ordinary-looking pistol. The flourished lettering in the corner, too whimsical, somewhat disrupted the visual aesthetic brought by its clean lines.

MING—engraved by the gun's original owner.

Chi Yan recalled Qing Yileng's earlier question.

—"Are you certain I'm the only one capable of this?"

No, of course not.

It was just that the other person he had in mind had been out of contact for too long.

Given that person's style, if they were to reappear in everyone's sight, they would likely make as dramatic an appearance as this temporary account had.

Or perhaps, even more remarkably so.

Since the establishment of the Four Great Armies, the Red Feather Army and the White Flame Legion had formed stark contrasts due to their distinctly different styles.

Chi Yan's consistently meticulous and research-driven methods made the Red Feather Army the most disciplined among the Four Great Armies. However, its excessive pursuit of a precise and rigorous combat system also earned it criticism for being a rigid "academic school."

In contrast was the White Flame Legion, founded by Bai Luming.

This White Army, which rose from irregular origins, never adhered to formalism, much like their commander. They were experts at unconventional tactics, differing from the Red Army in everything from basic systems to overall conduct, championing an unstructured opportunism.

Their distinctly different styles meant that during daily discussions, the two commanders rarely ever shared unified political views.

Supporters of both legions, whether in the cabinet or among the populace, held mutual disdain and were constantly at odds. As a result, in rumors everywhere, the Red Marshal and Marshal Bai were both considered prodigies—yet destined never to acknowledge each other's superiority.

The knock on the office door interrupted Chi Yan's thoughts.

His adjutant's voice came from outside: "Marshal, the meeting is about to begin."

"Got it."

Chi Yan casually picked up the short gun from the box, stuck it in his hip holster, and stood up to walk out the door.

Upon arriving at the conference room, he received a message from Qing Yileng, as concise as ever: [The account registration location is also not within the Azure Dragon Starfield.]

Chi Yan skimmed it.

If one were to exclude the jurisdiction of the Four Great Armies, there was another type of place that would conduct large-scale temporary account registrations at this time—the reserve selection grounds.

Though it seemed absurd to attribute the skill displayed by this temporary account to a trainee in the reserve selection, he was no stranger to surprises.

After all, which of the members of the Four Great Armies hadn’t worked their way up from nothing?

Chi Yan lowered his gaze slightly, took his seat at the head of the table, and swept his faint glance over the figures on both sides of the long table: "Let's begin."

*

"Achoo!" After what felt like the who-knows-how-many-th sneeze, Bai Luming rubbed the tip of his nose, looking even more bewildered.

It wasn’t just the relentless sneezing—even his eyelids were twitching uncontrollably, and he felt a weird, unfounded anxiety.

But the next moment, as the meal fund notification came through, Bai Luming’s mood instantly brightened, and all his doubts vanished: "Old Liang came through! He transferred the meal money so quickly!"

He Yilan watched his series of sneezes: "Maybe you're coming down with something?"

Bai Luming was surprised by his concern: "You worried about me?"

He Yilan replied: "Yes, I’m afraid you’ll infect me."

Bai Luming: "..." Of course he'd say that.

He glanced at He Yilan: "Don’t worry, unless we do something, it's not that contagious."

As he finished speaking, Bai Luming noticed the other’s gaze drift down slightly from the tip of his nose, followed by a casual "Hmm": "True, it would take doing something to spread it."

Bai Luming: "?"

Where are you looking?

Even though nothing happened, where did this weird sense of being teased come from?

Bai Luming rarely found himself in a situation where, even without arguing, he felt like he'd come up short.

But feeling good from the news, he decided not to dwell on it. He threw an arm around He Yilan’s shoulder like they were buddies: "Relax, I know my body best. Training at this level won’t give me a cold. Come on, since you joined me for extra drills, I’ll treat you to dinner. Now that my card has money, load up from the cafeteria!"

He Yilan glanced at the hand on his shoulder, then turned slightly, his gaze settling on Bai Luming’s face right next to his: "'Bro?'"

Though the tone was teasing, the breath accompanying the word brushed lightly past his ear, stirring up some old memories.

Bai Luming’s steps paused almost imperceptibly before he continued calmly: "Eating's what matters. Since I’m treating you, what’s wrong with you calling me 'bro'?"

As he spoke, Bai Luming noticed He Yilan’s eyebrows rise meaningfully.

In an instant, his mind already played out in his mind—a smooth, deep "Thanks, bro" slipping effortlessly through his imagination, as if the man were really whispering it beside his ear.

Just as He Yilan seemed about to speak, Bai Luming’s heart jumped, and he cut him off: "No need to thank me, bro."

He Yilan’s teasing remark was cut off mid-sentence: "?"

He glanced at Bai Luming, then after a moment, gave a faint, unconcerned smile: "Alright, bro."

Bai Luming: "."

So his attempt failed—he couldn’t avoid being called "bro" after all!?

As he was about to say more, he caught a glimpse of a figure darting past the side of the training ground.

That figure looked like—Gu Anzhe?

His sneaky look quickly reminded Bai Luming of Huo Mingyue, who had just arrived at the Nawei Military Region.

It seemed this little "shadow" stationed at the No. 6616 Military Region was finally seizing the chance to report.

Though an investigation related to "Eternal Day" technology was likely bound to go nowhere, if there were other tasks, there might still be room to make progress.

Noticing He Yilan about to look in Gu Anzhe’s direction, Bai Luming’s hand—previously resting on He Yilan’s right shoulder—suddenly extended, swinging his arm around the back of his neck to swing him around smoothly.

He pulled He Yilan along and strode in the opposite direction: "Actually, treating someone to the cafeteria seems kinda cheap. I heard there’s a private kitchen upstairs in Cafeteria No. 4—I’ll take you there for a real meal."

He Yilan’s peripheral glance caught the still-swaying shadows behind them, but he calmly looked away: "Still order whatever?"

Bai Luming waved a hand: "Yeah, it’s been a while since you had a good meal. Order whatever you want."

Two hours later, Bai Luming walked out of Cafeteria No. 4, looking stung.

Some private kitchen—it was more like a total rip-off! If he’d known the cost of covering for someone would be this high, he’d have chosen the main hall of Cafeteria No. 4!

Thinking about the expense of tonight’s meal, Bai Luming began considering the possibility of getting Liang Deng to reimburse it.

Since he’d promised meal money, shouldn’t the private kitchen in Cafeteria No. 4 count as part of the cafeteria? Logically, it made perfect sense.

With this thought, as his gaze swept over He Yilan’s face, Bai Luming slowly bit down on the toothpick in his mouth until it snapped.

Expressionless, he returned to the dorm. His micro terminal dinged twice, and a new message popped up:

[Notice: Starting tomorrow, the elite troop selection for each military region will officially begin. Specific rules will be announced in follow-up notices. Additionally, training hours will be adjusted to 5:00 AM to 20:00 PM. All trainees must adhere to the schedule—no late arrivals or early departures.]

Bai Luming looked up and saw He Yilan watching him, clearly having received the same message.

After a long silence, he voiced a soulful question from one lazybones to another: "Can 20:00 even be considered afternoon?"