Chapter Six: Memories (New Edition)

Guiding lines lit up on the wall, and Liu Shaoyu followed them toward the command office.

In truth, Liu Shaoyu had been to this place countless times before; he was practically a regular. This place always echoed with the booming voice of Master Kang, a match for even General Hu in volume!

“Why are you refusing logistics!” That had been the subject of their last conversation. For months, every talk revolved around, “Why don’t you want armor? Why aren’t you upgrading your shields? Why don’t you...?”

Liu Shaoyu had long since mastered a peerless skill—letting words in one ear flow out the other. Not that he ignored their advice; he’d simply considered all these questions deeply and made his decisions after careful thought.

And the results had always been a success, allowing him to break the record for the fastest climb in victory points. In just three months, he’d reached the promotion tournament—a pace never before seen.

“Scan citizen code, identity confirmed.” The cold voice of the artificial intelligence sounded once more.

Here we go again, Liu Shaoyu thought. Time to listen to another round of Master Kang’s nagging. He both loved and hated this man—hated his sharp tongue, which could cut like a knife, but cherished the tender heart hidden beneath that gruff exterior.

Master Kang’s disciplinary methods were always quick and straightforward. “Physical training, three thousand meters. No food until you finish.” That was usually the result of losing an argument. The trainees all agreed: this kind of punishment surely meant you were one of his own. Many even longed for such individual attention from Master Kang.

But whenever Liu Shaoyu said, “Why don’t you try it yourself?” everyone would fall silent and dutifully watch him run laps while eating their rations. They’d joke, “We can’t beat him, but at least we can watch him run.”

This time, however, Liu Shaoyu was mistaken—because inside the room wasn’t just Master Kang, but another man in the same dark red-lined uniform.

“Why aren’t you using armor?” This time, it wasn’t Master Kang asking, but General Hu Hansan, whose voice was even louder.

Had it been Master Kang, Liu Shaoyu would’ve simply endured a lecture and obediently gone off to run his kilometers. But faced with General Hu, he knew he had to answer seriously.

“Reporting, General, due to considerations—”

“Do you remember the entrance exam question?” General Hu cut him off before he could finish.

Liu Shaoyu had never understood the reasoning behind the drone configuration question on the entrance exam. In his view, those drones would simply be sent out to be destroyed, accomplishing nothing.

“I remember.” He didn’t know why the general was bringing this up now, but he replied nonetheless.

“I wrote that question,” General Hu said calmly. He straightened in his chair.

“Please explain, General.” Though the exam had been nearly eight years ago, Liu Shaoyu’s curiosity about that question had never faded. After entering the Command Academy, with his elevated clearance, he’d even tried searching for related cases, but found nothing.

“You’re not cleared yet. Another level and you could watch the combat footage from that year,” General Hu said, as if he knew exactly what Liu Shaoyu was about to ask.

“Combat? General, you mean it was a real battle question?” Liu Shaoyu asked curiously.

“Yes. It was a real engagement. I was the commanding officer in charge of the rescue, codename Radar. The mission was to save the 32nd Special Operations Fleet of the Seventh Army, surrounded by the enemy. You were only eight years old that year.” General Hu’s voice grew somber, and for a moment, it was as if they were both transported back to the battlefield of the Fengtower Star System ten years ago.

Star Calendar 1218, the battlefield outside Machira, Fengtower Star System. Seventh Army Fleet, 32nd Special Operations Fleet.

“Captain, you must evacuate first. The assault wing can hold them off for a while longer—enough time for you to force a warp.” The speaker was a female officer in her twenties.

“No! Order all battleships to spread out and attack. Push the escort assault ships forward—hit those bugs hard!” The captain slammed his hand on the console, glaring at the swarming enemy outside the flagship.

“Bugs”—that’s what Earth’s humans called them. Different castes had different appearances, and when the brood mother evolved to a certain level, she could spawn a higher form resembling a human, though the head remained a monstrous insect’s face with massive mandibles where a mouth should be.

“Communications, transmit a distress signal to the Stargate. Send all data back home,” the captain ordered again.

With the flagship’s escorts thrown into the fray, only about thirty thousand drones now circled it. But the enemy was overwhelming—countless bugs surged toward the fleet, or rather, the flagship.

The Thirty-Second Division’s flagship was a “Pangu”-class carrier, stretching thirty-two kilometers long. Its shape resembled an unopened Han sword. Equipped with the most advanced scanning system and propulsion speeds of up to 300 meters per second, the Pangu-class was hailed as the Federation’s mightiest carrier—invincible and unassailable.

The entire fleet was composed of one A-class escort group, a destroyer squadron, and ten battleships—the highest configuration in Huaxia, even the Federation, because this was the battlefield of the Fengtower Star System: the homeworld, Machira!

The protracted conflict in Fengtower had drained the interstellar fleet. The Elders of the Earth Federation decided on a single, decisive investment: two hundred trillion galactic credits to support this spearhead operation.

A forced pinpoint warp. After losing over ten thousand scout drones, the Federation finally pinpointed the enemy brood’s homeworld and carried antimatter bombs to destroy it.

But at the destination, eighty percent of the Fengtower swarm’s interstellar fleet was already lying in wait.

The warrior bugs of Fengtower were naturally armored, vastly outnumbering the drones. It was an impossible mission.

Their warships were different, too—less vessels than enormous insectoid creatures shaped like battleships.

“Captain, we’ve lost thirty-five percent of the fleet. Without resupply, the flagship may not survive much longer,” reported the female officer—actually the executive officer, who, despite her youthful appearance, was already forty-five, ranked Major General.

“It’s no use. Rescue is too far away, and the Federation won’t risk another fleet warp for us.” Years of military discipline kept the captain calm in this dire situation.

“Drones, surround us. Full firepower. Punch through!” Those few words seemed to drain every ounce of his strength.

It was a decision to abandon the flagship—a last stand.

The colossal flagship thrust forward like a sword toward the enemy’s heart. Drones fell by the hundreds, only to be replaced by more. Some didn’t even have time to cool down before being hurled at the enemy flagship.

The Fengtower swarm wove a massive web, trapping the 32nd so they could neither reach the homeworld nor escape.

“Right Seven Battleship Squadron, charge! Tear open a gap!” The order was dispatched. The Right Seven squadron rammed all their drones into the enemy’s dense fleet. It was futile. Under the overwhelming numbers, the ten-kilometer A-class battleship was torn apart, reduced to cosmic debris.

Such senseless sacrifice filled the space outside Machira.

“To the cold stars, if you do not understand my heart, then with my blood I offer myself to the Yellow Emperor.”

This was the ironclad oath of the Seventh Army—all its soldiers, whether clones, robots, or humans, willing to shed their last drop of blood for Earth.

“Assault fleet, prepare to deploy antimatter bombs. When the flagship breaks through, detonate them over Machira. You bugs! I, Xu Shiyou, even in death, will take you with me! Lower shields, engines full power. Charge!”

At the order, the pale blue shield protecting the thirty-two-kilometer carrier vanished. Under withering fire, even its indestructible hull began to fail.

“Damage report: ninety percent, eighty-five, seventy, fifty-five, forty. Propulsion lost. Twenty-five—she’s breaking up!”

“Detonate.” The captain’s final word in this world.

Boom!

At ground zero, there was a sudden contraction—everything nearby was drawn inward, even the light itself. Then, a wave of energy swept outward.

There was no time for anyone to react. In the next instant, the antimatter bomb’s shockwave swept through most of the Machira home system.

The enemy fleet, unable to warp away, was annihilated.

All that remained was debris, drifting silently in space. No sound, no air. It seemed to last a thousand years, or perhaps only a moment.

In that instant, there were no fleets, no bugs, no humans—only lifeless metal fragments.

“To the cold stars, if you do not understand my heart, then with my blood I offer myself to the Yellow Emperor.”

The Thirty-Second Special Operations Fleet of the Independent Seventh Army of the Huaxia Interstellar Fleet, Earth Federation, fulfilled this oath with their blood.

Not one survived this battle.

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