Chapter 16#

The Beta Lieutenant Colonel Who Gave His Life for His Country#

Just as the people on the Star Net were wondering where Lu Heng had gone, the livestream footage suddenly switched to the “Black Box.” The Black Box was where soldiers about to execute extremely dangerous missions left messages for their families. Recordings captured in the Black Box would be delivered to the serviceman’s family as a priority. Given the immense stakes of this particular mission, the public demanded full supervisory rights. Everything related to the mission was being broadcast live on the Star Net — the footage from the Black Box was no exception.

“Good day, Father, Mother, and Brother.” Lu Heng sat before the camera, looking somewhat uneasy. “I’m very sorry — it looks like I won’t be able to spend Star Origin Festival with you all again this year.”

No one on the Star Net had ever seen Lu Heng like this. In every report and public appearance, Lu Heng had always been calm and composed, his stride firm and unwavering. Whether sitting or standing, his back was ramrod straight. At this moment, everyone realized that this textbook-perfect soldier was also a man of flesh and blood. He had a family, loved ones, friends. Many even recalled that Lu Heng’s family background was at the very top of the Alliance — a person like him could have lived out his days in peace and comfort under his family’s protection.

He seemed to recall something, and a faint smile crossed his lips. “Last Star Origin Festival, Mother chewed me out over the comms — said it was the ninth time I’d broken my promise, and that I might as well not bother coming back next year and complete the perfect ten.”

He fell silent for a moment, probably trying to think of a way to appease his mother’s anger. Then his eyes lit up. “I remember, Mother, you mentioned the other day that you’d had a dream — you dreamed of me playing the piano when I was little. You also said you hoped I could play Moonlight for you again on your birthday this year.”

Lu Heng stood up in the frame. He took out a spatial buckle. Moments later, a breathtakingly beautiful piano appeared in the center of the room. Lu Heng lowered his eyes and walked slowly around the piano once, his fingers caressing the body of the instrument with tender care, as if examining the gaze of a lover.

“Tear of the Starry Sky — a masterwork like this is somewhat wasted in my hands,” Lu Heng said softly. He sat down before the piano anyway. His long, strong, elegant fingers brushed gently across each key. That pair of perfect hands was no less stunning than the Tear of the Starry Sky itself.

Lu Heng closed his eyes, recalled for a moment, and began to play his mother’s favorite piece, Moonlight. The notes started off somewhat halting, gradually growing more fluid. But this piece, meant to be gentle and sweet, carried with it the sharp, biting edge of a soldier’s spirit. The young man at the piano sat tall and straight in his immaculate black military uniform, not a single crease on the fabric. He looked like a steel blade — utterly out of place with a piece meant to evoke longing for a lover beneath the moonlight.

The music stopped abruptly. The young man raised his head. “I don’t seem suited to perform this piece right now. I’d better not desecrate a master’s work.”

After a moment, a single mournful note leaped from his fingertips. In the first movement, the notes surged forth like a torrential downpour, pulling everyone back to those tempestuous years. The mother planet on the verge of destruction. Humanity’s panicked, desperate struggle against a hopeless future. Grief, chaos, despair, annihilation — that dark and sunless history.

This was Escape from the Blue Planet, the most radiant jewel in the history of art. Then, the music gradually softened. The longing of survivors who had left their home planet — mourning for the loved ones and friends left behind on that world forever, their bewilderment about the future. But the confusion did not last long; it soon transformed into hopeful notes. The range expanded, the sound swelled, and a resolute power carried the movement into a brilliant, resplendent finale — just as the trajectory of human civilization had unfolded.

Everyone on the Star Net was captivated by this impassioned movement and that radiant young man. It was as though they were seeing a banner soaring high, an impassable mountain, a trumpet call of victory. Overcome, the comments flooding the Star Net converged into a single chant: Humanity will prevail!

When the final note was pressed, Lu Heng sat motionless with his head bowed for a long while, as if steadying an overly agitated heart. After a moment, he raised his head and offered an apologetic smile. “It’s been too long since I played — I couldn’t manage Moonlight. Besides, I promised a friend I’d play a piece for him. Escape from the Blue Planet is my favorite piece and his. I hope Mother won’t mind.”

The tracking camera faithfully recorded the final moments of Lieutenant Colonel Laine’s life. He rendered a crisp, textbook military salute to the camera, then walked with firm steps into his mecha. From the immense warship Storm Thunder, from its vast hangar bay, a single silver-white mecha flew out into the emptiness. Before it loomed a massive wormhole. Yet before these two colossal objects, the mecha seemed anything but small. It slowly vanished into the wormhole. Tens of minutes later, a blinding flash of light seared every eye, and the wormhole collapsed.

In the aftermath, Lu Heng and his little assistant observed everything from their small pocket space. The timeline in the pocket space differed from that of any given realm — they could watch the subsequent developments over a very long span of time in a very short one. This was useful for every operator to review and reflect on their performance, and also for the department to evaluate and grade them.

After Lu Heng’s sacrifice, no one doubted whether he had succeeded in assassinating the Queen. The Zerg’s collapsing defense lines spoke for themselves. The Human Alliance pressed their advantage, reclaiming vast swaths of occupied star territory. In the entire history of the conflict between humanity and the Zerg, this was the period during which the Alliance’s territory had reached its greatest extent. Before a new Queen emerged, the Zerg adopted a purely defensive policy, ceasing their ceaseless harassment of Alliance space. The citizens of the border planets finally lived the peaceful life they had always dreamed of.

Lu Heng’s posthumous promotion to Marshal was universally welcomed. His statue was soon erected in front of the Mecha Department building of the First Military Academy, and it was perpetually adorned with flowers left there voluntarily by students. In the Complete History of Humanity, his entry read: The contributions of Marshal Laine Hyndt to the Human Alliance are in no way inferior to those of Marshal Eddie Valentine, who led humanity to establish its foothold in the stars. He severed the sword named “Zerg” that had hung over humanity’s head, bringing peace and a tranquil new life to the citizens of thousands of border planets…

“What kind of rating do I get for something like this?” Lu Heng, still a newcomer, had no sense of where this level of completion fell on the grading scale.

“At least an A-. You really are the most outstanding newcomer I’ve ever seen!” The little assistant did a somersault in midair, looking thoroughly elated.

Only then did Lu Heng feel at ease. He thought for a moment, then controlled the screen before him to focus on several relevant individuals.

Wayne and Andrew were both brought before military tribunals, charged with crimes against humanity. They were ultimately sentenced to life imprisonment in the Black Prison — the most brutal punishment the Human Alliance could mete out. All of this was within Lu Heng’s expectations. Although the client hadn’t required it, after spending some time in this realm, Lu Heng felt, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, that it was his responsibility to eliminate this greatest hidden threat to Storm Thunder. Perhaps it was because there was someone who shouldn’t have to be entangled in such scheming and backstabbing.

But what happened next left Lu Heng and the little assistant both stunned.

After waking and learning everything, Huitt had locked himself inside the Black Box — the same one where Lu Heng had spent his final hours — for a full three days. The first thing he did upon emerging was to summon the enforcement squad and have Andrew and Carlo taken away.

Huitt’s handling of Andrew was entirely reasonable, exactly as Lu Heng had anticipated. But that Huitt would actually have the enforcement squad take Carlo into custody — and report in full the matter of Carlo using a banned drug to alter his constitution and infiltrate Storm Thunder — left Lu Heng utterly dumbfounded. Judging by how Huitt had previously coddled and protected Carlo, this was completely incomprehensible. After all, the crimes Carlo had committed were no small matter, and he had done such things right under the eyes of every citizen. If Huitt wouldn’t even cover for him now, then once the case reached a military tribunal, a heavy sentence was all but certain.

The subsequent developments were as if the emotional arc of this realm had broken free like a wild horse, galloping in an unknown direction. Carlo was severely sentenced by the military tribunal — the harshest punishment available for an Omega. Only two paths lay before him: a lifetime of hard labor on a remote mining planet, or entry into the Free Matching Center, where he would want for nothing but freedom. Carlo chose the Free Matching Center.

The Free Matching Center housed Omegas who had committed serious crimes but refused to do hard labor on mining planets. Alphas who desired offspring but could not obtain an Omega simply paid a fee to select a suitable Omega from the matching center and have a child with them. Carlo had pure bloodlines and a high spiritual power rating, so he was naturally quite “popular.” The footage of him was frozen on a narrow room: Carlo sat on a bed with his belly hugely distended, his gaze vacant, staring at the small window overhead, lost in thoughts no one could guess.

Before Lu Heng and the little assistant’s shocked eyes, the scene had jumped forward ten years.

Capital Planet. Ministry of Defense.

A man in a white research robe pushed open the door to the Marshal’s office without so much as a knock. The guards at the door didn’t try to stop him — not because he was the chief researcher at the Academy of Sciences, but because he was that person’s older brother. The Marshal was supremely strict with everyone and everything, yet endlessly lenient, without a single line, when it came to that one family.

“You know what I’m here for,” Alex said bluntly.

“My answer hasn’t changed. I won’t give you Laine’s dog tag.” The red-haired man behind the desk set down his pen and looked up, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. His red hair was neatly combed back; his uniform was buttoned to the very top with military precision. Deep shadows ringed his eyes, his gaze dark and brooding, and heavy lines creased his brow.

Alex received this answer without anger. Ten years ago, after Laine’s sacrifice, there had been no remains — all that was left was his military dog tag. For a fallen soldier, the dog tag was the last proof they had left in the world, and also the only comfort for their family. For ten years, Alex had come to Huitt countless times to request Laine’s dog tag, and been refused every time. His initial fury had long since faded into calm.

Because as time passed, Alex and his family had gradually emerged from the grief of losing Laine. But the man before him never had. Over these ten years, Alex had watched Huitt transform — from a reckless, carefree, spirited playboy into someone deep and unreadable, stern and rigid… into something like a second Laine.

After Laine’s sacrifice, Huitt had sunk into a deep depression for a while. Then he had absorbed Wayne’s Fifth Corps. He no longer kept his distance from the center of power; instead, he plunged into the murky waters of the Ministry of Defense, gathering enormous influence over several years before seizing the Marshal’s position with absolute strength — becoming the youngest Marshal in history. And the very first thing this Marshal did after ascending to the highest seat in the military was to send the corps commanders who had voted against reinforcing Storm Thunder to the military tribunal, one by one.

Alex rose to leave. He stopped at the door and said quietly, “I don’t think Laine would want to see you exile yourself like this.”

There was no response from behind him. Alex sighed softly, closed the door, and left that room steeped in desolation.

Lu Heng and the little assistant stared at each other, at a loss. Things had taken a turn for the serious.

“Didn’t you say the emotional bond between Chosen Ones of Destiny was unshakeable…” Lu Heng was on the verge of tears. An A-? At this rate, if he got a D, he’d be lucky. And he felt as though he’d toyed with someone’s feelings and simply walked away. He truly felt like a scoundrel.

“I don’t know either — what kind of situation is this! I’ve seen people desperately racking up affection points in front of Chosen Ones to complete their missions, and it never affected the emotional arc…” The mission assistant, on the verge of a breakdown, tugged frantically at its own fur. “I — I need to go report to the Director. This is a huge deal. Will the Department of Destiny come after us? Will I get sent for decommissioning?! Aaah! What do we do?!”

Lu Heng, watching the assistant who was even more of a wreck than himself, forced himself to stay calm and tried to comfort the little assistant. Then all they could do was leave it to fate and await the organization’s decision.