Your Starlight Is on the Way

For the sake of a single recruit, Regimental Commander Li had gambled over twenty years of friendship. The moment he finished speaking, without even waiting for the recruits' mid-training ceremony to conclude, he hurriedly grabbed a few bottles of liquor and drove off to Mount Nine Armies, to the Wall of Heroic Spirits. Regimental Commander Li had gone to "threaten" his old comrades. Back in the office, everyone was in high spirits. Officers chatted and laughed, openly discussing the matter behind his back and poking fun at it. "Actually, it's not quite that. He's just so genuinely thrilled, but he has nobody to share certain things with here—it was stifling him... That's why he was so eager to go brag to his old buddies from Regiment 425." The regimental chief of staff chimed in with a faint smile. "Is that so..." Recalling how Regimental Commander Li usually had little regard for decorum, the others guessed that "having nobody to share it with" didn't mean he wasn't allowed to speak, but rather that even if he did, they wouldn't understand—or at least wouldn't feel it deeply. The chief of staff said, "Mm. And besides that, he's probably nervous. Didn't you notice? Aside from being happy just now, the commander was actually very nervous as well." Everyone racked their memories. First, they agreed hesitantly: "It seemed like there was a bit of that." Then they said with certainty: "Yes, definitely." Someone recalled a previously overlooked detail from their mental picture: when Regimental Commander Li left, he seemed to have carried that half-shattered window frame out in his hand. Checking the scene, he truly had taken it with him. "Indeed, but it's not surprising." The chief of staff nodded, explaining slowly with a hint of emotion, "After all, our 425 once had Red Eraser. In the past, it was renowned throughout the entire Huaxia Front... Later it was gone, and the regiment has declined ever since. "Old Li came from 425. He's been here for more than twenty years and has been in charge of 425 for five years now. Considering his age... whether 425 can stand back on its feet in his hands will most likely depend on these next few days." Having said this calmly, the chief of staff quietly clenched his hands—which were likewise trembling slightly from excitement and nervousness—and shoved them into his pockets, stepping out to inspect the preparations for tomorrow's departure to the testing site. Yet he couldn't help himself; his mind kept wandering. *Grade B or higher. As long as it's Grade B or higher... with the character, temperament, resolve, and potential this kid displayed during the Reserve Station 700 incident and throughout this period... 425 will have the chance to produce a top regional squad again, to see another designation of 'a color plus Eraser.'* The chief of staff kept turning it over silently in his heart. To a certain extent, the degree of source energy fusion wasn't entirely decisive. For example, back when Regiment 425 had Red Eraser, only the captain was a top-tier combat power, yet the team's overall strength still stood at the peak, surpassing many squads with higher average fusion and more high-fusion members. However, there was a baseline, a foundational pillar, set in stone... When a squad lacked a mature combatant of Grade B or higher, no matter how flawless their coordination, they could never be top-tier. Take Lao Jian, for instance. Lately, he had been droning on every day that Squad 752's record this year could place them among the top twenty squads in the entire military. Regimental Commander Li had shot him down without mercy... on the grounds that the captain was too weak, being only a Grade C. Of course, in reality, not everyone with Grade B or higher would become a top combatant. Looking at Grade B alone, fewer than one in ten actually did. Because the degree of source energy fusion was completely random, while individual differences in temperament, character, capability, and even luck and experiences had an enormous impact on their future growth. Put simply: above Grade B, one had the chance, though not the guarantee, of becoming a top combatant; below Grade B, it was currently utterly impossible to become a top combatant; and among people of the same grade, strength varied, and the gap could still be vast. Yet just like Regimental Commander Li, the chief of staff firmly believed that as long as that boy had a fusion grade of B or above, he would almost certainly become Regiment 425's next top combat power. That was the true, deep-seated reason behind their excitement and anxiety. *** Han Qingyu himself had no idea of the high hopes placed upon him. He didn't even realize just how stunning his overall performance had been—from the moment he met Lao Jian, to that night at Reserve Station 700, and through this first half of recruit training. After all, his very first glimpse of Azure had been a complete, grueling battle from start to finish. The shock and awe he experienced had been so overwhelming that the benchmarks he unconsciously set in his mind were always ten-year veterans like Lao Jian and his Squad 752. On the training ground after the clamor died down, Zhang Dao'an stood on the command platform and finally explained to the recruits the reasoning behind "eating raw," as well as the origins and purpose of "Tradition Night." This moment felt like the close of a chapter, drawing a collective sigh from the recruits across the field. Meanwhile, none of the other seven from Dormitory 11 had the luxury to sigh or reflect. Involuntarily and in unison, they cautiously turned their eyes toward Han Qingyu, their gazes filled with urgency and dread. Han Qingyu had no choice but to feign an appropriate measure of worry and panic first. Only then did he offer consolation: "They said it only has a slight effect. Slight! And I only took one bite... It'll be fine. Besides, what's done is done. Regret won't help, so let's just not think about it." Everyone felt that Qingzi's heart was truly too big for his own good. In truth, it really was fine. Eating meat had no effect on Han Qingyu whatsoever, and he wasn't worried in the slightest. Because if it was truly as Zhang Dao'an said—that each person had only one chance in their life to test their degree of source energy fusion—then he had actually already had his first time long ago... It was just a pity that his first time had been so rushed; it ended before Han Qingyu could feel anything on the spot. Later, he had a second time, but that was out in the wilderness, under tense circumstances and an equally fraught environment. So this time... he definitely had to savor the feeling properly. With these thoughts, Han Qingyu obeyed orders and stepped onto the stage to accept the pennant. Judging by how hurriedly it had been pulled from a chest and how rumpled it looked, it seemed it hadn't been intended to be awarded today. Perhaps it had been buried at the bottom of a chest for years. This was also the only pennant issued today to the 1990th recruit camp of Regiment 425, Ninth Army, Sole Witness Legion, Azure Coalition. Though ugly, the words embroidered on the pennant were rather interesting. They didn't mention standard competition events or rankings, nor were they accolades like "Miracle Healer"; instead, they formed an ambiguous phrase: *Your starlight is on the way.* Han Qingyu considered it and figured the strange sentence was probably a direct translation from the past. After all, the Azure Alliance had originated in the West, where many of these miscellaneous traditions were first established and formalized. Coincidentally, there was a Westerner standing below the stage at this very moment. Milla stood among the crowd, looking at him with a beaming, radiant smile. This made Han Qingyu feel a twinge of unease and guilt. For once, he genuinely wanted to make her happy. Because quite likely, at this moment when Milla was still in the dark, brimming with joy and longing, he had already shattered her dream of becoming a captain with his own hands... or at least, he had marked the beginning of that dream's fracture. Stepping down from the stage, he stopped in front of Milla. "This is... for you." Han Qingyu did his best to sound earnest, uttering a sentence in clumsy English. Pennant in his left hand, he saluted with his right. "I wish to fight for you, Captain Milla..." He thought he might as well fulfill Milla's dream of being a captain right here, just this once. Yet he didn't know what ought to follow "Captain" by custom. "Your Highness" seemed too forced, or perhaps improper—what about "Your Excellency"? While he hesitated, Milla had already skipped forward, accepted the pennant, and planted a kiss on it. Then, smiling brightly at Han Qingyu, she said, "Thank you." Yes, she kissed the pennant, not Han Qingyu. This allowed the other seven guys from Dormitory 11 to breathe a collective sigh of relief. In any case, hero-and-beauty nonsense was the most sickening, obnoxious thing imaginable. When the crowd began to disperse, Milla avoided the others and sought Han Qingyu out again. "Does your family really need money?" she asked. "Um, when you mentioned the bonus that day, I didn't get a chance to answer. But I actually have savings, just not that much..." "No need. I told you it was a joke... Oh, right, I almost forgot to return your watch." Wearing an easygoing expression, Han Qingyu handed back the wristwatch he had borrowed earlier to check the time, then started walking ahead. "I only have a bit over twenty thousand yuan," Milla said behind him. *Ah... twenty, thousand, plus?! How is she so rich?!* Han Qingyu froze, as though he had suddenly stepped into thick, sticky mud... He tried his best and managed not to look back, but he couldn't pull his legs forward either. "What's wrong with you, Qingzi?" Wen Jifei jogged over from nearby, scrutinizing his bizarre posture. "Nothing. Maybe that fight just now was too intense. I'm a bit tired, my feet feel heavy, and I can't walk well," Han Qingyu said. "Here, give me a pull." "Was it... really that intense just now?" Wen Jifei asked, puzzled, but reached out and tugged him forward nonetheless. "Yes, extremely intense." Han Qingyu finally wrenched his feet from the mud, walking away with a heavy, aching heart. The two walked side by side for a moment. The rest of Dormitory 11 caught up. Talking and laughing, the group headed toward the dorms together to pack their belongings and prepare for tomorrow morning's departure. Milla remained where she was, watching their silhouettes from a distance... At this moment, there were many young silhouettes like theirs on the training ground. A few walked alone, but most were in clusters of three, five, or seven, wearing various expressions and states of mind as they strolled through the sunset's afterglow. The setting sun stretched their shadows into long, orderly rows. Milla suddenly remembered the only time she had ever seen that old man known as "Goat." Standing on the stage back then, he had said, "Although the Azure Coalition looks like a military establishment, it cannot truly be counted as an army. Here, we embrace greatness and narrow-mindedness, the sacred and the mad; we embrace love, family... rebellion and confusion, hope and despair... This group of people in Azure must have a rich, full life." He had said, "It is different. Too many things are different. If the Azure Coalition were truly run strictly like an army, then it would have ceased to exist long ago." *** That night, the recruits were all more or less too excited or uneasy to sleep. That night, Regimental Commander Li got drunk at the Wall of Heroic Spirits on Mount Nine Armies. The disabled veterans guarding the cemetery didn't chase him away... On Mount Nine Armies, there were always people getting drunk before the Wall of Heroic Spirits. It happened all the time. "Do you know? If that kid had held a dead iron blade today, he really would have killed that veteran... killed a veteran wearing simplified gear... in five seconds. "Are you impressed or what? "Look at my eye for talent. "Old Three, don't be in a rush to talk. I know you're definitely not convinced. You think you pulled off something similar back then, don't you? But how could that be the same? He executed a proper kill, understand? What you did was toss a flying knife between someone's legs... God only knows what that was supposed to be. "Seriously, though, help me out this once. Bless that kid with Grade B or higher... will you? "Look, I'll tell you an honest truth today that I've never been willing to admit before. Actually, I... ever since that year when I held off a Great Spike alone for three minutes, I've already been half-crippled... But 425—425 can't go on like this. It's disgraceful. "Brothers..." When they set out the next morning, Regimental Commander Li had to be carried onto the truck. Perhaps he had tried to drink all his old comrades under the table by himself. Just like when they first arrived, the large trucks were covered in dark green tarps. This time there were more than a dozen lined up, and the tarps remained drawn shut throughout, with veterans sitting at the rear to keep watch. The recruits were crammed inside the pitch-black truck bed. Television shows and novels claimed that remarkable people could track a vehicle's route purely through imagination in such an environment. Han Qingyu couldn't; he could only tell roughly from the degree of swaying and speed whether they were on a highway, a back road, or a treacherous winding mountain pass... Besides, the trucks kept driving, and he still needed sleep. Occasionally they would be let down beside some uninhabited mountain forest to wash up, relieve themselves, stretch their limbs, and eat a meal without worrying about chopsticks poking their eyes... Such moments were mostly at night, beneath a sky full of starlight.