Ashleia and Ian had waited from the previous night until morning. They had watched with their own eyes as the newspapers were distributed, even pitching in to help.
Afterward, they went to the press station's dining hall, ate breakfast together in silence, cleaned up their trays, and sat at their table, waiting.
By now, that paper should have landed on the desks of council members and superior officers—whether on their office desks or breakfast tables.
"So, we'll probably be taken away soon, right?" they thought.
Yet no one came.
Not after ten minutes. After twenty and thirty minutes, the soldiers sent to arrest them still had not appeared.
A portly figure appeared at the dining hall entrance.
Having just wrapped up an impromptu morning meeting, Deputy Minister Mayne of the Department of Information was running a bit late to the dining hall. The old man bustled past with quick, shuffling steps, walking straight over to order a cup of coffee at the counter.
He then turned back, his potbelly leading the way as he passed their table once more... This time he halted, turned his head, and looked at Ian and Ashleia.
"Since you've already finished eating, why haven't you left? Are you waiting for my commendation?! Good heavens, you look like warriors preparing for martyrdom right now. And I suppose that makes me the man carrying the rope and torch?"
Mayne's demeanor gave them the impression that the situation was not so dire. Both Ian and Ashleia were momentarily confused, thinking he might not know yet, and stepped forward to confess: "We..."
"Must be given an official reprimand... since what's done is done. Hmm, there will not be a next time." Mayne's expression briefly turned stern. After finishing, he lowered his head to take a sip of coffee, then looked up with a smile to explain:
"We already held a meeting regarding this. The majority opinion of those present in the council, especially the department heads of Information, was that your article did not take a side on right and wrong, nor was its primary purpose incitement. What's more, it reads rather well."
"...Thank you." Ashleia hesitated for a moment before expressing her gratitude, then asked with concern, "Then what about the copies that have already been distributed and faxed out? Will they be recalled?"
"Of course not." Mayne's voice was firm. He stood there, looking down at her, and said, "Given the meritorious deeds Major The Qing performed for humanity and Azure, if even an ordinary piece expressing genuine emotion were forbidden, and people were held accountable and convicted after the fact... then I think Azure would truly be finished."
With that, the old man gave a mischievous smile, yet his eyes were calm and sorrowful.
In truth, they had weathered a fierce debate and an arduous struggle during the meeting just now, but the old man chose not to share any of that with the two reckless, courageous young journalists before him.
*If even the young people in Azure become slick and worldly, looking over their shoulders in hesitation, that would truly be a terrifying state of affairs. We are Azure!* Mayne thought to himself, leaving the words unspoken. He had to admit that he had contemplated doing the exact same thing, but he had overthought it from the start, so much so that he failed to act in time.
Ashleia looked up at him and nodded, her eyes filled with touched emotion.
Ian was thoroughly thrilled, leaping up on the spot and crying out:
"Heavens, that's wonderful! I thought we were headed for prison!"
Mayne watched him like a kindly grandfather until the young man calmed down, and only then spoke:
"Count your blessings. Perhaps you've never realized it, but even within the Alliance Council, there are plenty who admire The King."
"Naturally, those fellows with military backgrounds would never admit to 'admiration'—for the sake of their pride, they'll call it mutual appreciation and recognition between warriors."
"We in the Department of Information are different. Quite frankly, we idolize him."
With that, Mayne smiled and turned to walk outside.
"Do you as well?" Ashleia stood up behind him and called out, "I mean, do you admire Major The Qing too, Mr. Mayne? Even though this time he..."
"Of course. Because just like you, I have pondered and recorded his story." Mayne stopped in his tracks, his hand holding the coffee cup suspended in the air. Without turning around, he said, "And so I say: may you be right, Ashleia. May he and his dead iron war blade return in the end."
With those parting words, Mayne left.
Thanks to the news he brought, that day's morning paper was neither intercepted nor recalled. Consequently, Ashleia's article would be translated into numerous languages and appear in countless places—perhaps in the display case of a front army base, on the desk of an outpost for a remote squad, or in a medical station, a supply depot...
And so, over the next day or two:
A girl in the Swiss Front was weeping. Yin Caixin murmured, "Sir, I've been studying Chinese so hard. Sir, the next time we meet and I confess, I'll definitely say it so you can understand. I suppose I have to train as hard as I can, now that I'm the only one left among those who went to Nepal..."
An elder sister deep in a mountain ravine spoke with red-rimmed eyes, insisting she did not believe for a second that her younger brothers were dead: "No way. None of you know how crafty they are."
At Medical Station 101, the flowers he had once given were turned out from the pages of a book once again.
Regimental Commander Li of Regiment 425 wiped his tears, took up his blade, and walked out the door. The commander of the Ninth Army was waiting for him at the base entrance and said, "I knew you'd lose your damn mind."
From Chichen Itza in Mexico to Mérida in Venezuela... whether they had already returned home or remained deployed around Xilang Peak, many elite squads that had guarded the perimeter that night during the Flag War lowered their unit flags to half-mast outside their camps.
And there were so many more...
Indedu, Front Army Headquarters Hospital.
A young nurse with slightly dusky skin moved anxiously around the hospital bed. "Major Milla, wh-what's wrong? Is the wound hurting again? I'll go prepare some painkillers..."
Alerted by the commotion, her comrades from the officer corps appeared at the ward's doorway.
Inside the room, Milla lay on her side, her gaze vacant as tears silently streamed down her cheeks. Her squad had just survived a catastrophe. In a few days, once her wounds had recovered a bit more, she was bound for Xiongzhanli. Yet now, the person who had promised he would come fetch her back one day had vanished into the unknown.
Her teammates had naturally read the newspaper. Several female squad members close to Milla immediately gathered around, doing their best to comfort and console her.
Aleksei remained motionless at the door.
A lieutenant beside him nudged his arm and whispered, "Aren't you going to comfort her? Aleksei, the girl you adore is crying."
Aleksei turned to look at him and shook his head.
"You really should go, Aleksei. After the way you performed last time, you have a real chance. You ought to seize this opportunity," the lieutenant pressed on. "I'm not saying it's a good thing, but with The King dead, you can step in while her heart is vulnerable, can't you?"
Aleksei's gaze turned cold.
The lieutenant looked bewildered, then weakly turned his head away, muttering, "Or maybe you're in no rush. True, there'll be plenty of time later. Anyway..."
"You're wrong, Sergei," Aleksei said with a sigh. "First, I never wanted things to turn out like this, and I certainly won't take the slightest joy in it. Second, if The King were alive and well, winning greater and greater glory and rising ever higher in status, I might have stood a tiny chance by Milla's side in Xiongzhanli. But with him dead like this, I don't stand a ghost of a chance."
In Azure, recruits were taught very early on: romance in Azure always sparked more directly and easily than in the outside world. Naturally, it was also far more easily lost to unexpected tragedies.
Yet they were rarely told plainly: in Azure, the logic of not needing—or no longer needing—romance and marriage, as well as its actual prevalence, was also far more common than outside. Far, far more common.
Furthermore, lifelong promises were rarely spoken here. Because a lifetime could easily prove very short.
Sergei clearly did not understand this yet and asked in confusion, "Why?"
Aleksei motioned toward Milla. "You don't know how to read a woman's eyes, do you, Sergei? My mother used to tell me that a woman's eyes are always filled with thoughts and feelings."
Sergei watched her for a moment. "Then what thoughts are in Major Milla's eyes?"
"Her eyes have nothing left in them at all," Aleksei sighed.
***
Moving and halting along the way, taking detours and staying under cover, Han Qingyu and his companions finally realized that the group's destination was not deep into the plateau after all. They had made a wide detour and picked up a few more people along the way.
All four of them had changed into civilian attire and wrapped up their weapons and gear, blending in inconspicuously. Jiayina stayed close beside them, repeatedly asking about Uncle Liu Shiheng—why he hadn't come, where he had gone...
"We're here!" someone called out from the front of the group.
Jiayina led Han Qingyu and the others forward at a run.
Standing on the ridge, they looked down. Green grassy slopes stretched downward in all directions, cradling clusters of red houses built layer upon layer across the valley and hillsides. Monasteries were numerous, standing out as the most prominent structures.
Standing there, one could almost hear the sacred chanting echoing through the air.
So this was where they would live from now on.
The group did not descend immediately. After waiting for a moment, the plateau residents around them suddenly bowed their heads in unison.
The four turned to look. Down the slope, a monk dressed in red robes was walking slowly upward.
"Is he the one who'll be leading your community from now on?" Rusty Sister asked, puzzled.
"Mm." Jiayina nodded. She clearly hadn't just learned of his existence.
"He's way younger than I imagined," Rusty Sister muttered under her breath.
From the information they had received on the road, this Vajra Master named Duosang Jiacuo had once participated in the testing of the third-generation source energy apparatus.
"Maybe he takes good care of himself," Wen Jifei said. "Or he's just blessed with good genes—'natural beauty that refuses to fade,' or whatever."
Beside them, Wu Xu stifled a laugh.
Han Qingyu: "..." If the master hadn't almost reached them, he would have dragged Plague-Chicken Fei to the back and thrashed him first.
"It is because I have not fought for a very, very long time. Such is the blessing of life source energy." When Duosang Jiacuo smiled, he radiated benevolence and tranquility. Walking leisurely up to the four, he said, "You must be Major Qing, Second Lieutenant Shen, First Lieutenant Wu, and Second Lieutenant Wen?"
Realizing who he was, the four hurriedly prepared to salute.
"No need. I hold no military rank." Having not met fresh faces in a long time, Duosang Jiacuo smiled again, genuine amusement showing plainly across his face.
The four had no choice but to follow the plateau residents' lead and bow in greeting.
Duosang Jiacuo raised a hand in return, then looked each of them over carefully. His expression was calm, yet his eyes carried a hint of eagerness. "An old friend told me that you four are exceptionally formidable among the younger generation."
"You flatter us," Wen Jifei replied politely.
"You are..."
"My name is Wen Jifei."
"Ah, Second Lieutenant Wen, would you mind striking me with a full-power punch?"
Wen Jifei froze, turning to look at Han Qingyu.
Duosang Jiacuo bowed slightly in earnest appeal. "Please do me this favor. I truly haven't fought in a very, very long time. They told me I wasn't suited for the battlefield, and now I have no idea what my own capabilities are."
Han Qingyu said, "Hit him. Engage your apparatus, full power."
The master turned and smiled at Han Qingyu. Straightening up, he stood facing Wen Jifei and said, "Please!"
"Then don't blame me for not holding back!" Wen Jifei engaged his apparatus, erupting with full power. He swung his arm—*Thud!*
The fabric over Duosang Jiacuo's chest wrinkled slightly, then smoothed right back out.
He looked back at Wen Jifei, blinking in bewilderment.
Unluckily, he had just rolled an F. Second Lieutenant Wen felt his face burning with embarrassment. "Master, may I throw a few more punches?"
"Certainly."
*Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud...*
He unloaded over twenty punches in a single breath, yet Duosang Jiacuo looked no different than when he took the very first strike.
"You didn't just roll an F twenty-five or twenty-six times in a row, did you?" Rusty Sister whispered.
Wen Jifei shook his head. "At least two Grade A's."
Because Wen Jifei had consumed so many source energy blocks and trained alongside monsters, his Grade A strike was roughly equivalent to an ordinary Grade A's strike after three to four years of regular growth. In an instant, the way all four looked at Duosang Jiacuo completely changed.
"Second Lieutenant Wen's source energy surge is truly peculiar," Duosang Jiacuo remarked thoughtfully. He turned, looking at Wu Xu and then at Rusty Sister, before finally settling on Wu Xu first. "Please."
Wu Xu nodded and drove a fist forward.
*Boom!*
Master Duosang Jiacuo's body swayed slightly. Unable to disperse the force fast enough beneath his feet, the ground gave way, his boots sinking down an inch or two. He looked up at Wu Xu and asked, "Is First Lieutenant Wu at the pinnacle level?"
"Roughly so," Wu Xu replied, then glanced at Han Qingyu with a flash of shock in his eyes.
At the same time, Duosang Jiacuo turned to Rusty Sister. Glancing at her iron armor, he said with a hint of hesitation, "Second Lieutenant Shen comes with her own dead iron weapon. Could you perhaps use seventy percent—no, sixty percent force first, and then eighty...?"
He sounded so earnest that everyone chuckled.
Yet once Rusty Sister actually delivered her strike, all four were dumbfounded again. The red-robed master before them had actually tanked a full-power strike from Rusty Sister's iron fist using nothing but his bare body, without coughing up a single drop of blood.
"So, am I still quite formidable out in the world?" Duosang Jiacuo asked cheerfully.
"Incredibly formidable!"
*This guy is an absolute monster!* Han Qingyu stirred his source energy, stacking waves upon waves, itching for a turn as he waited for Duosang Jiacuo to step up to him.
Duosang Jiacuo walked over, stood before him, and asked, "You must be Major Qing?"
"Yes." Han Qingyu clenched his fists, the triple turbines inside surging like an ocean tide...
Duosang Jiacuo bowed, then looked up. "May I ask... could you let me hit you with a punch?"
Chapter 371