Milla, Zhe Qiuhong, Rusty Sister, and Caixin turned their heads in unison, consciously or unconsciously, saying nothing as they looked out of the military tent toward the figure standing in the sunlight.
"Come on, place your bets! Limited mobility, no column swords! A cut counts as a loss; you only win if you knock them down..."
With one arm in a sling, Han Qingyu walked in circles, calling out enthusiastically like an itinerant street performer.
This was Han Qingyu. You grew so used to being exasperated with him that whenever you wanted to offer a sincere word of thanks, something warm or heartfelt, it felt awkward, stiff, impossible to say... Let alone anything deeply affectionate—that was purely asking for humiliation, shattered feelings, and embarrassment.
In truth, over the past six months or more, it was rare to see Qingzi in such high spirits.
Though he never showed outward signs of things like stress or gloom, during the past few months on the ship, he had never joined in any of the games or merriment.
Over these past two days, perhaps because his great vengeance was finally exacted, because he had reclaimed the truth and justice with his own hands, his heart had found relief. On top of that, several joyful matters had converged.
For instance, the ten thousand-plus people of Stream Vanguard could finally settle down, a definitive treatment for Milla's injuries had been found, and so on.
Even so, the dense crowd of onlookers surrounding them, enthusiastic as they were about the duel itself and accommodating of Han Qingyu's high spirits, did not place a single bet...
This was no longer the first or second bout.
"Match-fixing dog," Lao Xiu cursed under his breath.
"Yeah. Shameless bastard, willing to lose to anyone," Commander Storm agreed with a nod.
After several rounds, they had already seen right through him: the outcome was almost entirely determined by the bets. Depending on the pot, Han Qingyu could beat anyone, and he had the gall to lose to anyone.
After all, wasn't the bookmaker someone he had secretly arranged?
"I just don't get it. He's the one who distributes the source energy blocks to begin with... If he shamelessly wins them back and we run out, won't he just have to hand out more?" Gu Zhazha muttered.
What they didn't realize was that, to spare himself heartache, Han Qingyu had drawn a crystal-clear, absolute distinction between Stream Vanguard's public assets and his personal property from the very beginning.
"Mmh, but he really looks happy," Corpse Man Weize said with a deadpan face, voicing what was roughly a heartwarming sentiment. Then he pulled out six source energy blocks, walked forward, and placed his bet.
"...Fine, I'll bet a few more too." Anilo stepped forward as well.
Then Lao Xiu, Storm, Gu Zhazha, and the warriors went up to place bets in droves... Figuring it was all the same anyway, most bets landed on the trio's side, and they shouted enthusiastically:
"Go, Black Tooth!"
"Don't hold back, Little Prince!"
"Tangtang is the truly invincible one!"
"..."
Just as they were shouting—
*Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!*
Three objects of varying sizes suddenly swept overhead. Had it not been for the afterimages flashing across the ground, many would not have even realized they had passed.
Everyone looked up into the distance, but the targets were already gone.
"What were those?"
"If I had to guess, source energy aircraft. Yang Qingbai must have flown them back with his team."
"So fast!"
"Yeah."
*Whoosh!* The next second, Han Qingyu vanished from before the crowd.
"What are you standing around for? Go check out the big babies!" His excited shout carried back on the wind kicked up by surging source energy.
*Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...*
...
At the airfield hastily constructed deep within the manor, when the crowd arrived to watch, the three source energy aircraft had not yet finished landing.
As if putting on an intentional performance, they braked quickly at an altitude of about a hundred meters, bled speed, and then began a slow descent, rotating lazily like swimming fish.
"What are these things called? Do they have names?"
"Supposedly. Something like Needlefish, Swordfish, and Qing Spear..."
"Oh, they really do look like that."
The three source energy aircraft before them differed greatly in size and had noticeable differences in overall shape, but without exception, each had a spear-like long spike mounted directly on its prow.
Their main bodies were spindle-shaped, with sharp dorsal fin structures along the spine.
"Everyone said it's a pity source energy aircraft don't have offensive weapons. Could this be the weapon design? Ramming?"
"Probably. But say, at this speed, if this thing aimed at you and slammed down, would you survive?"
"I'd definitely be dead. Below top-tier, anyone really targeted would probably stand little chance of survival."
"The question is, would it take damage after ramming down? Even if it didn't, could it restart quickly? From what I've seen of the Great Spikes' craft, they seem to have a hard time restarting once they hit the ground..."
Amid excited gazes and a flurry of discussion, the three source energy aircraft touched down one by one.
After the largest of them, the hundred-man Qing Spear, landed, the seamless iron door on its side slid open. Yang Qingbai stepped down from the craft wearing a flight suit so complex and heavy it resembled a spacesuit.
A craft of this scale could still be piloted by a single person—the Great Spike civilization's tech tree was truly entirely different from Azure's.
The Qing Spear was enormous, considerably larger than what a "hundred-man" vessel had suggested to the imagination.
Initially, the visual impact hadn't felt so intense, but now, as Yang Qingbai stood before the craft, the contrast became stark. Noticing the dents in the ground's dead iron plates, the crowd finally realized its true weight and immense scale.
In silence, Yang Qingbai painstakingly took off his helmet, cradled it in his right arm, raised his left hand, and waved with a calm smile.
He had deliberately slicked his hair back today.
"The good days are finally here. From now on, the cockiest guy around here is going to be—"
*Whoosh!*
A blur streaked past, dragging Yang Qingbai straight back into the cockpit.
Han Qingyu vanished from the front of the crowd.
"Go! Take me for a spin..." Han Qingyu leaned back at the hatch, waved, and yelled, "Anyone else want to take a ride and try it out?"
"Me! I want a ride!" With a *whoosh*, the iron suit bolted forward.
"Me! Me! Me! Me..."
A hundred people—the spots filled instantly.
Restarting the Qing Spear-class craft took nearly twenty minutes before it finally rose slowly into the air.
The Needlefish-class and Swordfish-class remained motionless. In front of them stood two pilots sent over from the Alliance. Having removed their helmets, they looked somewhat nervous and at a loss for what to do.
"Uncle Shiliang," Rubi A Zha, who hadn't managed to snag a spot, stood on the ground and whispered to Xu Shiliang beside him.
"Huh?" Xu Shiliang replied, looking up at the sky.
"Look at those other two pilots. They'll have to go back, right?"
"Yeah, probably. Why?"
"That means we have to train at least two pilots of our own, maybe more..." Rubi A Zha paused, then said, "Uncle, I want to try. My degree of fusion is too low. I want to fly aircraft."
It seemed like a good thing, but Xu Shiliang hesitated before saying, "Actually, it's not that low. Most ordinary soldiers are Grade C or Grade D..."
"It is low, Uncle!" Rubi A Zha stubbornly insisted.
"Well... alright. When sign-ups open later, give it a shot." Xu Shiliang knew why A Zha was insisting and agreed, but from his expression, agreeing to this was far from easy.
Because as a veteran, Xu Shiliang had just realized one thing:
The long spikes mounted on the prows of those aircraft, as weapons, weren't meant for ramming people on the ground... When necessary, they were meant to directly ram Great Spike craft in midair.
A collision at that speed...
...
At Alliance headquarters, once confirmation arrived that the craft had landed and the handover was complete, Wen Jifei and Wu Xu finally brought out that set of the tenth-generation device.
The councilors, researchers, and military representatives present fell into a collective, silent stare, their eyes burning with excitement.
At this moment, no one stopped to ponder whether Stream Vanguard had only offered it in trade because they couldn't produce it themselves, conveniently saving the production cost of fifteen thousand sets.
Nor did anyone worry about what Major The Qing, given his character, might demand in the future with the privilege he had reserved.
The on-site trial run was quickly concluded.
"1.3 times the efficiency, roughly a thirty-percent increase—confirmed beyond doubt!" came the excited voice of a researcher.
The generals pumped their fists in the air.
"By the way, Second Lieutenant Wen, did you research and develop this tenth-generation device yourselves?" Amid the cheers, someone finally recalled the question and asked cautiously.
"Found it," Wen Jifei said calmly, looking up at him.
"Huh? Found... where, where did you find it?"
"On the ground," Wen Jifei said.
"The back of a head," Wu Xu said.
Chapter 594