Dimples

When ordinary people watched source energy battles, video recordings were manageable enough, but in person they simply couldn't keep up at all. On the streets of Shenghai, by the time the crowd finally reacted, the fight had already concluded. Wu Xu stood where Zhe Shouzhao had just been; with one hand he had secured the boy, while with the other he pinned the man to the ground with his spear. He no longer needed to kill him. The pride within Wu Xu also made him averse to delivering a finishing blow to a dying enemy who had already been struck down by another. The entire street fell dead silent, save for a single saber in the air that continued slanting upward in an arc, finally releasing the shrill howl of tearing wind. In everyone's sight, the spinning saber climbed high and looped low, tracing the path of a boomerang before snapping back into Han Qingyu's back sheath with a soft, swift *shing*. So it was Major Qing's left-hand blade. Rusty Sister Dimple Slash... It had been a long time since anyone had seen it. Many across the world had heard of it. In the early days of Major Qing's combat career, this move had accompanied him through numerous perilous, desperate battles. But his subsequent feats had been so brilliant, so magnificent, that this technique—with a smiling girl nestled in its name—had gradually been overlooked and forgotten. As for the strike today, earlier not a single soul had seen him draw or slash. Perhaps Wu Xu had caught it, but he wouldn't show any reaction. Tick. Tock. Two seconds later, from both ends of the long street, cheers erupted like a surging tsunami. Whether they were people who had regained their faith upon witnessing that strike or those who still harbored doubts, everyone in the crowd cheered and boiled over with fervor at this moment. Amidst the thunderous cheering, Han Qingyu felt nothing. Having just accepted a measure of humiliation, he didn't feel particularly miserable, but now the cheers and glory suddenly seemed faint and dull as well. There was, however, one matter that felt rather important to him. Han Qingyu turned his head toward Rusty Sister and asked, "Do you really have dimples?" Executing that Dimple Slash just now had been purely a conditioned reflex. That made Han Qingyu feel that Rusty Sister was perhaps even more special to him than he had previously thought. "I did when I was little. I don't know about now," Rusty Sister answered in a crisp, clear voice. "Then have I seen them?" Han Qingyu asked. "Otherwise, why would there be a Dimple Slash?" "Mmm..." The girl beneath the steel armor hesitated, drawing out the sound, before nodding with a chuckle. "Mhm, you've seen them. Otherwise, why would there be a Dimple Slash?" She finished speaking with a touch of secret delight and smugness, like someone whose little trick had succeeded. "Then... dimples must look pretty nice," Han Qingyu remarked thoughtfully. "Of course," Rusty Sister said, nodding earnestly. While the two were speaking, the scene had already moved into cleaning up the aftermath. Azure doctors were bandaging and treating the young boy named Zhang Weiyu. Earlier, Zhe Qiuhong had also walked toward him, wanting to help treat his wounds. But the boy and his sister had refused the moment they heard her name, and everyone else present refused as well. Zhe Qiuhong had no choice but to step back. She walked to the other side where Zhe Shouzhao lay on the ground, standing seven or eight paces away as she looked at him. Another team of Azure doctors crouched on the ground, examining Zhe Shouzhao. The examination went very quickly, because it was not meant for treatment. The Azure medical system was unlike civilian society, where doctors would make every effort to save a dying felon only to put him on trial later. In the medical system of the source energy world, squandering source energy was utterly disgraceful. So long as it could keep one more soldier alive, it should never be spent on a criminal. "Three minutes at most," the doctor said, glancing at his watch as he rose to his feet. "No way he survives." Then he turned his head and suddenly caught sight of Zhe Qiuhong standing nearby. In truth, Zhe Qiuhong's renown and stature in the medical sphere of the source energy world were, in a sense, far greater than her identity as the Navigator of Voyage. In this domain, she was a godlike presence. Many in the medical team had attended her lectures, and every single one had read her treatises on source energy medicine. The doctor's gaze wavered. His prognosis just now would probably not count, because if Zhe Qiuhong were the one administering treatment, Zhe Shouzhao might still have about a ten percent chance of survival. Moments later, the entire medical squad grew involuntarily tense and wary. People in this world were often wary of martial might, but because of medical skill—this was likely a first. Zhe Qiuhong saw through them. Looking at them, she said calmly and rationally, "Rest assured, I won't save him. Bringing him back to life would only be a form of torture for him anyway." Zhang Weiyu was lifted into an ambulance on a stretcher. As they departed, a garrison officer seemed to be praising him. Han Qingyu, however, did not go over to offer concern or encouragement, even if the boy's courage earlier had been deeply moving... Bearing the weight of life and death was already enough; he could not shoulder the expectations of any more people. Time ticked away second by second. Zhe Shouzhao's convulsions gradually ceased. Then his breathing, pulse, and life source energy fluctuations dwindled to near nothingness... When the three minutes were up, according to the doctors' judgment, he was dead. Even Zhe Qiuhong could not save him. "I'm taking his body," Zhe Qiuhong said. The officer in charge hesitated and glanced back at the medical personnel. The doctor looked down at his watch, deliberately waited several more seconds, and nodded. "He's dead. Even a celestial couldn't save him," he whispered. The officer turned back, saluted Zhe Qiuhong, and nodded his consent. No matter how many suspicious points remained in the present situation, Voyage had after all issued a public statement severing ties with Zhe Shouzhao. And as the Navigator of Voyage, Zhe Qiuhong currently wore the shoulder boards of a lieutenant general in the non-combat system. "Thank you." Zhe Qiuhong did not touch the body herself. Two subordinates stepped out from behind her, asked the medical team for a white sheet, and wrapped up Zhe Shouzhao's corpse. Just like that, neither rushed nor slow, neither sorrowful nor anxious, they carried it toward their vehicle. Zhe Qiuhong turned and followed behind them, her pace perfectly unhurried. "Wait," Wen Jifei's voice suddenly called out from behind. Zhe Qiuhong stopped. Everyone stopped. Then came the sound of footsteps. Wen Jifei walked over, paused, and said, "If I remember correctly, seven of Qingzi's source energy blocks are still in your hands." Having remained composed the entire time, upon hearing this sentence, Zhe Qiuhong's shoulders finally gave a faint tremor. The so-called 'Qingzi's source energy blocks' were a special designation. Prior to the Zenith War, Han Qingyu had once channeled his own life source energy into a batch of source energy blocks and left them with Zhe Qiuhong. Such items were likely unique in the entire world. Later, that batch of blocks had saved Yang Qingbai's life, and had also been used during Han Qingyu's treatment while he was comatose... In the end, there were still some left over—seven blocks remained in Zhe Qiuhong's possession. It was precisely because of the existence of these seven life source energy blocks that, earlier, Zhe Shouzhao had actually still stood a chance at surviving. This had been, in reality, a deal. Earlier, when Zhe Shouzhao stood in the middle of the street holding a hostage, Zhe Qiuhong had not spoken a word to him. Yet between brother and sister, a silent exchange of glances had finalized a transaction of possibilities. Standing on purely utilitarian grounds, Zhe Qiuhong had demanded that Zhe Shouzhao extract every ounce of his remaining value, under the condition: *There is still a chance I can save your life.* Zhe Shouzhao chose to comply. His final, seemingly mad act of vengeance and his humiliation of Han Qingyu had served primarily to cement one reality: Major Qing was crippled. This was precisely the public narrative Voyage needed. Never mind that the entire crowd was cheering for Han Qingyu right now; once their fervor cooled, the question people would care about and eagerly debate would still be: Major Qing really seems to be finished. For the councilors who made the ultimate decisions, this effect would be even more pronounced, as cold rationality and utilitarian calculation were their defining traits. "Plague Chicken..." Zhe Qiuhong began. "Hand them over," Wen Jifei cut her off. *** On the other side. "So, are dimples here or here?" Han Qingyu pointed to the corner of his mouth, then to his cheek. "Here." The steel armor pointing to the corner of its mouth with a thick metal finger looked both comical and endearing. "I'll take a look next time." "Mhm."