Qingzi, You're Back

"The Antarctic eastern front. Before mankind. Stream Blades charges into hell." "At this very moment, as they depart from the eastern front of Antarctica and charge toward the towing field at the Pole, I want you all to know: they are standing before all mankind, launching an assault against despair and destruction." The old man's desolate voice gradually faded, his identity still a mystery. Few in this world had ever heard his voice—at least not now. "That place is the true hell of this world," the voice concluded over the Rejectors' public frequency, heavy with sorrow and reverence. In the early stages of the battle, the Rejectors had described the Antarctic Peninsula as a living hell on earth, where volcanoes erupted, dajians ran rampant, bloody slaughter raged to endless screams of agony, and fields were strewn with corpses. Yet even a scene of such extreme brutality, a sight of such heartbreaking helplessness, could hardly compare to the suffocating terror of the polar towing field. *That* was the true demon realm. Dense, swarming dajians guarded the alien civilization's palace. Even if hundreds or thousands of humans were thrown into it at once, it would be like tossing a few grains of rice into a massive swarm of ants—swallowed whole in an instant. And now, without a single extra word to the world, the six thousand of Stream Blades had mobilized in full, their raid aimed straight at the polar towing field. *** Azure Headquarters, Council Hall. Chairman Kemore seemed to have aged many years on this single day. Reaching this point, he knew he had made the right choice, yet his entire being felt not the slightest joy. At this turning point in human history, as the Chairman of Azure, he had held steadfast faith and correctly understood a group of people. And the result of being right was watching them march to their deaths with open eyes. Using a desperate assault and foreseeable sacrifice to attempt the redemption of this world. Inside the hall, all the council members rose to their feet. The vast majority had never anticipated such a twist in the end. Stream Blades had set out. Without any direct transmission, without succumbing to pressure, without even listening to pleas, they had made this decision entirely on their own. And then put it straight into action. At that moment, guilt and surging emotion spread simultaneously. The council members stood, some with eyes full of hot tears, others hanging their heads in shame. Arms began to rise toward a salute... "Truth be told," a Huaxia general in the corner of the hall slowly spoke. Like Chairman Kemore, he had remained silent from start to finish, having sensed the answer long ago. "Your suspicion, your guilt, or your respect—none of it means a thing to them, nor would they ever care." "Put your arms down. Save it. Most of you simply aren't worthy!" He was saying that many of Azure's council members were not even worthy of expressing guilt or respect to a band of outlaws. Too many in this world loved to preach about morality, justice, ideals, and the future. Meanwhile, others had only their bottom line, never speaking of ideals or justice... yet who knew that their bottom line stood higher than the justice and ideals of so many others? Having spoken, General Liu Yiwu fell back into silence. Not even a deep breath could relieve the tightness stifling his chest or the sharp ache clutching his heart. Even now, he vividly remembered the look of those immature kids being held and interrogated by Azure all those years ago. It had been so long since he had seen those boys. "Report!" A communications officer stood at the doorway with a sorrowful expression. Lifting his eyes from the dispatch in his hands, he looked up. Chairman Kemore looked at him and nodded. "Speak." "Stream Blades... Second Lieutenant Wen Jifei's final transmission before the front lines. A request that Azure do everything in its power to cover the evacuation of one of their Swordfish-class craft from Antarctica." The message was brief, and the officer quickly finished reading. Second Lieutenant Wen Jifei had not stated who was aboard that craft, yet everyone present knew. They knew why he had to be sent away from the battlefield, and they knew his significance to the future of mankind. As for who would be piloting the craft, there was no need to ask that either. "Highest priority directive... Order all units, frontline and rear, across Azure to immediately review any assistance they can offer and formulate a systematic plan," Chairman Kemore said. The man who usually preferred quiet contemplation and often gave an impression of hesitation was resolute and unyielding this time. "At all costs, cover the Stream Blades Swordfish-class craft bearing the red moth insignia as it breaks through and evacuates Antarctica." "I repeat: at all costs," Chairman Kemore reiterated, his eyes carrying a rare authority, even an implicit threat. In the very next second, all of Azure began moving anew. The order reached the Huaxia Sole Witness Legion as well, yet in the briefing room, Chief of Staff Xu Xiaohong did not move after hearing the directive. "Chief of Staff? Chief of Staff?" The young staff officers had long since understood his earlier silence and the tears that had followed. "Can we really do nothing? Because it's Lieutenant Colonel Yang Qingbai, maybe there's still a chance," someone ventured boldly. Even though Han Qingyu had left Azure many years ago, the Huaxia Sole Witness Legion had always regarded them as comrades-in-arms—as if Stream Blades were an independent brigade of the Sole Witness Legion stationed far from home. Xu Xiaohong turned to look at him and shook his head. Would losing his memories and growing weak change a man? Yes, it would. Would losing his memories and growing weak change a man? No, it would not. *** In Fenglong'ao, accompanied by the television broadcast and on-screen text, the old man who had repeated all day that "no news is good news" froze, then slumped back into his chair. "Qingzi's mother!" "Jiexia!" Han Qingyu's mother finally could not hold out any longer and fainted. With trembling hands, his father gathered his wife into his arms, crying her name in helpless panic. By now, even ordinary citizens understood what Stream Blades was doing, why they had gone, and what they would face. Earlier, when Antarctica was engulfed in chaos, hardly anyone could have imagined that the evolving battle would produce such a way to break the deadlock. And now, Stream Blades had simply gone and done it. The warriors locked in bloody combat across the peninsula and the support personnel nearing death at the main base understood in an instant. *To give us a chance to live, they decided to march to their deaths.* Though they were Stream Blades, they had only six thousand men—and they were without *that* man. "No! Plague Chicken! Don't go..." Inside a compartment of the space carrier Doomsday Great Wall, Yao Yue, who had stayed strong and sensible all day, finally broke down, weeping loudly against Lin Ya's shoulder. In this moment, the girl did not care about humanity. On the western front, Pegment's figure, relentlessly pursuing Daie, paused abruptly atop an icy peak. He turned his head and looked toward the South Pole. Below him, the western front soldiers locked in bitter fighting mostly looked in that direction as well. That was the place *they* had originally set out to attack... Judging by distance and pressure on the battlefield, if the eastern offensive truly threatened the towing field, the fastest Red Shoulders to reinforce it would inevitably come from the western front. Their own burden would be greatly lightened. Yet there was no joy. Not the slightest shred of it. Because these soldiers, more than anyone else, knew what kind of place their six thousand comrades on the eastern front were marching to attack. Amid the universal grief, Pegment was perhaps the sole exception. *Looks like that bastard isn't coming to help me hack Daie to pieces. Fine. It's not like I'm scared anyway. I'll hold him down for you.* In Pegment's mind, Han Qingyu had already regained his strength and memories. He was the only person in the entire world who believed that with absolute certainty. *** On the Antarctic eastern front, the first phase of Stream Blades' offensive required them to circumvent the lava zones. The route skirted along the flank, taking a rather winding path. At last, the troops turned into a snowy mountain pass. Wu Xu halted and looked back over his shoulder. Then Rusty Sister, He Tangtang, Captain Milla, the Little Prince... every one of them paused in the mountain pass. *How I wish I could say goodbye to you, even just a few simple words, Qingzi.* The thought had run through all their minds since earlier, yet none of them had spoken that farewell. Because they feared that if they did, Qingzi would be even less willing to leave alone. After all, over these past six months and more, they had built deep bonds anew with this eighteen-year-old Qingzi. And after all, that man of the past had never once abandoned his friends, comrades, or soldiers. In all his legendary tales, there was only the solitary charge into uncertain peril, never solitary flight to save his own life. *Goodbye, you brat. Whether you wake up or not, you must live well.* *Goodbye... Boss. This time, I'm going to eat Daie.* *Goodbye, my boy.* *Goodbye. It's a pity you never saw me outside this iron armor. I must be very beautiful, Qingzi. Truly.* *Goodbye, Qingzi. Remember back at the beginning, I promised Plague Chicken that I would definitely die before you. Later, you were always worried those words would come true, always telling me it didn't count, saying we were brothers, that you were so strong you didn't need a guard. But I don't understand all that.* *We're leaving. When you wake up one day... I know you. You hold grudges over the smallest slights, always paying back every grievance, let alone fallen brothers. So you will definitely come back.* *Come, then. When the day comes that you return for vengeance, Stream Blades' great banner billowing as you step onto Antarctica once more, the wind here will be keen as a blade, three thousand howling, snow marching beside you. And that will be Wu Xu guarding you once again... an honor beyond words.* The instant he turned and strode into the mountain pass, the wooden-faced Wu Xu had bloodshot eyes. This time, Stream Blades had no Major Qing. In this battle, the full crushing weight of the field would rest upon his shoulders. Beneath the iron armor, Rusty Sister was sobbing... One by one, they turned away. Wen Jifei remained at the very back. Carrying a sniper rifle, he stood at the pass and took one last careful look at Qingzi through his scope, though the image was already blurred. He was still worried Qingzi wouldn't leave. Even without his memories, Han Qingyu would hardly be easy to persuade away, for Wen Jifei had known the eighteen- and nineteen-year-old Han Qingyu just as intimately. Fortunately, he hadn't followed—at least not yet. Wen Jifei turned to glance at the troops who had completely entered the pass, then looked back once more. That was their army. He remembered back during the Zenith War, when Qingzi was going to hunt down Daie and feared he might not return, telling Wen Jifei that he would have to trouble him to lead Stream Blades forward from then on. *I'm sorry, Qingzi. I'm leading them to their deaths.* With that final thought, Wen Jifei turned, strode into the mountain pass, and picked up his communicator. "Wu Xu, Theodore, Weize—the three of you push to the front." "All units, maintain formation and advance. We begin accelerating." With the order issued, the vanguard began picking up speed. Their strides lengthened, shifting from a steady march to a rapid stride, then gradually breaking into a run... Until finally, the entire army erupted into a full sprint powered by surging origin energy. Clad in black combat fatigues, Stream Blades' full-speed charge across the ice sheet resembled a raging black torrent sweeping across the plains. The red flapping moths fluttered on every chest. Time: 16:31. Target: The South Pole towing field. On the Antarctic eastern front, the death charge of Stream Blades' six thousand men officially began. *** Back where they had started, Han Qingyu looked down at the communicator in his hand. He could no longer see them, but because Wen Jifei had opened an army-wide channel, he could still hear them. Stream Blades encountered little resistance during their initial advance. The dajian defenses on the ice sheet were thin, and the few scattered groups posed no real threat against the charge of an entire army. Most of the defensive forces here had already been redeployed to the western front and the central defensive line; otherwise, the eastern front would never have been considered a viable breakthrough point. Thus, for the opening stretch, almost all that came through the communicator were charging footsteps and the steady cracking of two sniper rifles firing in succession. "Qingzi, let's head over to the ship first, all right? Qingzi!" Yang Qingbai called out for the third time, but Qingzi remained motionless, staring blankly at the communicator in his hand. *Boom! Clang! Clang...* Finally, the violent concussions of origin energy and the clashes of dead iron weapons resonated through the communicator, while the thundering footsteps of the charge never stopped. The vanguard had met its first fierce frontal obstruction. The three supers of the vanguard division led the way, smashing straight through. The sounds of battle grew fierce. Enraged battle cries and dying shrieks began filtering through the transmission as well. Han Qingyu heard people falling. Regiment commanders shouted loudly for reserves to fill the gaps immediately... Yet this round of fighting did not last long. They seemed to have broken through quickly. Yes, broken through, not wiped them out. Under the present situation and disparity in strength, Stream Blades' six thousand men possessed neither the time nor the capability to annihilate the swarms of dajians they encountered along the way. They could not stop. Stopping meant being encircled and trapped. Once the assault began, the sole objective of the six thousand was to plunge recklessly toward the Pole. "They..." In Han Qingyu's mind, unaccustomed to war, scenes of the battlefield suddenly began to surface: Stream Blades' torrent-like formation smashing head-on through the defense of a dajian swarm, the entire army pressing onward undeterred, charging relentlessly ahead. The remaining dajians gathering in their wake, closing ranks, and giving chase. They did not turn back, only surging forward, crashing through a second defensive line. A third. A fourth... Many familiar faces fell, left behind on the desolate ice sheet, no longer marching with the ranks. The formation kept sprinting, advancing, smashing through everything in its path, driving toward the Pole... Behind them, swarm after swarm of dajians continually merged and converged, coalescing into an ever more colossal horde that surrounded and chased after them. They would not be coming back. Whether they succeeded or failed, none would return. *If... I don't come back this time... Stream Blades will be yours to carry forward. It'll be hard on you.* A voice suddenly rang out in Han Qingyu's mind. *It's my voice.* Han Qingyu quickly realized that he was the one who had spoken those words. Instinct even told him he had said them to Plague Chicken. But where, when, and under what circumstances, he could not recall. And then, all at once, familiar faces appeared in Han Qingyu's mind. Drenched in blood with blades in hand upon the battlefield, they smiled with radiant joy, looking toward him, greeting him: "Qingzi, you're back?" "Qingzi, you've come back!" "..."