The document was made public. Aside from the combat-power criteria and the principle of voluntary enlistment, Azure authorities offered no superfluous explanations or pretense.
For this era was inherently cruel enough, and the days during which this cruelty and despair had been laid bare before the entire world had already lasted long enough.
The veterans were simply prepared to go and die in battle on that distant celestial body.
Just as Old General Jelavic had said at the council yesterday, they had long ceased to possess time or potential, yet with blades in hand, they could still fight. Thus, perhaps this battle was the very last contribution they could make toward the human race and the future of this world.
"When this world needs more time, when the future destiny and hope of mankind still require those gifted youngsters to grow and bear the weight, we can die."
"We cannot wait until the endgame. We are already too old, and we possess too little talent; the new era has long been destined to hold no battlefield for us."
"Therefore, let us be the ones to face that distant, crimson star of death, and all the unknown that lies there."
"If we old soldiers must ultimately die upon the stars, our only wish is that our blood and blades may win time for this world one last time."
"I am a veteran, and I gladly go to battle."
Starting from that day, the entire human world sank into sorrow—a peculiar sorrow, magnificent as autumn's chill cull, like yellow leaves falling that nothing could stay.
Living in an era such as this, humanity had long been doomed to no longer discuss and measure all things through warmth and conventional morality.
Compared to the vast majority of ordinary people in this world who were weighed down by grief, those who genuinely erupted in fury and took to protest over this notice were, ironically, two other groups.
The first group consisted of the younger generation of Azure soldiers.
They could not bear the thought that, after taking up the blade and being told time and again how exceptionally brilliant their generation was, how they surpassed all of history and could forge a golden age of human martial might, they would ultimately have to stand by and watch as their aging predecessors, whose average talent lagged behind, raised their blades once more with withered hands to march in their stead to that most distant and dangerous battlefield.
The old men had clearly already done more than enough. In the long, unsung decades past, it was precisely they who had propped up that weakest and most grueling chapter of Azure and human history. Almost every single one of them still living was the sole survivor among a dozen or dozens of their peers.
Spearheaded by these young prodigies and junior officers, the dissent, assemblies, and petitions within Azure's military ranks... were quelled almost as soon as they began.
For the man who stepped forward to suppress them was the very hero, mentor, and benchmark in the hearts of many among them. His name was Bochen, an Azure general, and a veteran himself. He was even a former "top-three combat power in Azure" who had yet to fully recover from grievous injuries, as well as the commander of the Mitli Front's combat legion.
Then, the second group displeased or even infuriated by the mobilization order were the veterans who had already left the front lines themselves—or more precisely, the weaker among them.
Because the mobilization order set a relatively high standard for combat power, some of them were not given the chance to rejoin the ranks and take part in this expedition.
And so, throwing tantrums in the logistics and administrative departments, calling in favors, offering gifts, throwing fits, pulling rank, and barking threats at former comrades and subordinates, they raised a tremendous ruckus all over the place.
Only, in the end, the standards for reinstatement stood firm without compromise. Most of them could only drop the matter in frustration, while a few unwilling to concede still plotted to work an extraordinary connection.
...
"Look at this. Even the telegrams begging and raising hell have been wired all the way to the two of us... Every last one of them, why the hell are they all so reckless with their lives!"
Inside the small courtyard with the incense altar at the headquarters of the Huaxia Front's Sole Witness Legion, Xu Xiaohong pointed at the mountain of telegrams piled upon the desk, looking up as he spoke to a certain "Immortal Chen" on the altar.
Chen Buer said nothing, sitting motionless with his eyes closed amidst the curling incense smoke like a clay statue.
The incense had just been lit and planted by Xu Xiaohong.
"Are you going to read them? Well, I haven't. I'm not looking." The Chief of Staff sat down, paused a beat, and spoke again. "Oh, by the way, as of this morning, the old bastards who registered to return to our Sole Witness Legion have nearly reached seven thousand."
This was Huaxia; among the seven thousand old soldiers on the register who had previously left the front lines, not one had not been Chen Buer's soldier. He still remembered that year, when they were discharged, the old bastards had gotten dead drunk and cursed in the street:
"Well played, Chen Buer! Looking down on us because we're old and useless, are you? Fine! Since the Legion Commander gave the order urging our retirement, I'll go! Later on, if you ever want us back and want us to call you Legion Commander again, you can forget about it—not a snowball's chance in hell! Even if you shamelessly bring an eight-man sedan chair to beg us, the brothers won't give you the time of day!"
Back then, a certain Legion Commander surnamed Chen, equally drunk, had traded curses with them. He had gone drinking station by station, brawling with one group after another, stamping his feet and yelling:
"Pah! Every damn one of you, get the hell home, take your strolls, and hold your grandkids, you old bastards! If there ever comes a day I actually call you back, I'll be your nephew..."
"Hey, nephew to everyone!" After calling out, Xu Xiaohong chuckled to himself. "Forget it, I won't lay it on you. Even if we wanted you to go invite them now, you wouldn't be able to move."
In truth, if in this era Chen Buer could still move, if he were still that Peerless in the Mortal Realm, why would this world need so many old soldiers to leave home once again?
Those soldiers had grown old, yet they could still fight; Chen Buer had grown old as well, but his aging was far more thorough—so old that no one knew if he still had that rumored final strike, or whether he could once again bear Zhanhong and wage battle toward the Dome.
"By the way, do you remember Guan Qiliang from the 171st Regiment of the Fourth Army? The lieutenant who got drunk, traded curses with you, and threw chicken bones back and forth that year. I happened to see his name today," Xu Xiaohong said.
In a rural village of northwestern Huaxia, in an old courtyard where vines climbed an ancient tree, a seemingly ordinary old peasant sat on a bamboo chair under the sunlight, teasing and playing with his grandson, who was still wearing split-crotch pants...
From morning till noon, the laughter and clamor of grandfather and grandson filled the courtyard.
Midday arrived. The daughter-in-law boiled a large bowl of oil-splashed noodles, which the son brought over, saying, "Dad, time for lunch."
"Alright." The old man tapped his pipe, took the bowl, and instructed, "The field work in early spring—remember to keep doing it just the same, understood? Growing grain is also serving the nation and the world."
"Understood, Dad." The son kept his head lowered as he spoke.
The moment the large bowl left his hands, with a quiet patter, a fat tear from the peasant man in his thirties dropped into the soil.
This matter—he could not stop it even if he wanted to, nor could he offer to go in his elderly father's place. For his father was an Azure veteran. If he truly tried to stop him by force, the old man could heave him straight into the river two hundred meters away.
"Also, take good care of the boy. If you two have the ability, have a few more. In these times, raising kids is also serving the nation and mankind, you know? Hahaha, of course, your dad won't force you." His long chopsticks stirred the noodles, yet his words of advice were brief. Feigning not to notice what had struck the soil, the old man buried his face in the bowl and wolfed down the noodles in a few hearty slurps.
Bending down to set the bowl aside, he scooped up the small duffel bag by his feet and stood up all at once.
Time to go! An ordinary rural old man rose to his feet, his posture suddenly standing tall and straight as a mountain in an instant, his aura sharpening like a blade. An Azure veteran stood in his own yard, turning his head to take in one last careful look around the old courtyard.
"I'm off. It's a long way from here, and if I don't leave now, I'm afraid I won't make it in time." Just as the veteran turned, he saw his grandson, Douguan, looking up at him. The stride he had just begun could not help but freeze.
"Where is Grandpa going?" the little boy asked, looking up.
"Going..." The veteran stammered, then raised a finger toward the sky. "Grandpa is going to the stars. Impressive, huh? Haha, Douguan, do you still remember that star Grandpa showed you last night?"
"Yeah!" Douguan nodded, craning his neck and pointing upward. There were no stars in the daylight, yet he still pointed toward roughly the same spot as the night before.
"That's right! Looks like my Douguan is smarter than his dad, hahahaha." The veteran laughed, looked back at his son and daughter-in-law, and stroked his grandson's chin. "From now on, Grandpa will be watching over you from up there. How about that, Douguan?"
"Mm, okay... Waaah, no, it's not okay!" The child suddenly burst into tears, shaking his head hard, seemingly realizing that while the stars were neat, they were too far away, and he wanted his grandfather by his side after all.
"Don't cry, Douguan, don't cry." The veteran turned his head away to hold back his tears, then turned back with a smile. "Grandpa will play the blinking game with my Douguan from up there, how about that? By the way, how does that song of yours go? Twinkle..."
He had intended to mention the nursery rhyme—*Twinkle, twinkle, little star*. But hearing his grandfather ask how the song went, Little Douguan blinked his big eyes, and with tears brimming and words choked with sobs, he sang out:
"I bear a blade, shed my old robes to march to war,
Strike the midstream oars, redeem the vast commonwealth..."
The child had learned this song from his grandfather. Over these past few years, whenever the old man had a drink or drifted off in thought, he would hum it over and over. Hearing it so often, the boy had gradually picked it up.
A childish voice sang the martial hymn of marching into battle, slightly out of tune and with imperfect lyrics. Amidst the song, Little Douguan's grandfather left home alone; along the long road outside the village, as he walked on and on, his departing figure faded from view.
On that same day, Azure Huaxia gained yet another battle-hardened veteran.
His name was Guan Qiliang, former squad leader of Squad 823, 171st Regiment, Fourth Army, Sole Witness Legion. Over these decades, from leaving boot camp to leading his own squad, he had taken part in hacking forty-seven Great Spikes to death, and had once gotten drunk, traded curses with Chen Buer, the Peerless in the Mortal Realm, and thrown chicken bones at him.
When the demobilization drive had arrived back then, the regiment had asked him if he wanted to stay behind on the second line. He had replied: "Stay my ass! If I can't hold a blade anymore, I can't even be bothered to look at you lot! I'm going home to look after my grandson!"
As of today, Guan Qiliang had looked after his grandson, Little Douguan, at home for two years and six months.
Chapter 889