Humanity's First Act of Contempt

"We going?" Yang Qingbai asked calmly. "We're going," Han Qingyu answered. Methodically, he loaded concentrated source energy blocks into his metal case, like a soldier chambering rounds in a trench, and then filled his reserve belt to capacity. By this point, Pegmont had already changed into a fresh set of combat fatigues. With no time to tidy his disheveled hair, he was busily preparing as well. At the same time, he did his best to describe the terrain around the tractor field to Yang Qingbai. Cross-referencing the freshly surveyed combat maps, Yang Qingbai quickly pinpointed the exact location: Weathering Zone F9. Along with the map coordinates, this operational plan—which he temporarily dubbed "Operation Humanity's First Contempt"—was promptly transmitted to the expeditionary fleet's flagship. By all appearances, high command ought to have immediately voiced their opposition to such a proposal and the suicidal raid it entailed. In reality, however, Yang Qingbai knew that unless they had overwhelming justification, they would not flatly reject it. Because the man who had made this choice was Major Qing. Looking back at his combat history, Han Qingyu might have seemed like someone who frequently made rash decisions on the battlefield. But the reality was quite the opposite. If the leader of a "bandit legion" had truly been that reckless, Stream Blades and the people around him would never have made it this far. In truth, he was simply ruthless—and above all, ruthless toward himself. Han Qingyu had naturally weighed this carefully. At the same time, he trusted that Wen Jifei would understand his reasoning, endorse his decision, and provide the appropriate tactical coordination in time. Because what Pegmont said was true: going right now presented the best possible window. The main expeditionary force had completed its landing and dispersed its ships into hiding without being discovered; the defenses around the Great Spikes' tractor field had not yet reached maximum strength; a portion of their forces had just been lured away to surround and kill Han Qingyu and Pegmont; and a massive swarm of their craft was currently locked in pursuit of CA117... Weighing all these factors together, the conclusion that this was an opportunity not to be missed was not difficult to reach. Conversely, with the disturbance already made and the Great Spikes on high alert, if the expeditionary force chose to pause and consolidate before attacking, a frontal assault would become virtually their only option. To Han Qingyu, that was not a good choice. Setting aside whether victory would even be achievable that way, the casualties alone would be staggering and horrific. Perhaps not a single one of the hundred thousand retired veterans would ever return, and even Wu Xu, Rusty Sister, Tangtang, and the others might fare no better. When it came to the hundred thousand veterans taking part in this expedition, Han Qingyu's feelings were somewhat complicated. The veterans had been chosen to be sacrificed—an acceptable price that humanity could still bear in this desperate era. Azure's recall notice had made no attempt to conceal this, the entire world had later come to understand it, and the veterans themselves had willingly reenlisted after fully acknowledging and accepting it. They had prepared themselves to burn away everything and die on this alien world. Han Qingyu understood and accepted this too. After so many horrific battles and tragic losses of old friends, facing such bleak prospects for the survival of their species, he understood better than almost anyone in this world: sacrifice was inevitable, and it could be weighed against necessity. And yet, if possible, if there was even the slimmest chance... he still wanted to bring them home. To bring back a few, even just a few more, together. Aside from the tactical situation, this was another major factor that prompted him to make this choice. Beyond that, there was a third factor, equally critical: after that combined strike that swatted down three thousand column swords, a change had occurred in Pegmont. That blind, illogical confidence of his, that ignorance and fearlessness, seemed to be returning. This meant Pink Peg now had a shot at reaching that combat peak again—the one where he was "only a hair behind Han Qingyu." For this Mars campaign, that was of paramount importance, carrying immense significance. Han Qingyu did not know whether this return was temporary, nor did he know if letting Pegmont fall back and rest would cause the man to relapse into his "Martian isolation syndrome." Therefore, he was unwilling to pass up this glint-in-the-eye "bug Peg" standing right before him. "How is it? Ready?" Strapping on his metal case, Han Qingyu rose, walked over, and checked Pegmont's gear according to standard Azure pre-combat procedures. "No problem at all! How could I have a problem?" In turn, Pegmont carried out a thorough check on Han Qingyu's equipment. Then, blades strapped to their backs, the two turned. Side by side, they walked toward the drop hatch at the stern of the craft, which stood primed to open at any second, and waited. They were going to drop straight in and raid the tractor field. Regarding this move, amidst all the compelling imperatives and opportunistic conditions, the gravest and most lethal issue had never actually been brought up: The expeditionary force had no clear picture of the Great Spikes' true strength on Mars, particularly the presence of high-end combatants. And high-end combat power was undeniably the decisive factor in this war. The expeditionary force knew there were numerous Great Spikes here, among them many Red Shoulders; they knew Daie was here—at least one, perhaps two or even three. Preliminary reconnaissance had detected no sign of a Puda'er, but considering the Great Spikes had already learned to dig tunnels and construct a tractor field, no one could state with certainty that a Puda'er was not lying in wait on this planet. Even so, Han Qingyu and Pegmont had still made their decision: to strike directly at the ultimate objective of this expedition—the Great Spikes' Martian tractor field—with just the two of them. Thus, just as Yang Qingbai felt, in the century-long war between human civilization and the Great Spikes, this was undeniably humanity's very first military operation of utter contempt. ... Humanity's Mars Expeditionary Force, flagship Mechanical Cradle, briefing room. Fleet communications officers were transmitting messages back to Blue Star with frantic urgency. A conference room packed with staff officers stood at attention, as did General Yergna, his brow heavily furrowed and his trembling hands clasped tightly behind his back. The troops had finally landed safely; the ships had finally dispersed into concealment; Pegmont had finally been rescued. Before the old general even had time to breathe a sigh of relief and celebrate, this abrupt, shocking shift had erupted across the battlefield—and worse, it was initiated on their own accord... This did not align with his expectations or contingency plans. Across a thirty-year command career, General Yergna had always been known for prudence and rigor. Furthermore, the directive he had received from the Azure Board of Elders before the fleet set out on the expedition had explicitly stated: "Major Qing and Pegmont hold higher priority than the entire fleet." He had also been laboring under immense pressure due to the catastrophic defeat of his disciple, Siglo, in Antarctica. Siglo's initial misstep during the Antarctic expedition had ultimately cost the lives of over seven hundred thousand Azure elites and prodigies... *Am I to doom humanity's two greatest hopes for the future right at the onset of this Mars expedition?* At the thought, the old general turned with difficulty toward the communications display. Unlike earlier, when they had relied solely on audio comms, General Yergna had specifically instructed his operators to patch in the visual command feed of Second Lieutenant Wen Jifei aboard Doomsday Great Wall. He hadn't explained why, but under the current circumstances, hearing a voice alone was no longer enough to bring any sense of reassurance to him or the Azure staff officers present. On the comm screen, Second Lieutenant Wen Jifei leaned both hands against the sand table, expressionless and temporarily silent. "Please stop him, Second Lieutenant Wen. I believe only you can," General Yergna pleaded. "I don't deny the favorable conditions for an immediate raid, and I understand Major Qing has the authority to make his own calls, but what if there are two or three Daie there? What if there is a Puda'er? The two of them are..." "I understand, General," Wen Jifei replied, turning his head toward the feed. His gaze seemed unfocused, yet at the same time intensely fixed on something invisible. "But after thinking it through, I'm still willing to bet alongside Major Qing and Peg." General Yergna stared, taken aback, and then felt a brief surge of hope. "So the odds are good? What is the basis for your judgment, Second Lieutenant Wen?" "There is none. No basis whatsoever," Wen Jifei said. "It's just that if there really are two or three Daie or a Puda'er waiting there, whether they go right now or shake off pursuit, rest, and go later... I don't think the outcome will be any different." *There is! How could there be no difference?! If reconnaissance confirmed that to be true, the two of them would be escorted straight to a concealed mothership, pulled out of this Mars war entirely, and sent back to join Blue Star's final defense!* *Then I, along with the Azure super combatants and veterans who came with us, would make the attempt—doing everything humanly possible and leaving the rest to fate.* This was a top-secret directive straight from the Azure Board of Elders. General Yergna screamed these rebuttals in his mind, but obviously he could not voice them aloud right now. What he didn't realize was that on the other end, Wen Jifei—despite never receiving that classified order—knew full well what Azure's top brass was thinking. It was just that compared to them, he cared far more about what Qingzi thought and what Qingzi chose to do. He knew Qingzi was gambling. People like Qingzi and Pegmont, who shouldered the weight of destiny, seemed doomed to gamble constantly. And what was more... almost every single time, they went all-in. They had no choice, because from the very beginning, this was a game humanity was destined to lose! "Qingzi never actually thought he would definitely be able to save this world, or that he had to save it. All he ever does is pour everything he has into doing his part. "If, in the end, at some juncture he fails, dies, and can do no more... then so be it. It's simply that."