Chapter Seven: The First Glimmer of Form

Whenever Liu Shaoyu recalled the first time they met, he always laughed and said, “When I saw the way you walked without looking at anyone, my first reaction was, ‘This woman must be up to no good.’”

Miss Wang’s full name was Wang Yuyan, the only daughter of Wang Zha, who was Master Wang’s third son. She was born in the Libra star system and had followed her father among the vastness of the universe since childhood. For years, she served as the squadron commander in her father’s fleet, and as the flagship’s military officer.

This time, Master Wang claimed he wanted Liu Shaoyu to show her the world, but in truth, with such a massive fleet being transferred, he couldn’t rest easy unless one of his own was there. As it happened, Wang Yuyan had just returned from a mission at the front and was on leave, so her grandfather called her to act as a supervisor. Besides, she was his only granddaughter.

Once he learned Wang Yuyan could serve as a military officer, Liu Shaoyu found it hard to refuse. He thought that if she didn’t do well, he could always replace her later, but for now, he had no one else available. So he put her in the position of flagship military officer, but the rest of the crew selection gave him a headache. Even if he could recruit people temporarily, they would be strangers to one another—on the battlefield, when life hangs by a thread, that unfamiliarity could be fatal. Having tasted death before, Liu Shaoyu did not let his “immortal” nature make him complacent; rather, it made him value life even more. Moreover, temporary hires varied greatly in quality, and one could easily end up stabbed in the back—after all, humanity itself was far from united.

Just as Liu Shaoyu’s mind was reeling with worry, Wang Weifu brought him good news.

“Come to the spaceport to pick someone up!” he said, ending the call, leaving Liu Shaoyu bewildered and wondering who it could be as he made his way toward the spaceport.

But when he saw who stepped off the shuttle, Liu Shaoyu wanted to rush up and hug Wang Weifu in gratitude, for wasn’t it Monkey and the Young Dragon himself who had come? The sight filled him with excitement. And the two, upon seeing Liu Shaoyu waiting at the spaceport, could barely contain their joy.

Three months ago, when all the Young Dragon Squad members thought Liu Shaoyu was dead, only Xin Qingyi’s eyes held a determined light as she said, “No, he’s not dead.” The others, understanding her special feelings, assumed she simply couldn’t accept the loss. But when the team returned to Earth with Mu Wan, whom they had rescued, and the wreckage of Liu Shaoyu’s mecha, Xin Qingyi vanished along with the ruined machine.

No one could reach her. Soon, a military order arrived: since Young Dragon Squad’s commander Liu Shaoyu had fallen in battle, and his death was attributed to personal reasons, not only was he denied the honor of being named a martyr, but he received no posthumous recognition at all. The rest of the squad was likewise punished, broken up and reassigned to await reorganization. The entire team was miserable—some out of grief, some for their future, for once a combat team is disbanded, it’s nearly impossible for members to return to their posts quickly; most must start again from the bottom ranks. Unlike Liu Shaoyu, not everyone could be so optimistic. The Luo brothers and the Xing brothers accepted their fate, transferring to other teams as reserves, since they were still young. As for those from the capital, apart from Xin Qingyi's disappearance, Peach and Clerk followed their families' wishes and went to fight on the distant frontlines of other star systems. Though reluctant to leave, they ultimately walked the paths laid out for them.

The remaining two, Long Ruyuan and Monkey, simply kept their military status but refused to serve, staying in the capital to await news of Xin Qingyi. Somehow, Long Ruyuan had heard that Liu Shaoyu was not dead, and Xin Qingyi was doing everything she could to bring him back.

At that time, Wang Weifu was still in Liu Shaoyu’s old home in the capital, which Xin Qingyi had by then claimed as her own. Facing Liu Shaoyu’s old comrades, Wang Weifu laid out the whole story for them, telling them that in the near future, Liu Shaoyu would join them again for even deeper operations behind enemy lines. People are sentimental beings—though it was hard to believe, the two chose to accept it. That was how the scene came to be: Liu Shaoyu receiving the two at the spaceport.

For all of this, Liu Shaoyu was deeply grateful to Wang Weifu, and to his friends for waiting and rejoining him. More than anything, he now seemed to understand the feelings Xin Qingyi had for him, and felt incapable of expressing thanks for all she had done in silence. As for the others who left, Liu Shaoyu felt only understanding; he had done them wrong, not the other way around. His own impulsiveness had forced them to start over from scratch. Still, he remained optimistic about their futures; his teammates were among the best in the Federation, and in fact, he would be proven right—upon learning they were from the Young Dragon Squad, they were placed directly in the most vital posts in the fleet, not forced to start from the bottom. They would meet again on the battlefield, though that would be another story.

Yet when Liu Shaoyu found no sign of Xin Qingyi on the shuttle, he felt a pang of disappointment. He had never thought much about her before. As the saying goes, when one door is opened to you, another is shut tight—love had not been a part of Liu Shaoyu’s first eighteen years, so he had no feelings for Xin Qingyi’s earlier devotion. But after his rebirth and countless hours spent reading, if he still couldn’t understand, he might as well go bash his head in. Especially after meeting Wang Yuyan today, Liu Shaoyu grew even more certain of Xin Qingyi’s feelings. His heart towards her was complicated.

“Where’s Xin Qingyi?” Liu Shaoyu finally couldn’t help but ask.

The atmosphere instantly chilled, even Monkey, usually so jovial, grew solemn.

“She was sent to pioneer in the Desolate Star Region,” Long Ruyuan, who had been silent, suddenly said. His own family and Xin Qingyi’s both traced their roots back to ancient China, and their families had been close for generations. Thus, Long Ruyuan and Xin Qingyi had known each other since childhood. By seniority, he should call her “Auntie,” though he never had, despite many a beating.

Long Ruyuan probably knew better than anyone how Xin Qingyi felt about Liu Shaoyu. He had never seen his “aunt” treat any man this way. Mostly, her face was icy, even with him—since childhood, he’d only rarely seen her smile, and it was only after they joined the squad that they became close.

In truth, Xin Qingyi’s sacrifice for Liu Shaoyu was far greater than it appeared. In the Xin family, whenever a child—male or female—felt they had fallen in love for the first time, the family would send them off to wander. If they survived and returned, they could become the next head of the family, with support to fulfill their love. But this wandering was perilous; eighty percent never came back. Because of this, many heirs concealed their feelings, treating love lightly, and even when they found true love, they would marry hastily before the family’s age thirty deadline, forfeiting all inheritance rights.

Xin Qingyi’s father was once the chosen heir, groomed by the old master since youth. After falling in love at twenty, he resolutely followed family tradition and set out to wander, even though Xin Qingyi’s mother was already pregnant. The news came—her father died far away, in the Desolate Star Region. Eighteen years later, faced with the same choice, Xin Qingyi learned where her father had fallen and chose to wander as well, setting her destination as the Desolate Star Region.

It wasn’t that Xin Qingyi coveted the position of family head. Human longevity meant the eighty-year-old Xin Yan could remain leader for many years yet. It was out of love for her father, and for her own feelings, that Xin Qingyi defied his opposition and resolutely joined the fleet bound for the Desolate Star Region. He had already lost one son; he didn’t want to lose a granddaughter. But faced with family law, he could only arrange as many warships as possible to accompany her. Still, the Desolate Star Region was one of the most perilous in the universe, where no number of ships could guarantee survival. Yet such danger brought resources found nowhere else.

The K-F730 ice mine, the only source of doomsday weapon material, existed only in this region. The Xin family, who owned Galactic Universal Technologies, were obsessed with extreme military power and coveted it fiercely. Where there was great reward, there were always the brave—no matter the risk, the high bounties attracted wave after wave of prospectors. After losing their son there, the Xin family forbade their own fleet from setting foot there again, instead relying on hired mercenaries for the ice.

Now, Xin Qingyi’s fleet would return as representatives of Galactic Universal Technologies, facing conditions unimaginable in the peaceful universe, and enemies more savage than even the Fengtower Swarm.

Liu Shaoyu had heard some legends of the Desolate Star Region. But he knew nothing of the Xin family’s trial. If he had known Xin Qingyi went, in part, for his sake, he would have felt more than mere guilt. Liu Shaoyu didn’t know—but Long Ruyuan did. His own family’s trials were similar, though not as harsh; since he was never a candidate for heir, joining the military was trial enough.

Before leaving, Xin Qingyi sternly warned Long Ruyuan not to tell Liu Shaoyu. Now, seeing Liu Shaoyu’s reaction, Long Ruyuan’s feelings were deeply conflicted.

Now, aside from his main objective, Liu Shaoyu held a new thought: to go to the Desolate Star Region. But with so small a fleet, it would be suicide. He could only bury the idea for now and focus on the task at hand.

With the arrival of the two, the new Young Dragon Fleet now had four members: Captain Liu Shaoyu, Military Officer Wang Yuyan, Gunner One—Monkey, and Gunner Two—Long Ruyuan. But that was still far from a full flagship command team. “Looks like I’ll have to recruit some temporary crew for now,” Liu Shaoyu thought to himself.

The command flagship of a carrier differed from other warships. Such a massive vessel couldn’t be operated by a single military officer alone. Energy shields, hull armor, structural controls, battlefield radar, containment devices, repairs, targeting, communications—all these complex tasks required division of labor. Thus, a flagship separated command and logistics between two officers. Liu Shaoyu still needed a logistics officer.

This vexed him. Where could he hastily find so many people? Fortunately, the rest of the starship crews remained intact; orders could be passed down through the flagship captain, squadron commander, and so forth. But the most critical part was the flagship’s command team, for all orders began there.