Lin Xiaohe and Cassian faced off for a few minutes, and Cassian was the first to cave.
He stroked his beard and let out a bitter chuckle. “Fine, fine. I was actually hoping to save the Federation some face and not make you think even worse of them.”
Lin Xiaohe replied, “They’ve already gone bankrupt in terms of credibility with me, and my opinion of them has hit rock bottom. Even if they did something even more disgraceful, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.”
“Ah… is there really no way to mend your relationship with them?” Cassian asked, his tone heavy with emotion. As flawed as the Federation was, it was still the institution he had devoted most of his life to. That bond, that sense of belonging—it wasn’t something he could simply sever.
Lin Xiaohe reached out, grabbed a chunk of Void Devourer meat, and gave it a firm twist. The carapace split apart, revealing the tender, pale flesh inside.
She licked her fingers—spicy, numbing, fragrant, and delicious. Absolutely wonderful.
Seeing this, Cassian knew her mind was made up. He couldn’t help but sigh inwardly, blaming it all on those short-sighted fools in the Federation who had bullied Lin Xiaohe for her lack of status and connections.
“Xiaohe, do you know how long the longest-living person in the Federation has survived?”
“Three hundred years?”
Cassian flashed a strange, knowing smile and corrected her. “Three hundred? That’s just the average lifespan of the Security Department. The oldest one has lived for five hundred and three years—and they’re still alive today.”
Lin Xiaohe cursed under her breath. No wonder those people in the Security Department were so shameless—they were all crafty old foxes.
Cassian let out a long sigh. “The longer they live, the more terrified they become of death. Back then, a rumor circulated among the higher-ups—that the black beetles held the secret to immortality.”
Lin Xiaohe looked up. This wasn’t mentioned in the Ritanvi Project documents.
So that was it. All those people stationed at the Holy Gate weren’t there to protect the Federation—they were there to chase eternal life.
How perfectly, predictably selfish. They never failed to disappoint.
“Then what happened recently at the Holy Gate that required Chu Huai-Zhi to lead troops there?”
Cassian took the piece of meat Lin Xiaohe handed him, popped it into his mouth, and chewed. Not bad at all—pretty tasty, actually.
“Over at the Holy Gate, a massive swarm of Zerg appeared—an enormous number, and that’s completely abnormal. The Giant Tomb has already appeared in the Second Star Ring. There’s no reason for those Zerg to enter our star system through the Holy Gate—it only adds to their casualties.”
Lin Xiaohe slowed down her peeling, lost in thought. Could those Zerg from the other side of the Holy Domain be reinforcements sent by the Zerg Lord?
She scowled in dissatisfaction. “If Chu Huai-Zhi has a way to deal with the Zerg, why doesn’t he go all out? Why does he have to pin his hopes on me? All of them are just pros at guilt-tripping people!”
Cassian shot a quick, sidelong glance at her, then spoke in a meek, placating tone. “Are you sure you’re not biased against Chu Huai-Zhi? Honestly, his situation isn’t easy either. This time, the main force holding the Holy Gate came from his group of alien friends.”
“Alien friends?”
“Ah, don’t worry about that part. Just know that those people can’t possibly devote themselves wholeheartedly to helping the Federation fight the Zerg. Holding the Holy Gate is already the most they can do.”
Cassian peeled his shrimp while gently trying to reason with her. “Your master hasn’t had it easy either. It’s not that he didn’t want to protect you—he just couldn’t. Sure, on the surface, he’s Marshal Chu with a lot of prestige, but everyone in the upper echelons knows he doesn’t really have any power!”
“Back in the day, most of his elite troops fell at the Holy Gate.”
Lin Xiaohe: “Huh?!”
Cassian kept eating, bite after bite.
He had to admit—when chatting about old friends’ gossip with Lin Xiaohe, having some good food on the side made the conversation all the more enjoyable.
“The existence of the Holy Gate quickly caught the Empire’s attention. They sent three princes and a vice-marshal with their forces, aiming to seize it. The Federation wasn’t about to stand for that, so they dispatched Chu Huai-Zhi and his direct units.”
“Both sides clashed fiercely. They were still a fair distance from the Holy Gate when, unexpectedly, a riot broke out inside it. With a deafening crack, the Gate expanded outward by an entire light-year!”
“Both armies were completely swallowed up.”
Lin Xiaohe was completely hooked by the story. She pushed the platter toward Cassian. “In the end, who made it out?”
Cassian had picked up the skill quickly, peeling shrimp with increasing dexterity. “Only Chu Huai-Zhi. All three Imperial princes were lost in there, and it caused a huge upheaval in the Empire’s political landscape. Those princes had been strong contenders for the throne—with them gone, the other princes began nursing their own ambitions.”
Lin Xiaohe wasn’t interested in the Empire’s affairs. Instead, she posed a sharp, skeptical question: “How do you know the one who came out was really Chu Huai-Zhi, and not some other creature disguised as him?”
Cassian set down his food, let out a sigh, and replied, “If you thought of that, you can bet the Federation did too. After Chu Huai-Zhi emerged from the Holy Gate, he lost a large chunk of his memories from inside, and his mental strength was severely damaged. He had no choice but to step down from the position of Marshal.”
“The Federation kept him under surveillance and observation for ten full years. Whether it was genetic testing or mental analysis, everything confirmed it was really him.”
Even so, the Federation still wasn’t comfortable letting Chu Huai-Zhi hold any real power. So, he became nothing more than the Federation’s mascot—propped up high in name, but stripped of all authority, and kept under watch!
It all clicked into place for Lin Xiaohe. No wonder Chu Huai-Zhi, despite being a Federation Marshal, seemed so utterly useless! He had no say in anything!
“Then why is the Federation willing to use him now?”
Cassian snorted with laughter. “If not Chu Huai-Zhi, who else? If you’re willing, the Federation would use you too.”
Uh…
Lin Xiaohe definitely wasn’t willing.
The two chatted on as they polished off an entire plate of stir-fried Void Devourer.
Cassian was still hungry for more. He was about to ask Lin Xiaohe for another serving when he suddenly remembered what he’d been eating. His face cycled through shades of green and white, like a flipped paint palette.
He stammered, “Xiaohe… am I going to pass out?”
Lin Xiaohe offered a half-hearted reassurance. “Relax, you’ll be fine. But you know, I never would have guessed—you’re a dark horse, a hidden gem. Who knew you could put away that much meat? I was actually thinking that when we get to Kyushu Star, I’d start a military academy and make you the principal.”
Now, though? Lin Xiaohe had changed her mind. She decided to make full use of his talents—the more capable, the more work!
Cassian was still a long way from the age of just kicking back and doing nothing. This was the time to hustle and fight!
Cassian couldn’t help but shudder. Meeting Lin Xiaohe’s gleaming eyes, he spoke weakly, “Xiaohe… I’m old.”
“No! What old? Life doesn’t stop—neither should the fight!”
Cassian reached out a desperate hand. “Xiaohe… how about you reconsider?”
Lin Xiaohe walked away without looking back.
Nope, not listening. No way. She wasn’t about to hear any nonsense.
Comrades, for the Starhearth Party, for the brand-new civilization of Stardust Humanity—give it your all! Use your initiative to the fullest, shine bright, and burn with passion in your own fields!
The Great Sound Whales escorted the three shuttles toward the Sixth Star Ring.
Everywhere they passed, war raged. Countless planets, under the Zerg’s onslaught, let out cries of anguish as they struggled to hold on.
