A deathly silence spread through the ravaged office.
The three patrol soldiers brought by Shi Rongyuan kept their guns trained on Baisha, their dark barrels tracking her every move. They stayed mute, but they'd caught Shi's words—this young girl was the top of her academy prep class. If it came to blows, who'd win was anyone's guess.
Shi Rongyuan spoke. "Made up your mind?"
"Recruiting me here, like this, isn't wise," Baisha said, her gaze steady and unyielding. "I just witnessed your betrayal. You call Professor Luqi rigid, inflexible, but at least he was loyal to Kangheng, who raised him. Your motives, though? Far murkier."
"Chief Security, you casually handed Kangheng's research to someone else, even sabotaging your ally, Luqi. After seeing your true colors, you think I'd join you?"
"Only the useless fall to such crude tactics," Shi waved off. "If I were as dim as Luqi, I'd have crashed in the gutter a hundred times over."
The Chief Security looked up, his eyes glinting with malice, a smile curling. "So, your answer's 'no,' is it?"
The soldiers' guns tilted higher, their circle tightening around Baisha.
"Pity," Shi said, turning away, his voice now ice. "Lanslow's rising star, prep class genius, reduced to a vile criminal." He barked, "Take her—dead or alive!"
Baisha exhaled, flicking her laser gun's safety, mental strength coiling for release.
In that instant, a crash shattered the silence. The office's outer windows exploded inward. A silver-black chain-blade sliced the air, slamming the three armed soldiers aside, crashing them into the wall.
Twin beams of light flared, glowing particles dancing in the dark night. A black metal behemoth roared, its engines thundering as it burst from the tower's exterior, one foot crushing the metal window frame. Shards flew.
A mech!
The black mech leaned half-through the window, retracting its chain-blade with one hand, the other drawing an electromagnetic gun, unleashing a barrage at Shi Rongyuan.
The bullets wouldn't kill Shi instantly, but a hit would paralyze him.
Shi, no rookie after years as Chief Security, snapped up a mental barrier, deflecting two shots. He rolled forward, diving under the workstation. From his belt, he yanked a metallic cylinder, popped its pin, and hurled it at the mech.
An orange-red cloud erupted—corrosive gas bomb!
The fog slowed the mech briefly. But instead of pursuing Shi, the mech lunged to Baisha. Its chain-blade, shimmering faintly white, cleaved the spreading gas in two.
"You okay?" came a voice from the cockpit.
"Teacher Homan?" Baisha's eyes widened, then she snapped back. "I'm fine—I could've blocked the gas with my mental strength."
"You've learned to shape mental strength?" Homan sounded stunned. "Who taught you? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Later," Baisha said, pointing at Shi, who was crawling from under the workstation, grabbing a board to hurl at the fleeing man. "Catch him first!"
Homan didn't reply, but the mech's chain-blade whipped toward Shi again.
Shi, sweating, saw no escape. He tore a ring from his finger, revealing a tiny blue gem. "Stay back! Ion micro-bomb!" he shouted. "One step closer, we all die!"
Homan halted the mech.
A real ion micro-bomb could level half the building. Homan, in the mech, might survive. Shi and Baisha? Not a chance.
"Quite the arsenal," Homan sneered.
"I'm Lanslow's Chief Security," Shi panted, blood trickling from his forehead, grinning. "Think you can kill me? Weigh the cost. Kill a Security Chief, and you're hunted for life—or executed. Ready to cross the Federation Military?"
"Correction," Homan said smugly. "You're the one crossing them."
The cockpit opened. Homan, in the pilot seat, tossed a small chip, holding it for Shi to see. "Your handiwork, delivered to me."
The chip Shi had copied—the workstation's data!
Shi's eyes widened, pupils trembling. "How's that chip with you?"
He'd entrusted it to a loyal aide for his contact. Only his "big shot" buyer should know its path!
Luqi's logs named Shi Rongyuan, tied him to experiments. If exposed, he'd fall, and Kangheng would crumble.
Shi's glare burned. "Who sent you?"
Homan pocketed the chip in his tattered jacket, pulling a black ID card: Federation Military Inspectorate, Public Safety Division Two, Lieutenant Elex Homan.
"You'll never guess how long I've waited for this," Homan's voice dripped with menace. "Kangheng's crimes: endangering citizens, illegal high-risk drugs, illicit Source Crystal experiments, and more. You, Chief? Extortion, bribery, murder, smuggling—your rap sheet's endless. I could execute you now, and the Military wouldn't blink."
"The Inspectorate's mad!" Shi rasped. "Kangheng's backed by the Zhou family—Capital Star's untouchables!"
"I almost thought this day wouldn't come," Homan said, tucking the ID with the chip. "But fate shifts, doesn't it?"
Shi's face went blank.
"Got it," he snarled, spitting a name. "Zhou Ying—sent you, didn't he?"
"You served Kangheng for years, Shi," Homan mocked. "Never gauge a big shot's mind by your own. They discard anything, anytime. Loyalty to them? No security. Better to be a humble Federation officer. Die for the cause, and your family's pension is secure. Dirty your hands for tycoons, sell your life, and what's left? Nothing."
"No, I won't accept this," Shi clutched his chest, eyes wild. "My life doesn't end like this…"
His gaze dropped to a kinetic gun amid glass shards, dropped by a fallen soldier.
Shi lunged through the jagged debris, bloodshot eyes locked on Homan and Baisha. He grabbed the gun, pressed it to his temple, finger on the trigger.
Baisha reacted, her mental strength piercing Shi's mind.
His eyes dulled instantly. The gun slipped with a clack, and he froze, a puppet with cut strings.
Mental control—success. Baisha exhaled quietly.
"Not bad," Homan said, surprised, clapping her shoulder with a complex look. "You mastered that? Youngsters and their mental strength—terrifying."
"Mental strength isn't about age," Baisha said, pale, shoving his hand off, anger lacing her tone. "Explain your identity, Lieutenant Elex Homan, my dear 'Teacher Homan'."
Homan's grin faltered. He ruffled his hair. "Long story."
"Make it short," a familiar female robotic voice cut in from the mech. "She's our kid, your student. Be honest."
Baisha spun, shocked. "Gwyneth?"
The voice was Gwyneth, the orphanage's medical bot.
Why was she in the mech?
"I know you're confused, child," Gwyneth said gently. "Since Lieutenant Homan won't talk, I will. Homan and Dean Joan Pikor of the orphanage were Military Inspectorate agents. Years ago, they took a covert mission to Lanslow, investigating newborn genetic defects. That's why the orphanage was founded—to collect afflicted infants' gene data."
"Then what?" Baisha asked. "Why stay so long?"
Homan sighed, dredging up painful memories. "The investigation went well at first. We gathered evidence pointing to Kangheng's Lanslow branch. But before we could report, our mission handler died suddenly of 'illness.'"
Baisha: "…" Convenient timing.
"No handler, no contacts, no resources—toppling Kangheng became a pipe dream," Homan shook his head. "We tried other channels to the Inspectorate, but our agent statuses were erased. They likely thought we deserted. Our names were wiped from the network—'dead' to the Military."
Baisha: "…" Brutal.
"You know the rest," Homan said. "Stuck with those defective kids, we founded the orphanage, scraping by on aid and fostering orphans. Even poor Gwyneth got yanked from my mech's AI to become a medical bot…"
"Shut it, Lieutenant," Gwyneth snapped sweetly. "I'll never forget you stuffing me into that medical arm. Makes me want to turn on you."
"So, this mech's yours?" Baisha's eyes gleamed, fixed on the machine.
"Yep, my only asset from the Inspectorate," Homan sighed. "Called 'Snowdrinker.' Wanted 'Blooddrinker,' but too grim, so I changed it."
"Then I endured eight years without even snow to drink," Gwyneth jabbed. "Great naming skills."
"No wonder," Baisha said, stroking the mech's faded shell. "The parts are aged—not from overuse, but neglect. I'll refurbish it, make it shine like new."
"Thank you, child," Gwyneth said warmly. "No wonder we clicked."
Baisha, the orphanage's mech-tech nerd, had bonded with Gwyneth over such talk, unaware it soothed the AI's past.
"Then what?" Baisha pressed. "You lurked on Lanslow for years, no chance to take Kangheng down. Why strike now?"
Homan paused, craving a smoke but mindful of the mech. "Sheer luck. The first domino was the captain you saved—Zhou Mi."
Baisha froze, recalling Shi's "Zhou Ying."
Same "Zhou"?
"Shi said Kangheng's a Zhou family asset—not quite," Homan said, glancing at the dazed Shi in the glass pile. "It's really the Ning family's."
"Kangheng's heirs: eldest son Ning Hongxue, younger daughter Ning Jingxia. Hongxue joined the military; Jingxia ran the company, married the Zhou family's eldest son on Capital Star," Homan explained. "Jingxia birthed twins: Zhou Mi, your friend, and Zhou Ying. Then Jingxia and her husband died in a starship accident. Hongxue got exiled to the chaotic Sixteenth District, and Kangheng fell to Zhou Zheng, the Zhou family's younger son—the twins' uncle, technically."
Baisha listened, silent.
"Things shifted," Homan continued. "Hongxue's back. Zhou Ying, with his support, wants Kangheng back. I thought he'd claim Lanslow's research, but he went scorched-earth: exposed the drug abuse, bribed Shi to betray Zhou Zheng. His real move? Hongxue reinstated my agent status, so I could snag the evidence and report to the Inspectorate."
Shi misjudged Zhou Ying's goal. He knew it was a Zhou family power struggle but missed the endgame.
Zhou Ying didn't care about the "research chip"—it was bait. His true aim: topple Zhou Zheng. Even if it meant exposing Kangheng's crimes via the chip, tanking the company's reputation, Zhou Ying chose destruction.
He wanted Zhou Zheng out of the Zhou power core, maybe even jailed—for stealing his family's legacy.
"Shi's too naive," Homan sighed. "Zhou Ying? Double-S mental genius, born to glory. Why bother with crooked Source Crystal research?"
The research meant little to Zhou Ying.
Shi's fatal error: assuming Zhou Ying valued it. One misstep, and he lost everything.
Baisha absorbed Homan's tale, then spoke, eyes downcast. "Teacher Homan… all these years, didn't you ever feel bitter?"
Homan and Joan's exile, Luqi's rise and fall, Lanslow's twisted fate—all from one elite's whim. The tumor was cut out, not by justice, but by a family feud.
They were pawns. Homan saw the board; Shi didn't.
Baisha couldn't fathom Homan's endurance—arriving with courage, only to lose identity, kin, and allies. To survive, they hid on this backwater. But survival alone? With their skills, they could've thrived elsewhere.
They stayed because their mission wasn't done.
Today, evil was punished, justice served.
But Zhou Ying pulled the strings.
Homan was just his soldier.
"Teacher Homan—are you really okay with this?" Baisha's laugh was bitter, her ice-blue eyes blazing, ready to tear through the "happy ending" veneer. "If it were me, I wouldn't stop. Every last one would pay."
Homan didn't answer directly, taking a different tack. "Zhou Ying's methods aren't pure, but he's got Ning Hongxue. I've met Hongxue—both have lines they won't cross. That's why I joined their plan," he said softly. "Bitter? Child, you haven't lived those sleepless, torturous nights. As an agent, duty never left me, but this outcome? It's a good one."
Homan had done all he could.
Baisha shook her head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to challenge you."
But fury burned in her, unyielding, eternal.
She'd never been surer: she was going to Central Military Academy.
Homan let her stew, turning to Gwyneth. "Our mission's not done. Gotta destroy those Source Crystal sites. Dunno how bad the pollution is—Snowdrinker's not at its peak. Maybe wait for the Inspectorate…"
Source Crystal's danger wasn't to mechs, but to Homan's mental state.
"Let me go," Baisha said. "Snowdrinker's A-grade, right? Never piloted one that high."
Homan: "…"
"You hearing yourself?" he asked, incredulous.
"I haven't flown A-grade, but blasting Source Crystal? Just shoot, right? Gwyneth can guide me," Baisha said slyly. "My mental strength's safer than yours."
"I know you're S-grade, but it's still risky—"
"Double-S, Teacher. Ning Hongxue told Zhou Mi."
Homan's eye twitched, staring at her like she was a freak.
"Well?" Baisha grinned, clapping his shoulder in his own chummy way. "Double-S beats your A-grade for safety. The Military won't send anyone safer."
Higher mental strength withstood more pollution.
Double-S was rare—under a hundred in the Federation. None would come to this nowhere planet to bomb crystals.
Homan met her grinning gaze, sighed, and handed her Snowdrinker's key.
Baisha followed Luqi's data to Source Crystal sites. Homan trudged to the Security Bureau, declaring the Chief's fall, handling chaos, and freeing Yaning and Jingyi from the cells.
In the dark cellblock, Yaning gripped the bars, eyeing escape gaps. Jingyi, chewing a hair tie, fixed her hair, annoyed.
"Teacher Homan!" Both froze, seeing him in an agent's uniform. "What's this?"
"Here to spring you," Homan said. "Touched? Next time, skip the fight pits."
As he geared up for a lecture, Jingyi cut in. "Where's Baisha?"
"Blowing up Source Crystal in a mech," Homan said, tone odd. "Probably having a blast."
Outside, a deafening boom shook the air, followed by relentless cannon fire.
They looked up. A battle raged under the distant sky. A swarm of drones glittered like a cold galaxy, weaving through the air. A black mech fired relentlessly, bullets shredding drones, blue flames bursting at each clash.
Drones plummeted, their screeches like wailing infants.
The black mech stood firm, a rock in a torrent, its guns repelling the drone onslaught, unshaken.
Nimble as a sky-bound sparrow, the mech owned the battlefield. Every shot hit; sometimes, it drew its chain-blade for close kills, reaping swathes of drones.
"Should've known," Homan muttered. "Kangheng posted drones at those sites. That kid—no backup, just dives in. Why so many? Did she aggro every site's drones?"
The mech's dominance drew eyes, including those of Zhou Ying, just landed on Lanslow in a private starship.
In the purple-red dusk, he gazed, expressionless, at the aerial spectacle.
"Who's piloting?"
The answer surprised him.
"I see," the delicate-featured boy sneered, his pale jaw bloodless yet hauntingly captivating. "That's Baisha."
"The one who took my brother—Baisha."