MPWATMBC Chapter 80

The large-scale rampage of the Zerg race occurred over seven hundred years ago. After Emperor Qin Feng Anderson piloted the first-generation mecha and self-destructed with the Zerg Emperor, the Zerg race scattered into fragmented individuals, led by the Zerg Grand Duke, spreading across the universe. Some of them infiltrated the depths of space, no longer interacting with humanity, while others continued to appear in human sight. News of the Zerg race attacking the borders would come every few years, and it became as routine as the daily weather report, no longer shocking humanity. A few years ago, Auston dealt a heavy blow to the Zerg Grand Duke, annihilating a group of Zerg, marking the largest battle with the Zerg race in seven hundred years.

But once the war subsided and the excitement faded, people forgot about the brutality of the battle. At most, they would mention General Auston’s bravery and handsomeness, along with his great achievements.

It must be said that humans are very forgetful creatures. Once the scars stop hurting, they forget the creatures that once harmed them.

The smile on Ryan’s gentle face grew fainter, but it did not disappear. He instructed the manager, “Organize manpower to capture all the star… heh.” The faint smile revealed a hint of sarcasm, and he continued, “Find all the starry insects you can find and gather them… gather them here.”

“Sir, this request is unreasonable. I’m sorry, we cannot comply.” The manager smiled apologetically. While Starlight Hotel prioritized customer requests, it absolutely would not waste a large amount of manpower and resources indulging unreasonable demands. The starry insects were merely harmless ornamental creatures, and although their reproductive capacity had increased, they posed no threat to humanity. They were even considered a scenic attraction at the hotel.

The hotel had cleverly included a mysterious line in its promotional materials—“The stars in the sky, the stars on the ground.”

This wasn’t just referring to the Starlight Hotel on the ground, but also to these little insects hidden in the grass. The starry insects were round and plump, with brightly glowing, multi-colored shells, and they emitted a faint, non-disruptive hum that many people found endearing. Some guests even requested to purchase the starry insects to take home as pets. If not for the starry insects’ troublesome breeding capabilities, the hotel might have actually considered developing an entire starry insect industry.

Ryan shook his head. He wasn’t helpless or angry—he simply felt powerless. Over seven hundred years ago, in order to eliminate the Zerg race, so much blood of soldiers had been spilled on the battlefield. They were someone’s sons and daughters, someone’s husbands and wives, someone’s fathers and mothers. The young lives were extinguished, and the bodies were often unrecognizable, as the Zerg, which consumed anything in their path, devoured all in their vicinity… Ryan closed his eyes and recalled, still seeing the vivid faces of those who had once been his comrades, friends, superiors, subordinates, and competitors. But in the face of a common enemy, they put aside their differences. On the battlefield, they were warriors who could entrust their backs to each other, bravely charging forward, disregarding their lives. They faced an enemy that threatened the survival of their entire species.

And now, not so long after, the long-time adversary, the Zerg race, had been reduced to being referred to as a harmless creature.

Ryan felt a sense of dejection wash over him. He shook his head and turned to look at Auston, his smile carrying a bitterness that only Auston could understand. Auston felt a pang of sympathy for Ryan, also troubled by the fact that soldiers stationed at the borders weren’t truly valued. He gave Ryan a small smile and gently placed the wide-eyed and curious little Tuantuan into Ryan’s arms. “Go rest in the room. Leave this to me.”

“I…” Ryan wanted to refuse, but the sense of defeat crept in like a parasite, gnawing at him. After all, he was human—not a god elevated by future generations. He was someone who could feel weak, sad, and angry. Even with a firm resolve, one could not always withstand the erosion of the very foundation of their beliefs by those they sought to protect.

“Go on, Tuantuan will be hungry soon.”

Hearing his name called by his father, Tuantuan made a small sound and looked toward Auston. Being held by his father, he wiggled uncomfortably, but the embrace was warm and comfortable, so he reluctantly returned the hug.

Ryan curled the corners of his mouth as if to smile, but Auston stopped him. “If you don’t feel like smiling, then don’t.”

Ryan put away his smile and nodded, “Mhm.” He walked into the room holding the child and lay down on the bed, placing little Tuantuan on his stomach. He gazed at the unchanging night sky. The scenery was exactly the same as it had been seven hundred years ago, but people’s hearts had truly changed. Fortunately, there was Auston, and there was Tuan Tuan… Tuan Tuan lay on his father’s stomach, moving his little hands and feet like a baby turtle, finding a new source of joy. He immediately burst into giggles, his innocent laughter filling the air. As Ryan listened to the child’s pure laughter, the corners of his mouth slowly curled upward. He thought to himself, it didn’t matter if people’s hearts had changed, or if the empire was unstable. Everything that had gone off-track could be corrected. As long as they put in the effort, there was nothing they couldn’t achieve.

With that thought, he pulled Tuantuan closer and gave the baby a big kiss on his chubby little face.

Tuan Tuan wasn’t pleased at all, “Ah ah!” His soft little hands weakly pushed against his father’s face, but it didn’t budge. He was so mad, kicking his legs in frustration.

Outside the room, Auston removed his realistic mask. The manager and the other two hotel staff immediately recognized the youngest general of the empire. Their attitude changed immediately. At Auston’s command, all the hotel’s security personnel were mobilized. Three hours later, a large number of “starry insects” appeared outside the room. By this time, it was past midnight, and the security personnel who had been called in were grumbling.

“I’m off today!”

“It’s like I’m not doing the same.”

“Called over randomly to catch bugs, what’s up with that? They’re just a few starry insects, what’s the big deal?”

“So tired, don’t know when we can go back to sleep. Sigh, the hotel’s demands are getting more and more ridiculous. Satisfying customers’ needs isn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Exactly, it’s just making a fuss over nothing!”

The two male employees dragged their feet as they walked toward the pile of starry insects, each carrying a net bag. Inside their bags, there were two or three starry insects, which seemed insignificant.

“If this kind of ridiculous service continues, I’m thinking of quitting.”

“…The pay is still decent.”

“Right now, it’s just catching bugs, but do you want to wake up in the middle of the night and do a hula dance for someone?”

“Uh, I heard that a room service employee in Zone F was asked to take off his clothes and wear a grass skirt to dance, but he was tipped several thousand, which is like half a month’s salary.”

“Tch, compared to money, I’d rather be treated with respect… Oh my God, what… what is that?”

The two men were stunned as they saw a “small mountain” about a hundred meters away. Their mouths dropped open as they heard rustling movements and squeaking sounds, and from deep within, a sense of nausea and fear rose up. The densely packed insects, even though they had beautiful, colorful glowing shells, couldn’t hide the shock and disgust caused by the overwhelming number. A five-meter-tall, “moving” mound of starry insects had gathered together, and its brightness was comparable to that of lights. But these were insects, and the sheer number of them destroyed any sense of beauty!

Auston asked in a low voice, “How long has it been since you last cleaned the starry insects?”

“Two… two months.” The manager stammered, swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. He looked nervous and uneasy as he explained, “The starry insects have been here for three years. We used to clean them out every quarter, and each time we’d remove about two hundred or so, leaving behind some that looked nice for the guests to enjoy.”

“How many did you leave behind after each cleaning?”

The manager looked at the person speaking. The seemingly ordinary man who had entered the room earlier with a child had just taken off his mask. It was none other than General Auston Dalton’s husband, Ryan Smith. The manager had followed this couple and even participated in online debates about them. He supported General Dalton’s choice and believed that marriage was a personal freedom that others had no right to interfere with. Now, seeing Ryan in person, the manager was somewhat excited but also at a loss, trembling slightly as he answered, “Each time, we leave about twenty or so behind because these insects are very good at hiding. The ones we can see may not be all of them—there might be more that we couldn’t find.”

In two months, the estimated number of starry insects that could be found was over five hundred. The female insects were holding eggs, and after hatching, the insect population would grow even larger.

Ryan nodded, his gaze shifting to the mound of insects. “They’ve evolved,” he said, noting their significantly stronger reproductive capabilities. Certain ones had also become more aggressive. At first glance, it wasn’t obvious, but with careful observation, one could see that the aggressive insects had sharper pincers. With more time, they would likely evolve into a completely different kind of insect, far from the current starry insects. The biggest characteristic of these insects, commonly called starry insects by the public, was their ability to reproduce. Through constant breeding, they evolved.

The fact discovered over seven hundred years ago had now likely become a legend. When humanity had surrounded the Zerg race’s battlefield and wiped out their elite forces, they found that these small insects, which were now called starry insects, could actually evolve in the direction of their elite counterparts through continuous reproduction.

If Ryan and Auston hadn’t come to Starlight Hotel today, if Da Fu hadn’t run off and discovered these insects, the neglected starry insects could have potentially formed a Zerg army on Capital Star in the coming years. Even without the leadership of the Zerg Grand Duke or the Zerg Emperor, the harm they would cause to humanity would still be terrifying and fatal.

The manager trembled, “We… we didn’t know these were Zerg creatures. We thought they were alien ornamental insects. After checking the star network, some experts said so.”

Ryan sneered slightly, “So you trust everything experts say?”

The manager, feeling like a quail under pressure, didn’t dare speak.

Auston said, “This matter is serious. I’ve already informed the Police Department and the stationed military forces, and I’ve also told the acting Prime Minister. There will be a huge uproar.”

“Then what should we do?” With his mindset fully adjusted, Ryan smiled and said, “Let the storm come even stronger.”

“Right!” Auston also smiled, “Since it’s come to this, let’s welcome the storm with open arms.”

The manager, standing to the side, didn’t dare breathe a word. He could guess that his hotel had been caught up in a serious situation, and escaping unscathed now seemed impossible.

As the manager had anticipated, it was impossible for Starlight Hotel to escape unscathed. However, the reality was much better than expected: the hotel didn’t go bankrupt but was merely shut down for renovations. It was a relatively good outcome. Compared to Starlight Hotel, the storm that started inside the hotel soon swept across the entire empire. The whole empire was now searching for the trace of the starry insects, with the media increasing their coverage of the Zerg race. Major news outlets and newspapers serialized the story. The public was encouraged to report sightings of the starry insects, with rewards offered for tips. After a week of searches, to the shock of the public, the places with the densest presence of starry insects were found to be in the Capital Star system, with Capital Star being the most affected.

The insect eradication campaign was in full swing. As the number of starry insects found continued to rise, the public’s interest gradually cooled—not because they lost interest, but because the terrifying potential of the Zerg race began to sink in. People were unsure how to articulate their thoughts anymore. A large-scale exodus of people from Capital Star began, and after a period of silence, the public started to question what had caused all of this.

The finger was pointed directly at former Prime Minister Gustav.

Former Prime Minister Gustav had been temporarily charged by the interim government and brought to court. During his time in office, his actions—such as weakening security checks in the Capital Star system and causing chaos with the military—were labeled as crimes disrupting national security and disregarding the lives of citizens. Public trials and self-defense by the former prime minister continued to unfold, with citizens questioning him relentlessly. However, this was no longer something Ryan cared about. As the acting executive director of the Empire’s Mecha Research Institute, he was incredibly busy. Not only was he overseeing the creation of the beast-type mechas, but all the responsibilities of the entire institute had fallen on his shoulders. With all the pressures and obstacles coming at him quickly and directly, he handled them swiftly and decisively.

After arranging some matters related to the creation of the beast-type mecha, Ryan wandered around the research institute with Xiao Liu at his side. He wasn’t truly taking a stroll but rather checking on the progress of other projects. The research institute was vast, and there was a lot going on; making the rounds every few days was a necessary part of his duties.

“The progress isn’t moving forward. Every day at work feels like we’re just chatting.”

“I’ve already eaten three jin of sunflower seeds.”

“I really don’t know what Sierra is thinking.”

“What are you all doing gathered here?”

Seven or eight researchers, who had been idly chatting in the hallway, turned toward the person who had spoken and realized it was the acting director. A few sharp ones slipped away silently, but those who weren’t quick enough were left standing there awkwardly. Among them was the one who had mentioned eating three jin of sunflower seeds, who gave a sheepish smile. “Director.”

The others finally realized they should greet him as well.

Ryan nodded gently and continued asking, “It’s working hours. Why are you all gathered here?”

“Director…” The “Sunflower Seed Brother glanced around, noticing his colleagues avoiding his gaze. Facing the director’s question, he had no choice but to muster his courage and respond, “The team leader kicked us out, saying that I—we—were disrupting his train of thought.”

“Sierra?”

“Yes.” Sunflower Seed Brother hung his head, not daring to meet the director’s eyes. Before the beast-type mecha project officially launched, the director had sent transfer orders to many researchers, himself included. However, due to hesitation and a lack of trust in the acting director, he had declined the order just ten minutes after receiving it. He wasn’t the only one to do so. Now, he regretted it deeply, though he had no idea how others felt about it.

After being assigned to Sierra’s team and tasked with building the neural centers for 500 mechas, his regret had only grown. Cracking sunflower seeds had become his way of soothing the anxiety caused by that regret.

Within the beast-type mecha project team, he had a good friend named Leonard. Back when Leonard was in the materials group, he had been sidelined and underutilized, his talents wasted. Their conversations often revealed Leonard’s disillusionment; he had resigned himself to quietly coasting until retirement.

But after joining the beast-type mecha project, the acting director had recognized Leonard’s expertise and promoted him to lead the materials subgroup. Now, Leonard practically flew when he walked—not because he was overconfident, but because he was so busy that he barely had time to let his feet touch the ground.

Ryan understood and smiled as he offered his critique. “If you don’t have anything to work on and feel like chatting, don’t linger in the hallway. Go to the break room instead—it’s not good to disrupt others.”

Sunflower Seed Brother didn’t dare assume the acting director was truly as gentle and easygoing as he appeared. He had heard that within the beast-type mecha project team, the director could criticize someone with a smile so effectively that it left them feeling utterly mortified. The chastised person might wallow in self-reproach, torn between wanting to disappear and feeling obligated to live up to the director’s great expectations. However, it was also said that many of those who had endured such scolding managed to make breakthroughs and achieve greater potential for their future careers.

Sunflower Seed Brother secretly wished the director would scold him too. Members of the beast-type mecha project team had said that the director’s scolding always carried valuable insights, often sparking epiphanies. The more he thought about it, the more he regretted his earlier hesitation. What on earth had he been hesitating about back then?!

“Stop zoning out. Let’s go to the break room.”

A colleague tugged at him twice, snapping him out of his daze. He looked up blankly, realizing that the director had already left. Hanging his head, he let out a sigh. “Sigh.”

“Come on, quit spacing out! If the director sees you like this, you’re going to get scolded again!”

“Sigh. There was once an opportunity right in front of me, but I didn’t cherish it. Now that I’ve missed it, I regret it so much I could scream at myself for being a total idiot. Ugh!” Though men seldom shed tears, Sunflower Seed Brother found himself on the verge of breaking down, overwhelmed with sadness. If he could travel back in time, he would strangle his hesitant self from a few days ago.

But there is no medicine for regret in this world. Opportunities only come once—miss them, and no amount of remorse will change a thing.

Having given others a chance, Ryan stepped past a few researchers and walked into a room. The D-zone lab, with its designations beginning with “2,” was of relatively high importance. Spanning over 200 square meters, it housed more than 30 experimental platforms dedicated to constructing neural centers. Yet, despite the project being a week underway, the space was still empty. Not even the components for the neural centers had arrived.

At the lab’s control console, Sierra, looking significantly more haggard and aged than before, stared intently at the holographic screen, his brows furrowed so tightly that a small knot had formed between them, making him look deeply distressed.

Without glancing up, Sierra barked sharply at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Get out! I told you not to disturb me!”

Ryan chuckled softly and continued forward, his gaze falling on the schematics displayed on the screen. He understood immediately—Sierra had yet to fully grasp the core of the neural center.

Sierra, obsessed with this task, had paid an unknown price to secure the responsibility of building 500 mechas. Now, with the long-coveted neural center schematics finally in his hands, he was finding out that seeing them and mastering them were entirely different things. Despite a week of painstaking effort, his progress had been minimal.

Sierra alternated between staring at the schematics on the screen and flipping through the brittle pages of the notebook in front of him. The notebook, over 700 years old, was far too fragile to endure frequent use, and the pages emitted distressed groans under the strain.

Ryan shook his head. “Reading alone won’t help. You should consult your teacher.”

Sierra’s eyes became vacant, and he subconsciously repeated, “Consult my teacher?”

“Your teacher is very knowledgeable and a great mentor,” Ryan said.

Sierra lowered his head, gazing at the notebook with a somber expression. “He betrayed the family. As a subordinate, he bit the hand that fed him. He’s already been reassigned to a subordinate research institution.”

“But he’s still your teacher. If there’s something you don’t understand, you can always ask him.”

Sierra suddenly turned to stare at Ryan, his gaze intense and filled with a borderline unsettling obsession. “You’re the acting director now. You’ve beaten me. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Ryan replied calmly, “A little, but just a little. You’re too weak to be considered my rival.”

To Ryan’s surprise, Sierra wasn’t angry. Instead, he found it oddly intriguing. “You’ve won. Now, can you tell me about the core principles of the neural center?”

Ryan, unable to follow Sierra’s train of thought, decisively refused. “I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“No particular reason. I just don’t want to,” Ryan replied calmly. “You’re not worthy of being my enemy, but your attitude toward soldiers is something I deeply dislike.” The smile on Ryan’s face was faint. “I am fair in matters of reward and punishment. As long as you haven’t committed any major mistakes, I won’t do anything to you. And I certainly won’t exploit my position to remove you during a time when the institute needs all hands on deck.

“But just because I haven’t acted against you doesn’t mean I can forgive your attitude. Soldiers who defend our country and its borders deserve respect and cannot be slandered or defiled. Even if you were to grovel on the ground and beg me, I would offer you no help whatsoever.”

“You!”

“You should be grateful for my attitude,” Ryan said, his tone steady. “Otherwise, I would have fired you long ago.”

“Why?”

“When you reach my position, then you can come back and ask me ‘why.’” Ryan turned to leave, confident that he didn’t need to do anything further. Sierra would make his own mistakes eventually—it was only a matter of time before he walked himself out the door. “Don’t delay the production of the 500 mechas. The consequences of failure are beyond what you can handle. I’ve assigned you an assistant who will take full charge of the mecha production.”

Effectively, Ryan had stripped Sierra of his authority.

And the assistant he had chosen? None other than Sierra’s teacher. With years of mentorship between them, Ryan believed the two could balance and restrain each other.

Being in leadership often required setting personal emotions aside in favor of broader considerations.

After making his rounds, Ryan checked the time and decided to head home. On the way, he stopped by a newly discovered dessert shop to pick up a cheesecake and a few cream puffs filled with ice cream—both specialties of the store.

When Ryan arrived home, Auston was already there, strolling through the park with Tuantuan in his arms. This was Tuantuan’s favorite pastime. If he had a flower to hold in his tiny hand, he’d be even more content.

Ryan walked over and gave Auston a quick kiss on the cheek. “I bought a cake. Let’s have a little before dinner to tide us over.”

Little Tuantuan flailed his arms angrily, letting out a couple of indignant “ah-ah“s. When Ryan’s gaze fell on him, Tuantuan puffed out his cheeks in protest. Ryan laughed and bent down to plant a kiss on Tuantuan’s chubby cheeks. Embarrassed, Tuantuan turned his head away, burying his face into his dad’s chest.

Little Tuantuan was growing increasingly fond of his other dad.

Both Auston and Ryan were delighted by the change in their child. What Auston was about to share next was also, for the most part, a positive development. “The police department had a visitor today—a young man claiming his surname is Stark. He said he’s filing charges against the Gustav family and seeking justice for Antonio Stark.”

Now, that was unexpected.

Ryan frowned slightly in thought before replying, “How about inviting them over as guests?”

Auston nodded. “I had the same idea.”