Since returning from the Tribunal’s punishment last time, Elansno discovered his headache frequency was gradually increasing.
Having experienced [Passing Void], he saw the fracture in his memories. So he jumped down from the cliff, climbing toward the opposite shore, wanting to see what lay before that foggy age of fourteen.
Time flowed very slowly. He seemed to have broken bones, so could only crawl. Fortunately there was no pain. He sometimes couldn’t even feel his own existence, nor knew why he persisted.
He couldn’t remember anything, could he?
But he just wanted to touch it.
Wanted to retrieve what he’d forgotten.
Had he forgotten? What had he forgotten? And why forgotten?
Why, in Passing Void, did so many illusory mirrors reflect him, yet he always wore a silver-made, ice-cold mask—like wearing a layer of strange skin?
He… what did he look like?
This thought was like a thorn suddenly piercing through the dim cage, stabbing until his head split with pain. Yet thin threads of light passed through the cracks, shining in.
In the past ten years, he seemed to have never generated the thought ‘look at my own appearance.’ The mask had never been removed before others. In places where he lived, not even a single mirror could be seen—
He couldn’t see himself clearly.
“Admiral, the mirror you requested.”
Though common, people generally didn’t carry such things during work. The Admiral suddenly requesting one was truly a bit difficult to find. He begged the kind-hearted Dr. Kane for three seconds, finally managing to obtain one.
The mirror was placed properly on the desk.
Yet Elansno didn’t move for a long while.
He even closed his eyes, lashes trembling incessantly.
Merely maintaining the thought ‘I want to see what I look like’ nearly exhausted his strength. The longer he persisted, the more a certain area in his brain hurt. He could even feel his mental power faintly losing control.
His face began turning pale.
Nie Liang said in a low voice: “…Admiral? Is something wrong with this mirror?”
“…”
Elansno’s Adam’s apple rolled. His jawline was extremely taut.
After a long while, he slowly extended his hand, lightly clasping onto his mask.
Cold sweat fell.
Elansno’s fingertips trembled, veins protruding on the back of his hand. He possessed sufficient strength, yet couldn’t remove this utterly ordinary mask.
His eyelids seemed as heavy as a thousand pounds. He struggled to his limit before barely managing to cast his gaze toward that mirror.
Clean, pure mirror.
Before his eyes, things blurred. Hallucinatory images flashed by:
[A room full of mirrors, a cross made of mirror surfaces, a weak and pale figure trapped on it, blood stains on the floor, chains tightly wound around the body…]
*Bang!*
Golden mental power exploded without warning, instantly pulverizing the mirror on the desk. Chaotic currents blew documents scattering, fluttering like falling snow.
Nie Liang’s pupils contracted. He dodged quickly, nearly having his hair shaved off.
“Admiral!”
Disregarding everything else, he rushed forward two steps. Anxiety and fierce gloom surfaced in his eyes, yet his fingers forcibly stopped one second before touching Elansno.
“…I’m fine.”
As if losing all strength, Elansno’s elbow propped on the desktop, coughing and gasping incessantly. The pain in his brain intensified wave after wave, as if it could literally drive someone mad.
He ultimately still couldn’t remove this mask.
“I’ll go call Kane.”
“No need. Get out.”
Nie Liang pressed his lips together.
“Didn’t hear? I said get out.”
“…Yes.”
Clearly he’d seen his own masked appearance before, had removed it when alone. But there hadn’t been this headache—as if once he generated investigative thoughts, his brain would split apart.
Elansno gently exhaled a breath, letting himself slowly forget the ‘exploratory desire’ to remove the mask. The pain finally weakened bit by bit.
Simultaneously, his desire to see his own appearance also seemed restrained, even beginning to forget. The mirror-cross image that flashed through his mind just now gradually faded and disappeared.
Elansno casually grabbed a piece of scrap paper that had fallen on the desk.
He himself didn’t know what he was persisting in. Gripping the pen, he wrote a sentence on the paper: [I want to see what I look like.]
Handwriting trembling, like a child just learning to write.
He feared forgetting again.
…
Outside the door, Nie Liang watched for a long while before finally quietly closing the door crack.
Mask.
Headache.
Mirror…
Nie Liang frowned, recalling what he’d just witnessed.
The Admiral’s reaction was truly strange. He seemed to want to remove the mask, yet didn’t dare lift his eyes to look at the mirror on the desk… somewhat like a stress response.
Lan Zhouhe told him the Admiral once fainted beside Emperor Rosh, was taken somewhere unknown. Later he obtained a blurry photo and an audio clip.
Nie Liang was mad, but living mad this long meant he wasn’t stupid. He could roughly deduce those two things were probably left behind when the Admiral was around ten years old.
Screams preserved in the Research Institute database—could they be any good experience?
According to the Admiral’s personality, he’d probably shoot the other party immediately, rather than continuing to serve the Federation without complaint.
Unless it was—
Brainwashing.
Nie Liang’s pupils contracted tightly, footsteps abruptly halting.
The moment this thought arose, it immediately took root in his heart.
——
Rat Ridge City.
Dawn.
Three rings placed in a sealed box floated quietly in the air, wrapped in a mass of purple mental power.
Two were obtained by Algiers and Shou Bing. One was seized by Lan Xia.
However, layers upon layers of Elansno’s mental power were sealed in the rings. Under normal circumstances, forcibly erasing them was completely fine. But considering munitions’ instability, erasure took considerable time.
Shou Bing was closest, observing from the side, eyes unblinking as he stared at Lan Xia’s mental power operation trajectory. He’d been stuck at the Mirror-Breaking stage for a long time without breakthrough.
On the three rings, a few strands of forced-out golden mental power were entangled.
Lan Xia’s eyes were tightly closed.
Clearly Elansno was the person he wanted to kill.
But actually…
This mental power—the feeling it gave him wasn’t disagreeable.
That time they fought in the chaotic magnetic zone, the other party’s strange teardrop made his heart feel an indescribable ache.
Did everyone with purple eyes cry the same way as A-Nuo—misty, like a fragile dream with purple petals fluttering?
“Done.”
Lan Xia exhaled lightly, opening his eyes.
“Everyone step back. I’m taking things out.”
“Alright.” Algiers immediately pulled the other three people back.
The armory was still under construction. They’d specifically chosen Dawn’s largest field to temporarily store these things. After all, they couldn’t keep them in the rings long-term—if they exploded, it would be catastrophic.
Soon, pile after pile of new munitions filled the place. What was originally spacious instantly became crowded.
Algiers gasped inwardly, eyes gradually brightening.
So much!
And this was only one ring!
Truly worthy of inventory supplying the First Army armory. With these things, even if they couldn’t use them immediately, they could take some of the more common ones out to sell.
They could also distribute them to Dawn’s other members. With weapon enhancements, Dawn’s overall strength would inevitably rise a level.
And strength improvement meant Dawn could recruit more people.
These munitions weren’t just munitions—they were money, people, speaking capital!
Algiers wanted to float from happiness.
Lian Yao glanced at him, then stretched out a hand to poke Algiers’ thigh, looking up to say: “Whatever you’re thinking, I can help.”
Algiers knew his identity wasn’t simple, only saying: “Details tonight.”
However, unexpectedly, what came out of the remaining two rings wasn’t munitions but a batch of precision instruments.
Among those present, probably only Jin Daike could use them.
“Why are there these things in the rings!” Jin Daike immediately abandoned her brother, rushing over to press her face against the experimental equipment, overjoyed. “Teacher, brother, can you allocate these things to me?”
Lan Xia smiled: “Of course. These look like experimental instruments.”
Algiers: “These things are all yours.”
“I haven’t seen them on the market.” Jin Daike looked carefully, tapping them. “But these things’ design looks somewhat familiar. The materials are also first-rate. I’ll research what exactly they are. If not, I’ll dismantle them and assemble something else.”
This chaotic magnetic zone trip yielded considerable harvest. Finally, it could come to a close—they could rest and reorganize for a while.
“Teacher, I’d like to publicly announce your identity after some time,” Algiers pondered. “After all, with the Northwest Sector’s current carpet search, I fear it won’t be long before you’re discovered. Better we take initiative.”
Not knowing what he discussed with Lian Yao that day, he added: “This guy can also help. Rest assured, you won’t need to appear for anything. Leave everything to me to handle.”
Lan Xia smiled: “I’ve become a mascot?”
Jin Daike also smiled. Suddenly touching a raised line on the instrument, she instinctively looked down. There was printed a word: [Eternal].
[Eternal].
Forever.
She froze slightly.
This word—she’d just seen it somewhere recently.
Jin Daike’s gaze fell on Lan Xia’s left shoulder collarbone area. When teacher had high fever, she’d glanced once. That place bore a line of blood-red, tattoo-like characters: [Eternal A679]
Perhaps the image of Lan Xia with weak aura, covered in blood, had deeply imprinted in her heart. Looking at teacher’s somewhat pale but gentle, peaceful smiling face, Jin Daike inexplicably suddenly felt a wave of panic.
She abruptly stepped forward, grabbing Lan Xia’s windcoat strap.
Lan Xia was talking with Shou Bing. Now he smiled, tilting his head to look over: “What’s wrong?”
Jin Daike stared at him without blinking. The palm clutching Lan Xia’s clothes loosened slightly, then the next second abruptly tightened again. “Teacher…”
She just felt—teacher seemed like he could disappear at any moment.
Like first snow in sunlight.
As if all beautiful words could pile upon him.
But snow in sunlight melted too easily.
Jin Daike: “Nothing. Just wanted to be closer to teacher.”
Lan Xia patted her head: “Childish words. Aren’t we usually together?”
Jin Daike said eagerly: “It’s different. Teacher, Dawn is good, right? Teacher will always stay with us like this, right?”
Lan Xia raised his eyebrows slightly.
The other several also seemed somewhat nervous, waiting for his answer.
“You all…”
Lan Xia pondered a moment, couldn’t help laughing. “Alright, I’ll stop teasing. Usually when managing my meals, each of you acts like adults. How come you’re like this now—acting spoiled?”
Algiers coughed embarrassedly: “Just say it, teacher.”
“Fine.” Lan Xia really couldn’t withstand these few, becoming serious. “You haven’t grown up yet. Before the Federation falls, I won’t leave.”
Shou Bing: “What about after?”
“After? That’s too far. But if that day really comes—”
Lan Xia’s eyes curved, saying jokingly: “Of course plant violets. If Dawn gives me a plot of land, staying to grow flowers isn’t unacceptable. The seed A-Nuo left me is quite delicate. Don’t know what conditions would make it bloom.”
Several people’s hearts all seized.
Jin Daike instinctively glanced at her brother, hesitating to speak.
Algiers was silent a while, saying: “Teacher…”
Lan Xia: “Mm?”
“Nothing.” Algiers smiled. “We still have so many things we don’t know. Teacher must watch over us carefully.”
They’d spent quite a bit of time together.
Lan Xia’s gaze was gentle.
These youths—decisive, kind, unyielding, sincere… hadn’t yet experienced losses they couldn’t overcome, nor left behind scars that would never fade, that would ache faintly whenever mentioned for the rest of their lives.
They were unfortunate to be born in this chaotic era of the Federation, but also fortunate to write their names in blood during this period destined to be magnificent and tumultuous.
These youths still in the tempering stage were already beginning to show their edge.
He hadn’t been optimistic about A-Nuo, but at least…
Lan Xia smiled: “I’ll watch you grow up.”
He said softly.
Author’s Note:
Food is here! Flying over with a wok spatula—
**
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152
oh my god that angst is good
Hm..