The introduction of new munitions gave Dawn’s growth a booster. Algiers began getting busy. Busy alongside him was Lian Yao, not even half his leg height, running everywhere clutching account books.
For a time, rumors flew wildly. Spreading and spreading, at some point Lian Yao was rumored to be Algiers’ illegitimate son. Upon hearing this, Lian Yao cursed furiously, only to be grabbed by the collar by Papa Algiers and thrown into a pile of account books.
The high-end weapons couldn’t be sold. After two days of research, Jin Daike personally dismantled the exteriors, reassembling them into the most common appearance, keeping them for Dawn’s core members to use.
Shou Bing managed the kitchen while learning to train troops.
The front was bustling with activity. In a small room at the back, a man who’d been unconscious all along opened his eyes.
“…”
Kang Quan was dazed for a long while before his limbs recovered from their rigid state.
His memories still stopped at the moment the Admiral used mental power to sever his hand and foot tendons. He’d betrayed the Admiral—there was only death. But why…
He… wasn’t dead?
Kang Quan laboriously lifted his hand, looking at it against the sunlight.
From the wrist down, all cold metal. This was a mechanical hand, not yet covered with artificial skin. The skeletal structure was very clear. Due to his extreme unfamiliarity, the mechanical hand’s reactions were sluggish.
The other hand too.
And both his feet—all mechanical prosthetics.
Kang Quan tried getting out of bed, but his body was too weak. Merely the motion of rolling over already left him covered in cold sweat.
“I advise you to lie down properly. My student spent considerable effort saving you.”
Kang Quan startled, abruptly lifting his head toward the window, pupils suddenly contracting.
The two characters ‘Admiral’ he’d called for six years nearly slipped out.
By the window stood a youth with refined, gentle features, smiling as he fiddled with a blooming white flower on the windowsill.
He gently flicked away a dewdrop on a petal before looking back, a pair of golden eyes clear and bright.
“Hello. My name is Lan Xia.”
Lan Xia.
…Not the Admiral.
Kang Quan’s violently accelerating heartbeat was doused with cold water, instantly calming.
No one knew what waves had just surged in his heart. In six years by the Admiral’s side, he’d already carved the Admiral’s voice, figure, small habits into his memory.
This person’s figure really resembled the Admiral’s. If they changed hair color, eye color, then added a mask… He couldn’t help taking another look at Lan Xia.
After a moment, he lowered his head, voice hoarse: “Thank you. My name is…”
Kang Quan paused.
“My name is Quan.”
He said.
“Strange name, but also good. Dogs are loyal companions,” Lan Xia smiled faintly. “What are your plans next? Little Bing said he picked you up in Saltwater Alley in Rat Ridge City. When they found you, you were already on your last breath.”
Dogs are the most loyal companions.
Kang Quan forced a smile. “Thank you for saving me.”
Lan Xia paused, eyes scrutinizing: “Your hands and feet were severed by someone with practiced technique. The cuts were very suitable for prosthetics. To survive such severe injuries—your physical condition must be excellent. You—”
“What kind of person are you?”
Rat Ridge City…
This was Northwest Sector territory.
Kang Quan couldn’t understand. His inflexible mechanical hand moved. How did he end up in the Northwest Sector?
Lan Xia glanced at him, saying flatly: “My several students haven’t experienced much hardship yet. As their teacher, I need to ensure their safety. If you can’t provide an explanation today, I don’t mind taking action personally.”
Only the two of them were in the room.
This youth named Lan Xia spoke with gentle voice and tone, yet Kang Quan clearly sensed faint killing intent.
He didn’t care.
For him, he’d actually already died once.
If not for the secret of the [Purge Plan] hidden in his heart, even if told to die immediately now, he wouldn’t hesitate.
Kang Quan first avoided Lan Xia’s question, voice lowering: “…Can you give me an unused light brain? I want to check something.”
Lan Xia didn’t speak, lightly nodding at him before turning to leave the room.
Not long after, someone brought in a brand-new light brain. When leaving, they even closed the door, giving him ample space.
Satisfying the request of a potentially threatening stranger—one type was kind to the point of stupid. Another was having sufficient powerful confidence, believing that person wouldn’t harm their interests.
Clearly, that youth named Lan Xia belonged to the latter.
Kang Quan’s original identity-bound light brain had been destroyed. He could only enter the star network as a guest. He could no longer access the military’s official internal network.
Manipulating the unfamiliar mechanical hand, he searched his own name. Originally thinking he’d see countless curses about ‘Adjutant Kang Quan’s betrayal,’ he unexpectedly found—
Complete blank.
Except for those with the same name, he as a person seemed erased by someone from thin air, including previous experiences, even minor military gossip at the edges.
This… this was impossible!
How could there be nothing?
It was clearly such a major incident.
But star network public opinion was always controlled by the Imperial Capital Administrative Office. The military’s internal network news was consistently strictly blocked. If someone didn’t want these things appearing before the public eye, then absolutely not a single trace would be found.
Kang Quan searched from dawn until sunset, still finding no leads whatsoever.
Nothing at all.
As if in this world, no person named Kang Quan had ever served as adjutant in the First Army.
Dark golden sunset rays slanted through window cracks. Kang Quan finally lifted his stiff, aching neck, dazed, not knowing what to do next.
His gaze fell on the decorative full-length mirror by the window, suddenly freezing.
Immediately after, he frantically threw back the blanket. Unfamiliar with the mechanical feet, he fell to the ground, yet disregarding pain, crawled to the mirror, staring deadly at that face in the mirror.
This wasn’t his original face.
This face wasn’t ugly. It naturally carried a smile. Even when angry or shocked, it seemed to hide a smile—amiable and handsome.
Eye color had changed to amber. The iris wasn’t his original.
Severed hands and feet, changed face, changed iris.
Abandoned in the Northwest Sector.
No information about him could be found.
All his past had been forcibly severed, including his family. No one could prove he was ‘Kang Quan.’
Everything vanished. Starting from scratch.
Like a cold and incomplete rebirth after enduring punishment.
…Only one person could accomplish this.
[“Adjutant, can’t you even smile? Why so serious all the time?”]
[“Kang Quan, is working by my side such a hardship? Never seen you smile. Affects the mood.”]
Careless voice hiding a trace of unclear teasing clearly surfaced in Kang Quan’s mind.
Coming from military officer background, he least feared hardship and exhaustion, bloodshed and sweat. Strictness and solemnity were almost carved into his bones.
This replacement smiling face, like a child’s petty revenge prank, easily broke through those rigid rules he’d adhered to.
From now on, he could always have this likeable smiling appearance.
Yet Kang Quan stared blankly at that face in the mirror.
He felt—that face—
Looked like it was crying.
**
“Admiral, we haven’t detected any problems with your body.” Kane held a full-body examination report.
He’d been responsible for the Admiral’s health for years. If something was wrong, he wouldn’t know nothing.
Elansno wore an outer coat, sitting on the examination platform, face pale to a frightening degree, atmospheric pressure around him extremely low. “…Understood.”
He couldn’t remember. Facing mirrors, unable to remove the mask, he tried again and again. In just one day, all mirrors Nie Liang bought back were shredded by his out-of-control mental power.
Elansno’s initiative was extremely strong, temperament sometimes stubborn to a frightening degree. The more things he wasn’t allowed to touch, the more he wanted to see what was inside—never learning from mistakes.
Each time pain intensified severely, he’d vaguely remember something. But when pain subsided, he’d forgotten again.
He prepared a small notebook, reading it many times. On it now were sparsely recorded several crooked words: [cocoa, co, stone, merge, bird, fire.]
Couldn’t form any useful words at all.
Merge and bird combined to form dove.
This had some clue. But the most frequent character ‘co’—couldn’t find half a lead.
Elansno: “I always feel I’ve forgotten…”
He paused, fingertips pressing his throbbing temple. The latter half of the sentence ultimately remained unspoken.
Nie Liang stood nearby, slowly lowering his eyes.
He’d discussed this with Lan Zhouhe, mentioning his speculation about the Admiral being brainwashed. But after discussion, they found this speculation wasn’t accurate.
Who in this world could brainwash an S-level evolver with formidable mental power? Control would be fleeting at best—impossible to maintain over such a long period.
Long-term brainwashing required repeated reinforcement. But Elansno as Admiral spent most time at the First Army, surrounded by countless guards. No one could act against him.
Nie Liang was anxious but couldn’t find where to exert force.
Perhaps all answers lay in the Research Institute’s database. But unfortunately, complete database analysis required two or three years.
Damned ‘crawler.’
Cursed Federation.
Kane said: “People forget some things, perhaps from major shock, perhaps from external trauma. It’s a normal phenomenon. If time elapsed is too long, remembering becomes difficult. If Admiral feels you’ve forgotten something very important, I can prescribe some medication for regulation.”
Elansno: “Mm.”
“However, since it targets the brain domain, it can’t be used long-term.” Kane said. “I’ll prescribe it for a few months first. If there’s no effect, we’ll stop.”
Elansno stood: “If ineffective, switch to others, until effective. No need to consider drug side effects.”
“This…”
Kane couldn’t help glancing at Nie Liang, only to see the latter, though very worried, had that calm fanaticism in eyes staring at the Admiral brightening to a frightening degree.
He choked, deeply feeling now wasn’t a good time for persuasion.
And found himself deeply missing Adjutant Kang Quan.
**
Kang Quan sat rigidly on the floor for a long while.
When outside sunset had only the last bit of golden light remaining, someone knocked on the window.
He froze, lifting his head to meet a not-unfamiliar youthful face.
Shou Bing smiled embarrassedly: “Hello. I’m the one who picked you up. Just now during dinner, I heard sir say you woke up, so I came to check on you. By the way, will you eat something?”
He held a packet of pastries: “I withheld this from sir’s portion. He can’t eat too many sweets.”
Kang Quan recognized him.
The young master of the now-destroyed Suto organization.
Still on the Federation’s assassination list, he and the Admiral had once pursued this child in Silicon Blue City.
Unlike that time when he’d just experienced family destruction (extreme, weak, and filled with resentment), the youth now wore tight training gear, guns holstered at his waist, a sports headband on his forehead, eyes bright, full of vitality.
The murderous aura on him seemed completely smoothed away, as if he’d been reborn.
Or rather, he’d seen him not only in Silicon Blue City but also in the chaotic magnetic zone.
Those two rings he’d discarded.
Kang Quan said quietly: “Thank you for saving me.”
Shou Bing leaned on the windowsill, saying: “You should thank Daike instead. I just picked you up in passing. Daike saved you and attached your mechanical limbs.”
“You just picked me up like this, weren’t you afraid…” Kang Quan couldn’t help saying.
Shou Bing smiled: “Sir said kindness is sometimes a stupid quality. He doesn’t want to see me act foolishly, but even less willing to see me abandon it to avoid foolishness. That would be stupid on top of stupid. Sir said to learn to distinguish good from evil, then be myself. If anything happens, he’ll take responsibility.”
Kang Quan: “Sir?”
Shou Bing: “You’ve met him. He checked on you this morning.”
Kang Quan suddenly understood, recalling that person’s gentle voice saying he’d dispose of him. Those special golden eyes… should be the person who saved Shou Bing in Silicon Blue City.
He couldn’t help thinking how coincidental this all was.
Shou Bing: “Stranger, what do you plan to do from now on?”
“I…” Kang Quan fell silent.
The First Army, or rather, the entire Federation. He could never return. ‘Adjutant Kang Quan’ died. ‘Kang Quan’ still had family, but he didn’t anymore. Nor should he.
His name now was ‘Quan.’
Moreover, even if he could return to the Federation, knowing about that [Purge Plan], could he still serve dutifully and loyally as before?
Kang Quan asked himself honestly. He couldn’t do it.
Should he stay in the Northwest Sector instead, helping anti-Federation elements dismantle the Federation?
But the Purge Plan was horrifying. Even if he spoke of it, how many would believe him?
Sometimes living was the real torment. Thinking carefully, Kang Quan realized he had nowhere to go, no way to exert force.
His only remaining combat skills were mostly limited by his rebuilt hands and feet.
Shou Bing watched him a while, placing the pastries on the windowsill. “If you have nowhere to go, you can stay at Dawn. We’ve taken in quite a few people anyway. One more won’t matter.”
He touched the small flower on the windowsill, smiling shyly: “But whether you leave or stay, you must explain your identity clearly and prove you’re not a threat. Otherwise, I’ll kill you.”
Kang Quan looked up.
Though the youth seemed embarrassed, his eyes were extremely calm: “I won’t let anyone destroy my second home.”
His sir whom he respected like a father and elder brother, Algiers and Daike whom he saw as younger siblings and friends, and that child who ate the most at meals.
Sir was strong, yes, but he couldn’t keep hiding under sir’s protection forever, never growing up.
He’d already experienced painful loss once. Even while maintaining kindness, he was no longer the pure goodness of before, without reservation, without guile toward people and events.
Shou Bing: “I need to go train. You have all night to think. If possible, I’d rather not kill anyone.”
Kang Quan remained speechless, emotions complicated.
The pastries on the windowsill still warmly emitted heat. Golden-red and dark orange sunset clouds rendered the warm-toned twilight afterglow like an oil painting.
The closed small flower swayed lightly in the breeze, somewhat cool. The room was tranquil.
Kang Quan thought: actually, he had no choice at all, did he?
**
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152
Probably not, lol.