Chapter 106

Outside the window lay the only isolated area in Thunder Pavilion, a miniature city model occupying just a few square kilometers, yet it outlined streets, shops, and greenery, perfectly imitating the cities where humans once lived on Earth—day and night, rain or shine, all four seasons—an Eden amid cold constructs. Many treated it like a resort.

Even as the gray clouds of the city above layered densely, with thunder occasionally crashing and fierce winds howling, Thunder Pavilion remained bathed in clear sunlight and gentle breezes.

Horne steadied his heartbeat, hesitated for a moment, then walked over to stand side by side with Hels by the window, elbows propped on the frame. The two stood very close, their gazes lingering on the crisscrossing street scenes below.

The wind, no one knew from which simulator it blew, carried scents of flowers and grass, wafting toward them, making their bodies feel light.

It was very peaceful; they rarely had such peaceful moments. It was so quiet that even the similar woody scents on their bodies gradually intertwined.

“You…” Horne stared fixedly outside, grasping for a topic, “have you been down there?”

On the Da Vinci Square below, a group sat on the steps cheering, while another danced, sunlight warming their bodies, natural and content.

“I have, for a while. I really liked it here. Originally, this place was just for simulating Earth’s various weather; I often lay inside getting drenched in the rain. Later, I simply suggested turning it into a simulated city.” Hels spoke slowly, his gaze shifting to an artificial lake below—one of his former favorite spots.

Horne saw it too, but he cared about something else. “Why go get drenched in the rain?”

Hels gave a light hum. “Bored, I guess.”

It did sound like something Hels would do. Horne continued, “The builder of this underground base must have always been full of hope, always thinking of others.”

He had visited the already destroyed base, and this one too—both full of humane designs, as if striving to create a true city of hope in such an environment.

Hels suddenly laughed, his fingers unconsciously tapping the window frame lightly, a sign of pleasure. “Actually, no. The base’s builder was once someone utterly indifferent to everything. He believed that in his survival environment, only staying high above the fray could keep one unsullied, that no one mattered to him. During the time we got to know each other, it was the hardest period of his life. It was then that he slowly realized no one could stay unscathed in the torrent of the times. That’s when he proposed building the underground base to preserve the last batch of humans.”

Horne clasped his hands, fingers slowly rubbing his skin and palms.

“Then…” Horne thought for a moment, “why did that person change so suddenly?”

Hels’s tapping fingers slowly stopped. He fell silent for a while. “Because his father died.”

“His father taught him not to get involved in any conflicts, but in the end, his father died because of his own conscience.” Hels explained, finding it amusing. “’Conscience’ was his own word. I don’t know if his father really died from his own conscience. You know, even if people don’t want to get involved in conflicts, they always have their own leanings. When they need to play it safe to preserve themselves, those leanings can’t be shown. But in moments of crisis, they still come out.”

“Mm,” Horne felt he was the complete opposite type. He never believed that as long as he did nothing and caused no trouble, disaster wouldn’t befall him. “So how did you two meet?”

“He came to me for collaboration.” Hels stretched lazily, turning his attention back to Horne.

His profile was stunning, like the most exquisite diamond carved by God—whether in the snowfield under the aurora or right now.

Horne knew that gaze fell on him. He didn’t turn, his fingers tightening, clenching his knuckles.

“Do you know that feeling? Watching a lofty air force colonel at home studying a field he’d never touched before, changing overnight.” Hels nearly laughed, then sighed deeply. “So sometimes, all it takes for a person to change is one thing, one instant.”

But Horne didn’t hear Hels’s last two sentences. Ripples spread in his mind, constantly echoing those four words: air force colonel.

“You mean…” Horne turned, finally meeting Hels’s gaze, somewhat incredulous. “Bai Yin?”

Bai Yin’s father was You Wangwang.

“Mm-hmm.”

The wind grew a bit cold; Horne shrank back slightly. The simulated city’s sky was darkening, and Loch City was about to usher in night.

Horne remembered Han Ya telling him that You Wangwang had left a few low-temperature hibernation pods, giving them the chance to cool their bodies a hundred years ago and cross to the present. Since they were all here, then Bai Yin…

“Bai Yin built the underground base, so what about him afterward?”

“Hm?” Hels seemed puzzled. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Bai Yin,” Hels pointed upward, to the main control area’s floor, “you’ve met him.”

Horne froze for a moment. He suddenly thought of the Falcon model in the supreme commander’s office—that was Bai Yin’s fighter jet. He opened his mouth. “You mean You Wenjie?”

They were completely different people.

You Wenjie’s message came through, informing Horne that the technical team had begun cracking the recon drone’s visual system. They now had a very brief respite—perhaps hours, perhaps days—depending on Ains’s speed, but it wouldn’t last long. Horne and Wen Yu needed to practice with the particle gun, while the technical zone continued seeking the Hermit’s response.

Hels took Horne to Thunder Pavilion’s training camp, a place like the old military district training grounds. Horne glanced over as they passed; it was more crowded than imagined.

When they arrived, Wen Yu had just finished a full day of compatibility training. Seeing Horne, she handed him the particle gun.

“Apart from the particle gun, are there any new weapons?” Horne lowered his eyes, wiped the gun in his hand naturally, about to grip the particle gun, then paused, holding still for two seconds before seriously examining it again, as if holding it for the first time.

“There are,” Hels said. “Laser oscillation grenades.”

He explained it was a vibration weapon targeting biological molecules, based on the principle of Loch City’s old control tower electromagnetic net. The explosion covered a 100-meter diameter, instantly penetrating all aliens and humans in range, but had minimal damage to buildings mainly of minerals and composites.

“Grenades can’t destroy the Fate Community; still need the particle gun.” Hels watched Horne flip the gun over twice, then added, “And these grenades have big flaws now—only a 10-second countdown, unstable balance. Any jolt might make them explode before 10 seconds, basically mutual destruction, down to luck. So still improving.”

Horne nodded lightly, finally raised the gun, and asked Hels, “Then why don’t you try the particle gun?” Clearly, among those known so far, the three best shots were Hels, then Wen Yu, then Horne.

Hels shrugged. “I can.” In fact, he was the first to fully master this particle gun.

“Oh, then the three of us for the Fate Community?” Horne asked.

“No,” Wen Yu answered. “You, me, and Jia Lan.”

She glanced sideways at Hels, adding, “Hels is uncertain.”

Hels shrugged. “I’ll go with Horne.” He didn’t want to personally destroy the Fate Community; he just wanted to follow behind Horne as his backup.

Horne didn’t understand the arrangement. “Why Jia Lan too?”

Wen Yu packed her things without turning. “Getting in and out of the Obelisk requires aliens, right? I only heard from You Wenjie; ask him for details.”

She walked out two steps, then turned back. “Get back early to rest, especially since you’re still sick.”

“Okay.” Horne answered for Hels, then studied the gun on his own.

Before Hels woke, he had already tried it roughly per the manual; the feel made a huge difference.

It was a gun completely beyond imagination—asymmetric curved structure, even the barrel and muzzle like some converging rift, cyan-blue wavy metal material. At first glance, no trigger. The gun was co-designed by Wang Wudao and the particle research team, all to ensure the single high-energy particle shot carried absolute energy.

A gun defying all convention; the first time, Horne had puzzled over the manual for a long time, but he picked it up fairly quickly.

The particle gun training area was a dedicated zone. Besides glaring overhead lights, no one else was there, making it awkwardly quiet.

Hels lounged on the nearby sofa, leg crossed and swinging up and down, waiting for Horne to practice.

Horne held the gun, staring silently, thoughts surging through his mind. Moments later, he turned and asked, “How do you use it?”

“Hm?” Hels was puzzled. “You haven’t tried it yet?”

Horne fell silent, then spat out two words after a while. “No.”

“Okay, I’ll teach you.” Hels didn’t doubt it. He stood, walked to Horne’s side, took the gun from his hand, flipped it, grasped Horne’s hand, and placed the gun back in the correct hold. “Hold it like this, hand threading through the middle of the grip.”

“Mm.” Horne’s arm stiffened as he took it.

Hels demonstrated. “Normal triggers and firing can’t control its directionality; the enveloping style is more stable, controlled by your grip strength for distance.”

“Oh.” Horne’s response was curt; his attention wasn’t on the hold.

“It has simulated high-energy particles inside; try it your way first, need to charge.”

“Mm.” Horne watched the cyan-blue light slowly emanating from the grip, gripped tighter then looser per the feedback, then like the first time, he staggered forward a step. The gun stayed in his hand; simulated particles scattered.

It was recoil; clearly Horne “hadn’t noticed.”

Hels coughed a few times, stepped behind him, leaned in slightly with a smile. “Alright, Colonel, mind if I teach you hands-on from the start?”

Horne’s face remained expressionless as he mumbled “Mm,” then added, “Don’t mind.”

Hels embraced him from behind, hand covering the back of Horne’s, body heat instantly overwhelming. “It pulls forward on firing; stand firm. No sights on the particle gun, so find the trajectory by feel.”

Warm breath puffed on his neck; Horne stood straight. Soft words filled his ear. When he prepared to fire the particle, the embrace tightened slightly to prevent him stumbling from recoil.

Though… if Horne wanted to control it, such force couldn’t budge him at all.

“Horne?” Hels called, face skin close to Horne’s hair, whispering, “You’re tense.”

“Not used to the feel, not tense.” Horne answered calmly. “Any other way grip strength affects distance?”

“There is.”

The simulated particle shot out, hitting the barrier, gradually nearing the center.

Wang Wudao wheeled over. Since the snowfield incident, his leg was injured, making movement very inconvenient. He had come to the training camp to check progress, but sat nearby for half a day watching Hels hug Horne to teach hands-on. Baffled, he finally couldn’t hold back. “Sorry to interrupt, but I got a question—why teach shooting like this?”

Horne hadn’t noticed anyone nearby; his body stiffened instantly. Hels didn’t turn, casually replying, “Colonel’s new to it; afraid he won’t learn.”

Wang Wudao grew more puzzled, thoughts jumbled. “Huh? Colonel won’t learn? You gotta be kidding me. Hasn’t the colonel practiced a few times with Wen Yu these past couple days?”

Hels paused.

Horne’s face tightened. “No, first time today.”

Wang Wudao’s brows shot up, suspicions swirling between doubting himself and Horne. “Wait, didn’t Wen Yu say yesterday the colonel’s got great gun sense? I remember clear as day. Colonel, you pulling my leg?”

He sank into huge doubt, muttering, “Darn, weather’s been weird lately—hope it’s not messing with memory.”

Horne’s hand on the particle gun tightened gradually, then released. Simulated particles burst from the barrel, scattering. He set the gun down, answering flatly again. “No.”

Hels felt the stiffness of the person in his arms. He thought for a moment and suddenly understood, a smile gradually spreading in his eyes.

Oh.

Hels turned his head, coughed twice, and said to Wang Wudao with a furrowed brow, “You remembered wrong. The colonel said first time means first time.”