Chapter 70

Loch City’s tech development had gone through long proposals, plans, experiments, upgrades, and tests. After long-term stability, it finally issued a notice to all residents:

Resident Chip update: binding function.

Two people could bind to each other, directly recording one person’s fingerprint on the other’s chip. Before this, personal terminals could only be viewed by their owner. After binding, the two could unlock each other’s terminals with fingerprints, read all information on the other’s chip, and access the new permanent real-time location sharing.

Real-time location sharing had originally come from residents’ proposals due to frequent disappearances eight years ago, but it had been delayed until now.

To prevent improper restrictions, binding required voluntary consent.

Anyone from the military did not need an appointment and could cut in line for binding.

Almost the moment the announcement came out, Ben Yian asked Horne if he wanted to go.

It was their agreement from eight years ago.

Horne: [No time recently. Let’s talk after teaching ends.]

He really was busy. Originally, Hels had shared some of the load, but recently Hels had openly struck his superior, received a demerit and suspension, and then was punished with a month of closed-door volunteer work at the Warfallen Asylum. He had not come home or to the training grounds for a whole month.

The teaching duties fell solely on Horne’s shoulders again.

After finishing a day of teaching, Horne had just returned to the Command Room when he ran into Woody coming out.

“Colonel, where are the training records for the past three months?”

Horne walked straight in and tossed out coldly, “Sent to your terminal.”

The door closed, and silence filled the room.

This quiet lasted less than five minutes before urgent footsteps grew louder and louder outside, almost turning into a run.

The door was shoved open hard, slamming against the wall. Horne turned his head, and there stood Ben Yian at the doorway, panting and out of breath.

“What happened?” Horne asked in confusion. Ben Yian had been a diligent soldier for ten years—how could he be this winded?

Ben Yian’s voice trembled a little. He hurried a few steps inside, reached Horne, and said excitedly, “Little Horne, guess who I just saw at the Military District gate?”

“Who?”

Ben Yian deliberately stayed silent. He chuckled twice, teasing him.

“Who?” Horne asked again.

A familiar yet strange voice came from outside the door: “Who else? Of course, the hardworking and handsome guy!”

The instant the voice rang out, Horne nearly fell into a time vortex. He held his breath and stared at the door. In the sunlight, a figure strode over, the shadow vanishing as the vibrant person himself appeared in view.

Another figure followed behind him, of course.

Eight years, not a single return.

Horne rushed out first. He lunged forward and hugged Han Ya tightly. When Wen Yu entered, he pulled her in too, his arms squeezing hard.

“Ow ow, too tight, Colonel.” Han Ya winced in pain, groaning nonstop. He glanced sideways at Ben Yian. “What are you standing there for? Come hug!”

It sounded a bit gross, but Ben Yian smiled and walked over.

The four hugged together.

It had been a long, long time since they felt this excited. Horne did not want to let go. Laughing like this pulled at his facial muscles until they hurt.

Han Ya had tanned, his skin rougher, his muscles more solid. Otherwise, he seemed unchanged—still boisterous in his big laugh, unrestrained. Wen Yu stood even more upright, firm yet gentle, not as fiery as Han Ya. She carried only a faint smile, far more reserved.

Han Ya slapped Horne’s arm and looked him over from head to toe. “My colonel! Wow, not bad. Finally not a dead kid anymore.”

Speaking of dead kid, Han Ya looked around. “Where’s that dead kid?”

Horne smiled helplessly. “Not a dead kid anymore. Taller than me.”

“Really?” Han Ya tried to imagine it but could not. He waved it off. “Whatever. Ben Yian! Let me see Ben Yian!”

Han Ya pulled Ben Yian over and sized him up, teasing in a low voice, “Handsome and talented. How’s it feel? Being Horne’s adjutant—happy?”

“Of course.” Ben Yian smiled.

Back when Han Ya had gone to the new base in the north, he asked every day who Horne’s other adjutant was besides Woody, worried Horne was being double-teamed. When he learned it was Ben Yian, he relaxed—but only halfway, because Wen Yu had thought and said that Ben Yian as adjutant might not necessarily be a good thing.

Han Ya laughed loudly. He began introducing Wen Yu’s exploits to Horne. “I heard that dead kid broke your shooting record, but he definitely can’t break our Yu-jie’s. Let me tell you, you have no idea how badass your Yu-jie is.”

He mimicked Wen Yu’s sniper stance and said seriously, “Directing from the command tent, deciding victory a thousand miles away. One bullet, one headshot. Bang!”

The massive thing turned into particles and dissipated in the air. Amid countless falling specks of dust, a corpse tumbled into the snowfield, rolling a few times in its bloody mess.

That corpse now lay right in the center of Horne’s living room floor.

Horne stared at the corpse, his expression more serious than ever.

Even the usually jovial Han Ya reined in his smile. “We’re back this time officially because people from the new base are returning in batches to bind chips. But really, we wanted to show you this thing ourselves. Only the four of us know about it.”

As he spoke, the door opened, and Hels pushed his way in. The unfamiliar aura made him frown instantly.

He glanced into the living room and saw the three sudden arrivals. He froze for a moment, then snorted a laugh. While changing shoes, he said, “Rare guests.”

Horne looked over, paused, and let his gaze linger on Hels for a few seconds.

Though they exchanged messages daily on terminals, most of the time it was Hels bombarding him unilaterally. Horne had little free time during the day and only replied a few at night.

It had indeed been a month since they last met.

Horne quickly looked away and turned back to the corpse on the floor.

Han Ya did not recognize him at first. When he did, he cursed, “Damn, did you model yourself after a sculpture?” He really did not want to admit it—that dead kid had grown up so well?

Hels showed no emotion about their return. He went straight to the dining area, grabbed Horne’s cup, and poured himself water.

Wen Yu coughed lightly and steered the topic back, continuing from Han Ya. “Besides the five of us, no one else can know for now.”

The corpse looked extremely bizarre. They had found it unexpectedly while attacking the Aliens. Six huge wings, but where the two faces should have been was just a lump of flesh with the buds of limbs. It was a product that had nearly become human, or nearly become an Alien, but ultimately failed.

Somewhat like the winged human demons in illustrated books.

They did not know if it was a variant spawned from the Aliens or something that had crossed over from human society. Either way, it was a monster from a failed fusion.

Horne knew the government had researched particle fusion back then, but only injecting particles into humans for quick disease repair or immortality. There had been no rumors of species fusion. Whichever it was, the workload was enormous. With no activity all these years and no anomalies in Loch City, Horne had guessed research was stalled.

But this thing’s appearance meant their progress had reached unimaginable levels.

Residents could not know about this, or it would cause panic.

“When I saw this thing, it reminded me of the kids’ mass disappearances back then. Doesn’t this look like it?” Han Ya pointed at the corpse and sketched a kid’s outline in the air.

The guess was chilling. No one answered, and the air grew taut with silence.

Only Ben Yian stared at the corpse in silence.

Research had countless failures before stabilizing enough to repair human illnesses—that was what Woody had told him.

—”Only the government can grasp the big picture, can save more people. The military back then was just sending people to die for nothing. Total extermination? Ridiculous. If you want humanity to survive long-term, you really need to weigh it carefully.”

Woody’s voice from that day echoed in his ears again, haunting him every moment this past month, invading his dreams and becoming his nightmare.

—”The military clinging to their stance is just stubborn. No big deal— the military has no say anymore. The colonel’s so insistent because hatred clouded his judgment, got it? You’re the one who can make a bigger contribution.”

No no, Horne was the best person in the world. He never doubted Horne; he only wanted Horne to see his own strength, enough that he did not have to swallow everything alone.

—”Repairing wounds, fusion, immortality.”

Horne’s serious voice pulled Ben Yian from the echoing voice in his mind. “If the disappearances back then are linked to their research, does that mean there are more of these things? Or that progress is even faster?”

After all, this corpse was from months ago.

The government had always researched only particles, but once it involved human experiments, the nature changed. Particle injection might mean mutation. Ethically speaking, was a fusion product human or Alien?

These years, without Horne leading charges to obstruct, everything seemed calm.

“I’ve always felt that Ganal’s group has secret contact with the Aliens.” Wen Yu said.

“Even if they do, so what? No evidence. We can’t just say the government’s researching fusion, right?” Han Ya scoffed. “Immortality Particles are fine for medical wound repair—war means quick recovery from wounds and illnesses boosts combat power. But since it exists and can create more benefits, someone’s bound to get ideas. And…”

From ancient times to now, the first immortality pill, the first rocket launch—all showed humanity’s ambition. Now there was a new chance.

Han Ya thought for a moment but had not organized his words when Wen Yu finished for him. “And their experiments must have a site. We don’t know where, and no chance of finding out. Hard to strike.”

“Right, right.” Han Ya nodded immediately.

As they spoke, the five looked at each other, seeing no path forward.

Ben Yian buried his head again, avoiding their gazes.

His fingers rubbed back and forth restlessly, faster and faster.

—”I know you like him. I won’t make you kill him right away. Take your time to think. No rush. Just not sure if your sister will give you time.”

The war had dragged on for decades with no result. No one knew if fusion was the only answer or if agreeing to some cooperation with the Aliens meant they would not renege. After all, they were a race without beliefs.

Wen Yu had been watching Ben Yian and Hels’s positions. After her gaze circled once more, she suddenly asked, “Ben Yian, how’s your sister been lately?”

Ben Yian was still mulling Woody’s words. Hearing Wen Yu suddenly mention Ben Mu, he thought he had slipped up somehow. Cold sweat poured down instantly.

He jerked his head up and saw Wen Yu was just asking normally. He froze, sighed in relief, slowly lowered his head, and let his hand slide limply twice. “Two months ago, she woke for two days, then fell back into a coma. Doctors say she’ll wake less and less, and time is short.”

“Let’s go see her.” Wen Yu suggested.

Ben Yian bit his lip and nodded.

Hels disliked joining their serious, boring atmosphere, and Ben Yian’s issues interested him even less. He found Ben Yian annoying just for being in his home, but with Horne there, he held back. He lounged lazily into the black sofa, mimicking Horne’s usual pose—legs crossed, hand propping his chin—and put on a smiling face. “So after all this time, that’s all you found? Some thing you can’t even identify? Useless.”

Han Ya exploded at that. “Hey, I see this dead kid still talks so aggressively? You think we can figure it out just because we want to?”

Hels shrugged in a “that’s just me” pose.

Han Ya glared furiously, nearly charging over, but Horne stopped him. “Don’t make trouble.”

There were more important things right now.

“I’m the one making trouble?!”

Hels winked at him. “Who else?”

Horne pondered deeply. If his eight years of silence led to this outcome, he would unhesitatingly stop humanity from marching into a dead end again.

He still insisted that humans and Aliens could not coexist, and humans did not need immortality. Because once that precedent was set, the problems humans faced would no longer simply be matters of right and wrong; they would no longer revolve around their laughable factions, power, and interests.

Han Ya got angry and grabbed a decorative glass from the coffee table, hurling it at Hels. Hels raised his hand to catch it and gently set it back down.

“Brat, you’re just relying on Horne to protect you, acting disrespectful to your elders and without any discipline!”

“Getting a bit arrogant, aren’t we?” Wen Yu said with a smile, her tone laced with jest.

Even as the group targeted him, Hels remained unperturbed. He slowly stood, walked behind Horne, and bent down slightly to meet his level, adopting a aggrieved expression as he said, “Horne, look, he’s bullying me.” As he spoke, he rolled his eyes at Han Ya—Horne couldn’t see it anyway.

Horne was still pondering how to proactively investigate the matter.

Most of his former forces had become mere figureheads; reassembling them wasn’t difficult, but mobilizing resources was.

With the Military District’s backing nearly dismantled, any move he made would prompt swift action from Ganal’s side, who could suppress him from multiple angles. He could only proceed privately.

Smoke practically rose from Han Ya’s head as he nearly jumped up to curse. “Brat! You dare call him by name directly?!”

Hels straightened up, crossed his arms over his chest, and sneered. “What’s wrong with calling him by name? I even dare call him husband—what are you going to do about it?”

He grabbed Horne’s arm and shook it, his tone even more aggrieved. “Husband, he’s bullying me.” He deliberately twisted his intonation, practically wearing “spoiled” on his face.

The sudden quiet snapped Horne back to attention. His mind was foggy; he hadn’t caught what they were arguing about. Puzzled, he asked, “What?”

The others’ expressions varied wonderfully. Horne, still not registering, turned his head and asked again. “What did you call me?”