I Want to Join the Command Division

The warship was different from a civilian ship.
The warship was much larger—even a small patrol vessel was significantly bigger than that civilian ship.
However, the areas where people could move about on the warship were very limited, with ‘No Entry’ and ‘No Unauthorized Access’ signs everywhere.
So all the evacuees were crowded into the small accessible area, making it feel somewhat cramped.

But Murin quickly noticed something else strange about the people from this ship.
They really were just as the captain had said—no noise, no crowding, everyone orderly and well-behaved.
A few would occasionally gather in small groups to chat, but even then, they spoke in hushed whispers, looking as relaxed as if they were on vacation. They showed no sign of having just been attacked by mutated insectoids.

Murin had the soldiers take down their identification details, while he went to report to His Highness.

“Your Highness, the transfer is complete,” Murin said. “Most of the people on board are here to enlist. I’ve already contacted Sunset City to arrange the handover.”

The man in the leather chair didn’t answer immediately.
His gaze was lowered, staring absently at his palm, his long eyelashes concealing the thoughts buried deep in his eyes.

Murin called out again.

Only then did the man seem to hear him. He closed his palm and looked up at Murin.

Wen Zhaoyan’s voice was calm: “Check their backgrounds thoroughly. If any were sent by the Royal Family, send them back upon arrival at Sunset City.”

Murin replied, “We’re already screening them. But this group is very different from the ones we’ve seen before. They all seem a bit… odd. Superstitious types. The Admiral hates that kind of thing, so most of these people probably won’t make it into the front-line forces.”

Hearing this, a flicker of something unusual passed through Wen Zhaoyan’s eyes. “From the Sanatorium Planet…”

Murin said, “Yes.”
Then, remembering that His Highness also despised cults that brainwashed people, he quickly added, “Don’t worry, Your Highness, we won’t—”

Before he could finish, the man said flatly—

“That’s normal.”

Murin: “??”
His Highness actually said it was normal!
Was this still the same Crown Prince who had once dismantled countless cult organizations?

Wen Zhaoyan ignored his subordinate’s incredulous expression.
He tapped the screen before him, bringing up a star chart.
The distance between the Sanatorium Planet and the Rosseti Star System formed two extreme points on the map. The vast separation felt like a shackle, locking away the awkward and laughable memories of his youth.

The Sanatorium Planet, once known as a cage for nobles, had, not long after the Crown Prince’s departure, become one of the most popular destinations in the interstellar.
For some reason, the estate where the Crown Prince had lived had also become a must-visit place for countless bigwigs.
Was it to tour the former residence of ‘one of the Interstellar’s Top Ten Most Inspiring Figures, Wen Zhaoyan’?

No.
It was to adopt the fish that some little brat had raised in the pool.
For some reason, those koi in the pool had suddenly become a sensation, sweeping across the interstellar.
It seemed to have something to do with Liao Ze.
Countless bigwigs flocked to the Sanatorium Planet, hoping to adopt one.

Though the requirements for adoption were said to be extremely strict, over the years, the six koi were gradually adopted away.
But even without the fish, the Sanatorium Planet only grew more lively.
Countless people came to see the place where the koi—the fish that had made those powerful figures scramble to adopt—had been raised.
Those who hadn’t gotten a koi settled for the next best thing: even if they couldn’t have the fish, could they at least have some of the water?
Their standards weren’t high—surely the water wasn’t that precious?

When Wen Zhaoyan had first learned of this, he had felt a flicker of displeasure.
Though that pool water was basically the little brat’s bathwater, which he himself had also soaked in, he had to admit that those asking for the water weren’t entirely foolish.
That water contained the ‘energy liquid’ that Mo Li had somehow infused into it.

As more and more people came to the Sanatorium Planet, the bigwigs also noticed that the climate there was genuinely pleasant. Living there seemed to lower the incidence of mental energy rage disorder.
So more and more people wanted to move to the Sanatorium Planet, and it gradually transformed from a noble’s prison into a prosperous planet that everyone wanted to visit.

After reporting to Wen Zhaoyan, Murin returned to the common area.
The soldiers there had already begun chatting with the new arrivals through their earpieces, casually probing for information.
Over the years, ever since Wen Zhaoyan had arrived at the Rosseti Star System, not only had he not died, but he had only grown stronger. The Royal Family had never stopped sending spies to the front lines.
They had caught many spies and sent many back, but the Royal Family persisted.
The Legion, under Wen Zhaoyan’s command for so many years, was no longer so easy for the Royal Family to infiltrate.

Murin also found his target: the white-clad young man and the cold-looking, handsome man named Little Blue.

They didn’t talk much to others after boarding. Of course, Murin noticed the young man speaking occasionally, but with Little Blue’s cold demeanor in between, he had his work cut out for him.

Murin sat down across from them. “Are you here to enlist too?”

Mo Bai shook his head. “No, I’m just here to see Little Blue off.”

Murin glanced at the young man’s registered name: “Oh, you’re called… Little Green, right? You look really young.”

Little Green—or rather, Mo Bai, who had copied Little Green’s face—replied, “Not that young. I’m nineteen.”

Mo Li’s face was too famous.
Because the scriptures on the app were constantly updated, over the years, he and Xixi had sung over a hundred scriptures together.
Even though he rarely showed his face afterward, Mo Li’s name and appearance only grew more popular.
Mo Li was just too mysterious. Apart from his appearance in the singing competition, he had only appeared once more—during the shutdown of the Mermaid Association.
So many years had passed, and Mo Li remained hidden, with no one knowing where he was.

Mo Bai had already grown up.
Mo Li’s appearance was essentially his adult form, so now that he had grown, he naturally looked exactly like Mo Li.
Under these circumstances, how could Mo Bai dare to go out with his own face? He could only copy Little Green’s face and come to the Rosseti Star System with Little Blue.

Little Blue was a mermaid who marched to the beat of his own drum.
Most mermaids had soothing, healing abilities.
But Little Blue was different—he was aggressive, determined to go to the battlefield and kill enemies.

Murin was surprised. “Nineteen is still young. When I was nineteen, I hadn’t even graduated yet.”
He looked Mo Bai up and down. “No wonder you look like a kid who hasn’t grown up yet. I’m fifty-six, you know.”

Murin himself looked very young, not at all like fifty-six. Of course, in the interstellar, where people lived to over two hundred, fifty or sixty was merely the equivalent of a human adolescent.

Murin added, “You’re so young, they won’t accept you for the frontline recruitment anyway. They prioritize graduates from military academies.”

Little Blue said coldly, “He graduated from a military academy.”

Murin stared at Mo Bai with wide eyes. “You’ve already graduated? Which academy? What major?”
The boy looked so thin and young—how could he possibly be a military academy graduate?

Mo Bai said, “Imperial First Military Academy, Command Department.”

Murin: “…”

Murin gave Mo Bai a strange look.

He thought to himself, ‘This guy sure can brag.’
Saying he went to the Imperial First Military Academy was one thing, but claiming to be from the Command Department?
Everyone knew the Command Department was the hardest major to graduate from.
If he had said Combat or Mech Department, Murin might have believed it.
Because for those majors, as long as you got good marks in the practical subjects, even if you didn’t get ‘Excellent’ in the others, as long as you didn’t fail, you could still graduate.

But the Command Department was different.
It was the most difficult major in the Empire. The sheer number of subjects they had to study was several times more than other majors. While others took seven exams, Command students took twenty-three, and failing a single subject meant you couldn’t graduate.
Not only that, but they had to get ‘Excellent’ in every single subject.

Of course, getting into the Command Department in the first place was already a remarkable feat.
But even so, there was a saying at the Imperial First Military Academy’s Command Department: ‘Study till you’re old, but you won’t live that long.’
It meant that the amount of material Command students had to learn would take a lifetime—but you might not live long enough to finish it.

Looking around, it was common to see Command Department students in their fifties who still hadn’t graduated.
Entering at sixteen and still not graduating by fifty or sixty—just imagine how demanding it was!

Once, a student had complained to a professor: “The Command Department is too hard. Do we really need to get all Excellents? That’s a perfect score in everything!”

The professor had replied, “If you were a commanding officer on the front lines, and a single mistake on your part led to the deaths of thousands of soldiers, would you still think it was unnecessary?”

No one ever asked that question again.
Once you entered the Command Department, unless you switched majors and gave up on this career path, your decisions would carry the weight of millions of lives.

And this young man, at nineteen, had the audacity to claim he had graduated from the Command Department.
Murin wanted to roll his eyes.
But since he was here to probe, he kept up appearances. “Oh, wow, that’s impressive. And what about Mr. Little Blue?”

Little Blue’s voice was cold. “Combat Department.”

Murin: “Also from the First Military Academy?”

Little Blue: “Yes.”

Murin: “…”

Murin: “You two are amazing.”

Murin asked a few more questions, and after confirming there was nothing else to learn, he left.

The other soldiers also reported their findings. Murin took a preliminary look and saw that several of the evacuees had military academy backgrounds, all of them here to enlist.
Their answers matched the information they had registered earlier.
Still, that didn’t rule out the possibility of lies—they weren’t the recruitment system, after all. Only the recruitment system had the authority to verify everyone’s true identity.

As soon as Murin left, Little Blue rolled his eyes dramatically.

Mo Bai found it amusing. “What are you doing?”

Little Blue said, “That’s exactly the kind of eye-roll he was about to give earlier.”

Mo Bai nodded in understanding. “Probably because I look young, so he didn’t believe I graduated from the Command Department.”

Little Blue snorted. “Just because he couldn’t do it, he thinks others can’t. Short-sighted.”
After a pause, he added, “Are you sure you won’t stay?”

Mo Bai shook his head. “No. I promised Xixi I’d visit him on 1314*.”

Little Blue seemed to think of something, then said, “The Rosseti Star System’s commander… well, it’s probably better you go somewhere else. Saves you the awkwardness.”

Mo Bai raised an eyebrow. He knew perfectly well who the commander of the Rosseti Star System was.
Awkwardness? Not really.
Though he might not be the awkward one—the other person certainly would be.

—

On the other side, Murin was also complaining to his comrades:
“Those two kids look like they haven’t even grown up yet. One claims to be a graduate of the Imperial First Military Academy’s Combat Department, and the other says he’s from the Command Department. Can you believe it? Nineteen years old. Command Department.”

“Ha! That kid probably has no idea what a hellish place the Command Department is.”

“When I enlisted, my older cousin was already in the Command Department. I graduated and came to the front lines six years ago, and he’s still there. I heard he still hasn’t gotten all Excellents in six subjects.”

“Ugh, the Command Department’s curriculum is just insane. I heard they even make small changes to it every year.”

“Yeah, it changes. Like back when we were fighting the Uruk Civilization, all the strategic tactics and analysis of the Uruk Civilization were the hot topics for that year’s exams. But now we’re fighting the mutated insectoids, so everything’s shifted to focus on them.”

“God, just hearing about it sounds exhausting. Unlike us in the Combat Department—just pilot a mech, know how to fight, pass the culture courses, and you graduate easy.”

“Those two kids from the Sanatorium Planet probably never even set foot in the Imperial First Military Academy. Though I have heard that a lot of people enlist just because of His Highness. You remember—people from all over, from the newly grown to the over-a-hundred-year-olds, all of them signing up. Too bad His Highness never seems interested. I wonder what kind of person could actually melt that cold heart of his.”

“Shh—I heard from Admiral Kai that His Highness has a ‘white moonlight’ in his heart…”

Before he could finish, his companion jolted and stood up, saluting loudly: “Your Highness!”

The one gossiping felt a chill run down his spine and scrambled to his feet as well.

They had no idea when Wen Zhaoyan had arrived or how much he had overheard…

Wen Zhaoyan swept them with a cold, expressionless gaze. His dark eyes showed no emotion, like a calm sea that nevertheless held an abyss of terror beneath its surface.

Wen Zhaoyan said, “The list.”

His tone was flat, and though he said nothing about their gossip, it only made them more uneasy.

Murin quickly asked, “Your Highness, are you referring to the list of evacuees from that ship?”

Wen Zhaoyan grunted in acknowledgment.

Murin hurriedly handed over the list, though he found it exceedingly strange. His Highness had never cared about such things before. He usually just forwarded the list to Sunset City for verification. He never expected His Highness to personally come asking for it!

Wen Zhaoyan took the list, glanced at them again, and then turned and left.

Only after he had gone did everyone let out a heavy breath. That had been terrifying.

Murin muttered, “Strange. His Highness is acting odd today.”

A soldier said weakly, “Could it have something to do with that civilian ship? It came from the Sanatorium Planet, and His Highness… lived there for a long time.”

Everyone thought it over and found it plausible. They began to wonder if anyone on that list might have known His Highness in the past.

—

In the captain’s quarters, Wen Zhaoyan was also looking at the list.
When he saw the names ‘Little Blue’ and ‘Little Green,’ his gaze paused. The palm of his hand seemed to burn faintly.
He knew these two mermaids, but it had been so many years.

Wen Zhaoyan studied the list silently for a moment, then pulled up the surveillance footage. He spotted the two little mermaids at the back of the crowd.
He was silent for a while, then turned off the monitor and set the list aside.
Because the person he wanted to see wasn’t there.

Still, before disembarking, he sent a message to the recruitment office at Sunset City, forwarding the two mermaids’ files.

“Approved.”

Anyone taught by that person couldn’t possibly be weak.

—

The warship flew for a day and a night.
The evacuees from the civilian ship had limited space to move around. After exploring everywhere they could, there wasn’t much to see—just admiration for the warship’s might, and then back to the common area.

Mo Bai and Little Blue, after wandering around, also grew bored.

But Mo Bai reminded Little Blue, “These people will probably be your comrades in the future. You might want to get to know them.”

Little Blue said coolly, “I don’t need to.”

Mo Bai: “Hmm?”

Little Blue: “They’ll come to me eventually.”
Clearly confident in his abilities.

Mo Bai sighed. “Fine, fine, Little Blue is the strongest.”

A faint smile tugged at Little Blue’s lips, but to maintain his cool image, he quickly suppressed it.

The warship finally landed at Sunset City’s port.
As victims of the mutated insectoid attack, Sunset City offered free medical treatment to the wounded. But no one was hurt—any minor injuries had already been treated in the warship’s medical pods.

After disembarking, most people headed straight to the recruitment zone.
The recruitment zone was in the southern part of Sunset City, where a long line had already formed, with people from all over the galaxy queuing up. This year happened to be graduation season, and most of the top students from military academies had already been internally assigned to the military.
The rest—those who wanted to earn merits, who wanted to rise—could only enlist the hard way.

Little Blue had actually received an internal assignment, but it wasn’t with the front-line forces he wanted. So he chose to enlist himself.

Mo Bai accompanied Little Blue through the long line. Everyone ahead and behind them was burly and muscular, tall and imposing.
Only Mo Bai and Little Blue looked thin, young, and out of place.

A well-meaning person even whispered to them, “This line is for front-line infantry—you’ll be going into battle. With your builds, you wouldn’t even be a match for one of those insectoid’s claws. Are you sure you’re in the right line? The lines for communications, reconnaissance, and medical corps are over there.”

Little Blue shot him a cold glance. “I’m in the right line.”

The good Samaritan shut up. Fine, fine, line up if you want. The reviewing officer would probably reject them based on their physiques anyway, and the medical exam would seal it.

When it was Little Blue’s turn, he simply handed in his application. The reviewing officer glanced at it, then looked up at him. “Your name is Little Blue?”

Little Blue said, “Yes.”

The officer looked at Mo Bai behind him. “And you’re Little Green?”

Mo Bai said, “Yes.”

The officer nodded, said nothing more, and waved over a soldier. After speaking quietly with him, he said, “Follow him.”

Little Blue frowned. What was this about?
Mo Bai, worried that something was wrong, followed along.
Both assumed it was like the well-meaning person had said—that Little Blue would be rejected.

But the soldier led them straight into the base, saying, “You’ll be staying here for now. When the new recruit training starts, you’ll train with the others.”

Little Blue was startled. “I passed?”

The soldier said, “Yes. Both of you have been accepted into the front-line forces.”

Mo Bai blinked. “Me too? Wait.”

He called out to the soldier who was about to leave. “I’m not here to enlist.”

“What?” The soldier was confused. But Han, the reviewing officer, had said these two were personally assigned from above.

The soldier called the reviewing officer to clarify.

Officer Han was equally confused. “His Highness personally approved them.”

“…”
“…Just keep them there for now. I’ll ask His Highness.”

Officer Han contacted Wen Zhaoyan.

After listening, Wen Zhaoyan was silent for a moment, then said, “I’ll be there.”

—

At the base, Mo Bai and Little Blue stared at the soldier, all of them awkward.

In the middle of this awkwardness, a military hover vehicle stopped at the base entrance.
The door opened, and a pair of long legs stepped out first.
The man wore a military uniform that accentuated his perfect proportions. His features were sharp and striking, his presence imposing without effort. His dark eyes were unreadable, betraying nothing of the thoughts buried deep within.

The soldier immediately saluted. “Commander!”

The commanding officer of the Rosseti front line—the Empire’s Crown Prince, Wen Zhaoyan.

Mo Bai and Little Blue were both surprised. They hadn’t expected to run into Wen Zhaoyan here.
Though Little Blue had come to enlist on the Rosseti Star System, they both knew that Wen Zhaoyan held a high position—not someone a new recruit like Little Blue would likely encounter.
Mo Bai had thought the same. He was just here to see Little Blue off, and then he’d be gone.

Just as Mo Bai was thinking this, Wen Zhaoyan had already walked up to them.
The man, whom he hadn’t seen in years, carried a strong scent of blood and battle—as if he lived amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

As Mo Bai looked at him, Wen Zhaoyan was also looking at them. Then he said flatly, “You don’t want to stay on the front lines?”

Little Blue glanced instinctively at Mo Bai. Seeing that Mo Bai said nothing, he replied stiffly, “I want to stay on the front lines.”

Wen Zhaoyan grunted in acknowledgment. “Then what’s the problem?”

Mo Bai slowly raised his hand. “I’m the one with the problem.”

Wen Zhaoyan turned to ‘Little Green.’ He didn’t know much about Little Green. Back then, Little Blue had been stronger, even differentiated before adulthood, while Little Green had always been frail and sickly. At least, when he’d left, Little Green had still been very small.

He said, “Go on.”

Mo Bai smiled at him. “I’m not enlisting as a front-line soldier. I want to join the command headquarters.”

Little Blue: “?”

Just a moment ago, didn’t you say you were only here to see me off, and not to enlist?!