The Price of Peace

Just as Ming Yu stretched her body, stepping onto the forward deck and poised to rush forward to deliver a few strikes to the colossal catfish, Xingtian suddenly shifted its stance. Its massive alloy right palm opened, and the reactor embedded in its core pulsed with an eerie, cerulean glow.

In that instant, a spear of light shattered the void.

All the surrounding hunters seemed to experience a collective illusion, as if a terrifying, grotesque wound had always existed on the sea beast’s body.

All that the naked eye could perceive was the swift fading of light.

Unable to even utter a single shriek, the gigantic tentacled catfish immediately lost all ability to move. Its enormous body sank helplessly into the deep sea, stirring up a vast expanse of surging water.

Silence descended once more, leaving only the relentless sound of wind and waves.

Everyone was stunned, and even Ming Yu paused, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

“Is that… a blue laser?”

“It must be… but something’s not right. How could a man-portable blue laser weapon possess such destructive power?”

“Could it be that this Xingtian has high-energy battery arrays crammed beneath its metal shell?”

“If that’s true, it’s truly terrifying. It’s practically a mobile, humanoid nuclear warhead…”

“…”

Regardless, the chaotic spectacle finally drew to a close.

However, as Xingtian slowly returned from the sea and stepped onto the deck, its tone was grave.

“My sensor radar has detected troublesome entities…”

“Immediately change course. We must bypass them…”

“This many S-rank sea beasts are not something we can contend with…”

****

Inside Pharos’s inner city, at the Hunter Association Headquarters.

“The fall of Dresa seems to have brought not only a massive influx of refugees to Pharos but also drawn out the sea beasts dwelling in the North Sea.”

“Among them, the North Sea Kraken and its kin are trending southward, leading to constant skirmishes with Leviathan and its progeny.”

“This, perhaps, is an opportunity.”

During the operational meeting, Fujiwara Tachima spoke eloquently, presenting his views and suggestions to Seti, who sat at the head of the table.

“Conveniently, two S-rank hunters have been dispatched to the front lines. It would be most fitting to assign them the task of stirring up this chaotic situation, seizing the chance to eliminate the sea beasts.”

“…”

Jiang Chen listened patiently until Fujiwara Tachima finished, offering no immediate opinion nor engaging in his usual sharp retorts.

At a time like this, words that might sow disunity were best left unspoken.

He had witnessed countless times how his compatriots, who prided themselves on standing at the apex of the food chain, were dragged into the sea as mere prey. In the face of true, species-level conflict and potential extinction, any internal strife or infighting seemed both laughable and absurd.

He believed that Fujiwara Tachima understood this principle as well.

“I propose that the S-rank hunters patrolling the front lines take the initiative to attack, attempting to eliminate as much of the high-tier sea beasts’ effective strength as possible while Kraken and Leviathan are locked in mutual combat.”

“That concludes my perspective.”

Fujiwara Tachima’s arguments were logical and well-reasoned, leaving no room for critique. Many attendees nodded slightly in agreement, acknowledging the validity of his proposal.

Indeed, it was an excellent plan: low risk, high reward.

If successful, they could at least deal with a batch of S-rank sea beasts, and there was even a minuscule chance of taking down a legendary giant kraken. Even if something went awry, the sunk cost would merely be a ship full of sea beast hunters. Their loss would be accepted.

Sacrifices were always necessary, and wasn’t the very purpose of sea beast hunters to make such sacrifices?

After all, they wouldn’t have to go to the front lines.

Seti nodded but did not state his position. Instead, he turned his gaze to Jiang Chen on the other side, speaking calmly:

“Jiang Chen, what are your thoughts?”

“My thoughts? Rather than asking for my opinion on such matters, it would be better to directly inquire about the thoughts of the hunters currently fighting on the front lines.”

Jiang Chen spread his hands. Though he appeared not to give a direct answer, his meaning was quite clear.

At the same moment, Fujiwara Tachima let out a soft chuckle.

“Old Man Jiang, surely you wouldn’t oppose this operational plan simply because the frontline hunters are your subordinates, would you?”

His rhetorical question carried a subtle, pointed implication, causing the gazes of the assembled attendees to converge on Jiang Chen. Many held reservations about this vice-president, who had been promoted directly from the front lines.

Hearing this, Jiang Chen responded placidly:

“As long as their sacrifice holds value, I have no objections.”

“However, if two S-rank hunters die senselessly due to a command decision error, their inherent value unfulfilled, then I will object.”

“I do not care who dies—subordinates or even close friends. As long as the sea beasts are kept at bay and the safety of Pharos’s citizens is guaranteed, their sacrifice is valuable.”

“Compared to these seventeen cities and these hundreds of millions of vibrant lives, sea beast hunters are merely tools to perpetuate the flame. Their lives and deaths are like dust, insignificant.”

“Provided their sacrifice is valuable.”

****

On the second day of Ming Yu’s absence, Little Nightingale began to feel agitated.

From Qing Shui Ling Yin, and combining it with memories of her father’s profession, she gradually understood the nature of Ming Yu’s work. A heavy, suffocating dread accumulated in her chest, and unease steadily spread.

Little Nightingale pressed Qing Shui Ling Yin for more information about Ming Yu but received only sparse details.

“Even if you ask me… from what I know of Ming Yu, she rarely mentions work when talking to familiar people, perhaps to avoid causing worry.”

“I only know that her work is extremely dangerous, with her life constantly at risk.”

“Thinking about it now, my past self was truly laughable. I thought I was trapped in a cage, yet I didn’t realize that was the peace Ming Yu had fought for with her very life.”

Amidst her busy schedule, Qing Shui Ling Yin earnestly answered Little Nightingale’s questions.

An unsettling silence fell between them.

“Meow~ (´• ω •`)”

As if sensing her little owner’s low spirits, Luna couldn’t help but gently rub her small tongue against Little Nightingale’s palm.

But Little Nightingale was too preoccupied to respond.

Whether it was to herself or to Qing Shui Ling Yin, Ming Yu never spoke of her work at home, merely saying there was no need to worry.

‘No need to worry…’

‘Ming Yu cares for me, but she won’t allow me to care for her?’

‘That’s not fair.’

Hugging Luna, Little Nightingale retreated to a corner, silently nursing her unhappiness.

On the third, then the fourth day of Ming Yu’s absence…

The oppression in her chest gradually subsided, but the worry in her heart grew exponentially with each passing day.

On the fifth, then the sixth day of Ming Yu’s absence…

The promised date loomed near.

Little Nightingale continuously wore the communication headset Ming Yu had given her, eager to receive news and hear Ming Yu’s voice the moment it became available.

From the misty dawn, through the sunrise where the thin fog melted away, all the way to dusk, when the setting sun burned across half the sky.

Night fell.

Little Nightingale’s face remained as cold as frost, her posture unchanged from earlier in the day.

Time ticked by, second by agonizing second.

The electronic clock in the room ceaselessly displayed the changing seconds.

[23:59:57]

[23:59:58]

[23:59:59]

[00:00:00]

It was the seventh day of Ming Yu’s absence.