—In life, truly epic and soul-stirring tales are rare; most stories, in fact, are utterly unremarkable.
A minivan crawled through the streets of Worldly Affairs City, moving at a sluggish pace—certainly not at its top speed, perhaps not even a third of it.
Fifth Column sat in the passenger seat, observing the sparse pedestrians scattered along the streets, lost in thought.
He was not a man of many words; when confronted with a problem, his first instinct was often silence rather than intervention—a trait that had undoubtedly contributed to his survival on Taiyin Star.
Fifth Column was a legend, intertwined with all five intelligence systems that comprised the Southern Dipper Star academies. This complex web of connections eventually led him to become the Director of the Southern Dipper Star War Intelligence Bureau. His declassified exploits were often recounted with relish, yet the term ‘legend’ held little meaning for him personally.
In his youth, he had harbored a desire to become a surgeon, much like Mai Tian of Polaris. In his eyes back then, Mai Tian’s identity as a ‘doctor’ far outweighed their identity as a ‘spy’.
However, fate had a cruel twist in store, and his aspirations were thwarted; he ultimately assumed Mai Tian’s other identity: that of a spy.
It was an identity he loathed yet could not refuse. Entangled in the clandestine operations of Zhaoyao Star’s agents on Taiyin Star, he was left with only two choices: serve Zhaoyao Star, or die.
Thus, he became Zhaoyao Star’s embedded intelligence operative on Taiyin Star, initially within civilian organizations, then transitioning into official channels, and finally infiltrating the Taiyin Star Military Communications Bureau, tasked with gathering intelligence on Luoyan Star.
While he was working in a civilian institution, Qiming Star approached him, or rather, set a clever trap that he unwittingly walked into. They were well-prepared, fully aware of his status as a Zhaoyao Star operative. He only discovered later that the Zhaoyao Star agents he had encountered previously were, in fact, operatives turned by Qiming Star.
During the era of the academies, the Southern Five Academies of the Eastern Continent were far from peaceful. Each academy’s capital was a veritable den of spies, constantly probing and sabotaging one another, none willing to concede an inch. In this endless war of deception, Fifth Column was no exception.
He successfully turned an operative sent by Xuan’ge Star to Taiyin Star, using them as bait to ensnare their superior. This revealed the superior’s true identity as an agent turned by Lianzhen Star. Leveraging this, he meticulously constructed an intelligence network that spanned across the Southern Five Academies, reaching as far as Hegu Star, Gouchen Star, Luoyan Star, and Vega.
Step by step, he ascended to become the Taiyin Star Military Communications Bureau’s most invaluable asset, the right-hand man of Director Chi Sanzaii. Yet, every step of this ascent came at a steep price.
Any compromised intelligence network had to be severed swiftly, without a moment’s hesitation.
There could be no leniency towards captured enemy operatives, not even if they had once served him.
In the treacherous battlefield of espionage, he could show no mercy to anyone, nor could he harbor worldly emotions such as attachment, hope, or trust towards any matter.
Amidst countless betrayals and sell-outs, he had long forgotten his initial allegiance. He could serve anyone; conversely, anyone could serve him.
Lost in a vast ocean of intelligence, he was like a child astray, yet he could not break free. He bore the weight of multiple academy intelligence networks, and moreover, for a spy, once an operative, always an operative—no one was exempt from that lifelong entanglement.
He possessed no faith, not because he had lost it through his experiences, but because he had never held any to begin with. He would not pledge undying loyalty to an organization for a belief, dedicating his entire life to it. Furthermore, in this chaotic era, which of the academies he had interacted with truly deserved his ultimate sacrifice?
Everyone was the same, employing dark, cruel, immoral, and inhumane tactics, whether overt or clandestine, to achieve their own interests, ambitions, and selfish desires.
To achieve their ends, no cost was too high, no consequence too severe, no method too unscrupulous.
Yet, in this entire process, he gained nothing but peril.
He found no hedonistic pleasure in wealth, tasted no joy in romance, and experienced not even a sliver of accomplishment.
In Fifth Column’s eyes, all of it was false, unreal. Reality was never beautiful, and he, precisely, lived in that reality.
He was not the Fifth Column of a single academy; he was the Fifth Column of every academy.
Sometimes, there was little distinction between assassins and spies. Historically, well-known assassins were often failed ones, and spies were no exception—Fifth Column, renowned throughout Southern Dipper Star, was certainly no anomaly.
With the defection of a Zhaoyao Star intelligence officer, Taiyin Star learned of Zhaoyao Star’s embedded spies within its Military Communications Bureau. A comprehensive purge was immediately launched, and Fifth Column found himself among those tasked with carrying it out.
He framed, entrapped, and implicated others…
He diverted every gaze that might have fallen upon him towards others. After a devastating purge, he emerged unscathed, while his former colleagues and the expendable intelligence operatives from other academies suffered terribly—many, quite literally, ‘rotted away’ in prison.
He felt no particular emotion regarding Qiming Star’s collapse, merely the loss of an intelligence source and an entity to serve. He was a mere instrument, seeing only utility and being utilized—he had forever forfeited the right to be a doctor.
A doctor with such a mindset would be nothing but a societal scourge, better off non-existent.
With the merger of the Southern Five Academies, Southern Dipper Star emerged onto the historical stage. The intelligence chiefs of the five academies converged in Tingzhou, preparing for reorganization. Their expressions upon meeting were varied: some glared with animosity, others were utterly astonished, or even ecstatic—perhaps they had encountered a long-standing mortal enemy, or discovered that someone was an operative for a past foe, or even reunited with a handler lost for years…
Many of these individuals, Fifth Column was meeting for the first time. Some had even intersected with his own intelligence network, though neither party had been aware of the other’s true identity at the time.
To camouflage oneself, to expose others; to walk in the light like a human, to dwell in shadows like a thief; to bear humiliation like a dog, to bide one’s time like a snake; to appear righteous like a god, to be ruthless and vicious like a demon.
Fifth Column was not originally such a man, but he ultimately became one, and would continue to live as such.
Until, that is, Yan Ling, standing on the stage, exposed his identity.
In that instant, everything he had painstakingly built over decades was laid bare beneath the sun.
Countless eyes turned to him, filled with shock, admiration, and awe, but also resentment, hatred, contempt, and even prolonged silence…
Who could have imagined that the illustrious Fifth Column of the Taiyin Star Military Communications Bureau would be such a man…
Many learned for the first time that the very person they had painstakingly sought to assassinate was, in secret, providing them with intelligence. Conversely, many others discovered that their own intelligence was being leaked by this man they had trusted. He was both the converging sea where all rivers flowed east, and the source from which all waters began.
His appointment as Director of the Strategic Intelligence Bureau seemed to be universally desired, yet also met with an eerie lack of response…
He had achieved what no other intelligence operative could hope to accomplish in a lifetime—simultaneously leading the intelligence operations of all the academies he served.
He was a legend of the Eastern Continent, yet he felt no sense of honor whatsoever. Or rather, he had never possessed honor, nor did he need such a hollow thing.
Shang Bixi glanced sidelong at Fifth Column, observing him still gazing thoughtfully out the window. Her peripheral vision then caught Qu Xishuang in the back seat, who was also looking out the window, appearing quite distracted.
She knew little about this new woman, only that Fifth Column had personally selected her, and she seemed to have some connection to Chi Sanzaii.
But why were both she and Fifth Column so distracted? Fifth Column’s demeanor was somewhat understandable, but the newcomer was clearly supposed to be a guard. Why was she also so absent-minded?
Shang Bixi knew that Qu Xishuang and Fifth Column had shared a room yesterday, but that was merely a close personal guard duty… Even if something had truly transpired, she shouldn’t be so distracted today. She was a guard; a guard should act like one. What kind of impression did it make to be absent-minded throughout the journey?
Glancing into the rearview mirror, she saw the young man behind them vigilantly scanning his surroundings, and she quietly addressed the back seat.
“Yun Feiyang, did you not get enough rest?”
As she spoke, she cast a subtle glance at Fifth Column, and the person in the back immediately understood her implication.
“I don’t know.”
The young man called Yun Feiyang had uneven, flowing braids, with half his face obscured by his tousled hair. He wore a shirt with a yellow tie underneath an ancient-style robe, paired with capri pants and old-fashioned cloth shoes.
He actually had no direct connection to the War Intelligence Bureau; he belonged to the Southern Dipper Star Jianwu Institute. However, due to his exceptionally high combat prowess, he had been selected for the independent observation group, with his primary duty being Fifth Column’s bodyguard.
‘I was originally planning to attend Manager Ren’s wedding. Who knew I’d suddenly be assigned this task? Sigh…’
When Yun Feiyang first saw Qu Xishuang, he was actually quite displeased that her guard status in this operation outranked his. He secretly challenged her to a spar, and the outcome was clear: he was almost beaten into self-imposed isolation.
‘Still, after thinking it over these past few days, those few moves back then were indeed reckless on my part. If I had changed my strategy, I might have won. Once this matter is concluded, I’ll have to challenge her again.’
He instantly grasped Shang Bixi’s meaning. He had indeed served as a guard outside Fifth Column’s door yesterday, but he had no idea what had transpired last night. Seeing these two beside him so distracted in the car, it couldn’t be that a ‘quick shooter’ had encountered a ‘bottomless pit’, could it!
‘That shouldn’t be the case! Qu Xishuang’s strength is above mine, and even after a sleepless night, I’m still full of vigor. There’s no reason she shouldn’t be energetic!’
‘And why is Shang Bixi even concerned about this? Besides Manager Ren, which powerful individual doesn’t have a few lovers? All this time, I’ve suspected Shang Bixi was sent by the Federation to monitor Fifth Column. Otherwise, why would she constantly pay attention to his every move?’
“Don’t let your mind wander.”
Although Fifth Column was still looking out the window, he was perfectly aware of what Shang Bixi and the others were thinking. Qu Xishuang’s cultivation of the ‘Ice Heart Art’ emphasized ‘more stillness, less movement,’ focusing on ‘fewer joys and sorrows,’ ‘fewer words,’ and ‘fewer likes and dislikes’ in one’s temperament. However, these were Qu Xishuang’s private matters, and there was no need to explain them to the others. Fifth Column also had no desire to clarify their wild conjectures; he had long passed the age for enjoying romantic love and carnal pleasures, with only work remaining in his eyes, nothing else.
“Turn around. Head to the Imperial Guard Bureau.”
He subtly turned his head, glancing at Qu Xishuang through the rearview mirror, and saw her still gazing out the window, unmoving.
‘She hasn’t yet adapted to her surroundings. She needs time.’
‘If it weren’t for me, she could have remained uninvolved.’
‘At least, outside of my dangers.’