Those who hold a blade to your throat, threatening you with words, are, in truth, the benevolent ones. For the truly wicked never resort to mere threats; they act directly.
****
The Xuanji Star army was exceptionally well-trained, to the point where calling them the most elite army in the history of the Eastern Continent would not be an exaggeration. Under the glaring sunlight, every soldier stood as rigidly as ancient pines, as if even the collapse of a mountain before them would fail to make them waver. They gazed forward, unmoving, their uniform cloaks fluttering in the wind to reveal the crimson lining within, resembling a row of perfectly aligned flagpoles, with their cloaks acting as crimson war banners unfurling and ascending, like the sun at its zenith.
If these were merely ordinary old-world soldiers, it would be one thing. Yet, these were players, and there were few organizations across the entire celestial sphere capable of instilling such discipline in players; Xuanji Star was undoubtedly one of them.
While often compared to Polaris, both boasted their own strengths. In terms of discipline, Polaris could not compare to Xuanji Star—one maintained strict military order, the other embraced an overbearing style. It was no wonder these two had joined forces during the Great War to conquer the entire Eastern Continent. But times had changed; that was nearly twenty years ago…
Today, Xuanji Star and Polaris were sworn enemies… irreconcilable to the last.
Though they called each other sworn enemies, the reality was somewhat different. Under the ‘Saint Rosbul System,’ the Eastern Continent maintained a delicate balance. No one wished to ignite a war, nor to bear its catastrophic consequences, for the events of twenty years ago were still vivid in memory… The countless orphans and widows… the shattered remnants of cities…
A thousand miles of scorched earth, a million corpses. People died like pigs and dogs, then were discarded in unnamed fields to be scavenged by beasts. Precisely because no one dared to fire the first shot, Cui Wei never held back his words against Xuanji Star—even if he cursed Long Xiao’s ancestors eighteen generations back, Xuanji Star had to endure it. They dared not ignite another world war over a few insults to their forebears.
If they, too, were shameless, they could easily hurl insults back. Yet, they were all respectable figures, putting on airs, too concerned with appearances to stoop to such levels—otherwise, how did Shangguan Ming verbally berate Zhu Qian to his death in the *Records of the Three Dynasties’ Chaos*?
The elder scanned the sky, observing a butterfly larger than his palm soaring upwards on the wind, and couldn’t help but smile faintly.
“Old Li, what are you smiling at?”
“Nothing, Old Cui. I just saw a butterfly fly into the sky.”
“Perhaps it’s off to appeal to the benevolent heavens?”
Cui Wei grinned sideways, squatting in the corner, drawing an ‘乂’. Though it was just a simple ‘乂’ symbol, when drawn by someone from Polaris, it was difficult not to read more into it. This symbol didn’t always look like this; in the past, it had two vertical lines above it, resembling an ox head. It was the symbol of the Duoyang tribe, its specific meaning unknown. The war banners of the former Apoklie Khan bore this symbol, and it was carved into the felt tents of the Duoyang people. It was essentially a universal symbol, later widely adopted by Polaris. However, even then, it was merely a universal symbol, devoid of its current terrifying implications.
Since the Polaris Dean’s second ascent to power, the ‘乂’ symbol in Polaris had become a complete synonym for ‘death.’ Every site of a massacre would be covered with ‘乂’ symbols, and even Polaris’s new academy banner bore the ‘乂’ symbol—it was why the outside world called them lunatics.
Crooked Li stood beside him, glancing sideways at Cui Wei. Though their relationship seemed intimate, they hadn’t known each other for long. Cui Wei was an affable sort, familiar with everyone, so Crooked Li had to constantly play along.
Moreover, Cui Wei’s words were sometimes sarcastic and cryptic, and Crooked Li dared not chime in without permission, fearing he might stir up unnecessary trouble. In these times, it was better to avoid trouble than to seek it, especially regarding matters related to the Academy of Sciences; knowing too much brought no benefits. The ‘乂’ on the ground, though casually scratched out with a branch and easily erased with the sole of a shoe, made Crooked Li’s body involuntarily tremble with just a glance.
As the founder of the ‘Azure Bamboo Society,’ Crooked Li believed he had experienced hundreds of skirmishes and major battles in his life—from gang wars to single-handedly facing multitudes. He had seen much, but these paled in comparison to the World War unleashed by Polaris… like a pebble tossed into the ocean, incapable of even creating a ripple. The scenes, once witnessed, remained fresh in his memory, no matter how many years passed. Bodies piled higher than mountains… numerous enough to fill deep valleys… Red ‘乂’ markings covered mountains and plains, and skulls were stacked layer upon layer into ‘jingguan’—pyramids of heads. The western part of Xuliang Star became a vast swamp… houses collapsed… corpses floated for a thousand miles… The scene was indescribably tragic… Even he, a man of meager literary skill, found himself utterly bereft of words to describe such an unprecedented catastrophe. Compared to the mortal realm, the Yellow Springs, the Underworld, King Yama—all were mere self-deceiving fantasies of mortals. Polaris was thousands upon thousands of times more terrifying than King Yama.
From that moment on, he had completely succumbed to the terror unleashed by Polaris. When Polaris sought him out, not only did he not resist, but the very thought of escape vanished… His body completely beyond his control, he could only nod and bow profusely, agreeing to pledge his loyalty to Polaris. He remembered once being a man of strong principles, but alas, what good were principles? Xuliang Star had been so principled, yet wasn’t it still massacred across its length and breadth by Polaris?
A Polaris observer approached Cui Wei, squatting beside him and muttering something unintelligible. This person’s appearance was vastly different from the Blaze Clan, and Crooked Li couldn’t tell if they were Duoyang people or some foreign devils. Crooked Li didn’t understand a single word they said, only catching ‘Darangulagch’ (дарангуйлагч)—a term Polaris people loved to use, meaning ‘Polaris Dean.’ Not only did the foreign tribes constantly speak of ‘Darangulagch,’ but even some from the Blaze Clan occasionally used the term to mock their Dean. When they were happy, they praised the Dean; when displeased, they scolded him, like scolding a dog.
Though he had never met the man in person, his photo was ubiquitous. No matter how Crooked Li looked at it, he saw only an ordinary person, someone who couldn’t be said to look vastly different from the ‘Darangulagch’ who had ordered the slaughter of millions… it was more accurate to say they looked entirely unrelated. Crooked Li didn’t understand… Ever since joining Polaris, he felt he had never truly understood anything. This Polaris Dean had killed tens of millions of opponents during his reign; almost every household had lost someone to him. So why did the Polaris people support such a man? Even if the Polaris people were so utterly deluded as to support their Dean, why did they scold him daily? If they disliked this Dean, why not overthrow him? Replace him with someone better?
He truly didn’t understand… or perhaps Polaris was simply beyond the comprehension of a man of the jianghu like him. Seeing the person hand a portable phone to Cui Wei before quickly departing, Crooked Li felt a knot of unease in his heart.
He didn’t understand the intricacies of the Academy of Sciences, but he could grasp what was currently happening. Cui Wei intended to exchange an important figure for that young girl. Leaving aside whether it was a fair trade, the critical point was that this character exchange, much like territory exchanges, was to occur at two separate locations. This introduced many uncertainties. What if they released their person, but the other side refused to release theirs? With thousands of miles separating them, and only phone communication, there was no guarantee that something wouldn’t go wrong. He had encountered such situations when he was a gang leader, though it was always the other party who suffered—in essence, he had outsmarted others.
“Crooked Li, you seem quite nervous!” Cui Wei said, tilting his head with a laugh.
“Don’t be tense; we’re not here for a fight, just a simple exchange.”
“Old Cui, it’s impossible not to be nervous. What if something goes wrong?”
Though he didn’t wish to meddle, Crooked Li still reminded Cui Wei, preventing any potential blame from falling on him later—officials have always been fond of shirking responsibility.
“No problem at all. They’re probably already there; let me ask!” Cui Wei chuckled, shouting into the phone.
—Ma Dabashi, how’s the person doing now?
—He’s already at the Bridge of No Return. Xuanji Star’s side arrived pretty quickly too! Probably just plainclothes agents from the ‘Neutral Zone’ who changed their attire and emerged.
Crooked Li was startled; Cui Wei had the phone volume so high that it could be heard clearly even ten meters away. He glanced around. While some people occasionally turned their heads towards Cui Wei, they quickly turned away, pretending as if nothing was amiss. Heaven knew if they were feigning indifference, secretly listening intently. But Cui Wei remained unmoved as a mountain, continuing to question the other side of the call.
—I’m asking about the boy. Is he still alive? If he breathes his last, the exchange will be for naught! At least keep him clinging to life; let him die after he’s handed over to Xuanji Star, not while he’s in our custody.
—He’s perfectly fine. The boy’s all slumped and dejected, probably thinking we’re about to quarter him alive! But the moment he saw the Xuanji Star people, he got so excited he nearly wet himself!
—Alright! Then release him precisely on time.
At this, Cui Wei glanced at the Xuanji Star people in the distance and suddenly lowered his voice.
—Did you bring those ‘treasures’ I asked you to bring?
—Brought them, brought them! They’re getting into position now.
—Excellent. If anyone tries to play tricks on me, I’ll slaughter the son of a b*tch.
Cui Wei put down the phone and looked at the astonished Crooked Li, bursting into laughter. “Don’t worry, Crooked Li! This is just our Polaris style! We play with all our cards face up, unafraid of anyone listening. We’re righteously exchanging a petty thief who stole lightbulbs for a bullied little girl. Who wouldn’t give us a thumbs up when word gets out? Then we’ll also become his damn land of civility! Hahahaha!”
As Cui Wei spoke, he watched the Xuanji Star contingent with a triumphant look, emphasizing the pronunciation of ‘his damn land of civility,’ clearly with barbed words and hidden mockery. Crooked Li forced a smile, his heart, however, was as clear as a mirror. As for Polaris’s reputation… even if they performed a thousand acts of rescue every day, day after day, it still wouldn’t erase the infamy brought by Polaris’s countless atrocities. He had once thought that human morality was like a stone on a mountain; no matter how fast it accelerated downwards, it would only fall to the ground. Who could have imagined that with Polaris, below the ground lay a cellar, and beneath that cellar, hell itself? Still, it was enough for him to simply force a smile; he absolutely must not chime in, and he should avoid offending the Xuanji Star people as much as possible, as a way to leave himself an escape route.