People always strive for the best of both worlds, yet often achieve nothing at all.
The sun gradually dipped westward, signaling the approach of dusk once more.
It was at this very hour yesterday that I had rebuked Man Huai Zhi in front of everyone. Though my words had severed ties with him, I felt utterly lost about my next steps.
With my individual capabilities, let alone overthrowing Xuanji Star, even killing Man Huai Zhi would prove exceedingly difficult. Even if I possessed steel bones and iron sinews, how many obstacles could I truly crush?
To confront Xuanji Star with mere passion was far too naive. Today, Liana’s words had served as a crucial reminder.
While opposing Xuanji Star through brute force was an impossible feat for her personally, she could challenge them through other means. She could expose everything Xuanji Star sought to conceal, erase, or even glorify.
Indeed, anything the enemy tried to evade would become a potent weapon against them.
Previously, her attention to the matters Liana spoke of had been superficial, limited only to what was displayed in the memorial hall. She had virtually no understanding of the intricate details, and it was imperative that she delve deeper into these subjects in the future.
Even though Vega had suffered defeat, Xuanji Star could not be permitted to unilaterally deny the historical facts that had already transpired.
To this end, she borrowed Liana’s photographs once more, engaging her in conversation about some of the images.
Liana was more than willing to answer her questions. It was always good when someone cared enough to focus on history that would eventually be forgotten, and this was the very motivation that fueled her efforts.
‘To hide suffering and then beautify it was a profound disrespect to those who had endured it.’
‘This held true without exception, whether it was concealing the true casualties of war or masking societal injustices.’
‘These were all tactics employed by the ruling class to forge stability and maintain their dominion. It was remarkably rare for the police force, a violent institution tasked with defending the ruling class’s interests, to accept such contradictory narratives, though, paradoxically, these very contradictions could also be exploited by the ruling class itself.’
‘No matter how unreasonable a matter, once institutionalized by the ruling class, it would inevitably become exceptionally rationalized.’
The power of subtle influence was terrifying, for only a select few could truly brave the raging storms, pushing against the wind and upstream.
Ke Yiyi gazed at the old photographs taken before the war. Even across the chasm of time and space, she could sense the prosperity and tranquility of that era.
There were images of students participating in shooting training, and others showing them at summer camps. Ke Yiyi noticed that the girls possessed two sets of school uniforms: one with a short skirt and one with a long skirt.
Since the skirts worn by the students in each photograph were not uniform, it suggested one was a summer uniform and the other a fall uniform. From the pictures, it was evident that the children had varying interpretations of the seasons.
Ke Yiyi turned her head, looking towards Yunhua Middle School. Everything in those photographs had long since faded into a distant past.
After enduring the bloodshed and turmoil of the World War, how many of those children depicted had survived to see this day?
“Only about one-twentieth survived,” Liana explained. “They were mainly the younger students who escaped Sixty-One Workers City during the initial evacuation.”
“As for the older students who remained… only a handful made it out alive.”
Liana had discerned Ke Yiyi’s unspoken question. Ke Yiyi simply shook her head, accustomed to having her thoughts so easily perceived.
“Why weren’t the locals evacuated beforehand?”
Ke Yiyi, unfamiliar with military strategy, believed that once war erupted, the local population should be evacuated as swiftly as possible. She wondered why, even as Xuanji Star attacked Sixty-One Workers City, the locals had not yet been moved to safety.
“Because it was impossible.”
“Hmm?”
“But our transportation network is clearly so advanced!”
“Evacuating a population isn’t merely a simple matter of transportation,” Liana clarified. “It involves many complex factors.”
Liana gestured towards the road before them.
“Firstly, due to wartime controls, much information pertaining to military intelligence is selectively released to the public and often delayed. You should understand this aspect.”
Seeing Ke Yiyi nod, Liana continued.
“Consequently, it’s often impossible to react promptly. Where the enemy has advanced, or where they intend to strike next—these are all military secrets. Not only are local governments unaware, but even many soldiers fighting in the war remain uninformed.”
“Secondly, following the defeats in two major battles, the transportation system was already operating under extreme strain. This was due to the evacuation of civilians from the northern Cloud Mountain Peninsula and even further north in Yingzhou, coupled with the mass relocation of industries southward, and the deployment and transport of military personnel and supplies.”
“According to the established priorities, areas like Sixty-One Workers City, which had not yet been attacked, were placed lower on the list.”
“Finally, due to a scarcity of intelligence and the rapid advance of Xuanji Star’s forces, by the time Vega realized this area was Xuanji Star’s next target, the enemy was already perilously close. Although their offensive momentum was delayed, buying crucial time for a large number of troops to assemble here, the Cloud Mountain Peninsula lacked strategic depth.”
“The reinforcement of troops became akin to a futile ‘adding oil to the fire’ tactic. Ultimately, Sixty-One Workers City still fell, and managing to evacuate even a portion of the personnel was the absolute limit. For this, gratitude is owed to the soldiers who sacrificed their lives to slow the enemy’s advance.”
“Don’t be sad,” Liana continued. “While it’s brutal that ‘soldiers must sacrifice their lives to delay the enemy’s advance,’ that is precisely a soldier’s duty.”
“From the moment one becomes a soldier, it is predestined that they might lose their life in a war that could erupt at any time, anywhere. To enlist with the expectation of surviving to retirement is a profound irresponsibility towards one’s own life.”
Ke Yiyi remained silent, her gaze fixed on Liana. She believed that if Liana were required to sacrifice her life, she would do so without a moment’s hesitation.
‘But… must there always be war? Is it truly impossible to avoid conflict?’
Sixty-One Workers City boasted a multitude of factories. The ubiquitous subway stations and related road infrastructure throughout the city also attested to its past prosperity.
While it lacked the bustling opulence of a commercial metropolis, it exuded the thriving vitality of an industrial hub.
This style was quite distinctive. According to Ke Yiyi’s understanding, the wage levels in such industrial cities were generally higher than in many commercial metropolises.
As a Vega detective, her basic monthly salary was 40,000 Xinv Coins. Due to her seniority at Phase 3, she received an additional 3,000 Xinv Coins in seniority pay.
In contrast, the basic salaries for workers in Misty Cold Water City and Heavy Cloud Veiled Sun City typically exceeded 60,000 to 80,000 Xinv Coins. Their seniority pay was also considerably higher than hers.
Although Sixty-One Workers City was not currently under Vega’s control, its industrial projects and scale could be inferred from comparable cities.
At this thought, Ke Yiyi couldn’t help but shake her head. If she hadn’t been transferred to the police force, in another year, she would have reached Senior Phase 4, earning an additional 1,000 Xinv Coins in seniority pay.
Nevertheless, it was all the same regardless of her location. Whether in the police force or The Robin Club, these were tasks she had to complete.
Moreover, her current position at The Robin Club maintained the basic salary level she had received in the police force.
Ke Yiyi, by nature, had little concept of money, and therefore rarely concerned herself with the exact figures of her basic salary. Furthermore, living on Vega didn’t require much expenditure.
Among the eleven current members of The Robin Club, Enfinietta and Harshi commanded the highest basic salaries. Harshi’s monthly basic salary was 120,000 Xinv Coins, while Enfinietta received 250,000 Xinv Coins.
The lowest earner was Gan Lan, with a mere 16,000 Xinv Coins in basic salary, making Enfinietta’s basic salary more than fifteen times hers.
However, this comparison was somewhat nitpicky, as Enfinietta’s basic salary was already among the highest on Vega. Even the Vega Dean’s basic salary didn’t amount to half of hers.
****
Midway along their path, Ke Yiyi encountered Cui Wei from Polaris once more. He was inquiring about where to purchase ingredients, his demeanor casual but not impolite.
‘Perhaps that very casualness was what Polaris people considered ‘amiable’?’
Ke Yiyi didn’t know the answer. She only knew that she should keep her distance from officials of a dictatorial regime, even if he had helped her yesterday.
Still, the proper courtesies had to be observed, for he had rendered significant assistance, despite the outcome not being ideal.
Polaris had exchanged the captured individual for the girl, but the girl had ultimately died. Now, Polaris had no way to recapture the person they had traded.
She thanked him for his actions yesterday, but he dismissed it nonchalantly. It was as if he felt Polaris had done nothing, and thus saw no reason for someone from Vega to express gratitude.
‘Ke Yiyi couldn’t fathom why the Polaris people would purchase ingredients separately. Were they concerned that Xuanji Star might poison them?’
In any case, the Polaris people were a strange lot, and it was better to keep one’s distance. Their sole distinction from Xuanji Star was that they hadn’t killed anyone from Vega.
As the two women approached the hotel, they witnessed a colossal statue being lifted from the ground.
Xuanji Star first secured the statue to ensure its stability, then slowly lowered it with a crane. Finally, two ‘Wind Lord’ helicopters lifted the statue from both ends, transporting it away smoothly.
In reality, it was impossible to transport it solely by helicopter for the entire journey. The surrounding terrain was simply too complex for vehicle transport. Once they cleared this area, it would likely be loaded onto a truck.
Although this method incurred significant costs, Xuanji Star had no other choice.
Given Long Xiao’s almost deified historical status within Xuanji Star, even at exorbitant expense, Xuanji Star could not leave the statue to Vega. This was especially true in the current context of territorial exchange.
A group of Academy observers stood on the plaza in front of the hotel, staring at the scene. Some remained silent, others wore expressions of worry, while still others showed disdain.
Yet, regardless of their reactions, Xuanji Star would not halt its actions.
The statue was meticulously crafted. Though the setting sun’s glow obscured the exact features, Long Xiao’s silhouette was distinctly visible, cloaked in a greatcoat, standing tall.
His head gazed forward, one arm extended as if pointing the way, the other clasped behind his back, as if proclaiming his grand ambitions to the heavens and earth.
However, as the statue was lowered and hoisted away, Ke Yiyi felt it resembled a living person about to be placed in a coffin. His outstretched arm seemed to struggle, desperate to utter a sound, yet unable to produce even a single note.
No matter how great an individual, when their time came to depart, they could only fall and be carried away.
Long Xiao’s statue steadily moved westward, fading into the sunset’s afterglow, much like a body being transported.
All suns must set, and even the revered Eastern Continent Black Sun, worshipped by countless, was no exception.