Amidst the melancholy of a world burdened with too many troubles, Lei Ting re-evaluated his short-term plans and reached out to sense Evenheiler’s status.
The man and the resistance were still on their original course and had not suffered any major damage. This allowed him to relax slightly—though their stances differed, how could logic ever truly suppress worry?
Only... that embryo, which he had been barely able to perceive last time, had vanished.
Lei Ting sat cross-legged in the small, empty metallic space, staring blankly for a moment at the alloy cube patrolling automatically before his eyes. After a long while, he suddenly sighed.
He had to admit that, for a brief moment, he had become vulnerable.
Only for a brief moment, he told himself.
He knew that group was nearing the borders of the Human Federation. Even without a god’s-eye view map to consult, he knew almost every star sector of the Federation by heart. Over the years, as he built his unmanned fleets and stockpiled his alloy weapons, he naturally required raw materials. Consequently, he had carefully screened barren, unclaimed planets within and outside the Federation where natural conditions made the existence of an "ecosphere" impossible, sending his automated mining fleets to harvest those resources.
In the process, he also handled public security, broad strategic decisions, and military educational systems. This forced him to memorize every block of the Federation’s 3D star charts, as well as the orbital changes that would occur over the past and next ten years.
He grew increasingly familiar with the Federation’s star charts, and the various planets and their local cultures naturally became etched in his mind. But the more he knew, the more he remembered... and the less he smiled.
Ever since he had learned from the "Imperial Blade" that planets might harbor hidden monsters, the smile had almost completely vanished from his face. He could clearly distinguish that there were at least five hundred planets within the Federation hiding such dangers. Beyond that, there were traces of those things in over a hundred space stations built on asteroids.
He even knew that the Consortium’s army had arrived. The unregistered interstellar civilization jurisdictions known as the "Dark Zones" lay just outside the Federation’s borders. Although no one on the Ring World had died because of Lei Ting himself—neither directly nor indirectly—under the drive of "Copper," it was using the banner of demanding an explanation from Lei Ting on behalf of the victims to submit an entry application to the Federation.
If refused, the entire Human Federation would be placed on a sanctions list.
When the Federation was suffering, they stood by with folded arms, offering every kind of help except actual assistance. Now, for some reason, they were mobilizing troops and daring to challenge him. Having been rooted in the Ring World for so many years... the influence of "Copper" and the civilization behind it on the Consortium had become a terminal illness.
Inside, there were planets hiding xenobeasts, stars hiding giant beasts, and systems hiding traitors; outside, a great army was pressing in. What were internal and external woes? This was the very definition of them.
And in Lei Ting’s memories, the future held so many of these troubles that on paper, they would require a second-order matrix just to describe.
"Last time," some of these problems had been solved by him, and some had not. Because back then, in the early stages, he still cared about reputation and morality, causing him to lose many opportunities...
...and he had lost Evenheiler.
Evenheiler Kahn—the gentle, non-blinding sun in his heart.
If the stars were distant suns, then Evenheiler was their incarnation. Lei Ting knew that the man never truly considered himself a sun, nor did he think of himself as a god. He was a man, an ordinary person, perhaps a lucky one whose career matched his studies. His greatest stroke of luck was falling in love with someone in this world.
But... Lei Ting had killed that person.
Killing his mutated lover with his own hands—when this memory resurfaced from the depths of his consciousness, even he wavered for a brief moment.
From afar, Lei Ting "watched" Evenheiler.
Iron, calcium, magnesium... those metallic elements he was so familiar with moved within a body that was equally familiar. Even for an "S-class," that body was not entirely pure—no human could be entirely pure. At that moment, he was leaning over to scoop up a handful of water to wash the sweat from his face.
Nowadays, Lei Ting rarely sweated, just as he rarely needed to eat or drink. But Evenheiler was not like that. His handsome blond man still had a life to live, whereas he... in ancient times, he might have been accused of not even being human.
Lei Ting lowered his head deeply.
A fragmented and blurry memory told him that when Evenheiler’s father had once tried to modify his gender for selfish reasons, although the procedure was never actually carried out due to Esengard’s intervention... that period of time had still caused Evenheiler immense harm.
This pain, etched into the depths of his soul, combined with later excessive suppression and the abuse of inhibitors, had created a constitution for Evenheiler that was somewhat strange compared to ordinary S-classes. He was as sensitive as a typical Omega, more prone to conception, lacking in endurance, easily hurt, and every upheaval in his memory had a profound impact on him.
Why did Lei Ting know all this?
Because these memories—these recollections so painful he didn't even want to remember too much of them—came from the man’s shattered "spiritual thoughts" at the moment Lei Ting killed him.
*From that day on, my lover surrounded me in the form of a glimmer of starlight.*
*He no longer possessed that freedom I had resented before the catastrophe; he was forever within my light... yet I would rather he were not here.*
In the future, the thirty-something Lei Ting had thought this, and he thought the same at three hundred.
Therefore, the current Lei Ting—whose self-perception was merely "twenty-six years old, male, a superpower user surnamed Lei, who wants to go traveling or find a place to plant fruit trees and squeeze juice to drink"—was also uncontrollably affected.
On one hand, he wanted to keep Evenheiler by his side so the man could receive proper treatment; on the other hand...
When the other man escaped, weakened yet still full of vitality, what rose in his heart was not a sense of loss, but relief.
*At this point in time, at least you are still alive.*
For this reason, he had let the man go time and again, allowing him to flee his control and go to the place where he truly felt he belonged.
Lei Ting hung his head and closed his eyes, shaping an optical computer terminal peripheral in his hand. He logged into his account and waited for an inevitable communication, using this small window of time to ponder this "private matter."
This game of cat and mouse could not continue forever. If he could not completely solve the "Degeneration," he at least had to solve Evenheiler’s health issues. He had constructed dozens of concepts for this, only to tear them down one by one.
Evenheiler’s situation was too unique.
He was an "S-class," which meant general medical treatments were completely ineffective on him.
His superpower organs were damaged, which meant any intervention could not be entirely forceful.
He was an atypical Omega whose physical condition was closely tied to his hormones, which meant Lei Ting even had to try his best to regulate his own pheromones to prevent any issues.
"...Sigh."
Even with the brain of a "Limit-Breaker," Lei Ting still hadn't found a suitable answer beyond a certain final fallback measure.
Was he supposed to go and tell Evenheiler that he had returned from a future even more desperate than the present, and that if they didn't solve the internal troubles early to resist the external threats, everyone was finished?
Don't be ridiculous. Shane had told Lei Ting this because, in Shane’s eyes, he was powerful enough to be nearly omnipotent—even though he had still failed. But Lei Ting knew better than anyone that, at least for now, Evenheiler could not help with this matter and would only become more anxious because of it.
Lei Ting shook his head, looking down at the ID belonging to "Enan Valen" in his star-net contact list, and pulled another question from his mental database.
Right now, Lei Ting could protect the Federation... but the Federation could not endure long-term relying solely on Lei Ting. No race could survive relying only on the strength of a single vanguard, a single spearhead, and a single nuclear bomb.
And a disaster that heralded a continuous war was about to begin.
This disaster would cause the Consortium to split, the integrity of the galactic surface to vanish, and the galaxy would truly begin to burn. Everything watching humanity from the shadows would begin to have its hands full with its own affairs.
And during this disaster, the Federation had to reclaim its former will.
Or rather, humanity had to produce more warriors from within its ranks—more people willing to use courage, strength, and even their lives to protect their compatriots. Only then could this race climb over the mountain pass before them and reach a more open future.
All of this was not the beginning of the end, but the beginning of the beginning.
The galaxy was a pool of rot; the momentum of decay had never changed from ancient times to the future. Everyone had to do their utmost to protect themselves within it and reach into the mud to dig out the bronze slips that recorded the true past.
The truth of history—or rather, the information regarding those four series of experiments... was very important. Only by tracing the past could one forge the future.
And in this process, the Federation had to possess a means of rapid collective spatial transfer. The existing system of stargates and beacons was too backward; it was fundamentally incapable of manipulating the strength of the entire territory as easily as moving one's own arm. This was why the Federation had begun to contract its defensive lines so easily—not just because of a lack of manpower, but also because the distances were simply too great and stargates were prone to collapsing under attack.
Lei Ting’s own method of rapid transfer was not universally applicable. During his transit, the pressure an individual would endure was enough to cause uncontrollable deformation in any current military-grade material. He could not provide this technology for implementation across the entire federal transportation system because, while ensuring speed, it had no room for further optimization of comfort. If ordinary people were to use it, human lives would inevitably have to be used as fuel...
At least for now, the situation in the galaxy hadn't rotted to the level where people needed to do that.
Lei Ting lightly tapped the casing of the optical computer in his hand, lost in thought. Regarding this, the Federation had actually established a project nearly a hundred years ago, but it was later shut down due to the influence of hard constraints and some unknown reasons.
Now, after a century of technological and resource stockpiling...
...perhaps the project for this technology should be restarted. Lei Ting thought.
At the same time, a string of notification tones for an incoming emergency communication rang out from his hand. Lei Ting looked at the fully transparent screen of the optical computer peripheral.
As expected, the one calling was not the Federation Council—they were likely still bickering with the people from the Consortium.
The communication account displayed on the screen was "The Principal."
***
