Beyond the Zenith

From Lao Jian’s perspective, the two matters hanging over him could both be considered settled. The merit and the fault roughly canceled each other out, so there was neither a loss nor a gain. It was just that he had inexplicably offended Li Wangqiang in the process.

On the other hand, he had also brought the Coalition an honest kid named Han Qingyu. In fact, judging from today’s “interrogation,” the kid was, if anything, a touch too honest.

Even Regiment Commander Li Wangqiang felt sorry for him. He also couldn’t help but lament the fact that the kid hadn’t thrown in a line or two for show. Something like, “I’d rather die than stand by and watch them harm my future comrades,” or “For the sake of everyone still drawing breath in the Azure,” and so on.

This would’ve pleased the higher-ups more, upping both their generosity and willingness to hold him up as a model.

Instead, he just had to say that he was only seventy percent sure, that if he’d had a choice, he would have kept on hiding, and that he’d only wanted to survive. This made it hard to hold him up as a model.

Although the situation was regrettable, Li Wangqiang couldn’t help but like the kid for his honesty. After all, he himself had been a country boy of the honest sort, also threatened and tricked into joining.

He only hoped that the kid’s integration level test would come back with a B-rank or above. That would be perfect.

Lao Jian also felt that Han Qingyu had been too honest during the questioning; even the things the kid said about him were objectively true.

But he’s clearly got a cunning to him. Ugh, what have I been doing? Why do I keep doing things that get me in trouble?! he lamented.

Platoon Leader Lao mulled it over and decided he couldn’t stay at the base any longer. If he did, one day he could inexplicably find himself owing Han Qingyu a third great debt. If that happened, where was he supposed to find a daughter to give?

In short, his best course of action was to hurry back to the front lines of the Witnesses and win back the dignity of a university physics teacher.

There was a reason Lao Jian always either ended up getting knocked into the air or coughing up blood. He was committed to holding the front head-on.

He wrote up his request to rejoin his unit on the spot and submitted it to the army. All he had to do next was wait.

While he waited for the approval to rejoin his unit, Lao Jian was also anticipating the higher-ups’ final verification and grade determination of Han Qingyu’s merit.

“How could you not be curious?” Lao Jian said, hashing it out with Regiment Commander Li and several advisors in the office. “A great merit like this among the new recruits... There hasn’t been one in many years, right?”

“Mm, in any case, once the review’s done, the medal’s a sure thing.” Li Wangqiang paused in brief thought. “It’s just a question of which tier it’ll be.”

There were only five tiers to the Azure Guardian Medal.

The lowest, the Iron Azure Guardian Medal, could be assessed and conferred at the army level, so it was relatively more common. The Bronze and Silver Medals required the Oriental Republic Coalition Council to approve them in person. Finally, the Gold and the Starlight Medals both required the International Coalition Council to personally approve and confer them.

There had always been those in the Coalition with gripes that their medals were overly hard to come by. Basically, they were seen as ‌stingy.

After all, a single Azure Guardian Medal meant a great deal. The salary and the bonus points on rank assessments were actually secondary. The most important was actually the source energy allowance beyond combat needs.

The Azure Coalition’s source energy distribution system consisted of two parts.

The first was for combat needs. Soldiers normally tallied and reported their combat consumption once a month. The higher-ups reviewed it, and the supply depots replenished it.

The second was for various allowances, such as the essential-post allowance, the annual rank allowance, and the tier-based fixed allowance for holders of the Azure Guardian Medal.

Of these, the non-combat allowances could be used for the daily nourishing and tempering of the body, or for special training, making it vital for the growth of one’s personal foundation and strength.

“No telling what color that kid will end up with, either,” said someone in the office.

“Mm. Anyway, if they only give him an iron one, I’m definitely going to go make a scene at the army,” Li Wangqiang said, tone as if daring them to wrong his son.

The Regiment Lead Advisor laughed. “And what if he ends up with a valuable one?”

This was a tongue-in-cheek saying about the Azure Guardian Medal that had taken shape within the Coalition over the years, born of envy and jealousy. It went something like this: “Rusty iron and scrap bronze are worthless; only silver and gold are worth anything.”

It was usually the non-medal holders who used it to joke around and needle people. The Regiment Lead Advisor was intentionally using it to give Regiment Commander Li and Lao Jian a hard time.

Lao Jian couldn’t help but think of his own two pieces of black iron, which he had earned the hard way by always holding the front head-on all these years.

Li Wangqiang also silently tallied his one bronze and three iron medals.

If the kid really did receive a valuable one... then by the Coalition’s system of etiquette, the two of them, the platoon leader and the regiment lead advisor, would have to salute first during future special occasions where they met wearing their medals.

“Hey,” one of the staff officers suddenly interrupted their despairing trains of thought. “The fact that he didn’t touch any of the spoils at all... Do you all think that adds up?”

Lao Jian scoffed, getting worked up. “How does it not add up?! What do you think he should have taken? Energy cores, or a device? Did he even understand them at the time? What use would taking them have been to him?!”

The staff officer colored in embarrassment.

Huh? Why am I defending him again?! Platoon Leader Lao inwardly sighed, hurriedly raising a hand to apologize to his old acquaintance for the outburst. I’m getting all muddled up again.

Others chimed in as well.

“Well, the kid was scared. He said so himself.”

“Right, and he actually did take the most useful things for him, the knife and the awl, to defend himself. It was only out of fear that he later put them back. I hear that matches the higher-ups’ on-site trace analysis perfectly.”

Almost everyone came to his defense. After all, this was Regiment 425’s own kid.

“All right, there’s no need to keep explaining. Little Liu just said it off the cuff; there’s absolutely no problem with any of this. And actually, we should all count ourselves lucky he didn’t take anything,” Regiment Commander Li Wangqiang said with a smile, deliberately pausing to keep them in suspense.

Everyone’s eyes flicked over to him.

“Think about it. The kid didn’t understand any of it. If he really had taken something, let’s say, the detonator for the mine array, and maybe he pressed it a few times while in that ditch...”

This scenario was extreme, but it really was a little chilling in hindsight.

“If we hadn’t been lucky, one boom and you’d have been gone.” Regiment Commander Li turned to look at Lao Jian and added pointedly, “You see? This counts as a life-sparing favor too.”

Can you really do that? Force a debt of gratitude like this?! Lao Jian was nearly driven out of his mind.

***

Outside the base training ground stood a three-story building, set aside specifically for the instructors to live in so they could observe the training at any time.

Head Instructor Zhang Dao’an’s office was on the second floor.

Wen Jifei passed by below. As Little Qing had been called away, he had wandered around on his own for a bit before heading over to the training ground for their next training session.

Zhang Dao’an leaned out of an upstairs window and called to him, “Hey, you. Recruit.”

Wen Jifei heard him, but he pretended he hadn’t, and kept walking.

“Hey, you, plague soldier.” Zhang Dao’an’s tongue slipped.

Wen Jifei picked up the pace.

“Recruit Wen Jifei,” Zhang Dao’an hurriedly corrected. “Attention! Turn around. Head up.”

Called out by name, Wen Jifei could no longer feign obliviousness and could only comply, saluting up at the second floor with a sheepish grin. “Hello, Head Instructor Zhang. You called for me?”

“Right, don’t play dumb with me, kid. You did that on purpose,” Zhang Dao’an said with a smile, seeming to be in an unusually good mood. “I knew you’d run before I even called you.”

“Is that right?” Wen Jifei saluted again, this time somewhat cheekily. “It’s my honor not to have let the Head Instructor down.”

Zhang Dao’an was stunned for a beat. “You seem pretty pleased about it. Why?”

“Head Instructor, you figured I’d run, and sure enough, I ran, exactly as you expected!” Wen Jifei loudly declared with the full, spirited bearing a soldier ought to have. “I figure this probably counts as a kind of obedience, too!”