Beyond the Zenith

Spindle-shaped aircraft equals a metal source energy core.

For Han Qingyu, this was a devastatingly tempting equation.

This path, and possibly his entire future, had started with a single dark metal chunk the size of a broad bean—that, and Blood Gourd Boy.[1]

There was no energy core in a Sharpie’s body. Or at least, the one he had just killed didn’t have one. He had gritted his teeth through the pain and groped around inside the dust cloud, only to come up empty.

A spindle-shaped aircraft, though, almost certainly contained one.

Why else would they have recalled Blood Gourd Boy to the regimental headquarters for isolation and investigation when his platoon couldn’t find one?

Those things were worth thirty or forty blue crystal cores and could even be absorbed instantly, though both factors were actually secondary to Han Qingyu. For him, the most important thing was that the relatively purer source energy from a metal core acted directly on the body.

If blue crystal cores were primarily useful for bursts of power in combat, with only a small portion being absorbed by the body to gradually improve baseline physical ability, then a metal core did almost the exact opposite. It worked entirely on building the body’s foundation.

That foundation was critical in the long run.

So the moment he heard the second lieutenant from Platoon 1123 mention the aircraft, Han Qingyu’s mind snapped wide awake. He struggled to roll over and listen, but with everyone clustered together to the side, he couldn’t quite make out the details.

“The dead one over there is just a stronger-than-average Sharpie...” Zhang Dao’an trailed off, instinctively rejecting his own guess. “It can’t be one of those... right?”

Han Qingyu and Mira teaming up to kill an ordinary Sharpie was already bizarre enough. There was no way Zhang Dao’an could ever bring himself to believe that they killed that kind of Sharpie.

The wounded second lieutenant glanced over at the fragments on the ground. Since the stronger one wasn’t a Red Shoulder and lacked any obvious distinguishing marks, he could only turn back and shake his head. “I’m not sure either.”

“You. All of you, think carefully. Did the other one’s black armor have a faint blue glow to it?” Zhang Dao’an asked, forcing the question out with tremendous effort.

The six surviving members of Platoon 1123 mulled it over. “Yeah, I think so.”

A barely perceptible flash of anguish crossed Zhang Dao’an’s eyes, and he exhaled with difficulty. “Then it’s definitely one of those bastards. It’s still alive.”

When it came to that type of Sharpie, Zhang Dao’an carried memories sharper and deeper than almost anyone.

“Since the aircraft hasn’t self-destructed and there’s still no word on reinforcements, we need to stay. If it comes down to it, we fight.” Old Cao from Platoon 491 said lowly.

Only the veterans understood the true meaning of his words.

“Right. No rush, though. Let’s first organize.” Wrenching himself out of the painful memory, Zhang Dao’an turned, intending to order the kids’ evacuation first.

Then he looked around at the bodies on the ground and up at the figures standing firm on the cliff.

“Organize the soldiers—no, our comrades, and get them out.”

The shift in Zhang Dao’an’s language was subtle. Only the veterans beside him caught the implied meaning. After what had happened today, they were no longer just kids.

“Keep them spread out. And keep the noise down. Don’t alert it,” he added shortly after.

***

The recruits’ subsequent evacuation was rather disorderly, which was to be expected. They had scattered, and there wasn’t time to do a proper headcount or establish formations.

At the very least, they maintained a few general directions and a reasonable degree of silence. Zhang Dao’an knew that hardly any of the six hundred recruits would survive if the Glowing Blue Sharpie truly wanted to slaughter them.

Six routes, with six young instructors leading the recruits in their withdrawal. Among them was the wounded Mira.

The remaining eleven instructors and Platoon 1123’s six soldiers stayed behind and lay in wait. They waited for either the recruits to get far enough away or for reinforcements to arrive.

One other person also stayed behind... by finding a ditch to lie in.

“Little Qing? Little Qing?” A hushed voice and soft footsteps came from behind him.

Han Qingyu flinched, then propped himself up and looked back.

“Why aren’t you leaving?!” he and He Tangtang blurted out the same question at each other in near unison.

“I came looking for you! Thank goodness you said something, or I would’ve walked right over you without noticing,” He Tangtang whispered, ducking into Han Qingyu’s ditch and lying down beside him. “You’re actually hurt pretty badly, aren’t you? Did you hide because you’re too hurt to walk and didn’t want to slow everyone down? No wonder you avoided Mira’s route. Don’t worry. I’ll carry you.”

He Tangtang patted his own shoulder.

“Like hell you’re carrying me. Get out of here. Go. Scram,” Han Qingyu shooed.

He Tangtang was far too big for this ditch, and it was getting cramped with both of them in it. Worse, if even he could find this spot, then it was a terrible hiding place.

Han Qingyu decided he needed a new one.

He Tangtang relaxed at Han Qingyu’s lively response. A new thought occurred to him. “Oh, wait, are you planning to kill another one, Little Qing? I’ll help!”

Kill another one? Do you think I’m out of my mind?! Han Qingyu rolled his eyes at He Tangtang, then silently got up to search for a better spot.

There was no way he was delusional enough to think he could actually take on a Sharpie head-on. If not for the perfect timing and Mira’s precisely coordinated support earlier, he would have died. He couldn’t even withstand the shockwave from a single full-power sweep of a Sharpie’s sword without coughing up blood, though coughing up blood didn’t seem like that big of a deal anymore after seeing Lao Jian.

“Then why are you staying?” He Tangtang crouched low and followed stubbornly behind him.

“The Sharpie’s location is unknown. Everyone obviously has to evacuate, but since they’re all leaving, I’m not convinced that sticking with the main group is necessarily safer than staying here.”

It sounded rather selfish when he put it like that. If one thought about it, though, the logic held.

In truth, while Han Qingyu wasn’t noble enough to kill another Sharpie for the Azure Coalition, his reason for staying wasn’t entirely selfish either. It wasn’t just about greed.

There was also the fact that he didn’t know just how terrifying that Sharpie was.

If the Sharpie goes after the retreating recruits or shows up nearby and fights Zhang Dao’an’s group, I’ll sneak over and search its aircraft. Then I’ll yell for Old Zhang and the others to run. However many make it, make it.

After eavesdropping on the conversation earlier, Han Qingyu gathered that Zhang Dao’an and the others were prepared to sacrifice everyone if necessary just to destroy that aircraft.

All he needed was a single touch.

If he couldn’t get his hands on it, even pissing on the thing could work. He refused to believe it would still be useful after he had drained its energy.

On the other hand, if the Sharpie simply didn’t show up, then it didn’t show up. The Azure Coalition would eventually send a cleanup force.

Han Qingyu didn’t explain any of this to He Tangtang. After finding a much better and considerably larger ditch, he simply instructed him to lie down in it.

Realistically, there was no sending He Tangtang away at this point. He wouldn’t be able to catch up with the evacuating group, and if he went elsewhere, he could stumble right into the Sharpie.

“No matter what I do later, you stay here and don’t move. Understood?” Han Qingyu said sternly.

“Got it.” He Tangtang nodded. “Then you—”

“Shh.”

Han Qingyu heard the footsteps of someone with an active maneuvering device. Just one person. Carefully, he raised his head just enough to peek.

***

Xin Yaoqiao was frustrated. The whiplash of Number 10 being dead then alive, the flying car, and the emergency evacuation had left her stunned enough for an instructor to grab her and pull her along to evacuate.

Not daring to reveal her identity, she had no choice but to go along for a short stretch. After some time, she snuck back, hoping to find Han Qingyu, but he was nowhere to be found.

She had noticed, though, that some of the instructors had stayed behind.

Then I’ll find them and help them cut down the Sharpie, she decided. But where is everyone?

Xin Yaoqiao glided around cautiously with her device active, searching.

“What are you doing running around like a headless chicken?!” A voice suddenly came from the woods to her back and side.

Xin Yaoqiao glanced around in confusion but saw nobody. Nothing at all.

A face poked out from beneath some bushes and beckoned urgently in a low voice, “Over here. Hurry!”

As the recruits from Regiment 491 had assumed Xin Yaoqiao was from the 425th, Han Qingyu did the same and assumed her to be a stray recruit from the 491st.

This is Number 10? Wow, he’s even better looking than in the photos. Although even if he looked a little worse, that would be fine too. A recruit flying down to slash a Sharpie... Mm, of course, being handsome is still a bonus.

After a moment of surprise, Xin Yaoqiao broke into a light smile. “Okay.”

“Go around. Don’t step on the bushes or the grass,” Han Qingyu warned her anxiously.

“Okay.” The absolutely delighted Xin Yaoqiao obeyed every instruction without question.

“Set your device to standby. Now, get in here and lie flat,” Han Qingyu instructed, reasonably assuming that she was just a clueless girl from Regiment 491 who had either panicked or had gotten lost. Why else would she be wandering around out here alone?

“Oh, okay.”

Xin Yaoqiao could hardly believe her luck. This was wonderful, exciting, and hilarious all at once. Before Han Qingyu could notice, she quickly stashed her backpack in the grass at the far end of the ditch.

Then a second, bigger head popped up from inside the ditch.

“You can lie on my side,” He Tangtang offered kindly. “There’s more room, and I’m big enough that if anything happens, I can shield you a little.”

Xin Yaoqiao gave him a once-over. “Thanks, Uncle, but I’ll stay here.”

With that, she lay down carefully beside Han Qingyu. She managed to stay still for barely a moment before turning her head to study Han Qingyu’s profile ‌up close, taking in his focused expression.

“Hi, my name is Xin—”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

1. Han Qingyu’s new nickname for Lao Jian. In ancient China, the earliest forms of cash notes bore red official seals. As a result, they often had large red smudges due to the red ink and were thus said to be “bloody in its entirety” (血囫囵 - xuě hú lún). Over time, this turned into 血葫芦 (xuě hú lú), which also means Blood Gourd, and can be used to refer to people covered in blood. ☜