Beyond the Zenith

Although the existence of the Refusers was no secret, most ordinary soldiers had no idea what they actually did and how they operated.

According to Lao Jian, one had to be at least a district platoon leader before ever having direct contact with them, and even then, only when they reached out first.

Han Qingyu was about to leave with the guard when a voice came from behind him.

“Watch what you say in there.”

Stopping, Han Qingyu turned to stare back at Lao Jian with a confused expression, as if silently asking what he meant by that.

“Just don’t go shamelessly asking them for stuff. The Refusers don’t deal in that sort of thing,” Lao Jian joked. Despite his smile, there was something like concern, maybe even worry, in his eyes.

This was Blood Gourd Boy’s affliction these days. The moment anyone within the organization so much as hinted at questioning Han Qingyu, Captain Lao would be the first to jump up and defend him.

After arguing and pushing back on Han Qingyu’s behalf, he would wonder, Why am I even doing this?! It’s not like I have a daughter.

Yet the next time it happened, he would find himself doing it all over again.

“If I can’t even ask for stuff, then can I just not go? I refuse the Refusers.” Han Qingyu paused with a mischievous grin. “Isn’t that a tongue-twister?”

Lao Jian was speechless. All that concern, only to get this in return. This brat is impossible to get close to. He probably still resents me a little. It’s too subtle to really call it resentment, but it’s there, nonetheless. I did rip him away from his family and drag him here to be a lousy soldier, after all.

In truth, Lao Jian had been feeling rather conflicted about this matter lately.

Han Qingyu had achieved many things in his short time with the Coalition, from testing as an A-ranker in source energy integration level to being awarded the Silver Azure Guardian Medal, and even his wild performance in this battle. By all rights, Platoon Leader Lao was supposed to feel proud and happy. Sure, he felt a little pride, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, he found himself unable to muster even a sliver of happiness.

The tallest tree in the forest caught the most wind, and this young tree was growing too tall, too fast. Han Qingyu was just a freshly armored recruit.

This was a shadowed world of competing agendas between the Sharpies, Wipers, Preservers, and even multiple factions within the Azure Coalition itself. Strength was a shield, but potential exposed too early, before it was fully realized, was a kind of danger as well.

The signal blackout during this battle only deepened Lao Jian’s unease, leaving his mind a tangled mess of worries.

“By the way, I coughed up blood this time. Several mouthfuls. That’s not a big deal, right?” Han Qingyu suddenly asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Lao Jian’s deep concern morphed into plain irritation, and he very much wanted to snap at the kid. Go ask a doctor! Why are you asking me?!

Holding his thoughts in, he looked Han Qingyu over again, decided he seemed fine, and said gruffly, “You’ll live.”

“See? I knew coughing up blood was no big deal.” Han Qingyu grinned.

Lao Jian coughed. “Never mind. Go ahead. The army’s given all of you tomorrow morning off. After breakfast, come find me at the combat simulation ground. You and me, one round.”

With that, he waved Han Qingyu off.

In light of Zhang Dao’an’s passing, Lao Jian would be staying on as Regiment 425’s interim head instructor to finish up this batch of recruits before returning to Platoon 752.

After getting the first draft of the incident report earlier in the day, Lao Jian had reviewed and pieced together Han Qingyu’s actions throughout the District 1123 engagement. His reaction to all of it went beyond shock. More than anything, he felt retrospectively afraid.

It seemed Han Qingyu had survived by sheer, reckless luck.

He figured it was time to teach the boy a lesson and knock him down a peg so he wouldn’t keep recklessly charging in.

“Sure. You’re supplying the energy cores, though,” Han Qingyu casually agreed before turning to follow the increasingly anxious guard.

***

The term “Refusers” had actually started as a nickname, just like the “Only Witness Legion,” though both had been used so long that they eventually became official.

The formal designation of the former group was the Second Army of the Azure Coalition’s Oriental Republic Army Group.

This came with certain implications. It meant that the Coalition didn’t rush to expand its fighting strength after the establishment of the First Army in 1912 as the first front-line combat force, and instead prioritized creating the Refusers. That alone said everything about this special corps’ importance.

Han Qingyu had first heard of the Refusers on the truck ride to the base. Back then, Lao Jian had been deliberately vague and had told them next to nothing.

The tidbits that Han Qingyu had picked up since then allowed him to guess at their role.

First, they tried to prevent spindle-shaped aircraft from reaching the planet altogether via some kind of long-range intervention. If that failed, they would guide the aircraft’s landing location. This guidance didn’t mean directing it to a specific spot. That was still beyond the Refusers’ abilities. However, they could work within the general area the aircraft was already inclined toward and, through special means, discourage it from choosing major cities or sensitive zones.

It was akin to a venomous insect displaying its vivid, threatening colors to ward off predators.

That was all Han Qingyu knew. Beyond that, questions like how they accomplished this were beyond his rank, knowledge, and experience. He wasn’t about to waste time overthinking it either.

In short, the Refusers were mysterious and held ‌high status.

Han Qingyu had once overheard Regiment Commander Li and others discussing the possibility that the Coalition could become poor enough to cut energy core benefits. In that conversation, someone noted that even if the Coalition were desperate enough to cut the Only Witness Legion’s supply, they would never touch the Refusers’.

As for whether Han Qingyu was nervous at the Refusers’ abrupt summons for questioning, he couldn’t deny that he was at least a little.

Han Qingyu hadn’t seen many movies in his life. Still, his imagination automatically conjured the image of a mysterious organization with a dark color scheme, suits, stony faces, and piercing eyes.

The guard stopped outside one of the Ninth Army’s confidential conference rooms.

“We’re here. You’re to go in alone,” he said to Han Qingyu, then turned and left.

“Alright.” Han Qingyu took a deep breath, knocked, and announced somewhat formally, “Reporting. Recruit Han Qingyu of the 425th Regiment, Ninth Army, Only Witness Legion, reporting as ordered.”

“Enter.” A low, aged voice came from inside. It was full of gravitas.

Han Qingyu pushed the door open, stepped inside, and prepared to salute, but the sight within had him freezing mid-motion.

Two people sat at the conference table. One was a slightly plump old man with white hair. Aside from the plumpness, he actually matched Han Qingyu’s mental image fairly well, even down to the black suit. His drooping eyelids also made his expression impossible to read.

The other one, though...

What on earth? That kid can’t be more than fifteen, can he?

The boy was small and thin, wearing round silver-framed glasses that had legs wrapped in pain-relief patches.

In front of them were tea, soda, and a small pile of pumpkin seeds.

The pumpkin seeds looked a bit over-roasted. Then again, they were hard to shell, and sometimes having them slightly charred was better, as impatient people could just crunch through them shell and all.

The boy correctly read Han Qingyu’s bewilderment and smiled in greeting. “I’m already nineteen. Only half a month younger than you, Brother Han, though I’m nowhere near as impressive. You’re incredible. My name is Tu Zi. Do you want something to snack on?”

He divided some pumpkin seeds with his hands. Hesitating over the portion size, he added another generous handful to it before sliding them across the table toward Han Qingyu.

As he gazed at Han Qingyu, eyes shining with something like admiration, he added, “Why don’t we chat over snacks? Our orders are to observe you before we start the formal questions. Eating and chatting makes it easier to observe.”

This was a very candid statement.

Fair enough, Han Qingyu thought, sitting down and grabbing a handful of the offered pumpkin seeds.

The old man beside them glanced at him. “Your hand. Let me see it.”

Han Qingyu held out his hand, feeling a little embarrassed. Under his sleeve, he was wearing the silver bracelet his mother had given him as a keepsake.

“Why are you wearing this?” the old man asked. “Men don’t usually wear silver bracelets. Especially not in the military.”

“My mom gave it to me before I left, as something to remember her by. I felt uneasy about everything that happened, all those unexpected deaths, so I put it on when I got back,” Han Qingyu honestly admitted.

“May I take a look?” The old man remained expressionless, extending his hand.

Han Qingyu took it off and handed it over.

The old man examined it carefully.

Meanwhile, Tu Zi noted down a sentence in the observation column of the inquiry form: A man who wears a silver bracelet.