Beyond the Zenith

The White Erasers’ First Lieutenant Liang Ge was down. Though he seemed pretty dazed and so didn’t get up right away, he wasn’t unconscious either. That was just right.

Han Qingyu stood slightly off-center on the combat platform, blade not in hand, feeling neither particularly excited nor uneasy.

As he had said before, since he had already committed to an open confrontation with the White Erasers and Qi Shantong, there was nothing to do but follow through. The more people who knew, the better and safer he would be.

He couldn’t afford to keep a low profile. If he did, they could target and take him out without anyone noticing.

This way, if Qi Shantong ever tried to give him some “special” assignment under official pretexts, it would immediately look suspicious, concerning, and deserving of scrutiny. Attention and vigilance from all levels would increase, and Qi Shantong’s people would have to think twice before acting.

After a moment of silence, murmurs began to ripple through the stands, growing from hushed whispers into a noisy commotion.

The sight of the two fighters on the platform, one standing and one fallen, was simply too shocking. The audience had come expecting a Gold Erasers veteran’s assessment of a newcomer. Then, without warning, the instructor had been replaced, and the teaching had become a punishment.

Unexpectedly, that same punishment had become a lesson in reverse.

Sat in the closest seat to the platform, Captain Qin Guowen’s facial muscles shifted from frozen to slack, twitching involuntarily. He wanted to laugh, but more than anything, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. Thank God it wasn’t me up there, or I’d never live it down. Thanks for taking one for the team, Brother White Eraser.

In the back corner, Regiment Commander Li excitedly searched for people to high-five and fist-bump. He high-fived Lao Jian. Then his bodyguard. Finally, he turned to the regiment lead advisor.

The regiment lead advisor rolled his eyes at him. “What are you so happy about?”

Regiment Commander Li froze. His hand slowly dropped, expression turning bitter as he visibly wilted.

After a while, he couldn’t help but fret, “Why did that silly kid have to go and offend the White Erasers and Qi Shantong like that? He’s usually such a reliable boy.”

Lao Jian had his own suspicions but couldn’t voice them aloud. Even so, his anger was obvious as he hinted darkly, “Do you even need to ask? They probably set him up and bullied him badly. The four of them spent more than ten days in a medical station. Even the most patient person has a breaking point.”

Even as the shock faded, the seasoned veterans in the stands, as well as the front-line platoon leaders and deputies, couldn’t help but feel a certain awe.

The Yangtze River’s current pushes a new wave forward...[1]

The man sprawled on the platform was no ordinary veteran. He was a White Eraser with a B+ ranking, not to mention a first lieutenant, yet the one left standing was the youth with a boyish face.

It was unarmed combat, but he had still won, a clean and decisive victory at that. This demanded respect.

The veterans muttered among themselves.

“With devices on, though, he probably wouldn’t have a chance.”

“True. The gap in combat experience and source energy control would show.”

“Yeah. Also, he probably did reject the White Erasers. Whoever leaked the news didn’t have good intentions either, though. They were deliberately making sure he offended them thoroughly.”

The veterans were right.

Unlike the veterans, with their measured objectivity, the recruits understood far less of the context and had a simpler and more excitedly unfiltered response that was characteristic of the young.

One recruit who had no shot at joining a Color Eraser platoon felt a rush of satisfaction as he recalled Liang Ge’s earlier words, “Didn’t he just say nobody has the right to reject the White Erasers? So did the White Erasers really not get rejected? They really just didn’t want him?”

“What do you think?” someone asked back.

The thought process was simple. I knocked you down the day before recruit graduation. Why would I join you?

Another recruit laughed. “The strongest recruit in ten years. He really is something. It’s not that we’re all terrible. Little Qing’s brilliance just outshines everyone else. The rest of us just haven’t had our moment yet.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what the Coalition’s history books will say.” The well-read recruit beside him started narrating in the solemn tone of a television documentary, “Looking back, the 1990 batch of Erasers recruits was brimming with talent and brilliance. At the time, however, nobody recognized this, because among them there was one whose radiance simply outshone the rest...”

The recruit period was almost over. Of course, some recruits continued to harbor ambitions of one day surpassing Han Qingyu, and that was a good thing.

Envy, on the other hand, had all but disappeared after the battle at District 1123. Han Qingyu had fought for what he earned with his life. In a way, he had saved them all. That wasn’t something anyone could be envious of.

Wen Jifei joined in on the laughter, grinning as he joked, “You guys are making me embarrassed. You guys have no idea how much he’s lacking upstairs.”

Another round of laughter broke out.

At the same time, up on the platform, Han Qingyu said, “Good fight.”

He wasn’t entirely sure of the proper etiquette for ending a bout, so he borrowed a line from television, then turned and walked off the platform before Liang Ge could get back to his feet.

This gesture was an implicit declaration that the assessment was over. He was satisfied with the result, having avoided a beating while accomplishing his goal of publicly amplifying his enmity with the White Erasers.

Inside a VIP viewing room on the arena’s second floor, a member of the White Erasers gestured at the scene below.

“What do we do, Platoon Leader Qi?” he asked, using the old title out of habit.

The situation was already humiliating enough. Once word spread further...

What had started as a trivial matter had snowballed, on and on, until the White Erasers’ reputation and dignity were both on the line.

Qi Shantong rested his elbow on the armrest, pressed his fingers against his temple, and frowned. “Liang Ge, that imbecile...”

This outcome was completely unexpected. He hadn’t imagined things would turn out this way, but doing nothing also no longer seemed like an option. No matter how lofty his ambitions or how unpredictable his methods, capability and outward image still mattered.

For the White Erasers, capability was strength, while image was reputation and standing. Both were important to him and his faction.

“Liang Ge’s getting up.” Someone beside him pointed at the scene below.

On the platform, Liang Ge stood up and called after Han Qingyu, “Stop.”

The arena fell silent once more.

Even Qi Shantong tensed up, straightening in his seat and leaning forward. He was watching closely, terrified that Liang Ge would say something even more embarrassing.

“One moment. Your unarmed performance was solid, but I’d like to see your capabilities with the maneuvering device next,” Liang Ge said with a warm smile.

With those words, he had effectively split the assessment into two parts. Liang Ge’s phrasing in this situation was strained but airtight.

Qi Shantong relaxed slightly. Not bad. If Liang Ge could crush Han Qingyu in a device-equipped bout, they could at least partially recover from the damage of the earlier fight.

Han Qingyu didn’t even turn around. He pretended not to hear and kept walking.

“Private Han Qingyu!” Liang Ge raised his voice.

The military had its rules, and they had to be followed. Han Qingyu couldn’t pretend any longer. He stopped, turned, and stood at attention. “Here, sir.”

“Come. Let’s continue.” Liang Ge’s lips curved into a pleasant smile, but the murderous malice in his eyes was unmistakable. If Han Qingyu went back up, he would be dealing with covert, vicious retaliation.

Below the stage, Wen Jifei, Mira, Regiment Commander Li, Lao Jian, and the others all tensed at the same time. “This is bad. He should’ve kicked him a couple more times and knocked him out cold.”

Han Qingyu stood no chance against Liang Ge with devices on.

Liang Ge activated his maneuvering device with a hmmm.

Han Qingyu remained below the stage.

“I’d rather not. The White Erasers’ assessment is over. I have the Gold Erasers’ assessment coming up, and I’m worried that back-to-back bouts might hurt my performance,” he said with utmost sincerity.

Inwardly, he thought, Are you kidding me? I’d have to be an idiot to go back up there.

That pushed Liang Ge toward the edge, his expression hardening. “That’s an order. Color Eraser members have the authority and the obligation to conduct comprehensive assessments and provide guidance to all lower-ranking soldiers and officers in the army.”

The crowd tensed. The rule Liang Ge cited did actually exist, though it had originally been established with much better intentions in mind. It was intended to give lower-ranking soldiers and junior officers the chance to spar with and learn from the Color Erasers.

Liang Ge, however, was using it in reverse to forcibly “guide” a recruit. While technically valid, the spirit of it was wrong. Many of the veterans in the stands felt uncomfortable.

But it was technically valid.

Worried gazes fell on Han Qingyu.

“There’s no escape. That poor kid is in for it.”

“Little Qing...”

“What do we do?”

The stands buzzed with anxious murmurs. Han Qingyu stood there for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

“Except...” he declared loudly, trailing off as he lowered his head and rummaged through his breast pocket, in full view of the crowd.

A recruit who had already confirmed his assignment asked the veteran beside him, “What’s he doing?”

The veteran deputy platoon leader thought for a moment, then slowly broke into a grin. “I think he’s pinning a medal.”

On the arena floor, Han Qingyu fished a Silver Azure Guardian Medal from his breast pocket, then carefully pinned it to the left side of his chest, straightened it, and peered up at Liang Ge with a smile.

“What...?” The recruit was confused.

“Today is a medal-pinning day. Service medals outrank military rank,” the veteran explained. “With the recruitment briefing assembly not starting until nine, I almost forgot myself.”

The veteran reached into his own pocket, produced a Bronze Azure Guardian Medal, and pinned it to his chest with pride and ceremony.

The Coalition had a special medal-pinning day system, created specifically to honor and elevate the status of front-line combat decorations.

Medal-pinning days were few and far between. They included days like Monument Day, commendation ceremonies, and the recruitment briefing assembly.

The reason the recruitment briefing assembly had been designated as a medal-pinning day was that many front-line platoon leaders, deputies, and veterans returned to the base for it. The Coalition gave them ?pageantry, while also impressing upon the recruits the glory of service on the front lines.

At the reminder, front-line veterans across the stands reached for their own medals to pin them on, while base officers saluted their front-line subordinates.

Han Qingyu stood on the arena floor wearing the Silver Azure Guardian Medal, the highest decoration the Oriental Republic Army Group could award on its own authority, and smiled up at Liang Ge.

“I said, let’s not fight. Is that alright, First Lieutenant Liang?”

1. Idiom: There is always a new generation to replace the old. ☜