Can Ci Pin - - - Chapter 180

Chapter 180 – Headmaster Lu Had Nothing of Value On Him, Only His Boundless Imagination

The living room was dead silent.

Nagus’ hand seemed to have turned into an automated washboard that continued to rub back and forth on his old trousers until the thigh area was sparkling clean, ready to reflect light off the surface.

“Man, listen to yourself,” he said in one last attempt to fight back, “you make it sound like you two are planning on being together……”

The old general suddenly recalled that strange wooden sign in front of the house and was taken aback. Forgetting the rest of his words, he had no choice but to give a small, awkward chuckle.

Lu Bixing clearly had no intentions of playing the respectful younger child and before any of these old generals had time to process this information, said with a warm smile: “That’s exactly my intention, I do plan on being with him; did not I make it clear earlier?”

Nagus: “……”

The holy light from his pants wasn’t knocking him awake from a dream!

The Fourth Galaxy General picked up a cup of hot tea soullessly, but before Lu Bixing could warn him of the hot water, he had already burnt his tongue and almost spat out another piece of his shattered soul.

If this had been any of their children, perhaps this crew of old generals would already be flipping the world upside down. But Lu Bixing hadn’t grown up under their care, and even if they had managed to build some trust after sharing the same battlefield, they were still strangers to the young man. Unlike bantering with Lin Jingheng, these old men couldn’t possibly be so free with Lu Bixing.

In addition, as the Prime Minister of the Eighth Galaxy who had once openly announced his intent to break out of the Union, this seemingly friendly and harmless young man’s true powers had been exposed when he easily dispatched resources out of the Eighth Galaxy. To be fair, the Central Militia was only a guest in the name of an already broken Interstellar Union to the Eighth Galaxy right now; Lu Bixing’s willingness to still call them uncles by acknowledging the past generation’s relations was already more than common courtesy. It wouldn’t hurt for them to sit down and share some personal stories over a coffee table, but it would be overstepping a little too much if they wanted to criticize the young man’s personal life.

From a common etiquette standpoint, perhaps they should all at least give a few compliments such as ‘what a fated couple’ or ‘good taste,’ but Lin Jingheng’s infamous reputation back in the Union was still engraved in their minds. Seeing how Lin Jingheng was so well known for being an aloof individual who had been born with an air of intimidation, Nagus could not possibly find any good words to say even after digging through his limited vocabulary. He rubbed against his good conscience for a compliment and dug through his mind, still not finding a proper way to follow up as his legs began shaking in frustration.

Some people were naturally closed off and reserved, as if they were perpetually carrying a heavy burden: their entire being was like an extremely dense piece of heavy metal that sheltered a large and ambitious heart within. They would always be bouncing off others in power struggles and authorities, not allowing any room for personal emotions to enter; even romance and love had no place in their hearts.

Among these people, some may live with their endless desires for the rest of their lives, others would remain in solidarity until death. But most of them would usually end up walking down the more socially acceptable path of political marriage for the sake of their families and political power–this was the norm in the central area of Wolto. A couple like Lu Xin and his wife was considered to be the oddball case, and Lin Jingheng had always been more Woltorian than his adoptive parents in this aspect.

But Nagus also knew that even if Lin Jingheng were to let go of his restraints, he would never be the kind of person to lay his hands on Lu Xin’s son; this little shit still knew his place.

“Uh……” Old Bu was the first to open his mouth in an attempt to save the awkward atmosphere, “Jingheng…yeah, Jingheng…is not bad. At least his most respectable trait is that he’s loyal and won’t play around, so that’s a good thing, right?”

The rest of the generals quickly nodded in agreement: “Right, right.”

Old Bu desperately pulled out more words and said: “Wasn’t there that one singer a few years ago? You know, that…that one with a lot of connections in the Parliament, what’s her name? She shamelessly tried to pursue him in public and got rejected with a few words from him. I can bet you that even more shameless people who tried the same in the past couldn’t even earn a look from him.”

He roughly built a staircase to step down from this awkward stage, and the rest of the old generals barreled along as if they’d finally found an escape.

Nagus continued: “I bet it’s not just the past, he’ll still be the same from now on; heck even after he dies it won’t change–don’t worry, for the next 10,000 years, he’s absolutely safe from being the next hot model for a romance movie.”

“I’d say he has some very strong energy,” the General of the Fourth Galaxy agreed. “Those evil and shady beings that try to come near him would immediately expose themselves before him.”

Lu Bixing: “……”

He suddenly felt that he may have fallen for a magical demon-revealing mirror.

Nagus added a line: “His only bad trait is that his attitude is not very good; Commander spoiled him too much when he was a kid, and even back in the Silver Fortress he was mister ‘everyone-listen-to-me’…..”

Lu Bixing didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: “He doesn’t beat people up nor is he a criminal of domestic violence; it’s not like he’ll shoot me in the head if I find a sock underneath his pillow. Even Zhanlu’s pet chameleon likes to crawl onto him all the time–that little thing is still around, by the way, and Jingheng feeds it sometimes too.”

Nagus: “……”

A Lin Jingheng that feeds pet chameleons! This mind blowing mental image seemed to have damaged his limited imagination.

Old Bu watched as these old men got ready to once again end the conversation with awkward silence and had no choice but to pull the conversation back to a different subject: “The Eighth Galaxy used to be a completely deserted land, it was Commander…your father who brought hope to this dead land. Now it’s turned into a galaxy of miracles: even Jingheng looked more relaxed and content than he used to be back in Wolto.”

“If you like this place, feel free to come visit anytime.”

“Oh no, if us old folks come visit too often, bet you that little shit Lin Jingheng will find ways to shove missiles inside our teacups.”

The old generals finally relaxed from that ground-shattering news and joined in laughter.

The General of the Sixth Galaxy let out a sigh amidst the laughter: “We don’t even know how we’d get here in the future even if we wanted to.”

Lu Bixing set his tea cup down and asked: “What are everyone’s plans after this?”

“We certainly want to find a way to return to our galaxies soon,” Old Bu responded in a more serious demeanor. “The queen bee of the Freedom Corps died and lost connection with her biochip humans left in the other galaxies; these people are now simply a crowd of ants without a leader. While it’s certain that it would be difficult for them to threaten central authorities now, smaller threats are more widespread than ever.”

In the past, these biochip humans had been united by a clear top-down hierarchy that would carry out any orders given to them without fail, with enough power to overthrow entire societies and government systems overnight. However, while they no longer had the centralized and unified beliefs to build their empire, the effects the biochip had over human bodies still existed. Likewise, the internal hierarchy built within the chips remained; any higher-level chip carrier could gather up their own forces, which meant that anyone that wanted to cause trouble could easily do so by controlling lower-level biochip humans.

An anti-government armed force turned into a bunch of criminal groups overnight; while the former seemed more fearsome, both were equally threatening in the eyes of civilians living in a dystopian world.

Nagus pulled up an interstellar map from his personal device and said: “Woolf completely destroyed all terminals connecting the First Galaxy to the outside world, but the good news is that the actual distance between the galaxies isn’t too far off. I let our strategy team stay up last night to map out potential routes: if it works out, it will only take a minimum of six Woltorian years for us to arrive in the Second Galaxy. We can then reconnect the warping network, but six years–nobody knows what the world will become.”

Yet no matter what the world became, they would have to return. Even if they returned to be greeted by an empty land, they still needed to brush off all the ashes of war to replant trees and their homes in the war-torn soils. Even if it took sixty years or 600 years, no soldier would ever give up on their homeland.

“If we follow standard nutrient syringe usage, one soldier only needs about thirty-six syringes for the trip. If the trip goes smoothly, we can use a rotation hibernation method to save on supplies.”

“Don’t worry about supplies,” Lu Bixing said. “The Eighth Galaxy’s economy has been considerably well-off the last two years. If you all need, we can pull out some supplies from the Fourth Squadron for support along the way.”

Old Bu gave him a long look in his eyes: “The Eighth Galaxy was exiled for 200 years by the Union; the promised financial and technological support has been delayed again and again due to the greed of the Committee. This place was left to die on its own; thanks to the internal struggles of the Union, some people invited the devil into the house and allowed pirates to invade our territories. Of course, the main target was still the innocent Eighth Galaxy. Years later, this place became the disposable pawn to cover up the forbidden fruit and hold off the AUS. You were all forced to close off your terminals to stay away from the Union…ah, nobody in the Union aside from Commander Lu deserves your respect, and now we still have to rely on you…”

Lu Bixing responded with a smile: “What choice do we have? Uncle Bu, are we supposed to close up our galaxy to nurture it to become a powerful military state, then sneak in an attack to the Union while you are all in crisis so that we can become the next Glory Troop pirates?”

Old Bu had no comment to follow up.

“All eight galaxies were victims of the Committee, and the crimes of the minorities in the Union’s Central Government shouldn’t be a burden of responsibility for all of humanity. There are well-established foreign relation laws between galaxies; we’re not kindergarten kids fighting, there’s no point in seeking revenge for small grievances. Certainly, Wolto has wronged us for hundreds of years.” Lu Bixing lifted his head as he spoke, a finger on the side gently tapping the handle of the sofa. “So—what do you all think about my capital planet here? Isn’t it about to overtake Wolto already?”

Old Bu was shocked as he finally pulled his narrow eyes out from the perspective of the war–Wolto was now a completely burnt land. The First Galaxy had begun as the hub of the mad Freedom Corps and ended with the omnipresent and ever-logical super AI. This was the uncontested fate of the once almighty government of the Union.

The Eighth Galaxy lent out a helping hand at a time like this to turn the tide and became a powerful support for the Human Alliance. Whether it was during times of war or the rebuilding of society after the war, the galaxies all needed to rely on the Eighth Galaxy’s support. As for those vaccuocerebrals that had once been exiled to this land, they were now the frontline soldiers of the war against biochip humans—if all the galaxies knocked on their doors for help, perhaps even those rare soldiers of the Silver Fourth Squadron wouldn’t be enough to support everyone.

Regardless of how the Interstellar Union would exist in the future, it was undeniable that this was the era of the Eighth Galaxy.

This young Prime Minister of the Eighth Galaxy pledged allegiance to nobody, nor did he bow down to any authority; he wasn’t a political schemer that played for gains or losses either. When this turbulent world could no longer house the celestial dome of the Starry Sea Academy, the young man had had no choice but to forge a blade over sixteen years and rewrite the rules of the New Sidereal Era that had lasted for 300 years.

It didn’t matter anyway, since Headmaster Lu had nothing of value on him, only his boundless imagination.

The old generals of the Central Militia stayed for a whole afternoon under the excuse of private discussion and outlined the next steps for the Human Alliance. The rest were simply dividing up and coordinating the work; Lu Bixing courteously asked for them to stay for dinner, only to be refused. Nagus stared at the chameleon for a brief moment after shoving the heavy burden of work off his shoulders temporarily. He recalled that strange relationship between the young Prime Minister and his partner, then finally waved it all off in defeat: “No thanks, we’ve never been to Milky Way City either so I figured we all want to…take a walk around.”

And that was how a single photo from that night made it to top the Milky Way City headlines. The group of old Generals from other galaxies stood in line beneath Lu Xin’s statue in the plaza, tears worth a total of 1,000 years old covering the faces of those old men in a heartwarming photograph.

By the time Lu Bixing strolled back to their bedroom, Lin Jingheng was already awake. The awful side effects of overdosing on relaxants seemed to finally be over as he sat on the armchair beside the bed with a coat over his shoulder, quietly flipping through his grandfather’s heavy notebook. He heard the small sounds of movement and asked without lifting his head: “They all left?”

“Yep.” Lu Bixing trudged through the soft carpet and glued himself to the back of the chair, stretching his back. He then melted into the chair and turned himself into a human-shaped blanket over Lin Jingheng. “I think they’re at the plaza.”

Lin Jingheng looked up in surprise: “You think? Why didn’t they ask you to escort them to the plaza?”

Lu Bixing shoved his nose near the commander’s neck like an annoying puppy without giving a proper answer.

Lin Jingheng clutched the young man’s chin with two fingers.

Lu Bixing: “They interrupted my life’s biggest event; I was upset so I told them.”

Lin Jingheng asked in utter confusion: “Told them what?”

“I said that everything of mine, from heart to soul, every cell in my body belongs to you.” Lu Bixing couldn’t move his head in closer so he imitated the shameless Popcorn and stuck his tongue out to lick those fingers on his chin. Now that he was finally left alone, he had no restraints and continued, “If you take off my clothes, my body will be filled with all of your personal markings, Marshal, I…”

Before he could finish, he felt something slide onto his ring finger.

Lu Bixing lowered his head in shock and noticed it was a 3D printed ring; the design was the same as the one drawn in Lin Ge’er’s notebook.

“Is it too tight?” Lin Jingheng asked.

This model ring was like a magical pause button: Prime Minister Lu froze on the spot with his invisible tail still up in the air like a completely dumbfounded piece of statuary. He finally shook his head dumbly in response.

“Oh, good.” Lin Jingheng inserted some numbers on his personal device based on the model and confirmed his order, then continued the conversation as if nothing else happened, “Then what, did those old things go hang themselves in front of Lu Xin’s statue or something?”

Lu Bixing said with half of his soul still floating somewhere in another galaxy: “They said you were a demon-revealing mirror.”

Lin Jingheng: “……”

Lu Bixing finally pulled his senses back and realized he was speaking nonsense. He scratched his head in embarrassment and said: “No, no, I need to say something more meaningful; hold on, let me redo this. Ahem, I…”

Lin Jingheng didn’t give him time to finish as his shoulders started trembling suspiciously.

Lu Bixing jumped on him and said: “Hey, be serious! What’s wrong with you, why do you always keep such a bitchface on when it’s time to joke around, but start laughing whenever I’m trying to be serious here?”

The coat over his shoulders fell to the ground as Lin Jingheng finally laughed out loud.

The notebook on his knees dropped to the floor amidst their struggling, a single piece of paper falling out through the pages. Lu Bixing thought it was a page of the notebook that had detached over the years and quickly picked it up: “If this was inside a historical museum, it’d be the hottest artifact, be careful…hm?”

The page that fell out was a portrait drawing: the lines were rather rough, but the person was still quite recognizable: anyone could tell that it was the famous Chief Commander Lin from history books. The lines of his features were drawn in smooth lines, creating a striking contrast to the rough edges of the outlines.

Lu Bixing pondered: “Is this a self-portrait?”

“No.” Lin Jingheng pointed at the small signature in the corner. “It’s Woolf’s handwriting.”

Lu Bixing stared at the portrait momentarily, the playful expression on his face slowly disappearing as he mumbled: “Why did that AI also give away something like this?”

“An AI is still an AI,” Lin Jingheng said, “it’s different from a living and breathing Woolf.”

Lu Bixing’s fingers glossed over Woolf’s little signature at the corner as if he had slid his hand over a repressed but deeply engraved emotion. He muttered in deep thought: “No, I was wondering…they were the ones who single-handedly overthrew the machine era, so Woolf was perhaps the single human that understood super AIs the most in this world. He certainly knows the difference between carbon-based lifeforms and AIs.”

Why would someone so meticulous and calculating like him let an uncontrolled variable such as a free framework AI take control of the First Galaxy?

Was it only to fight off the Freedom Corps?

The AI was disposable after one use, so how would he deal with it later? An unlimited framework AI was equivalent to having its own will; would a machine like that really go to sleep like it said it would?

What had that old man really been thinking when he planned everything out?

Near the wormhole zone.

Biochip human hostages were all given signal disruptors and imprisoned by the military.

“Captain,” a technician from the Silver Third Squadron ran up to Thomas, saying, “we’ve detected traces of AI hacking within the internal communication systems of the Freedom Corps; do you need us to clean it off immediately?”