Chapter 122: Not Just a Fuse

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

No one understood how a beast tide, which was supposed to be at least three months away, could erupt without warning. The fleets stationed along the border facing the Alien Void were startled into immediate combat readiness and hurled themselves into battle against the oncoming monsters.

But a beast tide was nothing like the scattered attacks of the past. Along such a vast front, some beasts always slipped through. Those that evaded human firepower surged toward inhabited planets. War and slaughter swept across space and earth alike, devouring all before them like flames racing through dry leaves.

Nearly a century had passed since the last beast tide. A few among humanity still remembered those days. They declared without hesitation that this tide came with no warning, ferocious as a divine punishment cast down from the heavens.

For the first time, news networks across the great star regions all carried the same rolling broadcast: daily reports from the frontlines of the war against the beasts. Not since the earliest decades of contact with the Alien Void civilization had humanity known such dread.

On Ishihara Star, the Federation’s attempt to suppress news of beast infections collapsed. Even though the infections were sporadic, fear spread like wildfire among those living near settlements close to the front. Entire communities began migrating en masse.

Blood and terror drove the people to roar their fury at the Federation’s central government and military. Why, they demanded, had the fleets not launched an all-out war?

New Blue Star lay at the Federation’s core and had not yet been touched by the tide. But the beast attacks three days earlier, on the edges of the Bogela and Rose systems, still left its people uneasy.

Lu Yao had not returned with the research team to the Temporal Drift Test Field to continue energy experiments. Troubles outside of research held him back. Chen Kuo had been taken into custody by the Federation Intelligence Bureau. The doctors diagnosed him with a mental collapse brought on by overwhelming stress. Whatever role his state of mind might play in a future trial, for now it earned him no leniency. The Bureau needed answers: Had the beast’s collision with the ship been orchestrated? If so, by whom?

Amid such inner and outer turmoil, the funeral for the late director of the Mecha Research Institute was conducted hastily. In a time of crisis, the institute needed new leadership. The position naturally fell to the most senior Chief Engineer of the Third Research Base.

But the seamless succession aroused suspicion within both the institute and the military. Whispers tied him to Chen Kuo’s madness. The Third Base’s Chief Engineer was already nearing retirement. He had no wish to shoulder accusations or carry such a heavy burden for the few years left in his career. He stepped aside, leaving the directorship—and the wartime weight it carried—to someone much younger. Lu Yao.

He had never expected this flaming torch to be thrust into his arms. The First Research Base had yet to cultivate a deputy capable of inheriting his Chief Engineer role, so Lu Yao now had to shoulder both the Institute’s high-level responsibilities and the ongoing projects at his base. He temporarily promoted Shen Zishen to Acting Chief Engineer to help with management.

With all three research bases suddenly under new leadership, the Institute was thrown into chaos. Lu Yao forced everyone to streamline their work and redirect their focus toward supporting the fight against the beast tide.

On top of that, as the newly appointed director of the Mecha Research Institute, Lu Yao was expected to address the public. In the past, such a speech would have been of interest only to the military and academic circles. Now, with the beast threat looming closer, the event commanded the attention of millions. Both political and military leaders hinted, not subtly, that they hoped his words would inspire the people.

In the meeting, Lu Yao answered those hints with silence—until Chang Jian jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow, forcing him to give a reluctant nod. Days later, when Lu Yao stood at the podium of the grand hall, countless hovering cameras circled him, recording even the faint rustle of fabric whenever he moved.

The teleprompter before him displayed a speech over fifteen thousand words long—a labor born of two days of arguments and revisions between Chang Jian and Mo Feng. It recounted glorious past victories, envisioned bright futures, and overflowed with rhetoric.

Lu Yao had memorized it three times. Yet when he stood beneath the harsh lights, all he could see was blinding white, the audience lost in the glare. Their faces blurred into shadows. Lowering his gaze, he shut down the teleprompter. Then, without hesitation, he deleted the file.

The crowd waited, expectant, every eye upon him. Chang Jian and Mo Feng’s faces turned pale as they realized what he was about to do. “Good evening. I am Lu Yao, the new director of the Federation’s Mecha Research Institute.”

The moment he spoke, there was no turning back. In the silence that followed, his voice rang out, cold and steady:

“Humanity created mecha to fight the beasts. That will never change. The earth, the stars, our families and our loved ones—everything that belongs to us will be reclaimed.”

He said no more. Turning, he left the stage. For a moment, even the host stood frozen, the live comment feed stunned into silence. Then, three minutes later, the flood began:

“That was really all he said? But seeing his back as he walked away—I almost broke down crying.”

“My home is near the front. I’ve heard so many briefings and safety analyses, but I’m still terrified. Thank you, Director Lu, for comforting us.”

“Director Lu is so kind. General Zhou is probably about to enter battle himself. He must be worried too.”

“Stay strong! Stay calm—like Lu Yao!”

The hall doors opened automatically as Lu Yao approached. Cold winter air rushed in, tugging at his coat. The hovering cameras followed close behind, drawing all eyes with them.

As Lu Yao stepped outside, the doors began to close. Only then did those inside realize he truly had ended his speech and was leaving. The hall stirred back to life. Murmurs swelled into clamor. Reporters, the first to react, leapt up to chase him, sensing the story of a lifetime.

Next came the professionals, eager to speak with him, unable to wait for the evening’s banquet. Then came the younger crowd—researchers, soldiers, students—who surged after him, swept up by his presence. The winter sun outside was cold, but the crowd moved like a roaring tide.

Mo Feng swore under his breath, slipped free of his companions, and sprinted toward Lu Yao. Before the flood of voices could engulf him, Mo Feng pushed through, swung a black coat around Lu Yao’s shoulders, and steered him swiftly away.

Lu Yao had never faced such a frenzy. No one had anticipated this. If he faltered even for a moment, he would have been swallowed whole. Hands stretched toward him. Fingers brushed only the cold ends of his hair.

Chang Jian had a flyer waiting on the street. Mo Feng yanked open the door, shoved Lu Yao inside, and climbed in after him. The craft roared skyward before Lu Yao even had time to sit up. Staring at the ceiling, he lay in silence, his thoughts unreadable.

“Director Lu.” The familiar voice came from the front passenger seat. Lu Yao turned his head and realized they weren’t alone. Mr. Teng leaned back so his face was visible, smiling faintly. “Director Lu, did the crowd frighten you?”

“I didn’t expect them to rush the stage,” Lu Yao replied coolly.

“That’s because they believed in what you said,” Teng answered. “Had you recited another long, predictable speech, it would have stirred nothing. Your choice had an impact. According to the latest social sentiment analysis my team just sent me, many people were encouraged by you.”

“But I didn’t encourage myself.”

“That’s why I came.” Teng’s smile thinned into seriousness. “There’s been progress in the interrogation of the former Chief Engineer from the Second Base. And the research into beast infection at the frontline labs is advancing.”

“Intelligence is worthless if you do nothing,” Lu Yao said flatly. “No matter how valuable, it’s just paper locked in a file.” Teng caught the note of scorn but didn’t flinch. “We can’t act. Not yet. It isn’t time.”

“The beast tide has erupted. Five human worlds have already fallen. If not now, then when?”

“That’s why I came to you. The right time depends on you.”

Lu Yao frowned, but Teng had already turned back toward the city skyline. “When news spread that the Third Base’s Chief Engineer refused the directorship, we approached him. We hoped he would take it on, giving you the freedom to push forward with your research. But his decision was final. In the end, it had to be you.”

Push forward with research? The project in Lu Yao’s hands was nothing more than the design and manufacture of the NTL—a new type of mecha. But could such a weapon truly bring a qualitative change to the battlefield? Lu Yao doubted it.

Mechas were only single-soldier combat weapons, not massive planet-killing cannons. A new model might reduce casualties and speed up the progress of war, but it could never become the decisive factor.

The NTL project, however, also included the sub-project of gravitational transformation technology. Yet the Federation had never lacked energy. Even if the new energy source was put into use, it would be no more than the icing on the cake—saving money, protecting the environment of the cosmos—never enough to overturn the balance of war.

Unless… the old energy supply system was already showing signs of problems, making the Federation military too wary to move rashly. That faint thought wavered like a spider’s thread in the wind, suddenly caught beneath the winter sun’s pale blaze, glowing for a moment before Lu Yao seized it. 

The new energy experiments. The Helios Group’s secret interference. Zhou Yunchen being thrown off course by disruptions during a beast tide battle… The livestock planet near the Rose System struck by a beast attack. The Federation fleet breached. The sudden outbreak of a beast tide…

“You think you’ll have an easy time after it?” Jiang Wei’s curse from that day exploded in Lu Yao’s mind, mixing all the seemingly unrelated fragments into a single, icy abyss. It was as though fate had flicked out a serpent’s tongue, hissing in his ear. Lu Yao suddenly gripped Mr. Teng’s shoulder. “The CROSS Laboratory incident back then—was that part of the Helios Plan too?”

“What?” Teng’s eyes widened. “No, of course not. No one could have predicted everything that would come. Even observations of the beast tides only appeared in the last two years, let alone your—”

He cut himself off mid-sentence, realizing how much he had already revealed. When Helios had slipped from Lu Yao’s mouth, Teng thought for a moment he had let it slip by himself. But thinking back carefully, he had never once told Lu Yao who the mastermind was. Lu Yao was testing him!

“So all of this is because the Helios Group set its sights on new energy?”

“No.” Teng felt a wave of futility. Lu Yao had already pieced together this much. There seemed no point in hiding further. “It’s because people always leave themselves a retreat, a back door. History has no fixed pattern, and fate is never unchangeable. Your new energy is nothing more than a fuse.”

A fuse… Yes. Everything Lu Yao had gone through alone was merely a fuse that pushed history forward. Even without him, the Helios Group would still have sought to keep the Federation’s interest in the beast war alive, and to stoke the people’s fear of the beasts. They would still have secretly developed the technology to control them. Pandora’s box was destined to open sooner or later; it was only a matter of time. But none of this was predestined. Unpredictable events were like sparks setting off fuse after fuse, igniting the future through each explosion. Lu Yao and Zhou Yunchen were not useless fuses.

If Lu Yao had never gone missing, the Federation might never have discovered the connection between the CROSS Laboratory and the Helios Group. The two beast attacks on Ishihara Star and at the edge of the Rose System might have been dismissed as natural events.

If Zhou Yunchen had entered the Villeau Abyss driven by some other void, impossible wish, the Federation’s youngest and most valiant General might have perished in the war against the beasts, stirring such immense grief and terror among the people that they would have rushed into a full-scale war with the Alien civilization. That would have been perfectly in line with the Helios Group’s goal of boosting energy sales.

But that was only in theory. In truth, both Lu Yao and Zhou Yunchen survived. The new energy was revealed to the public. The Helios Group, unable to wait any longer, had no choice but to trigger the beast tide early, unleashing a catastrophic war.

As for the destroyed planets and the dead Federation citizens? That was never part of Helios’s concern.

 

 

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