Chapter 120: Was That What He Thought?
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
Lin Xu couldn’t figure it out. So eventually, he just stopped trying. It wasn’t like it was a real problem anyway. Once Heinrich realized he was acting weird, he’d probably stop on his own. There was no need to call it out.
During that time, the S297 reentered curvature acceleration, leaping across several light-years. As it neared Docking Port 75, the ship decelerated, preparing for arrival.
Across the silent expanse of space, a massive military starship shimmered in the darkness. Flanking it on either side were four escort ships, hovering like loyal sentinels.
“That’s Alonso’s Odyssey,” Guy said from the bridge, spotting the familiar vessel through the forward viewport. He grabbed Adrian’s tiny arm and waved it enthusiastically toward the opposite side of the galaxy. “Baby, look! Your daddy’s on that big ship—he came to pick us up.”
Heinrich watched the little boy giggle, his eyes lowered slightly, lashes casting shadows over his expression. Whatever he was thinking, he didn’t say.
“He brought the flagship to pick you up?” Lin Xu curled up in his chair, gazing up at the stars.
Guy answered with a beaming smile, his caramel-colored eyes lighting up. “Originally, he said he’d just send a regular cruiser that could hold my mecha. When we talked a few days ago, that’s what he promised. But then yesterday, I got the battle report—he’d already wrapped up the operation early, and today, he just flew the Odyssey over himself.”
Lin Xu gave a dry snort. “Hmph.” He didn’t bother responding to Guy’s overly smug tone.
Guy, still in high spirits, didn’t mind the attitude—he was used to Lin Xu’s temper. Unbothered, he leaned down and kissed Adrian’s chubby cheek, earning a few playful smacks from the child as stubble brushed against his skin.
Then, Guy opened a channel to the Odyssey from the S297’s comm system.
“Hello, this is the Odyssey command center. I am—”
“Alonso!” Guy cut the formal voice off instantly.
“Guy? You’re on the S297’s bridge?” Alonso’s calm voice shifted ever so slightly. “Wait just a few more hours. Once the ships are close enough, I’ll pilot a shuttle over to pick you and the baby up.”
“I’ve got my mecha. I can fly myself back.”
“You’ve got Adrian with you,” Alonso replied patiently. “He’s only a few months old. Promise me you’re not thinking about strapping him into the cockpit again, okay?”
“Fine, fine. He’s tougher than you think, though,” Guy muttered, then turned to Heinrich. “Marshal Chu, will you permit the Odyssey’s shuttle to enter the ship?”
There was a reason Guy asked—bringing an external shuttle into a starship’s interior required it to dock and depressurize inside the pressure bay. It was practically an act of controlled intrusion and needed the commanding officer’s approval.
Heinrich responded, “No problem.”
“Thank you,” Guy said, relaying the message to Alonso.
By then, the Odyssey had stopped accelerating. Relying on its remaining momentum, the giant ship glided toward the S297. Its massive engines glowed an intense electric blue, so bright they lit up the surrounding void. Just then, Lin Xu noticed a large hunk of twisted metal floating not far from Docking Port 75.
Based on distance and relative scale, that chunk of debris—though seemingly small—was probably as tall as ten stacked mechas. Its surface was jagged and dented, like metal plates forcibly welded together then twisted into a warped spiral by some unimaginable force. It didn’t look like naturally occurring space debris. Lin Xu narrowed his eyes. “What is that?”
Heinrich had kept his gaze down as they passed through this section of space, occasionally glancing at the controls, but when Lin Xu spoke, his lashes twitched slightly. Then he answered without hesitation: “The Hydra Resistance War Memorial.”
As if he’d known Lin Xu would ask the moment they got close. Guy’s grin faded. He glanced at Heinrich with a raised brow. He was surprised—but Heinrich’s expression didn’t waver. His lips remained lightly pressed together, his face cold as ice, betraying nothing.
As the S297 drew nearer, the structure’s full form came into view. It was a black mass made of destroyed mechas, broken starship hulls, and shattered Zerg remains. The whole thing floated in silence, ominous and heavy. But when the ship’s lights hit it, the debris reflected silver—sharp and blinding—turning its loneliness into something almost violent and bloody.
Lin Xu asked quietly, “The Hydra Resistance War was…?”
“That was my parents’ final battle,” Heinrich said at last. As he looked at Lin Xu, he had no choice but to lift his gaze—his line of sight naturally passed over the forward viewport and landed on the memorial outside. Though it seemed within reach, it was, in truth, impossibly far.
“Here?” Lin Xu asked. He had never known the details of that war. He hadn’t expected that a major resistance battle against the Zerg had taken place so close to the Dionysus Region’s human-settled planets. The Florence Line, manned by the First Legion, was supposed to have kept them out of this part of the interstellar zone.
“Yes.” Heinrich’s reply was so in tune with Lin Xu’s tone that it was clear he already knew exactly what the other was questioning. “This area was originally under the jurisdiction of the Sixth and Second Legions. But the Zerg showed up suddenly, and the Abyss Fleet—then on patrol—was forced to engage immediately.”
The resistance had been brutal. The Empire later built this memorial using the wreckage of fallen soldiers’ mechas and starships, a monument to courage and sacrifice in the face of fire and blood. This had been Heinrich’s first interstellar war—their first, bitter victory.
“I was there too,” Guy added suddenly. “I was just a grunt in the Sixth Legion back then. They sent us in for support. No one expected that many Zerg to show up. The IN16 route was specifically chosen for its resistance to alien interference and even had anti-Zerg devices installed.” His expression grew darker. Clearly, the memory wasn’t a pleasant one.
“But the Zerg came in silence. No warning. Some of them even landed on populated planets and started massacres.”
Guy’s voice tightened. “At the time, humans on Dionysus were already fighting among themselves. The Imperial army was busy suppressing a rebellion. The moment the Zerg arrived, the legions were redirected to engage them. The rebels—who had just started to believe the tide was turning in their favor—were wiped out almost entirely by the Zerg. And just like that, the rebellion collapsed.”
“There were even conspiracy theories afterward,” he continued. “That the Special District had deliberately loosened the Florence Line to let the Zerg into the Dionysus Sector. The rebels never stood a chance, and after the chaos, the Empire stepped in to ‘save’ everyone. It made sure the people of Dionysus knew exactly who was capable of protecting them.”
“That’s just a conspiracy theory,” Heinrich said coldly. “If the Florence Line had really been compromised, the Crescent District would’ve taken the first hit. No one would risk their lives—or the Imperial capital—for that.”
“Maybe,” Guy muttered. He didn’t press the issue. “I’ll go pack.” After he left, Heinrich noticed Lin Xu still staring at the memorial, lost in thought.
“Lin Xu?” he called softly.
“Mm,” Lin Xu turned to him. “I was thinking about something. Do you remember telling me that, before your mother died, the last image captured by Blizzard’s neural link showed the emblem of the Eastern District Base?”
“I do. It was on the Spiritual Monarch’s recorder too.”
The recorder had once caused a massive system-wide failure among an entire fleet back in the Solar System. Since then, the Spiritual Monarch had vanished, and all investigations into the emblem had hit a dead end.
“The Eastern District Base didn’t have the capacity for interstellar travel all the way to the Einstein Galaxy,” Lin Xu said slowly. “But the Spiritual Monarch did. It might have passed through here.”
Heinrich asked, “But why?”
Lin Xu thought for a moment. “What if it was on its way to Thales, and encountered your mother during the battle?”
“Maybe,” Heinrich answered in a low voice. He didn’t like guessing—guesses were usually wrong. “We can’t contact the Spiritual Monarch now.”
“The people at Snow Mountain Base made contact with it, but they’re all gone,” Lin Xu said. “Other than that, there’s only the mermaids on Thales. Maybe we can find answers through them.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Heinrich didn’t say more. Or rather, he rarely shared much to begin with. He kept everything buried deep for many reasons. When he did speak, it was always just a few cold, clipped words.
That distant silence, that stoic control, made Marshal Heinrich Chu feel unreachable—invulnerable. With not a single visible crack, one could almost believe he was made of steel.
Lin Xu stood up from his seat and walked to Heinrich’s side. He could have pulled a dozen comforting phrases from memory, but he didn’t want to say any of them. As he drew close, Heinrich wrapped an arm around his waist, resting the side of his face against Lin Xu’s lower abdomen.
Lin Xu slipped his fingers into Heinrich’s silver hair. The tidy strands were mussed quickly, making them look softer somehow. Gently, he began smoothing them back into place.
Heinrich kept his cheek pressed to Lin Xu’s stomach. Through that contact, he could feel the movement of breath, the subtle shifts of muscle and blood. Lin Xu’s body wasn’t exactly warm—but even beneath the cool skin, it pulsed with life. Tangible. Real. Anchored in the flow of time. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Heinrich’s breath hitched. The sound was faint, immediately muffled by his own breathing. He tightened his hold on Lin Xu, arms pulling him closer. Lin Xu said nothing, only brushed his hand once more through the hair at the nape of Heinrich’s neck—like a bird gently grooming the feathers of a companion it cherished. Heinrich steadied his breath, then slowly held it—listening.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Something was beating. Extremely faint, but unmistakably there. And Heinrich, with his sharp hearing, caught it. He tilted his head slightly, ear pressed close, not daring to speak. Was it really what he thought it was? Could it be real?
“Marshal Chu, I… oh! Am I interrupting?” Guy had just been about to step onto the bridge when he saw the two of them leaning into each other. He froze on the spot, coughed twice, and awkwardly said, “I’m not in a rush. How about I come back later?”
“No need,” Heinrich replied as he stood, though one hand still rested on Lin Xu’s waist. His voice had already returned to its usual calm, betraying nothing of the emotions inside him. “Chief of Staff Guy, do you need assistance?”
Guy turned his head with an awkward smile. “Alonso’s shuttle has arrived. I came to access the control panel and open the pressurized bay to let him in.”
Heinrich turned and activated the ship’s AI program, walking with Guy toward the inner bay. The visitor was the supreme commander of another legion. Out of courtesy, Marshal Chu couldn’t just sit on the bridge and command the retreat through voice communications alone.
The mecha had already been unloaded. Guy’s two adjutants were piloting the shuttle they had used earlier, using hooks and netting to haul the mecha away.
A white shuttle from the Sixth Legion entered the bay through the open hatch. The pressurization and heating sequences began, causing clouds of white vapor to swirl repeatedly inside. Heinrich and the others waited in the transition chamber of the pressurized bay.
Once the AI confirmed pressurization was complete, both the shuttle door and the transition chamber’s glass door opened simultaneously. A gust of strong, compressed air blasted through the partition, ruffling everyone’s clothes and hair. Sensitive little Adrian immediately burst into tears, forcing Guy to start rocking him and humming softly to calm him down.
From the other side, a pair of gleaming white military boots stepped out of the shuttle and touched the ground. Then, a tall figure in moon-white uniform appeared. This was Alonso, the commander of the Sixth Legion. With black hair, blue eyes, and pristine white gloves, he exuded a noble, cold elegance.
There had been a polite smile at the corners of his lips, but the moment he heard Adrian crying, a flicker of worry passed through his eyes. His measured steps quickened. In just a few strides, he entered the transition chamber. After exchanging a formal salute with Heinrich, he immediately approached Guy. He placed a light kiss on Guy’s cheek, then removed his gloves and gently cupped Adrian’s face.
“Sweetheart, it’s okay. Daddy’s here, don’t cry.” His voice was as cold and pristine as it had been over comms, yet now it carried a trace of tenderness. Sensing his father’s presence, Adrian’s cries eased into hiccups. It wasn’t until he latched onto Alonso’s finger with his tiny mouth that his wide, innocent blue eyes finally went quiet.
Alonso’s smile softened into something genuine. After sharing a glance with Guy, he reached out to accept a square gift box from his adjutant and then handed it to Heinrich and Lin Xu.
“Thank you, Marshal Chu, for taking care of Guy during this time. This is just a small token of gratitude. I hope your child grows up healthy.”
Inside the box were two small baby outfits, clearly for infants. The clothes were a soft pastel green, likely chosen because the baby’s gender was unknown. Wait… what child?
Lin Xu tilted his head, narrowing his gaze on Guy. Guy realized Lin Xu didn’t know about his pregnancy yet and quickly stammered, “This—uh, no, what Alonso means is that this gift is for your precious babies. I mean… your two rabbit-cats, right, Alonso?”
Alonso didn’t quite understand why Guy was suddenly breaking out in a sweat, but he still followed his lead, explaining, “Yes, just as Guy said. A gift for Dr. Lin’s little ones.”
Lin Xu believed him. Yeah, right.
Author’s Note:
Dropping a teaser—feel free to check it out:
“Matched with the Admiral, and He Turned into a Big Cat!”
Lu Yao, the Alliance’s first omega-level mecha designer, was unmatched in ability—aloof and proud.
Due to his 100% genetic compatibility with Alpha Five-Star Admiral Zhou Yuncheng, the central AI forcibly arranged their marriage.
People sighed. Even such an extraordinary omega couldn’t escape the shackles of genetic fate. His brilliance and pride were bound to irritate an alpha.
Sure enough, after three years of marriage, the Admiral spent most of his time away on campaigns, rarely returning home. In the few photos that circulated, they stood three meters apart—practically broadcasting their unfamiliarity.
People lamented again. What a waste of such exceptional genes.
