Chapter 170: What I Want is Revenge
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
“They were probably clinging to a sliver of hope,” Meng Zhenhua said, “thinking Alfred would never actually lead the Ark Fleet away from Earth. After all, once you leave Earth, there’s no going back. And at the time, whether there were any habitable Earth-like planets ahead was still a complete mystery.
“But in the end… this old man was taken out of the Solar System by the Ark Fleet. After that came the jump anomaly, then our encounter with the Spiritual Monarch… and because of all those events, the Ark Fleet split apart.
“I was one of the instigators,” Meng admitted. “We’d originally planned to seize control of the Ark Fleet from Alfred, but we failed. In the end, we had no choice but to split away with a portion of the fleet.
“When the Ark Fleet reached the Einstein Galaxy, we came here too. The founders of the Exiled Alliance were worried that future generations might make disastrous decisions, so five of the founding commanders chose to enter cryosleep, ready to wake at any time. I was one of them.”
Lin Xu asked, “And now you’re involved in military and political affairs again?”
Meng gave a wry smile. “Back then, we didn’t have enough people. I had no choice but to step in. I haven’t touched a scalpel in years.”
“How’s your health?” Lin Xu asked.
“Cryosleep leaves side effects,” Meng admitted. “I can’t stay awake for too long or it’ll damage my body. But with machines and medication maintaining me, there’s nothing serious. You don’t need to worry, Mr. Lin.”
Back in the apocalypse days, Lin Xu had technically been Meng Zhenhua’s superior. Meng had always respected the young but wise and decisive leader. Even after Lin Xu became his so-called “test subject,” that respect never diminished—in fact, it had only deepened, along with a quiet sense of concern.
Meng then asked, “And you, Mr. Lin? Any problems with the transplanted ability or gene modification?”
“I found a new energy source,” Lin Xu replied. “As long as I have enough energy, I’ll be fine.”
“That’s good.” Meng nodded. After a pause, he added, “You’ve been traveling nonstop. Why don’t you rest for a while? Or eat something? The dock has plenty of food. I could have them bring you some fresh-cooked meat.”
Back in the apocalypse, ability users could sustain themselves by absorbing the energy of crystal cores, but Lin Xu’s zombie-like traits always left them craving something to chew.
They used to bring back meat from mutated animals and secretly borrow Meng Zhenhua’s beakers, dry pans, and heating units to cook.
Since mutated animals couldn’t infect Lin Xu, Meng had simply let them be—and besides, it saved the base’s food rations.
Now, in the Alliance, food was abundant, with all kinds of exotic alien meats available. Meng figured Lin Xu might enjoy trying them.
But Lin Xu only frowned. “I want to meet with the Alliance leadership as soon as possible to discuss the next steps.”
“You’re in a hurry?” Meng asked.
“My child is still in the Emperor’s hands,” Lin Xu said, their voice low but steady. “I have to get him back.”
“Wait… child?” Meng froze, then slowly turned to Heinrich with a doubtful look. “Mr. Chu… are you actually an omega?”
Meng knew that in the interstellar era, male omegas could bear children, but Heinrich’s physique and appearance seemed far too extreme for that.
“No.”
“No.”
Heinrich and Lin Xu spoke in unison. Lin Xu added, “I’m the one who gave birth. You remember the deep-sea gene modification—the one that gave me an extra reproductive cavity?”
Meng’s eyes went wide. “That actually works?”
“It works,” Lin Xu said flatly.
For a moment, Meng was at a loss for words. He had never imagined that a freak accident from so long ago would one day lead to Lin Xu personally giving birth to a child.
“Alright,” Meng said at last. “I’ll arrange a meeting as soon as possible. But… why don’t we sit down for a meal? I’ll invite Ashelan to join us, and we can discuss business over the table.”
Lin Xu agreed. They had never expected that, even in this interstellar era, they would return to the old habit of holding important discussions over a shared meal.
Half an hour later, under Meng Zhenhua’s arrangements, Lin Xu and Heinrich found themselves sitting at a dining table with Ashelan.
Tonight’s main course was roasted dream cow, served with sashimi of springwater fish from Glacon and a side of steamed egg custard. Dessert would be a savory minced-meat pudding.
In front of Meng Zhenhua, however, sat only two bottles of nutrient solution. That was the price of surviving through cryosleep—his intake of energy and fluids had to be precisely regulated. He could no longer eat food, only drink nutrient solutions.
Ashelan, smiling warmly, had arranged the entire menu. He had also advised against inviting other fleet representatives to join them.
The Exiled Alliance Fleet was heavily militarized. It was composed of thirty-two fleets stationed throughout the Red Moon System. Their representatives formed a council that managed Alliance affairs from the Central Dock, with each fleet’s commander taking turns as the Alliance’s chair.
The council also voted on the secretary-general, who handled long-term governance and mediated conflicts between fleets.
Above all, the five marshals in cryosleep held absolute military authority. Whenever they awoke, the Alliance was bound to obey their orders without question.
This term’s secretary-general, Ashelan, might have looked like a harmless old gentleman, but he wasn’t naïve. He had just listened to the fleet representatives argue endlessly over Lin Xu. If he invited them to this dinner, it would turn into nothing more than a shouting match. Better to keep them out of the decision-making process entirely.
With the secretary-general and a marshal present, that was all the authority they needed.
“Dr. Lin, would you like to try some springwater fish sashimi?” Ashelan offered. “Its texture is quite different from Earth fish—it’s almost like jelly.”
Lin Xu took a bite. The fish was soft and silky, with a delicate, creamy flavor. When paired with the steamed egg, it blended perfectly, leaving no trace of heaviness.
Ashelan then poured Lin Xu a glass of sparkling fruit wine. As the liquid bubbled and gurgled into the glass, he asked, “When Godric Chapman briefed us on your situation, he mentioned that you discovered the Empire’s falsified history?”
“Yes,” Lin Xu said simply.
Ashelan’s mild smile didn’t waver. He reached to pour wine for Heinrich as well, but Heinrich merely inclined his head, took the bottle from him, and poured his own.
With that small gesture, Ashelan was left with nothing to busy his hands with and had no choice but to meet Lin Xu’s steady gaze.
“Dr. Lin,” he said, “the Empire may have rewritten history, but the Alliance hasn’t. The truth is all written down here—black and white, for anyone who dares to read it.”
“I understand what you mean, Secretary-General,” Lin Xu replied calmly. “But I didn’t come to the Alliance to teach history. Let me ask you this instead: you know the Empire falsified the past—why haven’t you used that weakness to act against them? The Empire can build the Sword of Michael to block interstellar travel, but they can’t stop the spread of ideas.”
“We’ve tried,” Ashelan said.
“For example?” Lin Xu pressed.
Under the weight of Lin Xu’s cool gray stare, Ashelan felt as if his thoughts were being laid bare. He hesitated, then carefully chose his words. “We’ve been spreading the idea of humanity as one united people among Imperial citizens. Thanks to the two of you—and the data you brought back from your Old-Earth expedition—our efforts have gained momentum. We thought… maybe, with enough public pressure, the Empire might be forced to lift the blockade.”
“You’re waiting for the Empire to lift the blockade?” Lin Xu leaned back in his chair. “I expected something a little more ambitious.”
“Dr. Lin.” Ashelan’s nose wrinkled slightly. He thought Lin Xu was far too casual about it all, almost mocking. He shot a look at Meng Zhenhua, but the marshal sat quietly, gaze lowered, calmly sipping his nutrient solution.
The silence stretched until Meng finally lifted his head and met Ashelan’s eyes. He smacked his lips at the bland synthetic taste of his drink, then said to Lin Xu, “We used to have bigger ambitions. Lately… I think they’ve gotten a bit weaker.”
Ashelan blinked. “…What?”
“Marshal Meng, what are you talking about?”
Meng Zhenhua continued, “Back then, we insisted on never letting the fleet land and on building settlements on the planets instead, hoping it would remind our descendants to keep fighting and take back their homeland. But now, they seem to have gotten used to artificial docks and space cities. ‘Keep sailing until victory’ has lost its meaning.”
“Marshal, we’re still trying,” Ashelan said. “We just don’t want another direct war. Subversion in the shadows will always take more time.”
“What if I have a way to speed it up?” Lin Xu asked.
“What?”
“I can produce evidence proving the Empire forged its history. The question is how to release it so the public will believe it and it will have the greatest impact.”
“What kind of evidence could you possibly have?”
Instead of answering, Lin Xu asked, “Have you ever dated any relics from ancient Earth?”
“We have,” Ashelan replied. “At first, we thought all the artifacts the Empire claimed were three thousand years old were fake. But when we tested them, they really did date back three thousand years. Meanwhile, the Alliance’s ancient Earth relics only came out to be six hundred years old. We considered using our artifacts to prove the Empire fabricated twenty-four hundred years of history, but in the end, they’d just call everything we presented counterfeit.”
“The Empire used special equipment at its founding to alter the temporal traces of the Ark Fleet’s ships and possessions,” Lin Xu said. “Of course the results came back as three thousand years. That equipment is buried under Ares Star in the Crescent District.”
“You’re certain?” Ashelan’s fork scraped sharply against his plate.
“I’m certain.” Lin Xu sweetened the pot. “I also have the diaries of crew members abandoned by the Ark Fleet six hundred years ago. The Empire brought their bodies back, and there are even alien witnesses to corroborate it.
“The Ark Fleet’s ships are also still on Ares Star. They only moved the internal items; the ship structures themselves remain untouched. You can even find the old, incomplete engines.”
“Even if we could get our hands on that evidence, how would we convince the Empire’s citizens to believe it?”
After Ashelan said this, Lin Xu glanced at Meng Zhenhua, who sighed, clearly not expecting Ashelan to say something so naïve.
Lin Xu leaned in, his voice patient. “Ashelan, do you know I hired someone to kill my mentor, Perser?”
Surprise flashed across Ashelan’s face. He hadn’t expected Lin Xu to bring that up now. “I know. The Imperial media covered your case extensively. We even investigated it ourselves. But we don’t really care about your personal affairs.”
Alfred’s forged chain of evidence had been airtight, enough to fool the Alliance’s own intelligence agents.
Lin Xu gave a thin smile. “If the Empire could make you believe I was a murderer, then I can make the Empire’s citizens believe they’ve been deceived by the royals and nobles for centuries. And, Mr. Ashelan, you need to understand one thing: I am not a murderer. The Imperial nobles killed Marianna Perser. Like Colonel Chen, what I want is—revenge.”
Lin Xu’s words fell slowly, each one deliberate. For a moment, Ashelan felt like he was being stared down by a blood-drenched predator of the night. Even if he wasn’t the prey, the chill running down his spine was undeniable. But now… he had a chance to ally with that predator. Could he really trust Lin Xu, though? He looked to Meng Zhenhua, who had remained silent this whole time. Meng Zhenhua asked, “Mr. Lin Xu, do you have a plan?”
“I do.”
Meng Zhenhua nodded and said to Ashelan, “Listen to him. He’s smarter than you. He’s smarter than me.”
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