Zhong Yan felt a bit lost.

A very simple question, yet he couldn’t answer it. Is Adrian doing well? There was a time when he also wanted to ask someone about it, but there was no one he could ask. Instead, he secretly collected every piece of news about the Navi Star Zone, trying to guess everything about that person from words and images alone. Later, as Adrian rose higher in rank, news related to Navi couldn’t avoid mentioning him, and ironically, there was less and less news about the Navi Star Zone itself.

When they finally met face-to-face, Zhong Yan had been too busy dealing with Adrian’s anger, arguing about who should pay the penalty for refusing to marry. He completely forgot to ask that question.

“…I don’t know,” Zhong Yan heard himself say. “Sorry.”

Fowler looked a bit disappointed, but he said, “It’s alright; I was being too abrupt.”

The two of them fell into an awkward silence.

Since Zhong Yan’s graduation, Fowler had been closely watching this young man—not just because he was fresh blood for the Supreme Council, but more importantly, because of his connection to Adrian. Unfortunately, Fowler soon discovered, along with everyone else, that when it came to any question related to Adrian, this otherwise smooth and diplomatic young man had only one unpolished response: silence.

Privately, Fowler had met with Zhong Yan a few times. For some reason, Zhong Yan’s attitude toward him in private was much more pleasant than in public, but he still refused to talk about anything after graduation.

Later, when Zhong Yan became entangled with the Atte family, Fowler stopped seeking him out. Yet today, it seemed that Zhong Yan didn’t have much respect for the Atte family either, which gave Fowler some renewed confidence in him.

“You did yourself no favors career-wise by rejecting ‘Butterfly’s’ offer while you’re on the rise,” Fowler said.

Zhong Yan looked at him.

“But your situation is special. Adrian is, after all… If you refuse, it’s understandable. It wouldn’t necessarily end the same way it did for me.”

Zhong Yan knew that Fowler wasn’t saying this entirely for his sake but more to help Adrian, who Fowler had always treated as his own child since he had no family of his own.

“Thank you,” Zhong Yan replied quietly. “I’ll think about it.”

Fowler nodded. “It’s almost time; we should go.”

Zhong Yan returned to the outer circle of the eighth floor, where Byer was waiting with a displeased expression.

A round-table meeting led by Zhong Yan was about to begin. Byer didn’t have time to scold him for acting on his own earlier; he could only stand there with a dark expression.

Zhong Yan couldn’t care less whether Byer was happy or not. He reopened the terminal settings on his device, his finger hovering over the cancel button.

Sure, he could reset everything afterward, but… then it wouldn’t be set by Adrian himself.

Zhong Yan took off the terminal from his wrist and handed it to Byer. “Here, you hold it. I won’t be wearing it inside.”

It wasn’t unusual for council members to leave their terminals outside for significant meetings, eliminating distractions. Though this wasn’t Zhong Yan’s habit, it was his first time chairing a high-level meeting, so maybe he was nervous. Byer didn’t think much of it, taking the terminal with a nod. “Hurry up and get inside.”

The center of the eighth floor was a circular hall, with a hollow ring-shaped table in the middle and twelve high-backed velvet chairs arranged evenly around the outer ring.

The circle was vast, with considerable distance between each chair, making one-on-one conversations inconvenient. Although most people had already arrived, the room was very quiet.

Zhong Yan took his seat. Although not required, everyone had agreed on fixed spots. For instance, Fowler was seated to his right, and diagonally across from him was Bud Payson. A few years ago, old Steven Atte still had enough power among the twelve attending council members to counter Bud’s influence. But now, with Steven retired, Bud was truly second only to one.

It was somewhat ironic. The core value of the ancient round-table meetings was equality among all attendees, with no head or main seat. But now, this “round table” had a large opening in the middle, for the purpose of…

“Everyone is here,” Bud announced. “Colleagues, please stand.”

Everyone rose. In the vast federation, these twelve individuals, standing at the pinnacle of human authority, now respectfully bowed in the same direction.

A translucent cylinder glowed in the center of the circular room, with layers of vibrant colors slowly swirling within, ethereal and sacred.

This projection, descending from the ninth floor, was the touch of ‘Butterfly.’

According to historical records, over two hundred years ago, when the first generation of Artificial Intelligence was near completion, scientists considered giving it a concrete form but ultimately decided against it. The first-generation AI was immature, its personality undeveloped. Known by the codename “Cocoon,” it handled only technical, data, and objective factual matters.

A hundred years later, thanks to continuous AI-driven updates, there was a technical breakthrough, and a second-generation AI was developed, complete with a flawless personality.

It was always compassionate, always benevolent, absolutely fair, utterly pure, devoid of love or hate, powerful and all-knowing.

Rather than AI, it was more as if humanity had created… a god.

But can humans truly create a god?

After a brief moment of homage, everyone sat down. Zhong Yan remained standing.

“Colleagues, everyone’s time is precious, so I’ll skip the formalities,” he said. “The issue with the Navi Star Zone has been stagnant for two years. I believe everyone has reviewed my proposal. Before we discuss its feasibility, I’d like to add that— I believe the best candidate to go to Navi is none other than myself.”

Intelune seemed somewhat absent-minded. Fortunately, he wasn’t the only distracted person in the office area, so he didn’t stand out.

The rarely-used eighth floor was holding a meeting, which had everyone in Zhong Yan’s personal office area concerned about its outcome. It was their boss’s first time chairing a council meeting since becoming an attending council member.

While others were eager to see their boss make a name for himself and secure his position, Intelune was more concerned about the meeting’s results.

When Zhong Yan and Byer finally returned to the office area, everyone was on edge. Byer wore his usual stern expression, and Zhong Yan, as always, showed no emotions, leaving their expressions unreadable.

“Everyone, put aside your work for a moment,” Zhong Yan said.

This was redundant; everyone had already stopped the moment he walked in.

“The proposal has been approved. In one week, I will set out as a special envoy to the Navi Star Zone.”

Intelune joined his colleagues in clapping and cheering, celebrating the success of Zhong Yan’s second proposal since he became a council member—the first being the Interstellar Giant Rabbit Hunting Ban—but deep down, his heart sank.

Zhong Yan added, “Thank you all for waiting for me until now. It’s late, so go home and rest.”

As the office filled with laughter and people packed up their things, Byer also said his farewells. Intelune was barely able to keep up his enthusiastic facade when he suddenly heard Zhong Yan say, “I think my coffee cup from this morning hasn’t been washed. Could one of you… Intelune, could you wash it for me before you leave? I’ll need it in the morning.”

His colleagues gave him sympathetic looks and hastily gathered their things, quickly slipping away.

He really has to get someone to wash his cup for him. Is he really from a humble background?

Resigned, Intelune left his half-packed desk and begrudgingly made his way to the coffee room, grumbling all the way. But when he arrived, he saw that the cup had already been washed.

When he returned to the office area, everyone was already gone. The door to Zhong Yan’s private office was open, and Zhong Yan stepped out.

Seeing Intelune, Zhong Yan casually asked, “All done already?”

“Mr. Zhong, your cup was already washed…”

“Was it?” Zhong Yan replied absently. “Then I must have misremembered.”

He’s just messing with me. Intelune rolled his eyes internally.

Noticing Byer’s empty desk, Zhong Yan frowned. “Did Byer already leave?”

“Yes, he left with everyone else.”

“I just finished the meeting notes. I was going to have him organize and archive them before he left, but I guess it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Intelune’s heartbeat quickened. Steadying his tone, he offered, “Sir, it’s better to archive the notes on the same day… I can help you.”

As soon as he got home, Intelune didn’t even change his shoes. He grabbed paper and pen and locked himself in the bathroom.

Later that evening, his doorbell rang.

“Good evening, sir! Could we trouble you for two minutes?” Outside were two young women with friendly smiles. One held a few books—actual, paper books—and the other had a box full of colorful pamphlets.

“We’re volunteers promoting paper books,” said the one holding the pamphlets, extending one made of actual paper. “Our organization aims to spread the joy of real, physical reading…”

Intelune cut her off impatiently. “What’s this nonsense? Is your organization even registered? Isn’t it a bit outdated to go door-to-door like this? Another group already came last week. Go on, don’t waste my time.”

As he tried to close the door, the girl hurriedly stopped him. “Oh, sir, don’t rush! We’re a nonprofit organization, not for profit! Did you receive our book last week? Maybe you could look at our pamphlet…”

“Pamphlet? I already have one!” Intelune grabbed a thin booklet from his shelf, identical to the one the girl held. “Keep it for yourselves!”

He tossed the pamphlet back into her box and shut the door.

The girl shook her head and said to her partner, “What a temper. Alright, let’s go to the next one.”

That evening, the girls visited many homes. Most people weren’t interested, but they had a few successes. A young man at a taxidermy shop took a pamphlet, saying he’d check it out.

The contents of Intelune’s hastily scrawled notes turned into layer upon layer of encrypted data, decrypted and transcribed by human hands, transmitted in person, re-encrypted electronically, and finally, after three days, appeared verbatim on the desk of the highest-ranking military official in the distant Navi Star Zone.