Chapter 93: Official Seclusion

What does it mean for the mountain road to twist and turn, what does it mean for a willow to turn lush and bright again?¹

Xi Ming’s gaze changed from bewildered to radiant, as though he had been given new life, brimming with vitality once more.

In all the countless times he had tried to suppress his darker thoughts, Xi Ming had never imagined—Shi Chan was actually willing. Shi Chan was actually willing to accept those twisted notions born out of his shadows.

But Shi Chan did not wish to continue discussing this topic. Seeing Xi Ming about to speak, he quickly covered the other’s mouth with his hand and stated his decision:

“I’m going into seclusion for a while, at least three months.”

These words quieted Xi Ming down.

“If there are patients during this time who need treatment for cosmic radiation, just use the talismans I gave you before to hold things over. And for those injured in spirit during the war, make sure they don’t use their mental power during this period—wait until I come out, then I’ll treat them. As for future requests, don’t accept any for now.”

Even aside from the matter of the probe device, Shi Chan had not abandoned the idea of erasing the temporary mark.

If he could not completely control his own feelings and thoughts—then the Shi Chan in such a state would merely be a puppet manipulated by who-knows-what, and living like that would have no meaning.

He could choose to willingly indulge himself in his feelings for Xi Ming, but he would never allow his mind to be interfered with or guided by any outside force.

He could only be himself.

Before going into seclusion, Shi Chan worried that Xi Ming might overthink, so he did not tell him the real reason—that this retreat was to erase the temporary mark between them. Instead, he only said that because of dealing with radiation matters, his cultivation had been neglected, and now he needed to retreat for a time to stabilize it.

Xi Ming did not doubt Shi Chan’s explanation. Of course, he didn’t want Shi Chan to retreat, but he couldn’t change his decision.

All the more so since the outcome was already much better than Xi Ming had feared—his mistake had been forgiven, and Shi Chan had not left him.

It was only seclusion, nothing more. Shi Chan had gone into retreat before… staring at the firmly shut door, Xi Ming kept trying to convince himself.

“Now it’s the end of February. March, April… by the end of May, he’ll be out. That’s soon.” Xi Ming frowned as he calculated the time, wishing that February’s next month could already be May, wishing that tomorrow he could see Shi Chan walk out the door.

The two little ones had wanted to follow Shi Chan into the room but were refused. He only told Xi Ming to take good care of them. With Shi Chan gone, the only three living beings in the hallway were cloaked in gloom.

The moody little fluffy ball soon fell asleep without defenses in Xi Ming’s arms. The little vermilion bird still had some spirit, but for now, it dared not leave Xi Ming’s side, circling around him, occasionally perching on his shoulder to rest.

The matter of the probe had passed dangerously but safely. Although Xi Ming was full of unwillingness about Shi Chan’s retreat, he did not dare to try any spying tricks again. He could only stare at that tightly closed door, enduring the torment in his heart.

Since meeting Shi Chan, the two of them had never been apart for such a long time. Even though reason told him that Shi Chan would not come out for months, his heart could not bear the gap.

If only he had been more careful in his actions, if only he had confessed earlier, maybe they would not have ended up with this separation!

But what had happened could not be undone.

When Shi Chan was there to accompany him, Xi Ming had not realized it. Now that Shi Chan was gone, he endured one day, two days, then three, four, five, six, seven days… until Xi Ming could no longer control his already unstable mental state. Agitated and restless, he became moody and merciless, his methods of ruling growing increasingly cold and cruel.

Gradually, the title “Tyrant” began to be associated with Xi Ming.

Almost every few hours—even in the dead of night—Xi Ming could not stop himself from going to stand in front of the door where Shi Chan secluded himself.

He did not dare to break it down, nor even to knock, afraid of disturbing the lover who had only just forgiven him. He could only stand silently outside, pressing his hand against the unchanged temperature of the door.

Only then would the terror and violence inside him be slightly suppressed.

A few days later, the news of the failed escape of Lan Wantian, the last empress of the Old Empire, was placed on Xi Ming’s desk. Staring at the name of his enemy, Xi Ming finally realized how much he had neglected in the past days. He finally remembered that beyond the Empire, many of his other enemies still roamed the stars.

“Strengthen the guard on the Wu family prisoners.” After ordering them to be re-imprisoned, Xi Ming looked out at the starry sky, his eyes deep and unreadable. “And don’t let them die, wait…”

Wait until the Federation collapsed. The trial of the rulers of the old era would be the first spectacle of the new nation’s founding.

After wasting several days, Xi Ming finally regained his resolve. Seeing the Federation, which was caught in internal strife yet still eyeing them with hostility, he abandoned his former strategy of slow erosion—

Full-scale war!

The Steller, who had upgraded all their equipment during the period of rest, were already eager for blood. Many of the star pirates, who had always lived by licking blood from the tip of their blades, were experiencing for the first time the abundant supplies of a “regular army.” After a few small skirmishes to test the waters, they were restless, clamoring that it wasn’t enough, yearning for a true battle with the Federation’s colossal force.

Huo Mengming, as the current primary arms supplier of Steller, was also one of Shi Chan’s early radiation patients. In the latter half of the year 5332, he had traded five years of his life for a chance to survive. Now, nearly a year and a half had passed.

Back then, Huo Mengming had thought Xi Ming would destroy the gray empire he had built with his own hands. Unexpectedly, during their cooperation, as Steller’s territory expanded without limit and the old powers and aristocrats were wiped out in the flames of war, the number and quality of resource planets he gained far exceeded even his peak years.

After Xi Ming completely occupied the Empire, the resources under Huo Mengming’s control were officially legitimized—approved by Xi Ming himself and recognized by the central intelligence.

During the relatively calm period between the Federation and Steller, aside from continuing to buy off the Federation’s gray-and-black forces, Huo Mengming devoted almost all his attention to the management of his newly acquired resource planets.

Due to losses, efficiency, and magnetic field issues, the extraction of raw resource ores was very difficult to mechanize. It could only be done with manual labor. Yet, even with high pay, few were willing to take on such dangerous work.

Under the lure of huge profits, some local rulers in remote regions turned to using criminals for ore mining. Over the next hundred years, this practice gradually spread across the stars. Even so, labor in resource ore mining remained in constant shortage.

In the past years of war, because of reasons well known, the Empire’s regulation had drastically weakened. Crime flourished everywhere, and during the period of endless flames and smoke, some rare resource-producing planets became unexpectedly “prosperous.” After all, what opposed order was overwhelming wealth.

But those planetary lords were, in the end, just playing at small tricks. Xi Ming hadn’t set his eyes on them before. Yet after occupying the Empire and gaining recognition from the central intelligence, these “lost chunks of fat” suddenly became strikingly obvious.

Xi Ming didn’t even need to personally draw up plans. As long as he divided up the benefits, his subordinates would pounce like wolves and tear into that fat mercilessly. All the more since the central intelligence stood by, providing convenience—this wasn’t just like giving them wings, it was a brand-new experience for the Steller forces: they could play the role of righteous saviors, rescuing innocent people who had been exploited.

Huo Mengming, however, felt no sympathy for these so-called innocent victims—if he had ever possessed such feelings, he would never have expanded his forces so ruthlessly in the first place. But because he was now working with Xi Ming—more precisely, considered one of Xi Ming’s men—in this matter, even though he secretly wished these “disappeared” people could continue serving as his free miners, in action he still followed the central intelligence’s advice, registered their information, and released them.

Huo Mengming received a rather large portion of these divided benefits, and in recent days he had been constantly busy: confirming the identities of the surviving black-market miners one by one, collecting the scattered corpses left in the mines, and using DNA to determine who they had been. Then he had to send the survivors back to their original home planets, update the records of those who had died accidentally, and provide partial humanitarian compensation to their surviving heirs.

Huo Mengming knew that politicians and officials in any nation were always hesitant and cautious, but it was the first time he himself truly felt how troublesome “doing good deeds” could be. If not for the constant assistance and supervision of the central intelligence, and if not for the fixed number of years he had bargained his life for, Huo Mengming would have long since thrown this noisy crowd of civilians back into the black mines.

There were simply too many messy matters that couldn’t be solved by threats or bribery. His head felt like it was about to explode. Luckily, before the outbreak of full-scale war, those resource planets were finally brought back into operation.

Aboard the starship flying toward the front lines, Huo Mengming gazed at the vast, boundless star map, flames of desire blazing in his eyes—he wanted the resources of the old Empire! And he wanted the power that came with the Federation’s battlefield just as much!

The smoke of war once again rose on the battlefield, only to scatter amid the thunderous roars of massive technological artillery, dissolving alongside the wailing of countless shattered souls.

Within the Federation, the deadlock among the high-ranking factions—exacerbated by outside interference—was finally broken, and they once more united against a common foe.

But the tide of history was no longer on their side.

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Old Star Calendar 5334, late February: Under Xi Ming’s leadership, the Steller forces launched a large-scale war against the Federation.

Old Star Calendar 5334, March: Under heavy assault, the Federation erupted into widespread internal chaos, its border defenses collapsing step by step.

Old Star Calendar 5334, April: The Federation sought peace with Steller, but was rejected.

Old Star Calendar 5334, late April: The Federation’s Third Alliance Army Commander “died of illness.” Backed by several deputy commanders, an omega assumed leadership of the Third Army, and promptly led the entire corps to abandon the Federation’s defenses and defect to Steller.

Old Star Calendar 5334, May: The Federation’s defense line collapsed, its capital planet was seized, and the Federation’s central intelligence came under the control of Steller’s Radiation Corps. The Federation fell.

Old Star Calendar 5334, June: Fleeing remnants of the Federation began attacking independent star nations, attempting to rebuild a border defense line.

Old Star Calendar 5334, July: Several independent nations, ravaged by war, petitioned under the banner of the “United Nations of the Stars” to join the Steller Organization, requesting Steller’s military aid to drive out invaders.

Old Star Calendar 5334, August: All known powers of the interstellar world bowed their heads to Xi Ming.

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1. I think it’s some kind of idolism to show unexpected results or something similar. Let me know if you know what it means. ↩︎