“C-Commander…” The young lieutenant who came to deliver a message barely made it to the doorway before stumbling onto the scene of Adrian’s fiery outburst. After listening closely, he realized someone had just stepped on the Commander’s “absolute taboo,” and he immediately wished he could turn around and escape, steering clear of this mess.

Everyone in the Navi Military District—or rather, everyone in the entire Navi Star Zone—knew that their Supreme Commander wasn’t an overly strict superior. In fact, due to his youth, he usually got along well with regular soldiers and civilians alike, giving him a high level of respect in Navi. Adrian rarely lost his temper or made things hard for his subordinates, and even if he did get angry, his temper flared up quickly and faded just as fast. However, there was one “absolute taboo” no one dared to cross.

And that was “the one” far away on the bustling Capital Star, on the other side of the Federation.

When Adrian first came to Navi, he held a nominal title without any real power and was assigned a low position. At that time, the entire Alliance was abuzz with gossip about the “Twin Stars Breakup.” Even remote Navi wasn’t immune, and people kept asking Adrian about “that person.” After multiple instances of Adrian storming off and making it clear that he didn’t want to hear that name, most people learned to keep their curiosity to themselves. But one young captain, who was Adrian’s peer, didn’t heed this warning. Known for his fierce fighting style and respected in the region, this young captain saw Adrian—fresh out of school, barely in his twenties—as just another pampered rich kid whose family had bought his way into the academy. Besides, with Adrian now estranged from his family, there was nothing to be afraid of.

Finally, one day, in a crowded mess hall, the captain publicly asked Adrian, “So, did you ever sleep with Zhong Yan or what?”

Adrian flipped the table in response and roared, “I’ve slept with your entire ancestor line, eighteen generations back, and somehow out popped a dumbass like you!”

In the Federation’s Highest Academy Military School, there were many combat-related ranking boards, one of which was a comprehensive ranking called the Solo Combat Leaderboard. This board combined all individual performance metrics to create an overall ranking, and Adrian spent his final year maintaining the top spot, setting the longest record for a top-ranking in fifty years. That’s why everyone at the Military Academy called him “Chief.”

No one in the far-off Navi Star Zone understood just how prestigious this ranking was, but after that day, they got a taste firsthand.

In this chaotic, backwater zone, strength was the only real authority. Watching a fight was the kind of entertainment people eagerly anticipated, so everyone naturally formed a ring, creating a makeshift arena.

Fein wanted to rush in to break up the fight but was held back by the crowd, who cheerfully restrained him and urged him not to spoil the fun.

“Spoil what, huh?! If you don’t let me go, you’re all going to be preparing a funeral for that idiot!” Fein, realizing he couldn’t fight off so many, shouted desperately, “Boss! Go easy! Don’t kill him!”

At first, no one took him seriously, but within five minutes, the crowd started to panic. The captain was already a bloody mess, his face turning blue, barely breathing. No one dared to intervene—two of the captain’s subordinates had tried stepping in when they saw things were going south. One had his arm broken in two moves and lay screaming, while the other had been kicked into a wall and still hadn’t managed to get up.

Nobody expected this heir from a prestigious family on the Capital Star to be such a vicious fighter. Fortunately, he seemed to retain some control. Once the captain was rendered immobile, Adrian didn’t press further. He turned his gaze toward the crowd.

“I said don’t mention that name in front of me. Do you all understand?”

His face was still smeared with blood, his aura deadly, and no one dared meet his gaze. The once lively crowd fell into dead silence.

“Take this trash to the hospital. I’ll cover the medical expenses.” He gave the man on the ground a light kick, then beckoned to Fein. “Let’s go.”

That captain spent days in the intensive care unit before they managed to save him. As a result, Adrian received a disciplinary record, but he also became a legend and was soon transferred to the combat division, where he quickly gained merits and rose through the ranks.

Since then, a few others had either deliberately or unintentionally crossed this line, only to meet similarly miserable ends. By the time Adrian ascended to the top position in the military, this had become the most important survival rule in the entire Navi Zone. No one dared to trigger his rage again.

“Come in.” Fein, sharp-eyed, spotted the nervous young lieutenant and quickly called him over. “What’s up?”

Adrian managed to suppress his anger and turned his attention to the new arrival.

The young lieutenant stammered, “U-Upstairs… The conference room upstairs asked me to come down and remind the Commander.”

“I’ll go up now.” Adrian took a deep breath to steady himself. “You guys continue.”

After he left, the head of the Intelligence Department slumped into a chair, muttering, “Good lord, I was scared to death!”

Fein said, “That’s because he’s going easy on you office folks. If it were any military personnel, they’d probably be in the hospital by now. And the last time he sent someone to the hospital over this was only three years ago. Isn’t your memory any better?”

“It just slipped out!” The director looked like he was about to cry. “He’s mentioned that name so many times! I thought maybe things had thawed between them.”

“They haven’t. In fact, they’ve probably gotten worse,” Fein said in exasperation. “And you’re supposed to be the head of Intelligence.”

“Speaking of which, Lieutenant Xyster…” The director leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Before you all left Academy Star, didn’t our Commander go over to negotiate penalties on the other party’s ship? Did things… not go well?”

Fein shot him a sideways glance. “How did you know?”

“The entire Federation knows! Their names are still paired together in the marriage registry! People are checking the system every second to see if that line has been removed.”

“Oh, we were in transit these past few days, so the signal was spotty. I didn’t keep up with it. What’s the public saying?”

“Everyone’s guessing the penalty amount must be huge if the Commander actually went to discuss it personally, yet still couldn’t reach an agreement. Could it be that even the two of them combined can’t afford it?”

Fein knew that the other day, Zhong Yan had taken a car to Adrian’s private ship, though it was Zhong Yan who’d entered, not Adrian. Still, Fein was certain they’d had a private conversation and discussed these issues. Now he was just as baffled. “It can’t be that high… Divorce penalties don’t go above ten or fifteen thousand, right? The highest recorded penalty, thirty years ago, was under ten thousand. Even if it were a fivefold increase, it wouldn’t be an amount they couldn’t pay.”

The director, with a worried look, said, “Could ‘Butterfly’ be jacking up the fine to make things difficult for the Commander? If it’s a billion or more, we could crowdfund it for him.”

Fein rolled his eyes. “If it were that high, we’d be thrilled. Just releasing that number would bring enough public pressure to crush ‘Butterfly.’ Besides, do you think a billion is beyond his reach? We’ve been… cracking down on criminals for years!”

The director, who worked within Navi’s well-funded military, nodded in agreement but felt even more confused.

“Alright, gossip time is over.” Fein got up, patting his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. The fine has a one-month deadline. We’ll know soon enough.”

Meanwhile, on Capital Star, at the Atte family estate, a conversation was nearing its conclusion.

“…Very well. Just present it this way at the afternoon meeting,” Steven Atte concluded.

“Yes, sir.” Zhong Yan lowered his gaze.

Steven’s expression softened.

Zhong Yan’s consistent obedience had greatly softened Steven’s anger over his impulsive actions. With the serious matters discussed, the atmosphere relaxed, and Steven changed the topic. “I heard that there’s a young lad named Intelune? He seems to be getting pretty bold around you?”

Steven had received word about even the small incidents in Zhong Yan’s private office area just moments after they’d occurred, making no secret of it.

“Intelune?” Zhong Yan echoed, then remembered. “Oh, he came in early today. I had an urgent document, so I let him handle it.”

“More than that, it seems. Didn’t he fill in for Byer back at Academy Star? Hmph. If it were Byer, he wouldn’t let you send a hasty reply to Capital Star.”

“Yes. He’s indeed too young and inexperienced,” Zhong Yan agreed, then added, “But I am considering grooming him. Compared to the others, he’s fairly adaptable. Plus, he’s my junior from school. He’s quite ambitious, or so he claims.”

“Is that so?” Steven took a leisurely sip from his cup. Zhong Yan’s proactive explanation put Steven at ease, dispelling his earlier irritation. “Zhong Yan… are you saying Byer’s getting in your way?”

“Of course not.” Zhong Yan laughed. “How could I manage among the parliamentary advisors without Byer’s support? My respect for him comes right after you. However, there’s a severe age gap within my team. Byer doesn’t seem as spry, so I worry if he’s advised to retire one day… Well, we need to prepare someone in advance, right?”

The way Zhong Yan said “we” pleased Steven, softening what was meant to be a reprimand into a gentle warning. “You say others are too young, but you’re not much older yourself! And this Intelune has spotted an opening by his own judgment. You think Byer’s illness on that ship was a coincidence?”

Zhong Yan widened his eyes, surprised, leaning forward and interrupting Steven in shock. “It wasn’t? Did he…”

Steven, tolerant of this breach of etiquette, confirmed, “Certainly not. It’s an old parliamentary tactic. In a few years, you’ll learn a few of these tricks. Not everyone gets such a smooth rise like yours. Byer was caught off guard by that ambitious kid! Stay sharp.”

Zhong Yan nodded in acknowledgment. Just as he was about to say something more, his wrist device emitted a notification sound.

Steven frowned. “You couldn’t silence your notifications before speaking with me?”

For a moment, Zhong Yan’s composed mask cracked. He forced himself to stay calm, apologizing immediately, “I’m sorry. I forgot to silence it today.”

He reached to press the quick-silence button on the device. What Steven didn’t see was that he pressed it twice, his hand trembling slightly.

In his careful relationship with Steven, he was always meticulous. There was no way he’d forget to silence his device! It was already silenced, but the notification still chimed.

Only one person’s messages could override the silent mode.

This setting was one Adrian had teasingly set on his device eight years ago back in their dorm, during a lighthearted, playful moment.