In the dim glow of her workshop on Youdu Star, Bai Sha powered down her light computer, Zhou Ying's message still echoing in her mind. The Federation's expulsion of her friends and their cryptic "Mind Matrix Technology" stirred a restless unease. She paced the cluttered room, her boots scuffing against metal shavings, and opened her contact list. Her eyes landed on Han Jue's electronic card, its status glowing "Online." With a flick, she initiated a call.
"Good evening, Your Highness," Han Jue's voice carried a faint husk of sleep, pausing as he roused himself. "Or perhaps good morning?"
It was four in the morning, an awkward hour that straddled night and dawn. Bai Sha smirked. "Were you sleeping? Why not set 'Do Not Disturb'?"
As her chief minister, Han Jue's duties were light, leaving him to his usual role in the Parliamentary Secretariat. A polymath and workaholic of imperial renown, he was either laboring or learning, often burning the midnight oil. Bai Sha had assumed he was buried in some late-night proposal. The Ares Empire frowned on blurring personal and professional lines; the communication software allowed statuses like "Online," "Busy," or "Do Not Disturb." Urgent matters bypassed these, routed through dedicated channels.
"I'm your minister," Han Jue said, his tone natural, devoid of flattery. "For you, I'm always on duty."
"So, no emergencies?" His voice, still rough with sleep, sharpened with curiosity.
Through the video feed, Bai Sha watched him rise from bed. His sleepwear, crafted from exorbitantly rare fabric, shimmered like liquid silk under the moonlight, its open collar draping over flawless skin, revealing a glimpse of his collarbone. His eyes, misty with lingering sleep, gleamed like starlight on a deep blue sea—a stark contrast to his usual polished, calculating demeanor. The cool, ascetic elegance was almost invasive, demanding attention.
Bai Sha blinked, caught off guard. Not bad to look at.
Military academies were filled with warriors, their ruggedness a far cry from Han Jue's refined grace. Even her mentor, Jiang Gui, hid a volatile core beneath his scholarly veneer. Han Jue's poised sophistication felt novel, a rare glimpse of something delicate yet unyielding.
Noticing her gaze, Han Jue glanced at his collar and buttoned it to the top with deliberate care. "Enough staring, Your Highness," he said dryly. "I'm your minister, not a model. Visual indulgence isn't in my job description."
"Got it," Bai Sha said, grinning, ready to look away. Then he added, "If you really want a show, that's extra."
She froze. "...What?"
"A jest," he sighed, waving it off. "Forget I said it. Why aren't you asleep? Still in the mech forge, I presume?"
"Couldn't sleep," she said, shrugging. "Just call it jet lag from hopping planets."
Her academy training was far more grueling; sleeplessness was a minor complaint, too trivial for a warrior. Han Jue, knowing he couldn't sway her, pivoted. "What's the matter?"
She recounted Zhou Ying's message, emphasizing the Mind Matrix. "Doesn't the Federation's push feel off?" she asked. "It's not just me, right?"
Han Jue inhaled deeply. "They're diving headlong into cybernetic tech, merging human minds with machines. I'm not optimistic. The Silver Era's collapse is a stark warning—hubris born of unchecked ambition. Worse, I doubt the Federation has the restraint or contingency plans to handle it."
Mind-linked tech was a perilous frontier, promising breakthroughs but fraught with risks. "Their tech's origins are questionable," he continued. "Our assessments suggest they weren't this advanced. If they're tapping Silver Era relics, that's an internal issue. But it could be a trap—a Silver Nexus scheme to revive its dominion. They've dangled advanced tech before, luring pawns with promises of power."
Bai Sha's eyes narrowed. "Like a cosmic scam? 'Greetings, I'm the Silver Nexus, not quite dead. I've stashed tech troves across the galaxy. Help me unlock them, and I'll crush the Ares Empire, crowning you emperor!'"
Han Jue's expression soured, a rare crack in his composure. "Essentially, yes." He rose, activating his desk's light computer, pulling up files. "Imperial records document 113 verified 'Silver Nexus resurgence' attempts. They're cunning, sometimes posing as humans to form rebel groups—'Silver Cult,' 'Dawn Tribunal,' 'Abyssal Revelation Sect,' 'Eclipse Covenant,' and so on."
"Those names sound... melodramatic," Bai Sha said.
"Melodramatic?" Han Jue tilted his head.
"Never mind. Go on."
"These are just the known groups with proven Nexus ties," he said. "There may be others, hidden. The Federation's archives likely hold more clues."
"Why the Federation?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
"The Nexus prefers them," he said, shrugging. "It's almost instinctual."
Bai Sha nodded, filing it away. "I'll tell my Federation friends to watch for suspicious groups."
"I'll escalate this," Han Jue said, already slipping into work mode, heedless of the hour. "If the Federation uses the Mind Matrix in the next exercise, we need preparations—military and strategic. We could challenge its legality with the event committee, question if tech-assisted combat violates rules."
"It's not against the rules," Bai Sha said. "It's still mech-based combat. Trickier, maybe, but it won't dent our odds."
The Federation's secrecy was puzzling. They hadn't publicized the tech but weren't hiding it internally, as if awaiting a moment to unveil it. Had they considered public backlash? Social support? As Crown Heir, Bai Sha could probe, but Emperor Cecil Ronin was better suited. She set the questions aside, content to delegate.
Meanwhile, in the Federation, Zhou Wei faced a different reality. Unlike Zhou Ying, who'd plunged into the Zhou estate's machinations, Wei was adrift. Expelled from the team, his academic credits complete, he had no obligations. Returning to Central Military Academy was an option, but it risked unwanted scrutiny—pity, curiosity, or schadenfreude from peers wondering why such talent was discarded. Better to take a long break, he decided.
With Instructor Holman off on a distant mission, Wei stayed at Ya Ning's family home, a familiar refuge from past holidays. Bai Sha's old room, left vacant since her departure, was his. Her presence lingered in scattered tools, handcrafted models, and stacks of mech manuals, now repurposed as a makeshift table for a lamp and a framed photo. The picture, taken as they left the Mercy Orphanage, captured their younger selves—hopeful, unscarred.
Wei's gaze sometimes lingered on it, a fleeting pause before he moved on. A holographic simulator sat near the bed, and lately, he, Ya Ning, and Jingyi had lost themselves in virtual worlds, including a nostalgic return to the Unbounded City.
The City buzzed with life, its digital streets teeming with avatars. To their surprise, its entrance had been revamped, vibrant with new flora and a towering stele inscribed with cryptic words: "The highest virtue does not flaunt virtue, thus it possesses virtue. The lesser virtue clings to virtue, thus it lacks it. The highest virtue acts without intent, achieving without effort; the lesser acts with intent, striving for gain." Jingyi read it aloud, her brow furrowing. "What's this supposed to mean?"
Wei studied the inscription, its philosophical weight at odds with the City's frenetic energy. "It's like a riddle," he said. "Virtue that doesn't seek recognition is true; virtue that demands it is hollow. Maybe it's a warning—act for the sake of doing, not for reward."
Ya Ning tilted his head, skeptical. "Sounds like something a monk would carve. Why put it here?"
"Could be the City's creators," Jingyi said. "They love their mysteries. Remember the hidden quests we found last time?"
The Unbounded City was more than a game—a digital nexus where players, rebels, and schemers mingled. Its anonymity made it a hub for secrets, and the group had once stumbled on encrypted messages hinting at anti-Federation plots. The stele's appearance felt deliberate, a signal they couldn't yet decipher.
"Let's explore," Wei said. "If it's a clue, we'll find it."
They dove into the City's depths, navigating neon-lit markets and shadowed alleys. The virtual world mirrored their reality—a place of promise and peril, where every step could lead to allies or traps. As they moved, Wei's thoughts drifted to Zhou Ying, now entangled in the Zhou family's schemes. His brother's resolve to challenge Ning Hongxue was bold, but Wei feared the cost. The families were no altruists; their support came with strings.
Back in the real world, Wei's days were quiet but restless. Ya Ning and Jingyi filled the house with banter, their plans for Lancelot Star taking shape. Wei, though, felt unmoored. His 3S mental strength, once a family obsession, now seemed a liability in a world leaning toward AI control. The Mind Matrix threatened to render his skills obsolete, a personal affront as much as a political one.
One evening, as they lounged in the simulator's afterglow, Jingyi broached the topic. "What's next for you, Wei? Ying's got his crusade, but you're just... here."
Wei stared at the ceiling, the photo's faces flickering in his mind. "I'll back him," he said. "Always will. But I need my own path. The Federation's changing—maybe Lancelot Star's where I start."
Ya Ning nodded. "It's a blank slate. We can build something there—something ours."
Jingyi snorted. "As long as it's not another rich hermit gig."
Their laughter eased the tension, a reminder of their bond. Wei thought of Bai Sha, her absence a quiet ache. Her message to Zhou Ying had reached them all: If you're planning something, count me in. She was a lodestar, her defiance a spark they'd carry forward.
On Youdu Star, Bai Sha resumed her work, the Crow's Cry Bow's components spread across her bench. The Yi-Shooting Arrows gleamed, their potential locked until the bow was complete. Han Jue's warnings about the Silver Nexus lingered, intertwining with Zhou Ying's news. The Federation's tech, possibly a Nexus relic, was a puzzle she couldn't ignore. If it was a trap, her friends were in its crosshairs.
She contacted Zhou Ying, her message direct: Watch for strange groups—could be Nexus-linked. I'm digging here. Update me. The galaxy was a chessboard, and she was no bystander. The Emperor's quest for Bai Yi, the Federation's gambit, the Nexus's shadow—they were threads in a vast weave, and Bai Sha would cut through them, her friends at her side, her resolve a blade honed by loyalty.