The man did not move forward. Su Cha stood where he was. The strong wind between the two sides continued to transmit the smell.
To the man and his subordinates, it was an unbelievably intoxicating floral scent that they could feel deep in their bones. But to Su Cha, what reached his nose was the thick stench of blood. He didn’t know if it was an illusion, but the person standing opposite didn’t seem like a man—more like a wolf.
Fierce, agile, dangerous.
He instinctively wanted to take a step back—yet in the next moment, he suddenly sensed that the man’s terrifying aura had slightly diminished.
This weakening wasn’t due to an emotional shift. The floral scent carried a strange calming effect, soothing the other’s violent spiritual presence.
A hint of satisfaction flickered in Su Cha’s tea-colored eyes.
Cold-blooded and brutal, yet offering supreme protection to its young.
Everything matched.
Mistaking the dampened aura as tenderness toward a lost cub, Su Cha opened his arms willingly—
The cub has come—quick, spoil me to death!
Directly ahead, the three launchers of the battleship simultaneously locked onto Su Cha, capable of delivering a lethal strike in an instant. The distance between Su Cha and the man was less than five meters; it would take the latter less than 0.1 seconds to reach him and snap his fragile neck.
Such an act of “approaching voluntarily” seemed both reckless and incomprehensible.
The man narrowed his eyes.
As the head of the Empire’s First Legion, he had encountered countless assassination attempts over the past few years—using children as bait was all too common.
This ruined site had once been a secret base for an extremist research organization. In their attempt to grant the Galan people a sense of smell, several mad scientists—funded by a conglomerate—had carried out a series of illegal live experiments.
It was the man himself who led the troops to wipe out the facility. Apart from the experimental subjects who had been rescued, there were no signs of new life. Now, after a full year, a strange child had suddenly appeared amidst the ruins. No matter how you looked at it, something was wrong.
Su Cha was still walking forward with open arms, as if declaring he carried no weapons.
The light in the man’s eyes remained sharp.
“General,” a subordinate whispered behind him.
What should they do with this child who had appeared out of thin air?
Su Cha had already stopped in front of the man, openly conveying the expectation in his eyes.
At least for now, he was harmless.
The man stared at him for a few seconds before saying two words: “Follow me.”
It was a test. Experimental subjects were usually volatile and aggressive—following someone defenselessly was unheard of.
Su Cha stood still, gazing at him with an indescribable look. “Walk on my own?”
It was the most complete sentence Su Cha had spoken since they met, using the interstellar common tongue, albeit with slightly off pronunciation. The system was stingy—it never loaded languages for him in advance. During the previous mission, he had to self-learn the language of the next.
At the thought of this, his eyes almost welled up.
All the hardships of yesterday were to live better today. He had finally made it.
The man didn’t mind Su Cha’s pronunciation. If he truly were a test subject and hadn’t spoken to anyone in a long time, standard speech would be more suspicious.
The battleship was massive—although it looked close, it was actually at least several kilometers away. Now that he had no dreams left and just wanted to enjoy life, Su Cha even found moving too much to be exhausting.
“Is there a ride?”
The man had considered all kinds of possibilities, but Su Cha’s request clearly defied them all. He immediately turned without responding.
This was the second test.
Just as he turned, Su Cha refused: “Wait—I don’t want to be carried.”
Given his mental age, he still couldn’t handle that childish hugging-and-lifting stuff.
Resigned, Su Cha started walking forward.
One of the subordinates walking alongside the man couldn’t help wondering: was something wrong with this child’s brain?
Su Cha walked very slowly, occasionally sighing lightly.
Only at close range could one truly appreciate the battleship’s size and the steep slope. Thankfully, there were small stairways, though Su Cha still struggled. His long silver hair trailed along the ground. Glancing toward the dagger at the man’s waist, he tilted his head.
The man didn’t refuse. He reversed his grip and handed the knife over with the blade pointed away from Su Cha, while carefully observing his handling technique.
With a muffled “swish,” a portion of the overly long hair was chopped off instantly, no longer getting in the way.
There was no sign of formal knife training.
The man’s gaze shifted back to Su Cha’s face.
Galan Star didn’t have the concept of bloodlines. It was an empire born from endless war and slaughter. Nowadays, many of its citizens had ancestry from other planets. Silver hair was a common trait.
But the color of those eyes was rather unusual.
The scrutinizing gaze made Su Cha a bit uncomfortable; he instinctively tightened his grip on the severed strands of hair in his hand.
The man noticed this as well. No matter how suspicious the situation was, until the truth was clear, there was still the possibility that this child was a genuine victim. He offered a promise:
“Don’t worry, we’re not perverts.”
He would no longer be treated like a test subject. Blood samples, hair—none of it would be taken for research anymore.
Taking the severed hair from Su Cha’s hand, the man lightly crushed it between his black-gloved fingers. The hair disintegrated completely into dust.
The fragments scattered into the air, like the past drifting away with the wind.
Everything had happened so suddenly that Su Cha’s amber pupils widened slightly.
“You’re…”
The words “a pervert?” got stuck in his throat and swallowed back down. Thinking optimistically—maybe it was some kind of strange etiquette.
The massive, majestic battleship looked sleek and luxurious from the outside, every line flowing smoothly, even under a cloudy sky, the alloy gleamed opulently. But the moment he stepped inside, it felt like entering a cage.
The interior was lit only by a few floating crystal orbs. Closest to the entrance was the resting area, and as Su Cha entered, over a dozen gazes locked onto him at once.
The soldiers resting on their seats stared in a way that couldn’t be described as friendly. It wasn’t that they were deliberately hostile to Su Cha—it was more like they were naturally cold-blooded killing machines.
Su Cha took the initiative to smile politely.
Not knowing how greetings worked here, he waved a little. His short stature made him look especially shy.
“Hello.” Seeing no reaction, he added softly.
Finally, one burly soldier gave a slight nod in response.
His spiritual form was a white bear—one of the more approachable types in the legion.
Generally, the stronger the spiritual body, the higher the combat power, and the greater the risk of violent outbursts. Compared to the general, their spirits were more stable and didn’t respond to the faint floral calming scent from Su Cha. But from the moment Su Cha appeared, there was a faint, long-lost sense of comfort in the air.
Meanwhile, the man turned to one of his subordinates. “Contact Dr. Norton. Tell him the ship will arrive in thirty minutes.”
Then he asked Su Cha, “Do you remember your citizen ID number?”
Su Cha shook his head.
“Name?”
“Su Cha,” he answered, then asked in return, “And you?”
Those feline eyes were so clear they seemed to hold no impurities. Caught in Su Cha’s gaze, the man actually responded. He slowly said two words: “Yise.”
“Yise.” Su Cha instinctively repeated it. Saying the name in interstellar common tongue was a bit awkward for him, and in the end, he said it twice in a row.
This drew some extra glances from the soldiers nearby. In the Empire, very few people dared to address a general by name. Now a child had casually said it aloud—it looked ridiculous and borderline absurd.
Su Cha didn’t notice their reactions. He was far too interested in the high-tech surroundings. After all, technology made life more comfortable. He studied the floating crystal lights, then tentatively placed his palm above one. Under the glow, his silver hair shimmered with a kind of holy brilliance.
The sacred, quiet moment was broken by the sharp “beep-beep” of the communicator.
After connecting, an anxious voice came through: “Someone must have tipped off the media!”
The voice was raised with emotion. Others nearby, upon hearing bits and pieces, frowned slightly. It had only been a few minutes—this kind of leak could only have come from internal personnel or the hospital.
Checking the time, Yise chose not to pursue the leak for now. Instead, he turned to Su Cha.
“You might be facing a lot of reporters soon.”
Reporters?
Using the reflection on a nearby metal panel, Su Cha straightened his appearance. “Do I look alright?”
The return of a missing child—media frenzy was inevitable.
Yise nearly said something else but held back. He led Su Cha past the rest quarters and the command room, toward the rear of the ship.
There, the latest model of a personal aircraft sat silently, docked and ready.
After swiping his card, the aircraft door opened. Su Cha had barely stepped in before the door shut automatically. In the next instant, the aircraft detached from the ship and shot forward like a bullet.
Though the battleship was fast, it felt like walking on solid ground. In contrast, the aircraft gave a visceral sense of speed, like racing down a highway.
Ten minutes later, they arrived outside a hospital.
Yise glanced at the outside scene through a display screen. His expression darkened. The reporters had arrived even faster than expected.
“Not getting out?” Su Cha asked proactively.
Yise retrieved a helmet and personally placed it over Su Cha’s head.
It was the kind used on interstellar battlefields, the only issue being that it was specially customized—way too big for Su Cha. It nearly covered his entire neck, and the face window meant for the eyes now only exposed his cheeks.
Still, the helmet completely concealed his face, shielding him from cameras. Yise, rarely, offered a word of comfort: “Don’t be afraid.”
“…” Are you really not a pervert?
The helmet was heavy. Su Cha struggled to take it off, then waved a hand in polite refusal.
“It’s a little hard to breathe with it on.”
Yise suddenly chuckled, giving Su Cha a firm pat on the shoulder. In his sharp gaze was a trace of approval. “Good.”
The pat nearly knocked Su Cha off balance.
Yise steadied him. Citizens of the Empire ought to have this kind of strength and resolve.
…
“That’s General Yise’s aircraft! Quick!”
At that moment, the reporters outside nearly tripped over themselves trying to capture even the sound of someone breathing.
The aircraft hatch opened abruptly. A tall figure stepped out. His overwhelming presence made several reporters instinctively step back.
Surrounded from all sides, the noise should’ve been chaotic—yet it fell quiet all at once, leaving only the sound of camera shutters. Although the man blocked most of the cameras, countless flashes still went off.
As the tall and small figures approached together, one cameraman moved aside from his lens, stunned. He looked up to confirm with his own eyes.
“Did you see that? He’s smiling.”
Su Cha cooperated, never lowering his head. He even looked straight into the lenses on purpose.
That forced smile made some reporters reflect—had they gone too far? After all, he was just a child.
Su Cha, on the other hand, had no idea they were projecting this “poor little thing” narrative onto him. He was treating this walk like a red carpet.
He didn’t care about his wind-blown silver hair. With a soft smile, he occasionally waved at the cameras.
“Thank you all, really, thank you.”
So grand, so solemn—it was the kind of reception reserved for a national treasure-level celebrity.
