Although a momentary wave of compassion washed over Zhong Yun, it passed just as quickly; he harbored no grand internationalist—no, not even interstellarist—spirit that would compel him to send these ten thousand pitiful 'slaves' back to their home planets.

The development of “Qiyun Star” would certainly require manpower; relying solely on himself, even if he nurtured the largest harem and toiled for a hundred years, would be but a drop in the ocean. Purchasing personnel was absolutely necessary.

At most, he would treat them better in the future, Zhong Yun reasoned to himself.

He listened as ZER reported on various base matters, then connected to the virtual space; his success rate for opening those loot boxes had already surpassed fifty percent. He needed to accelerate his efforts to reach the second tier of the Yuan realm before the two-year deadline.

Nighttime soon arrived. Just as Zhong Yun was feeling a pang of hunger, someone knocked on his door. Opening it, he found six young men and women, all around twenty years old.

“We heard a new companion arrived at the base; that would be you, right?” The speaker was a man of average height, fair-skinned, with a friendly smile. He extended his hand. “My name is Zhang Xiao.”

“I’m Zhong Yun,” Zhong Yun replied with a smile as he introduced himself.

After Zhang Xiao introduced the other five, he added, “From now on, we are comrades. We must look out for each other.”

Zhong Yun sheepishly touched the back of his head. “I’m new here and know nothing. I’ll have to rely on all of you brothers and sisters to take care of me.”

A rather curvaceous girl standing next to Zhang Xiao giggled delightedly. “Little Yun, your words are so sweet. We accept you as our little brother. If anyone on the base dares to bully you in the future, just mention my name.”

Zhong Yun recalled that Zhang Xiao had introduced her as Mu Qinghong; she seemed like a straightforward girl. He offered a slight smile, then seemed to remember something. “Oh, everyone, please come in and sit down. Don't just stand at the doorway.”

Zhang Xiao shook his head. “No need. It’s almost time for dinner. The instructor sent me to take you to the mess hall.”

Zhong Yun had a host of questions ready to ask. Inquiring with someone familiar with the situation was the best course. On the way to the mess hall, Zhong Yun finally learned a few things.

The base management was extremely strict, and the training was equally rigorous. It was a physical arts training base. All the instructors were masters proficient in body combat techniques, and the training content was entirely focused on physical arts and fighting.

To Zhong Yun’s surprise, Zhang Xiao and the others were not students from Mingzhu School but second-year students from Mingzhou Municipal University. This was their fifth time attending this intensive training session here.

When asked which organization the base belonged to, everyone expressed ignorance. The base was very mysterious. During training periods, contact with the outside world was completely impossible. Steep mountain cliffs surrounded them—a place even birds found difficult to cross. Entry and exit depended entirely on the shuttle vehicles that delivered supplies monthly from the outside. It was a completely sealed world.

Even without confirmation, Zhong Yun could guess that the base must be connected to the government, perhaps even directly under military command. Otherwise, what faction possessed the influence to gather key students from across the nation for such intensive training?

The mess hall was also spartan—simply a very large room hastily erected, furnished with rows of heavy tables and benches. The walls were bare, adorned with nothing, a monotonous, dark gray hue. Many large windows lined the periphery, making the space seem bright.

The hall was already full of people, yet it was eerily silent. All the occupants were young adults around twenty, numbering perhaps a hundred, but every face was set in a serious expression as they sat motionless at their desks.

Zhang Xiao and his group fell silent and walked back to their seats, leaving Zhong Yun standing awkwardly to one side. There were plenty of empty spots, but he had no idea which one was his.

As Zhong Yun hesitated, a booming shout echoed from the entrance: “Instructor approaching—” startling him.

With a swish, everyone in the mess hall stood up instantly, their movements perfectly synchronized, clearly having performed this action countless times.

“Greetings, Instructor—” A hundred voices roared in unison, making Zhong Yun’s ears buzz from the sudden shock.

Then, a series of footsteps sounded from the doorway. Zhong Yun turned his head and nearly bulged his eyes out in astonishment.

Six or seven men in dark green military uniforms marched in. Each man moved with a steady gait, heads held high, chests thrust forward, standing as rigidly as javelins.

What shocked Zhong Yun was not the intense military aura radiating from these men, nor the substantial, almost tangible pressure of their Yuan power, but the familiar old man walking at the front.

This old man was someone he knew intimately—it was Yang Siqing, the man who had stayed at his house for a month and vanished without a word after Zhong Yun revived the “Crystalline Rose.”

Encountering him here so abruptly truly stunned Zhong Yun. The familiar silhouette he had glimpsed during the Mingzhu School examination a few days prior had also been Yang Siqing.

Although his current demeanor and spirit were drastically different, showing none of the (decadence) of before, Zhong Yun recognized him instantly. This was because Yang Siqing possessed a particular scent that Zhong Yun could immediately identify. Later, he learned this scent was the very fragrance of Yang Siqing’s Yuan power.

Yang Siqing and the men behind him acted as if the standing Zhong Yun didn't exist, walking past him and stopping before the hundred-plus trainees. He raised the teaching cane in his hand and said calmly, “Take your seats.”

Swish. Everyone sat down with perfect uniformity.

Surveying the room, Yang Siqing nodded with satisfaction, slightly lifting his chin. “First, I have some good news to announce: our base welcomed twelve new members today.”

As soon as he finished speaking, about ten figures walked in from outside the mess hall. The one leading was a woman in the same uniform as Yang Siqing, but she appeared to be in her early twenties, with sharp, short hair and a high-bridged nose—likely another instructor. Following her were people in civilian clothes, close to Zhong Yun’s age, both male and female. They were probably new recruits, just like him.

Under the female instructor’s direction, the remaining eleven stood beside Zhong Yun, forming a line. They all looked around with curiosity.

Yang Siqing walked past the line starting with Zhong Yun. Under his sharp gaze, the eleven newcomers grew tense and instinctively straightened their posture.

Reaching the end of the queue, Yang Siqing slowly spoke, “You will introduce yourselves now: name, origin, and specialty. You start.” He pointed his cane at the person next to him.

“My name is Qin Tianhua, from Fenghua City…” The pointed individual began his introduction, his voice slightly stammering, perhaps due to nervousness.

After he finished, it was the turn of the girl next to him, and they continued one by one.

Listening to their introductions, Zhong Yun learned that these individuals came from various cities on Planet Wu’er, and each was quite remarkable. His increasingly keen sense of perception allowed him to detect the faint, almost imperceptible fluctuations of Yuan energy around them.

After the self-introductions were complete, the twelve were assigned to the dining table at the very back row. Accompanying them was the female instructor who had led them in.

At Yang Siqing’s command, everyone began to eat.

In the tense, silent atmosphere, Zhong Yun and the others finished their first meal at the base.

The instructor then announced that a bonfire party would be held that evening.