Zhong Yun scrambled out of the crater, shaking the dust from his clothes and quickly checking himself over. Thankfully, his stealth suit was undamaged.

"Wait, where is Yunqi's grandfather?" He looked up, slightly stunned by the sight of the forest, which looked as though a typhoon had passed through. As far as the eye could see, for several kilometers in every direction, thousands of trees, each with a trunk diameter over a meter wide, had been felled. Near the blast zone, some trees were even ripped out by the roots.

For several square kilometers, the entire forest had been scraped clean, leaving countless broken stumps and scattered debris in a chaotic mess. Nearby, a fire still raged.

A bad feeling began to creep into his heart. The explosion had been so sudden, and Yunqi's grandfather had been so close to those mechs—what if...?

Zhong Yun dared not think further.

The situation had shifted too rapidly; it had completely exceeded his estimations. Earlier, he had focused his voice projection into a single beam, bouncing it off a large tree toward the sky—a small trick Rain Daoqing had taught him casually, one that presented no difficulty for his current Ninth-Level Physical Arts mastery.

That mech had suddenly fired a shell, sending him scrambling for cover. He had only been about fifty meters from the tree, yet the shell turned out to be a small incendiary device.

If Zhong Yun hadn't moved fast enough, he would have been consumed by fire. Just as he escaped the danger, he saw the five mechs cluster together, and then detonate.

Without a second thought, Zhong Yun rolled immediately, tumbling into a nearby depression. Fortunately, he was still several hundred meters below the sky and outside the immediate blast radius, with the tall trees above shielding him from the bulk of the impact. Thus, although he was nearly buried alive, he sustained no serious injuries.

Zhong Yun hastily stripped off his invisibility cloak and sprinted toward the center of the explosion like a madman, crying out, "Grandpa... Grandpa..."

He stopped abruptly after only a few steps. He saw Yang Tianlie standing not far ahead, looking at the mech he had shot down.

Relief washed over Zhong Yun, and he walked over. Noticing Yang Tianlie’s contemplative expression, he didn't disturb him, instead taking a moment to examine the downed mech half-buried in the earth.

The blue-and-white mecha looked vaguely familiar to Zhong Yun. After a moment, he remembered: wasn't this the military's previous standard-issue model? He recalled the massive publicity campaign it received, named the "Blue Sky," complete with a theme movie.

"There's a mole in the army," Yang Tianlie suddenly spoke, his aged voice laced with deep worry.

"What?" Zhong Yun had been preoccupied with his memories and hadn't heard clearly.

"Go. Take me to Bingchang and the others." Yang Tianlie remained silent, the strange, milky-white ripples occasionally flickering across his pupils.

By the time the two rejoined Yang Bingchang and his group, the rescue personnel had already arrived—twenty minutes faster than Yang Yunrong had estimated. It seemed the military command was extremely anxious about Yang Tianlie's safety.

The first to arrive was a squad of mechs. Zhong Yun recognized them; Tianhai and Chen Wen had shown him the first batch of collectible figures. They were "Goshawks"—mechs only in service for less than half a year, smaller than standard models but faster than the quickest fighter jets.

To be cautious, Yang Yunrong went ahead alone to confirm the identity and intentions of the newcomers.

"Uncle Yang, this belongs to its rightful owner." Zhong Yun produced the mech key and handed it over.

Seeing the key in Zhong Yun's hand, Yang Tianlie's gaze flickered.

Yang Bingchang did not take it. "I know nothing about mechs; it's useless to me. You keep it. I trust that one day you will unleash its full potential."

Hearing this, Zhong Yun didn't stand on ceremony. He placed it back in his pocket and said sincerely, "Thank you, Uncle."

"Its name is Lone Goose. You must not tarnish its reputation," Yang Tianlie suddenly interjected.

"Yes, I will remember that," Zhong Yun replied earnestly.

After today’s events, he felt a pressing need to become a powerful Mech Master. Otherwise, he would be just as helpless if he encountered a similar situation again. In many scenarios, mechs were undeniably useful tools.

"I have decided to rejoin the military," Yang Tianlie stated after a period of silence.

"Father—" Yang Bingchang was both shocked and delighted. With his father’s influence, he could certainly galvanize the current flagging morale and the public's pessimism. That impact would be immeasurable.

"However, I will join a fleet and command operations personally, rather than entering the War Department as a Marshal," Yang Tianlie's words were resolute, leaving no room for appeal.

"How can that be?" Yang Bingchang was aghast. "Father, you are so old..."

"My mind is made up," Yang Tianlie cut him off.

Although Yang Bingchang felt reluctant, he dared not press further.

Zhong Yun watched from the side, finding the interaction rather amusing. The conversation between the father and son was strikingly similar—in both content and tone—to the dialogue he’d just witnessed between Yang Bingchang and his own son. Truly worthy of being father and son of the Yang family; even their manner of speaking was inherited.

Yang Tianlie looked toward the distance, a touch of melancholy on his face. "I am old. I haven't been involved in military affairs for thirty years. I don't understand the army's structure, the personnel's character and capabilities, the characteristics of the weaponry, or the latest tactics. For me to command this war would certainly not be better than what you are doing."

Yang Bingchang fell silent. He understood his father’s words, yet his heart could not accept them. Since childhood, his father had been his idol, the man who saved the entire nation single-handedly—a hero unmatched in all of Dawa's history.

As a child, his dream had been to become a national hero just like his father someday.

But decades had passed, and his father was now old; the hero of yesteryear could no longer bear the burden of saving the nation.

The twilight of a hero—it struck him with a sudden pang of sorrow.

Yang Tianlie’s words stirred something in Zhong Yun, and the way he looked at the old Marshal immediately shifted. To recognize one's own shortcomings so clearly, and to relinquish the highest command power so readily, without regret—willingly stepping down to command a fleet on the front lines of battle.

Given his incomparably esteemed status, this action was even more precious. Only a person of great wisdom could achieve this level of self-awareness. In contrast, countless others cling desperately to power until death. Zhong Yun felt genuine admiration for Yang Tianlie’s magnanimity.

Shortly after, Yang Yunrong returned leading a dozen men. Surrounded by their respectful escort, Yang Tianlie and his party departed the coniferous forest.

Zhong Yun followed behind Yang Yunrong. He glanced back at the vigorous soldiers surrounding the Marshal, noticing the undisguised reverence in their expressions as they looked at Yang Tianlie. He couldn't help but muse that the Old Marshal’s influence was truly unparalleled. The expressions of these soldiers clearly demonstrated Yang Tianlie’s standing within the military.

They boarded a military transport plane, which, under the escort of dozens of "Goshawks," proceeded in a grand procession toward the capital.

Zhong Yun was unwittingly carried along to the capital, Wol, and the Presidential Palace. He stepped through the massive doors crafted from a single massive block of bright yellow Dragon Pillow Wood, which were carved with seemingly random patterns—very impressionistic—the work of the master carver Pan Pei from three centuries prior.

He was deeply moved. The former Zhong Yun would never have imagined that he would one day enter this Presidential Palace, the very symbol of national power.

The current Presidential Palace was serving as the temporary Supreme War Operations Center.

Security at the palace was extremely tight; a guard stood watch less than ten meters apart. Judging by the blade-like, deadly aura radiating from the soldiers, they were clearly not ordinary troops.

Upon entering the palace, the escorting mech unit completed a formal handover with the Presidential Palace security staff, saluted, and departed, as they had other duties.

Zhong Yun was inexplicably pressed forward by a group of security personnel. He lightly tugged on Yang Yunrong’s sleeve, whispering softly, "Hey, I shouldn't need to go inside, right?"

Although his voice was low, several people in the quiet formation heard him, yet no one paid him any mind.

Yang Yunrong turned his head, gave him a flat look, and said, "If they tell you to follow, then follow." He then turned away, ignoring Zhong Yun further.

Zhong Yun rubbed the back of his head, wondering when he had managed to offend this fellow again. They had been fine not long ago; these young masters were truly difficult to please, changing their moods so suddenly.

Except for Chen Wen, Zhong Yun added inwardly.

The inside of the Presidential Palace was intensely busy, yet an unusual silence permeated the air; everyone entering or exiting made every effort to avoid making noise.

This scene of quiet industry exuded an invisible pressure that made it hard to breathe, leaving Zhong Yun deeply uncomfortable. Here, he could truly feel the changes brought by war.

In the Presidential Office, Shi Jinfan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. Due to the war, the official paperwork requiring his attention was overwhelming; he hadn't rested in three full days and nights.

His phone rang again, letting out a sharp "Beep." The secretary’s hoarse voice came through, "Your Excellency, Old Marshal Yang and Mr. Yang have arrived."

"Understood," the President patted his cheeks, working the tight muscles of his face, and forced a smile in the mirror, nodding in satisfaction.

They should be arriving soon. As he straightened his clothing, he walked toward the door. In all of Dawa, there were only a handful of people worthy of being met at the door by him; today, two had arrived at once.

Just as he reached the doorway, a knock sounded, and the door opened automatically. Shi Jinfan saw Yang Tianlie leading the way.

"Old Marshal Yang, are you unharmed?" The President's face displayed perfectly measured concern.

Yang Tianlie smiled faintly. "Thank you for worrying, Mr. President, I am well." He stepped inside, followed by Yang Bingchang, and then Yang Yunrong.

After a brief greeting, the three moved to sit on the sofa. Suddenly, Yang Yunrong felt like someone was missing. He glanced back toward the door and saw Zhong Yun standing there, seemingly hesitant to enter. The other three also looked over.

Under the piercing gazes of the four men, Zhong Yun maintained an expression of detached indifference. But the door seemed determined to challenge him; it simply would not close.

This stalemate lasted several seconds until the President, as the host, finally broke the silence. "You must be Zhong Yun. Please, come in."

Only then did Zhong Yun step across the threshold, a shy smile playing on his lips. "My mother told me never to enter someone's room uninvited."

P: There’s another chapter coming at midnight, please vote for the monthly ticket.