"Me?" Zhong Yun pointed at his own nose. "You can't be joking, can you?"

Xiao Ling’s voice did not sound again.

Damn it, Zhong Yun genuinely wanted to flip him the bird.

As he walked towards the CEO’s office, Zhong Yun sank into thought. Perhaps, this was the only chance to turn the tide of disadvantage...

He was acutely aware of how dire the Dawa army’s situation was. To put it plainly, if the Dawa forces couldn't hold out until new personnel and warships arrived, Dawa faced the danger of national collapse.

The replenishment of new personnel would take at least a month—this month was the most critical and perilous period. The brass at Dawa’s Provisional Operations Department knew this, and the enemy surely did too.

The fighting at the front lines was currently brutal; the enemy’s reckless assaults were choking the Dawa army’s breath. The Hongxian Federation’s intentions were obvious: they aimed to crush Dawa’s main forces in one overwhelming blow, conquering the nation with minimal cost before Dawa’s national machinery could even fully mobilize.

Every day, the Provisional Operations Department received massive casualty reports from the front, and the calls for aid grew more urgent by the hour.

Beyond standard responses like "You must persevere" and "Hold the line," the Provisional Operations Department could do nothing. They had already deployed every reserve unit available.

Only those few border defense forces stationed in other sectors could not be moved. To redeploy them would create defensive gaps, and if the enemy attacked those weak points, the consequences would be far more severe.

Two days prior, Zhong Yun had heard from Yang Yunrong that the Yang family had begun summoning all the noble families, intending to emulate the Defense War fifty years ago by forming a grand army composed of these families to support the front lines.

This reminded him of his past life’s national anthem. Dawa was truly at its most perilous juncture.

"Xiao Yun, what's wrong?"

Upon entering the CEO’s office, Zhong Pingjiang, who had been resting with his eyes closed, noticed his son's distress. He had never seen such a heavy expression on Zhong Yun’s face.

He rose from his chair, walked over, and sat opposite Zhong Yun, gazing at his son’s face. He seemed deeply troubled by something. Zhong Pingjiang asked with concern, "Has something happened?"

Zhong Yun looked up at his father. His eyes were sunken, and deep exhaustion was unmistakable in his brow. Zhong Yun knew his father hadn’t slept properly in days. A pang struck his heart, and the words spilled out: "Dad, let’s go."

Zhong Pingjiang looked at him deeply. "Go? Go where?"

"To my planet," Zhong Yun said, his voice charged with emotion. "Everything there is mine. We can establish our own nation, develop freely, advance without restraint, without having to look at anyone's face or suffer any constraints."

Having spoken, Zhong Yun looked at his father with intense hope.

A flicker of shock crossed Zhong Pingjiang’s eyes, then his face relaxed into a smile. He placed a hand on Zhong Yun’s shoulder. "Xiao Yun, you are excellent. Seeing what you have achieved, as a father, I am very gratified."

"However, I won't be leaving now." Zhong Pingjiang’s gaze was calm. He withdrew his hand from Zhong Yun’s shoulder, pulled a calming smoke stick from his pocket, put it in his mouth, and took a deep drag.

"Hoo." He exhaled slowly. "I was born in Dawa, I grew up here, I met your mother, and I gave birth to you. My home is in Dawa." He took another deep drag. "My roots are also in Dawa."

"I will not abandon the nation when it needs me most. Right now, I am not just an ordinary white-collar worker. I am the President of the Zhong Corporation, with thirty thousand employees under me, manufacturing hundreds of fighter jets and hundreds of thousands of various components daily for the nation. Two hundred spatial remote sensors, thousands of tons of high-strength metal, three hundred energy amplifiers, ten stealth aircraft..."

Zhong Pingjiang grew more agitated as he spoke, finally looking at Zhong Yun. "So, I cannot leave. At least, not yet."

Zhong Yun lowered his head. Amidst his disappointment, he felt a measure of warmth. While he liked Dawa, it was ultimately not his homeland. He could offer all his strength to help Dawa, but he would not sacrifice everything for it.

"Regardless of whether you agree or not," Zhong Yun rasped, "when the point of no return arrives, I will take you away." With that, he stood up and left the room.

I will not let you accompany Dawa to its death. Zhong Yun’s stride was firm, just like his conviction.

He had once believed he could save this nation, but he was wrong. Even with the four epoch-making technologies he provided, Dawa’s foundation was too thin; it was already in crisis before it could even properly assimilate the innovations.

No matter how miraculous Xiao Ling was, he couldn't instantly conjure a massive fleet of warships to support the front lines.

Zhong Yun no longer held any hope for victory. His focus had shifted to figuring out how to bring his loved ones and close friends to the planet 'Qiyun Star' to evade this war.

He began compiling a list. Just then, his phone rang. It was Yang Yunrong: "There is an emergency meeting at the Provisional Operations Department that requires your presence. Please arrive as soon as possible."

Zhong Yun sighed internally and rushed toward the Presidential Palace. Recently, his days were a blur of commuting between the Zhong Corporation, Mingzhu Academy, and the Presidential Palace, with most of his rest occurring during transit.

At the Provisional Operations Department, all high-ranking generals and cabinet members were present, waiting only for Zhong Yun.

The meeting officially began once Zhong Yun was seated.

The discussion centered on the noble families organizing a "Rescue Team." Zhong Yun then learned that the formation of the "Family Army" was entering a substantive phase, expected to depart in two days.

The Provisional Operations Department had summoned Zhong Yun to ascertain the exact number of "Stealth Mechs" and whether their equipment could be inspected and maintained during this final two-day window.

Zhong Yun’s formidable performance in recent days had not only won over the 1,300 senior engineers from the National Academy of Sciences but had also conquered everyone in the Provisional Operations Department. Even the Minister of Energy Sources, who was at odds with the Yang family, was completely convinced.

"The number of Stealth Mechs has surpassed one hundred, but the operation of the Stealth Mechs differs slightly from standard mechs, so the mech pilots will require some time to adapt," Zhong Yun replied, standing up.

Hearing there were only a hundred, every brow in the room furrowed—it was too few.

The Supreme Commander of the Provisional Operations Department, the former Minister of the Military, shook his head. "We don't have time to wait for the mech pilots to slowly adapt; every second counts now. You are the designer; you know the performance and operation of the Stealth Mechs best. You will serve as the instructor for the mech pilots."

"Also, instruct the Zhong Corporation to manufacture a few more Stealth Mechs within these two days. This operation cannot afford any slip-ups."

The plan was settled, and Zhong Yun offered no rebuttal.

After the meeting, Yang Yunrong escorted Zhong Yun to the military camp where the noble families' "Rescue Team" was stationed, assigning him a Major General as a staff officer before leaving to attend to his own duties.

Listening to the Major General staff officer’s explanation, Zhong Yun finally grasped the immense strength of Dawa’s noble families. At this most critical juncture, on the verge of national ruin, all the families stopped hiding their true power, bringing out all their assets. They all understood the principle of 'if the lips are gone, the teeth will be cold.'

Three hundred thousand assorted mechs of two-star rank or higher, five hundred thousand fighter craft, ten merchant escort ships comparable to 'Wushan'-class battleships, and one hundred and thirty 'Lanshui'-class destroyers.

This staggering force was nearly equivalent to the total strength of two Dawa military regions combined.

Although impressed by the powerful resources of the noble families, Zhong Yun remained pessimistic about this hastily assembled "Rescue Team." These people were not soldiers; the military was built on obedience and coordination.

However, this group formed by all the noble families was too disorganized. Establishing a command structure within two days would be no easy feat. He held little confidence in this contingent's combat effectiveness.

Zhong Yun wisely chose not to spoil the mood by voicing these thoughts, listening silently as the Major General staff officer explained.

The entire military camp was vast, situated at the foot of a mountain near Wol City. It had originally been the barracks for the troops guarding the capital, which were now deployed to the front lines, leaving the site vacant.

Hundreds of thousands of troops practically encircled half the capital, stretching out in a continuous expanse.

Zhong Yun arrived at his designated area; he would serve as the instructor, training three hundred Level Three mech pilots.

According to the Major General staff officer, these pilots were the finest talents from their respective families, and they shared one trait: youth. Virtually no one here exceeded twenty-five years of age.

Upon entering the camp, Zhong Yun had changed into a brand-new Major General’s uniform. The perfectly tailored, crisp dark blue uniform made him look exceedingly upright and brimming with martial spirit.

As soon as he entered the barracks, the Major General staff officer sounded the assembly bell.

Three minutes later, all three hundred personnel were assembled. A tall, imposing young man stepped forward. "Special A Mech Battalion, all three hundred present." He then stepped back.

Zhong Yun nodded silently. The quality of these men was decent. Although their assembly time was a bit long, they were not career soldiers, so he couldn't judge them by military standards. Moreover, their formation was neat, even if there were minor flaws in his eyes. Overall, he was relatively satisfied.

Having spent several months at Yang Siqing’s base, he was no stranger to military life.

The Major General staff officer spoke: "Starting today, Major General Zhong will be your instructor, responsible for your training. Are there any questions?" He scanned the group; seeing no response, he nodded. "Now, Instructor Zhong will address you."

Saying this, the Major General staff officer stepped back, leaving Zhong Yun in front.

Zhong Yun walked forward a few paces, holding a teaching cane, until he stood before the mech pilots. He walked from left to right, then right to left, scrutinizing the men in the front row one by one.

Every man met his gaze without yielding, creating a tense atmosphere.

No one spoke, only the squeak of Zhong Yun's leather boots scuffing against the rough cloud-stone floor, and the snap-snap of his cane hitting his trousers punctuated the silence.

After pacing once, Zhong Yun stopped at the lower front of the formation, looking into those proud, defiant eyes, and began, "I know many of you here are unconvinced."

He raised the teaching cane and tapped the golden star on his left shoulder. "Why is it that I am younger than all of you, yet I already bear a star on my shoulder?"

His gaze swept over those determined young faces, and his tone suddenly escalated: "You must be thinking, this kid must have an extraordinary background, relying on ancestral favor to reach such a high rank at such a young age. In reality, he’s just an empty vessel, right?"

The formation remained silent.

"Answer me," Zhong Yun roared.

"Yes!" The response was perfectly synchronized—all three hundred shouted in unison, a truly formidable sound.

"Very good." Zhong Yun swung the cane down with a whistle. "What I detest most in life are yes-men who only know how to nod along. You dare to question authority; I appreciate that."

Zhong Yun tossed the cane aside, clasped his hands together, and twisted his wrists, eliciting sharp crack-crack-crack sounds. "In the military, status isn't built on words. Whether I am qualified to be this Major General, whether I am qualified to be your instructor—you can test it yourselves." As he finished speaking, he unfastened the top button of his uniform.

The Major General staff officer did not interfere; instead, he cooperatively stepped back several paces.

"I'll go," the tall, imposing young man who had reported the roll call stepped out.

The ranks behind him quickly parted to create an open space.

Zhong Yun looked at the grave expression of the young man before him and shook his head. "You won't do. Bring four more people up."

The rest of the mech pilots erupted in surprise. This young man was the strongest among the three hundred pilots, possessing a physical skill nearing Level Eight—a genius at twenty-three years old.

Initially, when they saw the overly young Major General recklessly proposing a duel, quite a few had been eager to test the young officer’s mettle.

When this young man rushed to take the lead, everyone else settled in to watch the show, anticipating how the young Major General would handle the inevitable loss.

Who would have thought he was arrogant enough to demand a five-on-one fight? This was intolerable. Immediately, four more men stepped out. "I will come to experience Instructor Zhong's methods," one offered.

The first young man who stepped forward did not object. In fact, once he stood before Zhong Yun, he hadn't moved, maintaining a look of extreme caution.

Some observant individuals began to notice something amiss. That young man was overly cautious.

This young Major General looked no older than twenty. Given humanity’s innate limitations, reaching Level Five Physical Skill would be the ceiling. Against him, a Level Seven practitioner, defeat seemed inevitable. What was going on?

The five mech pilots formed an arc, surrounding Zhong Yun in the center. The scene fell silent again, everyone holding their breath, waiting for the spectacle.

Though some speculated that Zhong Yun must have some backing to make such a bold claim, they couldn't fathom what means he possessed to win against five Level Seven masters simultaneously.

"Haa—" The first young man finally moved. A ball of dark energy enveloped his arm, his muscle mass expanding, stretching the nano-material military gear taut to reveal the underlying musculature.

Those familiar with him knew he was using his full strength: his special ability, "Steelization," which could make his muscles as hard as iron.

Zhong Yun moved forward, a purple light flashing on his fist, colliding directly with the purely black fist.

The bystanders felt their hearts lurch. Zhong Yun, after all, was an instructor sent from above; if he died so quickly, matters would be hard to resolve.

The Major General staff officer was also startled. That young man's punch was something even he wouldn't dare meet head-on; Zhong Yun was being far too reckless. This thought flashed through his mind, and his hand was already raised.

However, halfway through raising his hand, a strange light flashed in his eyes, freezing him in place. A massive wave of shock surged within him. Under twenty years old, yet Level Nine Physical Skill?

The expected scene—Zhong Yun spitting blood and flying backward—did not materialize. Zhong Yun stood firmly where he was. The young man, however, paled, the black energy around his body shrinking and expanding erratically before he collapsed limply onto the ground.

"What!"

Everyone could hardly believe their eyes. Zhong Yun had won in a direct confrontation? All their mouths gaped open involuntarily, their tongues tied.

The other four men flashed traces of terror in their eyes. Being inside the engagement, they felt Zhong Yun’s terrifying power. An invisible wall of energy pressed down on them, making it almost impossible to breathe.

What terrified them even more was that no matter how they struggled, their internal abilities could not breach the invisible cage Zhong Yun had set. At this moment, even an ordinary person could knock them down with a single punch.

What kind of strength was this?

The four men felt despair creeping in. Such irresistible power seemed impossible for a youth under twenty.

Yet, they clearly felt the bottomless depth of power radiating from Zhong Yun.

This was merely a technique utilizing the external release of Yuan to create a pressure effect. The bald instructor at Yang Siqing’s base had used a similar technique on Zhong Yun before.

This technique was only effective against opponents whose strength was two full levels below one's own. Since these four men were all exactly Level Seven Physical Skill, Zhong Yun was able to press them down completely. Zhong Yun intended to make them submit utterly, so he stopped holding back. The vast Yuan within his body erupted, and the range of pressure rapidly expanded, enveloping everyone present.

Wisps of faint purple energy diffused into the air. Zhong Yun simultaneously employed the "Enveloping" technique. His strength now was vastly different from before. With the help of the 'World Tree Sap,' his Yuan was increasing at a phenomenal rate; in less than two months, it was approaching Level Ten.

The moment the "Enveloping" technique was deployed, everyone watched in horror as the air around their bodies seemed to thicken and solidify. An invisible force held their bodies imprisoned.

All eyes turned toward the youthful figure, their inner shock beyond words.

Since his power surge, Zhong Yun had never unleashed his full strength like this. He felt the internal Yuan continuously surging outward, as if endless, never to be depleted.

Zhong Yun felt incredibly exhilarated, as if all the suppression and frustration in his heart were being expelled outward.

The Major General staff officer standing nearby, despite possessing Level Eight Physical Skill, was also restrained and unable to move. Besides being stunned by Zhong Yun’s strength, he felt a thread of fear. He understood Zhong Yun’s current state; if he continued like this, the three hundred outstanding mech pilots here, plus himself, might all perish.

This incident in the barracks alerted several individuals nearby.

That violent, chaotic, immensely powerful surge of ability fluctuation could only mean one thing. As soon as these few sensed the wave, they immediately dropped whatever they were doing and shot out, flying toward the center of the fluctuation.

This was a densely populated military camp; if that individual lost control of such immense power, the consequences would be unthinkable.

"Uncle, what’s wrong?"

In the military camp’s command center, Yang Yunrong looked surprised as Yang Siqing suddenly stood up.

He knew about Yang Siqing’s background; Yang Bingchang had been grooming him as his successor, a fact Yang Yunrong had been told.

Although Yang Siqing had been expelled from the Yang family, it didn't affect Yang Yunrong and Yang Siqing's relationship; he addressed him as 'Uncle' with genuine affection.

With Yang Siqing’s status as the King of Mechs, he had uncontestably become the overall commander of this "Rescue Team." Although he held the title of King of Mechs, in reality, he was a graduate of the actual Battleship Command major.

Yang Siqing's expression was incredibly grave. "Someone in the barracks is achieving a Breakthrough."

"Breakthrough?" Yang Yunrong's face subtly changed. He naturally understood what that word implied. "Breakthrough" was the term specifically used when a Level Nine Physical Skill practitioner ascended to Level Ten, and he knew the consequences of a "Breakthrough" intimately from personal experience.

"There aren't many Level Nines in the barracks, and I’ve met them all. None of them showed any sign of imminent breakthrough," Yang Siqing murmured.

He had already sensed that four people were moving to handle the situation, so he wasn't overly anxious.

"Could it be the newcomer?" Yang Yunrong guessed.

"No." Yang Siqing shook his head. "Level Nine Physical Skill individuals are key figures monitored by the state. If there were a newcomer at Level Nine, they would have been specially flagged. But there is no such person among the new arrivals."

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck Yang Yunrong, and he stood up. "I know who it is."

"Who?"

"Zhong Yun." Yang Yunrong’s expression was complex. Who would have thought that the person he once called trash would, in less than two years, be on the verge of becoming a Level Ten powerhouse?

"Impossible," Yang Siqing stated firmly. "The last time I saw him, he was only at Level Seven. Less than two months have passed; how could he skip two levels? Impossible."

Yang Yunrong managed a bitter smile and let out a sigh. "If my own father hadn't told me personally, I never would have believed it. He's not even eighteen yet!"

Yang Siqing shuddered internally. If the words came from that brother, then there was no room for doubt. He settled back into his chair, the name hovering unspoken on his lips: "Zhong Yun..."

Ninth Tier...

Across the low partition, Yang Yunrong gazed toward the direction of the "Special A Mech Battalion," his thoughts a silent address to the absent figure: Zhong Yun, oh Zhong Yun, what secrets do you truly keep hidden beneath the surface?

P: Desperately begging for monthly votes.