The very next morning, Yang Ying brought Katerina, Bryan, and two Ghost operatives, ${}$Dai${}$, in the Alliance's specialized vehicle to the Alliance Headquarters.

Unlike the mainstream design philosophy of the Space City, Worell had not erected many skyscrapers in its city center. Looking towards the core from the periphery of Worell, only a single structure was visible: this Alliance Headquarters.

The egg-shaped building towered about 150 meters high, uniformly snow-white, with a massive, oblique opening slicing across its facade—as if cleaved by a hundred-meter-long saber—revealing a pitch-black high-rise nestled within the eggshell.

Approaching it closely, one realized the building's exterior was entirely clad in pristine white glass. This glass possessed perfect one-way transparency. Those inside could view the outside scenery as if looking through clear panes, but from the exterior, nothing of the interior was visible; even pressing one's face against the surface revealed only a milky-white expanse.

The specialized vehicle stopped beneath the massive eggshell. Yang Ying alighted, seeing Yusuf accompanied by several Alliance officials waiting there. A red carpet was unfurled across the ground, guiding the path toward the entrance of the shell.

Yang Ying stepped onto the red carpet, and Yusuf advanced a step, smiling, "Welcome to the Alliance, sir. Did you rest well yesterday?"

Yusuf had applied a slight amount of makeup, focusing on the areas around his eyes, but it failed to conceal the noticeable puffiness under his eyes, more pronounced than the day before. Clearly, he had slept poorly.

"Commissioner Yusuf, while Worell's nights can be lively, they aren't enough to disrupt my rest. However, you should take better care of yourself; it seems you didn't sleep well last night," Yang Ying stepped forward as well, greeting him with genuine concern.

"Heh heh, I'm getting old; I can't compare to you young folks." Yusuf was visibly pleased by Yang Ying's solicitous words. Smiling, he gestured toward the entrance of the eggshell. "Please."

"You as well." Yang Ying and Yusuf walked side-by-side on the red carpet, entering the colossal dome.

The interior of the giant egg was a vast expanse. The eggshell, supported by an alloy framework, functioned like an enclosed city wall, encapsulating a grand plaza!

At the very center stood a tower thirty stories high, perfectly cylindrical and contrasting sharply in color with the exterior shell. Its facade was inlaid with dark glass panels.

The red carpet stretched from the shell's entrance to the tower's entryway, before which lay a set of forty-nine steps.

The party ascended the steps and entered the tower. Amidst the complex gazes of dozens of staff members in the plaza and on the ground floor, they took the elevator up to the twenty-second floor.

The review committee responsible for the promotion of Major Mercenary Groups convened on this relatively small floor?

They arrived in a conference room large enough to seat a hundred people. A long table occupied the center, sufficient for about twenty members, while several rows of chairs were positioned around it for observers.

Yusuf and several Alliance officials took their seats at one end of the long table, while Yang Ying and his delegation occupied the opposite end.

Before the meeting officially began, representatives dispatched by several large mercenary groups began arriving to observe, including Christina with her bodyguard, the representative sent by Le Hai’s bald leader, and others from various other major factions.

Yang Ying recognized none of the observers seated in the gallery.

Some entered with friendly expressions, others wore blank faces, and a few displayed visages etched with contempt, jealousy, or sheer arrogance.

After a while, several other officials of commissioner rank, similar to Yusuf, arrived and took seats beside him.

"Very well, let us commence," Yusuf cleared his throat and announced.

Although nameplates were placed before each commissioner, eliminating any risk of misidentification, the group still engaged in brief self-introductions before officially starting the proceedings.

This was less a hearing and more a consultation. Since a small mercenary group had never before managed to annihilate five major powers in a single engagement, there were few precedents to follow. Moreover, applying old rules rigidly risked alienating the Teran Mercenary Group. Thus, the Mercenary Alliance sought to negotiate terms with them.

"Under normal circumstances, to be promoted to a Major Mercenary Group, one must submit mission logs from the past three years, financial records, troop statistics, and various other miscellaneous documentation for the Review Committee’s scrutiny, offering a comprehensive overview of the group's every aspect. However, given that your group was established less than six months ago, you naturally cannot provide three years of data. I suggest that half a year's worth of material should suffice," one commissioner declared in an overly formal, bureaucratic tone.

This demand sounded excessive, yet a moment's thought revealed the critical disparity: achieving Major status granted the group a suite of rights and protections guaranteed by the Alliance, a qualitative leap from the subsistence-level existence of small-to-midsize groups.

While the necessary criteria to become a Major Group numbered only a dozen or so—failure to meet which barred entry—fulfilling these basic requirements did not guarantee passage.

These dozen points were merely entry conditions. Everything else required the Review Committee's subjective assessment. Without the endorsement of a majority of the committee members, all prior efforts would be in vain. Consequently, in their quest for the associated privileges, mercenary groups often exerted themselves fully during promotion reviews, listing every possible advantage in their dossiers. Submissions exceeding ten thousand pages were not uncommon, coupled with strenuous efforts to curry favor with the committee to secure approval.

Against this backdrop, the emergence of a commissioner employing such bureaucratic platitudes was hardly surprising.

"For an ordinary mercenary group, that handling would certainly be acceptable, but we are not an ordinary mercenary group," Yang Ying countered.

"We are certainly aware of that. Your group possesses achievements far surpassing those of typical Major factions—that is precisely why we are holding this discussion today. If either side has points to raise, this forum is the place to air them," another commissioner remarked.

"So, how much documentation do you intend to submit?" the bureaucratic commissioner pressed.

Yang Ying gestured backward, and a Ghost operative handed him a thick document pouch.

"Please examine this." Yang Ying placed the pouch on the table, then nudged it with his hand, allowing it to slide across the polished surface until it stopped directly in front of Yusuf.

"Let me see." Yusuf opened the pouch and withdrew a sheaf of papers, perhaps thirty pages in total. After a brief perusal, he passed the documents to a nearby scribe. "Please make a copy for each commissioner."

The scribe acknowledged the instruction and carried the documents over to a half-meter-tall machine near the wall of the conference room. Opening a drawer, the scribe fed the papers inside and tapped a few controls on the panel.

It was the twenty-sixth century, yet the exterior design of the photocopier remained largely unchanged from its ancestral form, though the underlying technology was vastly superior: higher precision, greater intelligence, faster speed, and enhanced convenience.

In truth, copying technology had essentially plateaued by the twenty-second century; components had long since standardized, leaving little room for significant advancement. What purpose would ink atomization, accurate down to the molecular level, serve? It would be waste, as ordinary human eyes were easily satisfied, requiring no finer detail than the micron level.

It was like chopsticks: no matter how advanced technology became, they remained two simple sticks. Even if someone invented intelligent, vegetable-seeking chopsticks, someone still needed to use them.

There were nine commissioners in the room. The copier finished duplicating the eight additional copies in under half a minute. Including the original, nine sets of documents were distributed to the nine committee members by the scribe.

After the commissioners reviewed the material for a time, one spoke up. "Commander Yang Ying, this document clearly outlines all the prerequisite conditions for the Teran Mercenary Group to become a Major faction. Details such as three heavy cruisers and a reserve fund of ten billion credits far exceed the established criteria. I believe many established Major groups lack your group's resources. Nevertheless, we require a clearer understanding of your operations. I request that you submit further documentation."

"Exactly!" the bureaucratic commissioner chimed in. "This file is only thirty pages long—it looks rather meager compared to the tens of thousands of pages other groups submit. I am certain you arrived in Worell with good faith, and in that spirit," he tapped the document in his hand, adopting a posture of earnest counsel, "this is simply not enough."

"I understand that this document is rather thin, but please believe we came with sincerity. We genuinely cannot produce more documentation," Yang Ying replied, adopting a submissive posture while speaking sincerely.

Since rereading the memoirs of the Thought Master, Yang Ying had gained deeper insight into many underlying principles. Assuming a low posture was not always a sign of timidity; in certain situations, it signaled bravery and wisdom. Brute force might not shatter every obstacle; sometimes, taking a circuitous route was faster.

The observers in the room immediately began to murmur amongst themselves upon hearing Yang Ying's words.

"How can you have no more to offer?" the bureaucratic commissioner frowned, demanding.

"Allow me to offer an analogy. If the Caesar Mercenary Group were applying for Major status, would you demand to see the specifications for their Crown-class battlecruisers?" Yang Ying asked the commissioner.

"How presumptuous! Do you equate the Teran Mercenary Group with the Caesar Mercenary Group?" the commissioner shouted. Simultaneously, the observers erupted into clamor.

"Of course not. I am merely making an analogy. In reality, while the Teran Mercenary Group may not match the Caesar Group in sheer scale, our current predicament is analogous to theirs."

Yang Ying seemed utterly deaf to the surrounding commotion.