"Then you can't send a message to the military under your own name? They didn't say anything to me. But they should trust you. If what we say turns out to be true, and you successfully avert the attack by Hiras, you might even advance another step." Yang Ying knew Randolph was a bureaucrat at heart; taking one more step up, becoming a Marshal, was likely his ultimate ambition.

Randolph listened, his face fluctuating between shades of light and dark, as if wrestling with something internally, his expression deeply troubled.

After a few seconds, Randolph sighed, shaking his head. "I am terribly sorry."

"Why?" Yang Ying asked.

"This intelligence contains far too much that is beyond my jurisdiction—it is taboo," Randolph cautioned. "Young man, this world is not as simple as you imagine. Even if a dog successfully catches a mouse, it might still be scolded for meddling, because the dog's success highlights the cat's incompetence. And most people I deal with don't care whether the mouse is caught; they care that the dog acts like a dog and the cat acts like a cat. Your ancestor Confucius once said: 'Do not involve yourself in affairs that are not your responsibility.'"

"What utter sophistry!" Yang Ying snapped. "Confucius never said that to give you an excuse!"

"Believe what you will, it matters little," Randolph waved his hand dismissively, affecting an air of nonchalance. "Modifying the fire control codes is not a simple matter. The codes for each base operate using a set of interlocking algorithms, which automatically update once a week. To manually change them, the Ministry of Defense must coordinate with the commander of every single base, with both parties manipulating the fire control systems simultaneously. Neither side can alter the codes alone; this is a necessary safeguard against military rebellion. Resetting fifty-three algorithms would take at least a week. Therefore, without concrete, justifiable, and legal evidence, attempting to change the fire control codes based on mere speculation is unrealistic."

"Are you saying you don't trust me?" Yang Ying inquired.

"Quite the opposite, young man. I am telling you this precisely because I trust you," Randolph declared, slamming his hand on the desk, visibly agitated. "So, I will immediately find a pretext to submit an application to the Ministry of Defense to change the fire control codes for the Ceres Military Base. But I can do no more. If you were in my position, you would understand—people like me have too many considerations. Taking risks is the last thing we can afford. That is all for now. We will talk again later."

With that, Randolph terminated the communication.

Although the figure on the communicator screen vanished, Yang Ying remained staring at it, silent for a long time.

"Silence is the best option for Randolph. Intelligence gathering was never his direct concern. If he steps forward now, he faces immense risk without necessarily gaining any benefit. Moreover, if the other fifty-two bases are compromised while the Ceres Base remains safe, it will bring him considerable prestige," Kalia stated calmly, as if he had anticipated this outcome.

"It is most suitable for him. Did you know what Randolph's response would be all along?" Yang Ying turned to Kalia.

Kalia nodded slightly. "Based on his behavioral patterns, this was not unexpected."

Yang Ying leaned back in his chair. He understood that his voice was too quiet to reach many ears. Relying on his personal connection with Randolph, he had managed to save at least one base. As for the other fifty-two...

"Have Kevin notify the military. We can only do our utmost and leave the rest to fate," Yang Ying instructed.

"Yes." Kalia saluted and turned to exit the command room, offering no further dissenting opinions this time.

At the Strategic Office of the Earth Defense Ministry, Field Marshal Schmidt, Chief of the General Staff of the Earth Forces, was reviewing frontline reports at his computer.

"This month, the Apes' activities are gradually decreasing. It seems they are plotting something..."

Field Marshal Schmidt, with a head of snow-white hair and a perpetually stern expression, jotted down his thoughts in an electronic notepad to ensure he wouldn't forget them as he read.

"The intelligence division needs to accelerate its pace and determine the movements of the Ancient Legion."

Beep-beep-beep.

The light screen on his desk flashed rapidly.

"What is happening?" Field Marshal Schmidt stood up. The screen displayed several lines of text in stark red: "The fire control codes for the fifty-three small bases spanning from Saturn's orbit to the Asteroid Belt have been compromised. Modification required immediately."

The red text pulsed insistently, startling Field Marshal Schmidt. He pressed his hand to the communicator. "Connect me to the Network Security Department."

A few minutes later, Colonel Muller, Chief Engineer of the Network Security Department, and Brigadier General Kofir, Head of Security, arrived at his office to begin examining the intrusion traces on the computer.

"You are here to tell me that even the Strategic Office computer can be breached?" Field Marshal Schmidt roared. "If the enemy intended to steal classified military documents, they would have done so long ago!"

Brigadier General Kofir replied, "Marshal, this mysterious hacker bypassed our local area network firewall using unknown methods. However, please do not worry. All high-level, above-Tier-One classified materials are kept off the LAN, stored in underground mainframes. A message stating that the fire control codes for all bases have been stolen is fundamentally impossible. Such classified data is at least Tier-One level, something unobtainable by mere hacking techniques."

"What are you suggesting? That this message is just a prank?" Field Marshal Schmidt asked Kofir.

Brigadier General Kofir analyzed based on his experience. "This message lacks direct corroboration. How credible can information be when it is delivered so cryptically? Perhaps some subversive elements are trying to undermine our combat confidence with this kind of alarmist tactic."

"Do subversive elements possess hackers this advanced?" Schmidt countered.

"On one hand, a subversive super-hacker; on the other, the compromise of fifty-three small base fire control codes. Clearly, the former scenario is far more likely," Kofir stated.

"I suggest we immediately begin investigating who infiltrated your computer. If we catch the hacker, clarifying the situation will be much easier," Colonel Muller said, his hands flying across the keyboard as he searched the computer for traces of the intruder.

"Have you found anything?" Schmidt turned to him.

Colonel Muller shook his head. "Nothing yet. This intruder is like a wisp of air, leaving absolutely no trace. If I hadn't seen the text on the screen when I arrived, I would say this computer was never breached."

"You two remain here to resolve the hacker issue. I will convene a meeting to discuss the message sent by the hacker." Schmidt walked out of the office without looking back, instructing his secretary to summon several high-ranking military officials.

Soon, men wearing the insignia of full Generals filed into the conference room, filling every seat around the large table. Not a single Lieutenant General was present.

When the meeting began, Field Marshal Schmidt presented the hacker's warning to them.

After a lengthy discussion, the outcome mirrored Kalia's prediction: before concrete evidence emerged, they focused on the hacker capable of breaching the Strategic Office, treating the message itself with caution. The modification of fire control codes was not placed on the agenda.

As Field Marshal Schmidt left the meeting room, his secretary approached and whispered in his ear: "General Randolph, Commander of the Thirteenth Fleet, has sent a message reporting that one of his key staff officers has been kidnapped by spies and might divulge the fire control codes for the Ceres Base, requesting immediate replacement."

"Now?" Schmidt instinctively felt Randolph's request might be related to the hacker; the timing was too coincidental.

He paused, then nodded. "Approved. See to it."

"Arrogant humans!"

Hiras sat perfectly balanced in a command chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips, overshadowed only by boundless contempt. The minor scars from the recent battle had long since healed.

Beside him was a control center, and before him, a large computer was ready, operated by an Ape Cultist skilled in computer technology.

"My Lord, everything is prepared."

"Excellent." Hiras rose and approached the console, inserting the chip containing the fifty-three fire control codes into a slot.

Instantly, streams of data rolled across the screen.

"My Lord, we are connecting to the fire control systems of the bases—twenty-four connected... thirty-nine... fifty-two... still fifty-two?"

"What is it?" Hiras asked.

The operator felt his heart nearly stop. Hiras's pressure was unbearable; a single simple sentence rendered him barely capable of coherent speech.

"Ce-Ceres Military Base has modified its fire control code."

"When?" Hiras inquired calmly.

"I don't know," the operator shook his head.

"Never mind him," Hiras turned back to his command chair. "Focus the targets on the fifty-two bases."

"Should we disable their weapon systems?" the operator asked.

"Disable the weapon systems? Are you joking!" Hiras scoffed. "Reroute the energy conduits. Input all the energy reserves from the fifty-two bases into their respective weapon systems, causing an overload. Let them blow up sky-high!"

How could the Apex Master Hiras be so petty as to be satisfied with merely disabling all the bases?

About ten minutes later, the operator lifted his head from the console. "My Lord, the fifty-two energy lines are set."

"Activate!" Hiras commanded loudly.

"Yes."

Simultaneously, all fifty-two bases, large and small, ranging from Saturn's orbit to the Asteroid Belt, sounded red alarms. Just five minutes later, every base was engulfed in towering infernos.

Hiras shot up from his seat, trembling, spreading his arms wide to embrace the void, shouting toward the location of the Ancient Legion's Pluto headquarters:

"From this day forward, the age of humanity has reached its end, and the age of the Apes is about to dawn! Long live the Legion!"

Volume Two: The Mercenary Path Concludes