The victory celebration banquet did not include the Neng Masters. It seemed this detail was a microcosm of the relationship between the Neng Masters and the military. Neng Masters only served as consultants to the military, holding no rank; without special authorization, they only had authority over Neng Warriors. Though respected, they were outside the military system.

Outside of the battlefield and military conferences, Neng Warriors were rarely seen at official military gatherings.

Rumor had it that certain figures in the military high command resisted allowing Neng Warriors to join the armed forces or integrate their tactical models with military operations. Their argument was that with a human population of thirty billion, eradicating the Ancient Legion should be a simple matter of overwhelming them with sheer numbers; why share the glory with the Neng Temple?

Yang Ying had reviewed some battle reports and confirmed that fleets composed purely of ordinary humans had indeed been deployed. However, such fleets proved incapable of withstanding the shock assaults and preemptive strikes of the Ape Masters, and were quickly phased out of the operational doctrine.

At the time, he had been deeply impressed by the Neng Temple's magnanimity. With so many Master-level experts available, they hadn't resorted to strong-arm tactics. Had he been Yang Ying, he might have assassinated the stubborn elements among the high command until no opposition remained.

In any case, the atmosphere of this victory celebration was overwhelmingly relaxed. Wine glasses clinked, and generals milled about in various circles, some drinking, others eating. Even when their aides acted familiar, the generals mostly turned a blind eye.

Waitresses, carefully selected from support staff for their proper features and moderate figures, moved through the hall, trays laden with drinks and hors d'oeuvres for the generals to take as they pleased.

As soon as Yang Ying stepped down from the stage, several generals converged on him.

"This miraculous, decisive victory is truly exhilarating!"

"Commander Yang Ying, young and yet so accomplished!"

Praise poured out like the Yellow River in flood, utterly devoid of modesty. Yang Ying offered a few vague responses before citing extreme physical and mental exhaustion from the intense fighting as an excuse to rest.

Wearing a fixed smile, Yang Ying slipped away from the chorus of regretful murmurs and retreated to a nearby column. He chose that spot specifically because it was less crowded and quieter.

Dao Feng also approached. No superfluous exchange was needed between them; Dao Feng naturally positioned himself behind 'Kuangying' (Wild Eagle), leaning against the column’s shadow. To any outsider, he presented the perfect image of a bodyguard.

Yang Ying's moment of peace, however, was fleeting; it lasted barely a minute before it was interrupted.

A familiar figure approached him. "Today you are the protagonist, yet here you are, presenting a 'keep your distance' air. Are you looking down on us old veterans?"

Yang Ying turned, offering a slight smile. "Admiral Randolph, that's harsh talk. I'm merely tired and seeking a moment to rest."

His relationship with Randolph had cooled briefly after the Wen Jing incident, but the old man with the fox eyes was, after all, a pragmatist. He couldn't completely sever ties with Yang Ying over that, especially since the Trant Corporation soon introduced the Ghost fighter, which opened up the entire arms market. Randolph needed to maintain, even deepen, their rapport for his fleet's share of equipment. Still, their personal closeness hadn't quite returned to its former level.

"Oh, tired," Randolph shrugged, delivering a remark that felt deliberately ambiguous. "For an Awakened one to claim fatigue, the battle must have been truly ferocious."

"Not at all, not at all. The Right Flank Army's direct confrontation with five Ancient Legion fleets was far more intense than ours." Yang Ying observed closely and noticed a subtle weariness beneath the makeup skillfully applied to Randolph's face—the massive battle had clearly taken a heavy toll on him.

"Speaking of which, we must thank you and your mercenary group. On behalf of our entire Third Fleet," Randolph’s smile vanished, replaced by a serious tone. "Had you and your men not lured away the Viper fighters and the Wengsha Lie, you might only be seeing me in the obituary section."

Hearing this, Yang Ying immediately waved a dismissive hand. "I acknowledge the gratitude of the Third Fleet; no need for such morbid talk."

"Ah, I almost forgot," Randolph raised a single finger. "I must also convey thanks from Admiral Hans of the Fifth Fleet. His flagship was struck during the fighting, and he sustained severe injuries himself. He only just woke up before this banquet and is still confined to the infirmary. He asked me to bring his gratitude."

Yang Ying nodded. "Very well. The Fifth Fleet's thanks are also received." He paused, then shifted the topic. "How is the Ghost fighter performing? The weapons manufactured by our Trant Corporation—they’re not letting you down, are they?"

"They are excellent, of course." Randolph clearly expressed satisfaction with the Ghost's performance, nodding heavily, his smile returning. "The combat effectiveness of the Ghost is self-evident, especially in large-scale engagements like this. It’s entirely different from how we dealt with the Viper before. Both the space battle near Callisto and this engagement were decisive. If only we had more Ghost fighters..." As he spoke, he looked over with an expectant gaze.

Yang Ying laughed. "Admiral Randolph, your Third Fleet already has the largest allocation of Ghost fighters in the army. If you want more, the other generals might object."

Randolph dismissed the concern with a grand wave of his hand. "What do I care about them?"

The volume of his voice started loud with the first word, then trailed off dramatically. By the time he finished the word 'them' (shen), if Yang Ying hadn't been an Awakened, he likely wouldn't have heard it at all. It appeared Randolph remembered that the 'them' he referred to were currently within earshot, some even within arm's reach, occasionally glancing over.

Just then, a female attendant walked by, carrying a tray of small Western-style pastries. Randolph called her over, took two small plates of shortbread from the tray, handing one to Yang Ying while keeping the other.

Popping a small piece of shortbread into his mouth, Randolph took the opportunity to quickly scan his surroundings, confirming no one was paying attention to his muttered remark before relaxing.

Yang Ying also picked up a small piece. The exterior of the pastry was coated in what looked like egg yolk, giving it a rich golden hue and emitting a perfectly balanced aroma. Biting into it, he felt a flaky texture, and his tongue registered a subtle hint of sweetness.

Yang Ying nodded lightly. While the ingredients were common, the craftsmanship was top-tier. Earth in the twenty-sixth century had progressed far beyond just technology; culinary culture had advanced too. Contact with extraterrestrials and the introduction of alien ingredients had spurred massive leaps in Earth's gastronomy. This little shortbread was merely a drop in the ocean, hardly worth noting.

After tasting it, Yang Ying set his plate down and spoke with more gravity. "Regarding the Ghost fighters, increasing your allotment isn't impossible. We can proceed as usual."

"Good." Randolph continued eating the shortbread. "After this grueling fight, both the Third Fleet and Hans's Fifth Fleet have suffered heavy losses in fighters and pilots. Command will soon be sending second-line units or rookies to fill these gaps—it’s a good opportunity to re-equip them with Ghosts."

"So many dead, and yet you’re already thinking about re-equipment advantages. Truly worthy of an Admiral," Yang Ying mused, unsure if he was being sarcastic or simply awestruck.

"You think I’m cold-blooded," Randolph sighed. "You can call me cold-blooded. That’s what this job demands. While the loss of pilots is regrettable, I’ve been fighting on the front lines for years. I’ve grown accustomed to life and death. If I hadn't become colder than the average person, I’d have ended up in a mental institution long ago."

He picked up another shortbread, tossed it in his mouth, chewed twice, swallowed with a soft gulp, and then flashed a smile. "Just remembering the old days."

He pointed to his face. "Don't let this appearance fool you. When I was young, I was a passionate idealist. I couldn't eat or sleep over a comrade's death. I risked my career doing what I thought was right, heedless of the consequences. After hitting too many walls, my spirit dulled, and my zeal cooled. That’s how I became this way. But I must admit, I achieve far more now than I ever did in my youth."

At this point, he suddenly waved his hand as if shooing away a mosquito, muttering, "Hey, old age is like this—my head is always full of memories. You youngsters just pretend you didn't hear the old man rambling."

With that, he launched a vigorous assault on the remaining shortbreads.

Yang Ying offered a diplomatic reply: "You are still vigorous, Admiral."

As the victory celebration neared its close, Marshal Alexander staggered onto the stage, appearing heavily inebriated, as if he'd been force-fed drink after drink.

He grabbed the microphone, suddenly hiccupping loudly, the sound amplified throughout the hall, causing many in the audience to laugh. The aides near the perimeter also cracked smiles at the Marshal's undignified moment. In one corner of the hall, several young, attractive female officers pulled out their communicators, intending to photograph the Marshal's drunken state as a keepsake for their siblings.

"Ahem, that's enough for our celebration tonight. You all likely have other duties awaiting you. After a major battle, manpower is needed everywhere. Let's not drag this out too long. Hiccup. Also, some good news I just received: after we destroyed the Ancient Legion's relief force, our own reinforcements have also departed from the Asteroid Belt. Hiccup They will arrive here in two days to join us against the Ancient Legion. I am confident that with this shift in momentum, we will achieve final victory in the Jupiter Campaign! Hiccup"

The Marshal's hiccups did nothing to dampen the mood following the good news. As his words faded, loud applause and cheers erupted from below the stage.