CR CH72

Chapter 72: Memory Fragments

The year he was banished to the interstellar fortress, his master nearly fainted from rage.

As a spiritual adept entering the Combat Division of the Federal Corps—where combat specialists made up 96% of the personnel—Ling Kongmiao possessed top-tier capabilities. His performance in both solo and team combat was beyond reproach. Excelling in both spiritual and combat functions, he could adjust to any role, making him a well-deserved, all-around monster.

Judging by this alone, he should have been the most reassuring, promising prodigy.

However, nothing in this world comes so cleanly. People who walk to extremes have distinct styles; every time Lu Hengyi described his disciple’s personality, he would use vocabulary like “peerless under heaven.”

Looking back at young Little Miao back in the day, he was weak, helpless, and pitiful.

When he first entered Z01, he was barely ten years old. His rare early differentiation and special abilities drew immense attention. At that time, even the youngest kids at the base were around fifteen. Standing in the crowd, Ling Kongmiao never once caught the sunlight, completely blocked out by a group of tall, burly Alphas.

He didn’t like to speak, his voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum, and despite already being short, he kept his head bowed all day long.

Lu Hengyi was someone who cherished talent and couldn’t bear to see anyone look so fragile. Whenever he had a free moment, he would stand beside him and shout at a volume loud enough to deafen eardrums:

“A man must have responsibility! He must have blood and grit!”

“Responsibility—! Blood and grit—!”

In short, even he wasn’t sure at what exact moment Ling Kongmiao underwent a qualitative change. By the time Lu Hengyi realized it, things were already far beyond his control.

A minor punishment every three days, solitary confinement every five days, and a major demerit recorded every seven days.

One day, pacing outside the solitary confinement room, anxious beyond belief, he turned around just in time to see the boy walk out, pale-faced after just enduring thirty lashes. Heartbroken, Lu Hengyi held him by the shoulders, both furious and distressed.

“You little brat, would it kill you to just fucking endure it for once?!”

In response, Ling Kongmiao looked at him expressionlessly and dropped three words: “I can take it.”

From that day on, Lu Hengyi had a faint premonition that his retribution had probably arrived.

This kid hit his ultimate rebellious phase at eighteen. On the verge of a promotion, instead of reining himself in, he doubled down, finally cutting completely loose at a banquet.

First, he thrashed a sarcastic Imperial official to a pulp, and then he plucked half the feathers off a drunk Beast-race noble’s child. Although he hadn’t initiated either trouble, when the two victims wept and wailed as they lodged their complaints, everyone could only remain silent.

After an emergency meeting, Leader Boris pressed his temples and issued the disciplinary verdict: send him to a remote fortress to settle down for two years first.

On the day Ling Kongmiao was sent off, Lu Hengyi sighed endlessly, his heart filled with a thousand bitter feelings. He turned his back to him and put on a deep, stern front for quite a while, only to turn around and discover that the kid had already boarded the aircraft, quietly watching the show through the window.

Seeing Lu Hengyi pointing at the window and starting to curse, he propped his chin up, blew a whistle, and mouthed two words: “I’m off.”

The aircraft finally launched amidst lush greenery and fragrant flowers. Ling Kongmiao arrived at a completely unfamiliar place all by himself. His past experiences of wandering from place to place allowed him to adapt to new environments very quickly.

Once, he had been a child who clung deeply to memories. Whenever he left a place, he would always take something with him—a leaf, a flower… anything he could hold in his hand. Only when it completely rotted away would the lingering unwillingness to part fade from his heart.

Days at the Xiwen Fortress were serene. He remembered the long daytime and the frequent clear skies.

Near the graveyard on the closest C-grade star, the demi-beastman caretaker often came over to hand off work. He was a kindly old man who got along well with everyone.

Being the youngest, everyone spoiled him. In this barren yet peaceful place, they felt like family to one another.

Ling Kongmiao had a bad temper, but he never brought his moods into his work. He had no real concept of elders in his mind, addressing everyone directly by name. Paired with that slightly naive yet expressionless face of his, everyone chuckled inwardly.

In the Federation, one had to remain vigilant; those around him were either rivals or enemies. He was used to raising his sharp spines. But here, the climate was warm. When all the noise receded from him, Ling Kongmiao sat on the roof watching the stars, while his teammates sat below gathered around a campfire roasting skewers, calling out:

“Miaomiao, come down and eat some meat!”

“Where’s Miaomiao? Where did that kid run off to again?”

“Over there, on the roof.” Lin Ye put down his meat skewer, wiped his hands with a towel, reached his hands up toward Ling Kongmiao on the low house, and shouted with a smile, “Come on, big brother will carry you down.”

Ling Kongmiao rolled his eyes gently, smartly grabbed the edge, jumped down, and landed lithely on the ground.

Yet he was still scooped up by Lin Ye in one swoop. Before he could get angry, a skewer of meat at just the right temperature was stuffed into his mouth.

Ling Kongmiao’s temper showed no sign of improving, but he no longer deliberately distanced himself from everyone. Taking advantage of someone’s deliberate jokes to make him laugh, he began calling his teammates “big brother” and “big sister,” and began calling Elder Zhou “Old Zhou.”

That period of time was so happy it felt like a dream. In his most naive moments, he believed he could truly stay far away from all of that and live on just like this.

He didn’t consider this a punishment—it was a meeting that felt like a blessing.

On the day parting truly arrived, Ling Kongmiao had a massive, unprecedented argument with his big brothers and sisters.

With his punishment nearing its end, he had developed a deeper connection to Xiwen Fortress than he had ever imagined. Ling Kongmiao began distancing himself from his teammates again, hiding away to weigh his choices.

His big brothers and sisters intentionally came to advise him, but they felt he was still young and shouldn’t stay here to live a life where he could see his entire future at a single glance.

Ling Kongmiao remembered being extremely emotional at the time. He threw away the fruit plate Lin Ye handed him and flipped the table.

He knew it was wrong, but he felt a sense of release in his heart. Perhaps he really had been spoiled rotten—there was always confidence behind his anger.

Even without reason, he knew this groundless rage would be accepted and smoothed over by them. Ling Kongmiao questioned them out loud in a booming voice:

“What’s wrong with a life where you can see the end at a single glance?!”

“Why are even you guys pushing me? Why can’t I stop? Why do I have to keep moving forward?!”

He kicked away a chair and threw a tantrum, destroying everything within sight that could be broken. He thrust all the suppressed emotions accumulated over the years at the people who loved him the most. Finally, just as he was about to rip down the wind chime at the door, the captain shouted at him for the first time:

“Ling Kongmiao!” The captain shouted at him in a voice tinged with anger for the very first time. “Look at yourself! What is this behavior?!”

“I want to rest!” Ling Kongmiao roared back in an even louder voice, emphasizing every single word: “I’ve had enough.”

That day, everyone remained silent.

Ling Kongmiao received a summons from the Federation and had to return first to handle part of the handoff. By the time he returned, Xiwen Fortress had been reduced to a pile of ruins, completely overrun by aberrants and domain territories.

He piloted a small aircraft back to this land all alone. He stood dazedly in the sea of fire for a moment, then frantically rushed into the deeper sections.

The tracking equipment in his hand showed zero signs of life. Upon spotting a living body, the aberrants roared and lunged at him; the pain told him that none of this was a dream.

In truth, on the flight to the Federation, Ling Kongmiao’s emotions had already gradually settled. He had thought that upon his return, he could make new wind chimes, and when he secretly hung them at everyone’s doors a few days later, Lin Ye would deliberately tease him again.

When the early morning wind blew, there would be a light sound at the door, accompanied by the voices of his big brothers and sisters calling him to wake up.

Parting was the most malicious joke. When feeling uneasy, one would always imagine in advance what it would be like if that day truly arrived; yet as long as one constantly kept the worst-case scenario in mind, nothing would happen.

Then one day, when he let his guard down just a little bit, thinking everything was mundane and ordinary, thinking about what else he had to do and whom he had to meet in a little while, it suddenly struck.

Farewells were a luxury. As a fighter, perhaps every single moment was a gamble on whether one was lucky enough.

When he woke up in the hospital again, he saw Lin Ye.

Lin Ye had lost both legs and crawled to his bedside in an extremely disheveled state, interrogating him like a madman, as if wanting to lay the blame for everything onto his head.

Ling Kongmiao didn’t say a single word, because he saw that Lin Ye’s bloodshot eyes were filled with pure sorrow. His hand clutched Ling Kongmiao’s blanket tightly, yet when it accidentally brushed against the IV needle on the back of Ling Kongmiao’s hand, he subconsciously moved it away.

His spiritual domain was in terrible condition; the emotions he could sense were far too intense and complex, yet hatred was the one thing entirely absent.

Perhaps he did hate—hating that they ended up with such an outcome, that such happy times concluded hastily with a quarrel, becoming a period that could never be crossed over.

As he fainted in a dazed stupor, Lin Ye murmured:

“Everyone made a cake for you… waiting for you to come back.”

By the time the medical staff carried him away, Lin Ye had already lost consciousness. He probably didn’t even remember what he had said at the very end.

“Miaomiao, come home…”

Because it was home, no matter how far one walked or how long one left, one could always come back if they wanted to.

Because they were family, they didn’t want affection to become a restraint, nor spoiled love to become a pair of shackles.

Where in the world was there a fledgling eagle that stayed in its nest forever?

Whenever life and death were brought up, his big brothers and sisters were all calm and composed. Only Ling Kongmiao would stubbornly say:

“You won’t die.”

Amidst a wave of helpless laughter, the captain would sling an arm around his shoulder:

“Wrong. We will die, and we could die at any moment.”

“Miaomiao, no one is invincible. The heroes and warriors of this world all live in their most brilliant moments.”

Ling Kongmiao wasn’t happy back then and said nothing.

Many years later, he heard a similar question, reciting the exact same words following the voice in his heart, yet unexpectedly received an affirmative response:

“But you ARE invincible.”

Ling Kongmiao froze for a moment, then broke into a soft smile.

He suddenly understood why his big brothers and sisters had laughed back then. A vibrant, naive life was like a seed of hope in barren soil.

So completely unlike himself.

He was like a forced-blooming flower. The days ahead were still long, yet he had grown frantically at far too tender an age. Looking at that endless road, he had only felt despair.