As Saorsa had suspected, the military personnel gathered around the mech’s central zone were in low spirits, weighed down by yet another failure.
The case of the stolen imperial classified data had begun three months ago. The empire spent an entire month capturing the primary traitor—a high-ranking insider—and then followed the trail to eliminate a group of accomplices.
A month prior, they had tracked down the secondary suspect, successfully thwarting their attempt to transmit the encrypted data. By reverse-tracing the pathway, they destroyed the core, rendering the data key essentially useless. Even if it had been transmitted, it was highly unlikely to remain functional.
However, when they apprehended the secondary suspect to retrieve the key, that suspect died under bizarre circumstances in a premeditated explosion, which also severely injured and killed many of the soldiers on that mission. It was later discovered that the rebels had another mole within the military’s upper ranks, who was exposed as a result.
After a thorough purge, the military leadership, still uneasy, conducted multiple rounds of rigorous screenings to restore order, as the incident had exposed numerous vulnerabilities. The rebels, desperate to obtain the encrypted data, recklessly sacrificed long-hidden operatives, throwing them into the fray without hesitation.
This single incident alone had exposed two high-ranking military officials. It was likely that others remained undetected within the leadership, a thought that sent chills through both the military and the empire’s political elite, who felt ensnared in a vast conspiracy.
Thus, when the military unexpectedly uncovered the third deeply hidden participant, they exercised extreme caution. They deployed a trusted elite unit, bypassing any external influences, to keep the operation under wraps.
Yet, despite their efforts to conceal it, the rebels somehow learned of it—because they had made another move, this time with even deeper cover, catching the military off guard. The rebels altered their plans, obtained a list of names from Zhou Yuanjing, and combined it with their own suspects. Intent on wiping out their targets in one fell swoop, they launched their operation.
The rebels went so far as to expose a large number of their covert operatives to eliminate Angel, even bringing in a massive arsenal of high-caliber weapons. This caused the situation to spiral completely out of control, leading to the current chaos.
It could be said that the rebels were a formidable force, openly clashing with the military throughout the ordeal, each side probing the other’s weaknesses. They traded moves like a high-stakes game, with the rebels acting utterly fearless, as if they had nothing to lose.
Clearly, neither side gained an advantage in this series of events.
The military schemed and pursued for days, only to end up with no living suspects to interrogate. They were played for fools and now had to return to their compromised headquarters to clean up the mess.
The rebels, too, paid a steep price but failed to obtain the encrypted data. Instead, they exposed numerous covert and overt operatives, as well as their possession of large-scale weaponry.
It was a lose-lose situation, with no victors, only the loss of countless innocent lives.
In Zhou Yuanjing’s own words, it was “pointless chaos.” With such resources and effort, why not focus on the interstellar frontlines? Why engage in treacherous infighting with their own kind? The rebels were undoubtedly despicable, but certain military decision-makers were equally disappointing. Zhou Yuanjing didn’t know how to assess the situation; he just wanted to send these people away as quickly as possible.
Moreover, after this fiasco, Zhou Yuanjing even began to question the Third Legion’s special operations team, which he had previously admired. As expected, anything tied to the central star region brought nothing but trouble…
“Lieutenant Colonel, the examination is complete. Angel Burghan is confirmed dead. Based on the physical evidence, he likely severed his heart meridian at the moment of the crash, causing his death. There are no other wounds on his body, and his blood shows no toxins. He likely used a special method to end his own life,” the adjutant reported to Zong Ting after thorough consultation with the examining medics.
No professional examination was truly needed; the fact of the suspect’s death was already clear. Zong Ting’s gaze fell on the figure lying still at the bottom of the cockpit. The man’s expression was calm, his facial muscles, beginning to stiffen, were smooth. It was evident that in his final moments, he harbored little emotion, as if he had long prepared for this outcome and had planned his end.
Self-inflicted…
Zong Ting felt no sympathy for the man’s fate. He was an intensely rational person, always separating military duties from personal emotions and striving not to view matters through a biased lens. To him, fulfilling his responsibilities and serving the empire and its people loyally were the guiding principles of his military career.
Regardless of Angel’s past, experiences, or even his potential grievances, none justified betraying the nation or harming innocent lives. His act of self-destruction was a blatant escape—an unwillingness to face the consequences of his actions. To Zong Ting, this was the behavior of a coward.
Despite this, Zong Ting harbored a faint trace of doubt. Angel was not a foolish man. On the contrary, his past demonstrated a sharp mind and a low-profile approach. Yet, everything he said and did since his exposure seemed excessive, starkly contrasting with his previous demeanor.
It didn’t seem like the behavior of someone trying to conceal a major act. Rather, it felt as though he was eager to expose himself…
Was he deliberate? Did he intentionally let the military discover him, orchestrating today’s events? Or had he deliberately planned this death? Zong Ting had fleetingly entertained such speculations before, buried amidst his tangled thoughts. Now, those suspicions were coalescing into a clearer idea.
Zong Ting’s gaze settled on the corpse, its vitality nearly extinguished. His eyes fixed on the man’s hands.
The pale, rigid fingertips retained their pre-death position: the right palm rested on the back of the left hand, with the index finger slightly raised, adorned with a large ring embedded with a pine-green gem—a relatively common style in the interstellar era.
Yet, this caught Zong Ting’s attention because the ring was worn on the right index finger. Angel wasn’t left-handed, and for a mech warrior like him, the right index finger was frequently used, making the presence of the ring peculiar. It could be explained away, perhaps, but it still felt odd…
Zong Ting also vividly recalled that when the transformable mech had crashed, it had assumed a pose eerily similar to Angel’s current one. However, while Angel’s right index finger rested on his left hand’s back, the mech, before being dismantled, had its left palm covering the right hand’s back, with its index finger precisely aligned over the right index finger—the exact spot where the cockpit’s pilot wore the ring.
Was this a coincidence?
The young officer kept his doubts to himself. He stepped forward, crouched down, and closely examined the seemingly anomalous ring.