SZAR Chapter 50

“Nuo Wei, are you trying to avoid your male lord?”

Chu Ci poked the egg with a finger, a slight smile in his voice. The egg trembled uneasily.

Instinctively, Nuo Wei felt fear.

It nudged forward slightly, using its eggshell to rub against Chu Ci’s fingers in a flattering way.

For an egg, this was a rather difficult move.

Chu Ci found it amusing.

He lifted the egg from the crib again, holding it in the human way one would hold a baby, generously sharing his body warmth. Then he said, “Ah, don’t be shy, Nuo Wei. We didn’t do anything, just a little tugging here in the judgment room. What’s the big deal?”

Outside, the presiding judge: “…”

He wore a deadpan expression.

Just a little tugging in the judgment room? You call that a little tugging?

“It’s okay,” Chu Ci continued, lightly lifting the egg and shaking it like coaxing a little one. “Even the presiding judge says he doesn’t mind. He told me it’s fine, right, Your Honor?”

The presiding judge: “…”

He reluctantly said, “Yes.”

The egg wobbled, giving no sign of wanting to come out.

Soft methods didn’t work, then it was time for the hard approach. Chu Ci supported the egg with one hand, lifted it to his eyes, and suddenly changed his tone: “Still not coming out? Want me to kiss you, is that it?”

The egg: “!!!”

Chu Ci lowered his voice, leaned close, and spoke in a tone only he and Nuo Wei could hear, like a devil whispering: “I’ll kiss your entire egg until it’s wet, with a sheen on the shell. Nuo Wei, you know we’re on live stream, right? I’ll kiss you all sorts of ways… like French kisses, all kinds of kisses…”

The egg trembled violently.

Chu Ci laughed out loud.

His female monarch seemed completely overwhelmed. The eggshell was so hot it could fry food. With a final violent tremor, the egg suddenly vanished from Chu Ci’s sight. His head spun, vision twisting and flipping, colorful ribbon-like strands reappearing all around him. When he finally cleared his mind, he saw a vast expanse of gray-black sky.

This was the Pamir Star system.

Pamir lay at the edge of the galaxy, far from any star, its skies perpetually gloomy. But the sky Chu Ci saw now was even darker than he had imagined, faintly tinged with an ominous gray-black, the color of gunpowder smoke rising from cannon fire.

Nuo Wei stood there this time in his uniform. The pristine white general’s attire wrapped his long, lean body. He was two steps away from Chu Ci, giving instructions to a nearby defense officer.

The presiding judge said, “Your Excellency, this is a memory. Please stay behind the Major General. If necessary, release your presence in the mental sea and link with the general’s mind.”

Chu Ci asked, “If I release my mental sea, will he be able to sense me?”

The judge gave a vague answer: “Perhaps. It depends on the strength of your mental link… Of course, do not attempt it yet, or you may interfere with the stability of our memory reading.”

He lifted his light-brain to update Chu Ci on the time: “Now, four hours remain before the great fire.”

On the night before Erwen’s defection, the mecha depot on Pamir ignited in a raging inferno, consuming all supplies in flames.

With the commander missing and the depot destroyed, the First Army was in an extremely vulnerable state. The enemy, attacking by surprise, struck directly, nearly annihilating the entire force.

And now, only four hours remained before that disaster.

Chu Ci’s mind rang with the presiding judge’s cold voice: “We will now formally enter the lie detection phase.”

Chu Ci’s expression turned serious. He nodded: “Understood.”

What had come before was merely a test appetizer; the formal lie detection was about to begin.

The presiding judge’s calm voice came through: “Major General Nuo Wei, please recall the day before Admiral Erwen’s defection. What were you doing?”

The lie detector’s power suddenly surged.

The lie detector scanned Nuo Wei’s mental sea, forcing him to relive every memory from that day.

Any assault on the mental sea is extremely uncomfortable, and this comb-like sweep made it even worse. Inside the lie detector pod, Nuo Wei’s pupils dilated, his face showing clear pain.

Within the mental sea, he was performing his routine inspection of the equipment team.

Chu Ci heard Nuo Wei’s light-brain beep, and Admiral Erwen’s voice came through: “Nuo Wei, come to my office.”

“Yes.” His female replied softly, handing off tasks to his subordinates before walking toward the commander’s private workspace.

The presiding judge reminded Chu Ci: “We need to know every detail about Erwen. The intensity of the mental scan will increase further.”

Immediately, a sharp ringing filled the ears; even Chu Ci felt nauseated. The scene before him twisted and warped, eventually freezing on Erwen.

The admiral was casually dressed, sleeves rolled up to reveal part of his forearm. He brewed a pot of tea and gestured for Nuo Wei to sit across from him.

Outside the lie detector pod, the recording officer gripped the pen tightly, ready to write down every word. Every sentence that followed was critical testimony.

Whether Erwen had defected, how he had defected, and whether the defection involved the First Army, all depended on this record.

The comments on StarNet scrolled relentlessly:

【 What did Erwen say? That he wanted to defect and wanted Nuo Wei to go with him? 】

【 So Nuo Wei wanted to go but didn’t succeed? 】

Various interpretations poured in, complex and conflicting. Chu Ci followed silently like a shadow, his body instinctively straightening.

But the conversation itself proceeded normally.

Erwen discussed deployments and military logistics, entirely within his duties as admiral. Nuo Wei answered calmly, without a single misstep, as if this were just another ordinary exchange between superior and subordinate.

Erwen hesitated several times, but the recording officer’s pen nearly broke from tension; nothing more was spoken.

“This isn’t right,” the presiding judge frowned. “It’s just deployment and internal matters, light-brain communication alone would suffice. There’s no need to recall a general.”

He instructed the operator: “Increase the mental wave intensity. Check if there are any hidden implications in the dialogue just now.”

No sooner had he spoken than Chu Ci heard a muffled, painful groan from the pod.

This dizziness lasted a full ten minutes, as if someone were repeatedly combing through every detail.

“There are no records in the general’s mental sea related to ‘hidden meanings’ or ‘secret codes,’” the operator said.

The presiding judge nodded. “Stop searching for Erwen. Begin searching for the night-raid memories.”

The tremors from the adjacent pod grew stronger.

This was a memory Nuo Wei did not want to revisit. His brain, in self-protection, had buried it deep within his mind; forcibly retrieving it required much more energy.

The night before Chu Ci arrived at Pamir, the barren star suffered a terrifying night raid. The enemy knew the military district’s deployment inside and out. Slanted artillery fire reduced the entire district to ashes, while the First Army’s air defense warning systems remained unresponsive. StarNet users speculated widely, saying someone inside had colluded with the enemy, disabled the defense systems, and handed over the deployment maps, causing this disaster.

As for who exactly shut down the air defenses, or who leaked the deployment maps, no definitive answer exists. Some blamed Admiral Erwen, but later investigations found that the admiral had already disappeared at the time the defense systems went offline. The First Army’s top ranks were left in turmoil, like locusts under a scorching sun.

This was exactly why Nuo Wei risked his life in the lie detector. Every day the test was postponed, the First Army bore the blame, and suspicion of treason hung over everyone like a shadow.

Within the First Army, those closely connected to Erwen, Nuo Wei, Lin En, and others, were highly suspicious. Among them, Nuo Wei, summoned as Erwen’s subordinate and the admiral’s nephew, was on the front lines of suspicion.

To this day, countless conspiracy theories flood StarNet. Many claim Erwen and Nuo Wei secretly struck a deal, betraying the First Army. Erwen allegedly fled first, while Nuo Wei was caught, leaving him at the mercy of others.

A prompt from the presiding judge sounded: “Your Excellency Chu Ci, prepare yourself. We are entering the moment the air defense system was shut down.”

Chu Ci’s perspective twisted sharply. Time shifted to night.

He opened his eyes to see a cluster of light rushing toward him. It expanded rapidly, followed immediately by a deafening explosion. The ground beneath him suddenly cracked. Then came a rush of footsteps. Someone screamed: “Damn it! Where’s Admiral Erwen? We need command!”

And just like that, he stepped straight into the midst of the bombardment.

Flames mixed with smoke spread across the battlefield. Chu Ci looked around and saw countless fallen limbs and bone shards, wings stripped from female soldiers by the artillery fire. The smell of blood hit his nose, and just a second in this environment made him want to vomit.

Chu Ci began searching for Nuo Wei. He passed through piles of shredded bodies; stray bullets disintegrated in midair, turning into high-speed metal shards. As Nuo Wei’s memory projection, he floated as a ghost above the ground. These bullets could not harm him. Suppressing the urge to vomit, he moved through the artillery fire and finally saw Nuo Wei and Lin En in a corner of the military supply depot.

Both major generals looked disheveled. Lin En pressed his hat onto his head and barked a series of curses: “Damn it! How did they manage a sudden raid? Where’s our air defense? We need to report to Admiral Erwen!”

Nuo Wei held his hand to the earpiece of his instant communicator, pressed it twice, and shook his head: “Can’t reach him.”

Lin En slammed his fist into the nearby wall. “With all this artillery fire, we can’t open the supply depot without the admiral’s key. The aircraft are stuck in the sky. How are we supposed to fight?”

The First Army was already completely suppressed. Countless missiles rained down from above. Lin En opened the virtual map on his light brain, his face hard as stone. “If they push any further, it’ll hit Pamir’s residential zone.”

Chu Ci looked at the map. It marked the blocky, gray concrete hospital standing right on the border between the Pamir battlefield and the civilian district. A little further back was the flea market where Chu Ci had bought things before.

Lin En lowered his head and tapped his light-brain. “Damn it, the liaison we sent to contact the admiral just lost connection. I’ll send another one.”

The admiral’s white tower was less than two kilometers away. Chu Ci could see the silver spire glinting, but he knew the building had already been evacuated.

Nuo Wei tilted his head back. “It’s too late. We’ll just take down the flagship ourselves.”

Lin En asked, “How? We don’t have any aerial combat tools…”

Suddenly, he froze.

Nuo Wei spread his wings.

The wings, which Chu Ci had almost ordered removed, shimmered with a mysterious silver glow. They were coated in phosphorescent powder. The bone wings were enormous and resilient, patterned with regular dark lines, evoking the memory of long-extinct ancient tribes described in the 《Classic of Mountains and Seas.》

It was the first time Chu Ci had seen Nuo Wei’s wings. They unfolded slowly from his back, carrying a strange, almost ancient elegance.

Lin En shouted, “Are you crazy? You’re going to fly straight at the starship with your wings?”

Nuo Wei said calmly, “Their front glass is made of fully transparent film so it won’t affect the sniper’s aim. I can break through it.”

Lin En grabbed a corner of his uniform. “No, we should still wait for Admiral Erwen and plan carefully…”

As he spoke, he opened his light-brain again, trying to dial Erwen’s account.

Rip—

At the sound of tearing fabric, Lin En turned and saw Nuo Wei tear off the sleeve, then shoot upward into the sky. His huge white wings shimmered like the moon, beating with a rush of wind.

Lin En froze for a moment, cursed angrily, and spread his own wings to follow.

Without the admiral’s key, the supply depot couldn’t be opened, and the aircraft were useless. Missiles hit the vehicles in the warehouse, turning them into clumsy scrap. The frontline steadily pushed backward. More and more of the First Army’s soldiers spread their wings and ascended into the clouds.

Chu Ci couldn’t follow. He stood amid the ruins, looking up.

Blood poured from above. Limbs fell from the sky. Wing membranes curled in the flames…

The female soldiers moved too fast, smashing into aircraft and intercepting missiles. Chu Ci couldn’t make out all the details; he could only see the ghostly trails their wings left in the sky, like the tails of comets.

Hundreds, even thousands, of comet-like trails leapt across the sky, tinting the gray-black heavens with a halo-like glow. Amid this halo, Chu Ci lifted his gaze toward the cold, pale moon.

The deafening roar of the artillery seemed to fade away on its own. All that remained in his vision was the moon.

Nuo Wei’s wings…beautiful, like the moon itself.

By this point, both the Tribunal and StarNet had gone silent.

Though Erwen’s betrayal remained unresolved, there was no doubt that the air-defense barrier had nothing to do with Lin En, and certainly nothing to do with Nuo Wei. The First Army, without a commander, with locked aircraft and destroyed supply depots, had fought desperately. With blood and bones as their price, they held the front line firmly outside the residential area.

They fulfilled their duty. They shed their blood.

They never betrayed anyone.

StarNet fell into yet another moment of stunned silence.

People gradually realized the cruel words and malicious guesses they had thrown around over the past days.

【 Oh my god… didn’t we just finish watching a lie detector test on Major General Lin En? 】

【 Yes… I remember… Major General Lin En was kneeling, cold sweat soaking his shirt. 】

【 Not just Lin En… we’re testing Major General Nuo Wei now, and they’re using an even more extreme method. 】

No ordinary lie detector, however uncomfortable, could kill someone, but this central lie detector for Nuo Wei carried a real 1-in-4 chance of death.

【 So… if it weren’t for Chu Ci, the Major General could have had a 25% chance of dying】

The presiding judge stood on the tribunal platform, his expression heavy.

He placed a hand on the microphone, his voice low: “Your Excellency Chu Ci, please wake Major General Nuo Wei. He should be back now.”

This was the greatest risk of the lie detector: overexposing someone’s unpleasant memories could violently disturb their mental sea, leaving them unable to distinguish dream from reality and ultimately lost within their chaotic mind. Chu Ci had entered his mental world precisely to guide him out at this moment.

The artillery fire fell silent for a moment. Nuo Wei landed, panicked but safe.

His moon-like wings were streaked with scorching marks, smoke and fire blackening large patches. His silvery-white hair was singed in many places, the tips charred and curled. Blood seeped from his abdomen, where the tail of a flying craft had struck him, breaking two ribs.

Nuo Wei half-kneeling on the ground, looked around in a daze.

Around him was nothing but scorched earth; the command post had been blown to ruins. Countless comrades had been reduced to bloodied mud, and a single press to the ground could lift a large stain of blood.

Chu Ci tried to reach him through their mental link: “Nuo Wei, wake up. It’s over.”

“Baby? Wake up?”

Nuo Wei remained confused and unresponsive.

Long hours of overexertion had drained his energy; his mental sea was on the verge of collapse. He knelt on the rubble, wiping the blood from his abdomen, which was still wet and oozing.

An S-rank female’s healing ability shouldn’t fail like this.

The pain muddled his mind, and with so much blood lost, his body temperature dropped sharply. He froze for a long moment before finally reacting.

The injuries were too severe; healing couldn’t keep up. Repeatedly pushing his potential had caused him to downgrade.

Nuo Wei drew the dagger tied to his leg and cut his wrist.

Blood spurted out, flowing for over half a minute before slowing to a trickle.

He stared at the wound with a face showing neither sorrow nor joy.

This wasn’t even A-rank healing… Had he dropped to B?

Nuo Wei stood, wobbling slightly. It was already difficult for him to stay upright. He leaned on the ruined walls of the command post for support, then opened his light-brain and stared blankly at a small input cursor.

After a moment, he gently clicked on Chu Ci’s name and hit the edit key.

He deleted, then rewrote; rewrote, then deleted. Finally, he closed his eyes and pressed send—

【If the Male Zerg Protection Association calls you again today, please answer.】

This action seemed to drain all the strength from him. Nuo Wei slid down the wall and sat there, staring blankly at the sprawling ruins.

This was the First Army’s garrison… but now… how many were still alive?

Nuo Wei didn’t know. He sat alone among the broken walls, watching the stars gradually rise from the horizon. Dawn approached; the sky brightened, and then the whir of rotor blades filled the air… The stationed legions had finally realized the First Army was in trouble and sent reinforcements.

They roughly lifted Nuo Wei onto a stretcher, searching for survivors as they spoke, fragments of words like “defection” and “something’s wrong” drifting through the air.

Before taking him into the hospital, an officer leaned over and held Nuo Wei’s light-brain: “Major General, please hand over your light-brain. Electronic devices are not allowed in the hospital.”

What kind of hospital really bans electronics? It was just a polite excuse for suspicion.

Nuo Wei was too weak to resist and nodded. Just as the light-brain was about to be boxed, he suddenly lifted his hand and asked, “Can I check the messages one more time?”

The officer paused, then returned it to him: “Go ahead.”

Nuo Wei opened the light-brain. No new messages.

He flipped to Chu Ci’s section — empty. The last line was the one he had sent:

【If the Male Zerg Protection Association calls you again today, please answer.】

Nuo Wei handed back the light-brain and whispered, “Thanks.” Then he closed his eyes, exhausted, drifting toward sleep.

But in the haze of half-consciousness, he seemed to hear a voice softly calling his name.

“Don’t sleep…” From the fractured part of his mental sea came Chu Ci’s voice, repeating again and again: “Don’t sleep…”

“I won’t take the Male Zerg Protection Association’s call. Come home with me…”

“Come home with me…”