SZAR Chapter 116

Night fell, and Qu Xia parted ways with Erwen.

Before the main planet was completely sealed off, an egg was secretly loaded onto a mining ship, placed on the padded floor of the cargo hold, surrounded by massive mining equipment. From the doorway, you couldn’t see the egg at all.

Every year, the Stellar Group sends tens of thousands of mining ships to the outer star systems without fail. The port inspectors were familiar with them and, after a quick glance, waved them through.

“All normal. Clear to proceed!”

The heavy cargo ship left the port and entered the vastness of space.

Elsewhere, a sleek black aircraft took off from the Tylando main estate. Disappearing into the night, it merged into the mountains behind the main planet.

It was a specially-made, low-altitude stealth craft, tiny enough to weave through the forest. Sylph remained at the estate, while his trusted aides guided Qu Xia to land on the edge of the mining pit.

The aides cleaned and arranged a small dormitory, then removed communication equipment from the aircraft and set it up inside, connecting the backup power. With a hint of apology, one spoke to Qu Xia: “The aircraft’s space is limited; we could only bring these supplies.”

The aircraft was small and couldn’t carry much. The communication and electronic equipment took up most of the space, leaving only a little for daily necessities: a simple bed and bedding, far from the luxurious life a male of Qu Xia’s rank might expect. The aides were nervous, fearing the young prince might throw a fit.

Qu Xia calmly sat down on the floor and began assembling the scattered parts. Then he waved his hand: “Get ready.”

The aide froze. “Ready… for what?”

Qu Xia paused, his expression subtly shifting: “Get ready… to pick up garbage.”

The larger the aircraft, the easier it was to be detected. So he had taken a small one. But to hack into the royal network without being traced, he needed a lot of complex equipment. Qu Xia brought only the core components; the rest of the common parts would have to be scavenged.

Luckily, there was a garbage mountain right nearby, plentiful and inexhaustible.

The aide looked puzzled: “?”

He silently followed the young prince, watching this seemingly weak and delicate little male nimbly climb the garbage heap. On top, Qu Xia surveyed everything as if inspecting his subjects, directing the operation with a ruler’s precision. Any stray metal part could not escape his eyes. Calm and swift, he commanded:

“That’s the gyroscope for the communicator. Pick it up.”

“That’s a Bluetooth module, still in good condition. Pick it up.”

Aide: “…”

He silently obeyed all of the prince’s orders, gathering piece after piece of indistinguishable junk. Qu Xia cleaned each component, and within two days, his nimble fingers had dismantled and reassembled these unrelated parts into a massive metallic contraption.

He connected the machine to a scavenged display, skillfully accessed the royal network, entered the original password, and after careful probing, slipped silently into the prince’s private domain.

He had been here once before, then, to uncover the secrets of Lab D767; he had not peeked at anything else. Now, starting over, Qu Xia found it just as tricky.

The encryption methods were unfamiliar, and the disordered, low-information data streams made it extremely hard to extract the correct content. Qu Xia checked the clock, eight days remained.

Eight days until his scheduled meeting with Erwen.

To avoid being located by the light-brain, Qu Xia removed it and felt the emptiness on his wrist. He strapped on an old mechanical watch instead; the ticking seconds and minutes quietly marking the passage of time.

He looked at the aide: “You can leave now. Aside from the essential meals, I’ll be staying here.”

With that, he pulled out his chair and dove back into the data.

The aide nodded, closed the door behind him. For one day, two days, three days, Qu Xia truly did not step outside at all.

The aide stood nervously at the door. Male zergs usually loved being surrounded by attendants and could hardly bear solitude. Qu Xia staying inside for several days without stepping out was extremely unusual. If it weren’t for the daily meals being delivered in small portions, the aide would have feared something had gone wrong.

In reality, when research hit a bottleneck, Qu Xia often went without food or drink, spending a week or more in the lab.

He possessed a pure, almost obsessive passion for it. His senior colleagues always considered him a researcher born for this work. Now, beside the garbage heap, deep in the dark underground mine, he entered a mysterious state akin to a flow. Every nerve in his body seemed activated, his brain cells firing rapidly. The data on the screen reflected in his pupils as if it were directly wired into his mind.

Seven days later, the lab door burst open. The aide looked up, tense, and saw the little male supporting himself against the metal wall, weakly glancing at him.

Qu Xia nearly collapsed onto the sofa by the doorway, his deer-like eyes blinking as he rasped out a few broken words:

“…Quick… get me some sweets…”

His energy was nearly spent.

The aide scrambled to mix up a cake batter, and Qu Xia tore open an energy drink and gulped it down several times before calming.

He lifted his hand to check his watch, only one day remained.

……………..

Royal Palace, Assembly Hall.

The prince sat at the center, dozens of elders lined up in a straight row. Between them lay a crystal coffin.

The emperor rested within, draped with the thorned rose banner. His body was stiff, skin lost elasticity, lips purplish, face bluish, the picture of a corpse. Yet the elders surrounding him looked even grimmer, brows tightly furrowed, the ridge between their eyes so pronounced it could crush a fly.

The elder of the Tylando family was among them, his face grim as he fixed his gaze on the prince. Coldly, he said, “All the mourning rituals have been completed. Prince, how long do you intend to keep us trapped here?”

The prince smiled. “When did I ever say you couldn’t leave? If you wish to go, I will not stop you.”

The elder looked toward the door. Fully armed guards stood outside the hall, their dark gun barrels aimed directly at the elders. Any sudden move, and the guns would fire without hesitation.

The elder swept his sleeve in disdain. “And this is what you call letting us leave?”

The prince only smiled without replying. With a slight wave of his hand, a row of servants approached from behind, each carrying a sandalwood tray.

They stopped before the elders. On each tray lay a paper document and a pen. The prince sat upright, smiling: “Sign this document, and you may leave immediately.”

It was a consent form for the transfer of the throne.

The elders exchanged glances. Except for Glore’s direct descendants, they all reached for the documents almost simultaneously.

At the door, the Secord Army’s general stood watch. Trapped here, unable to mobilize troops, further resistance would achieve nothing. The newly appointed young prince’s whereabouts were unknown. Rather than waste time, it was better to comply with the prince’s terms.

The Tylando elder’s hand trembled slightly.

The other elders could still maneuver, but he had immediately tied to Qu Xia’s war chariot, there was no retreat. Signing meant the family’s fall and personal disgrace; refusing meant a desperate, futile struggle. He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and sank heavily back into his seat, ignoring the servants in front of him.

A few other elders also refused to cooperate, leaving the papers untouched.

The prince watched them with keen interest and waved. “The rest of you may leave.”

They exchanged looks, and with quiet understanding, rose and departed. The hall immediately felt emptier.

The guns that had once targeted a dozen elders now pivoted toward the few who remained. For the mourning, the elders had worn pure white robes; the guns’ red targeting lasers rested on their chests, evoking the imagined bloom of blood upon impact.

The prince sat down leisurely, even having the servants bring tea and fruit, as if prepared to endure a deathly standoff with the elders.

He poured himself a cup of tea, added milk, and stirred, the stick clinking against the bone china with clear, crisp sounds that echoed through the silent hall, sounding like the tolling of a death knell.

Time ticked away, second by second. The elder’s beard twitched, cold sweat streaming down his forehead. Just as he felt he could no longer bear the pressure, a servant hurried over, whispering something into the prince’s ear. Then came the sound of porcelain shattering.

The elder looked up. The prince’s teacup had fallen to the ground, broken into pieces, and scalding water spilled everywhere.

The prince’s voice rose in shock: “He’s still alive?”

The high-ranking official, confident just moments ago, now showed a rare loss of composure. He grabbed the servant’s hand, demanding sharply, “Where is Gena? Where are the general’s men?”

The servant winced but did not resist. “General Gena has already gone to the port to confront them. He told Your Highness not to worry. After the last disastrous defeat, their prestige is no longer what it was. The outcome with the admiral is fifty-fifty. They attempted a rebellious coup, so victory is on your side.”

He lowered his eyes respectfully. “The general also said that Your Highness should first detain the remaining elders as hostages. It might come in handy for the subsequent confrontation.”

The prince said, “That is indeed the way to do it!”

He rose from his seat, pacing anxiously in the hall. With a wave of his hand, fully armed soldiers stepped forward, cuffing the remaining elders behind their backs.

“Take them away, keep a strict watch,” the prince ordered.

The Tylando elder was escorted out. As he left the main hall, he glanced back and saw the prince in red and purple robes gripping the edge of his desk, fingers straining with bulging veins.

It was as if some uninvited guest had torn off his mask of composure, revealing the hysterical rage beneath.

 ………………

At this moment, ordinary citizens on the main planet sensed the oppressive tension of an approaching storm.

A youngling squinted at the horizon. “Mother, what is that?”

Looking from the central district toward the skyline, a massive black shadow appeared, like layers of dark clouds.

The young mother stared in disbelief, murmuring, “Heavens… that’s a fleet of warships.”

Raised in peaceful times, far from the barren stars, no one had ever imagined they would one day see such a colossal fleet above their main planet.

The female whispered to herself, “At this scale… are they planning to bomb the main planet?”

At the same time, in the port, Gena quickly operated the communicator, sending orders to the remaining four major military regions stationed at the borders. His cold voice echoed inside the command cabin:

“I am General Gena of the Second Army. The First Army intends to rebel, deploying forces outside the main planet’s port. I now summon the Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Army for urgent support to the main planet. Repeat: Summon the Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Army for urgent support to the main planet. Acknowledge!”

His voice reverberated through the emergency communication channel. About three minutes later, replies came in from the major regions one by one:

“This is General Rubian of the Fourth Army. Message received, en route to assist.”

“This is General Mosley of the Sixth Army. Message received, en route to assist.”

“…Message received, en route to assist.”

As the replies kept coming in, Gena let out a slight breath of relief.

His biggest fear was that, with Erwen’s reputation widespread, these confused generals might side with the rebels. Fortunately, the Prince held the moral and legal high ground, so the other major military armies still maintained their limits.

Reinforcements were on their way. If the main planet could hold out for three days, it could trap the rebels from inside and outside, crushing them in one sweep. Gena straightened his posture and connected to Erwen’s communication channel.

His tone carried a relaxed amusement, tinged with a bit of teasing toward an old acquaintance: “Long time no see, Erwen. Looks like that plane crash on Junk Planet really scrambled your brain, making you try something as foolish as rebellion?”

Inside the communicator, there was only silence, as if no one was listening.

Gena couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger.

He was also a naturally gifted general, one of the youngest generals among the zerg race, but he had been born in the same era as Erwen and had always been overshadowed by him. Back then, Erwen had been so high above everyone else, ignoring others as if they were worthless trash, cold and hard like stones in a latrine.

At that time, Erwen held a high position, and Gena could do nothing, so he swallowed his pride. But now, seeing Erwen in a near-death predicament and still so indifferent to him, Gena was caught off guard.

Squinting, Gnar spoke coldly: “What’s this? Esteemed Admiral, why do you remain silent? Tongue-tied? You have some nerve! Treason is the gravest of crimes. The rest of the army will arrive in three days. I advise you not to resist. Surrender now, and perhaps you will keep your life!”

His voice was sharp, high-pitched, tinged with hysteria. A crackle ran through the channel, and Erwen’s low voice answered.

His tone was still calm, composed, without a trace of urgency or panic, as if the current crisis were nothing more than a minor obstacle he could dissolve at any moment. He said indifferently:

“Gena, you’re mistaken.”

“I am not the one plotting to usurp the throne, nor am I the one rebelling or forcing a palace coup.”

Gnar snapped: “What nonsense are you spouting?”

Erwen sighed lightly, his calm voice echoing through the channel: “Gena, what you did with His Highness… do I need to spell it out for you?”