"The commander has died, his body is preserved in the Space Crystal," Apophis slowly took down the space pendant, placing it gently on the table.

John's reaction, having received the news, was far more intense than Apophis's had been at the time. He nearly fainted. Fortunately, he was psychologically prepared and managed not to be overwhelmed, collapsing into the chair, his complexion shifting erratically from pale to flushed... It took quite a while for his fiercely pounding heart to settle down.

"Are you saying that the commander is in the Space Crystal?" At that moment, John, tears streaming down his face, trembled as he pointed at the Space Crystal, pausing at each word.

"Yes, only you and I know about this among the ranks, including the high levels of the Federation."

John's gaze stayed fixed on the Space Crystal but he took no further action. He didn't even want to verify the truthfulness of Apophis's words. "Do you know the cause of the commander's death?"

"Yes." And so, Apophis recounted to John how Xiu Yi had come to the Fiery Blade Legion that day and found him, not missing a single detail, "That's how it all happened. After all, this was the commander's last order, so I didn't report during the deputy's mission."

John could no longer listen; of course, he had long been aware of Xiu Yi. He also knew that the commander had corresponded with a child named Xiu Yi years ago, but Xiu Yi was not the key point, the key point was the person who had killed the commander.

"Have you been investigating this recently?"

"Yes."

Apophis, originally from a civilian Ancient Martial Arts school, had also been in contact with a reclusive faction over the past year, thereby easily linking Jade Clear Sect with the incident through technological reconstruction.

"Is that so..."

Upon confirming the news, an evidently aged John seemed suddenly devoid of the desire to pursue the matter further, waving his hand at Apophis, "You can leave now. I want to be alone, think back then... the commander often said I had a bad temper, indeed, I should've changed it earlier."

John's voice was calm, as if reminiscing, signaling Apophis to leave while he murmured to himself.

Apophis was slightly stunned, wanting to say something, but ultimately remained silent, heavy-hearted as he turned and left the room...

He knew John's personality better than anyone, yet today John was unusually unangry, even calmer than usual. It was as if losing the commander, his pillar, John had matured greatly in an instant.

The abnormal is bound to be ominous, storms may loom after unnerving calm.

It was only after Apophis had left, and sent all the soldiers away, that John could finally calm down and focus on his work. He didn't want to think about any memories related to the commander; he feared he couldn't control his emotions.

Emotions, the more suppressed, the more they rebound. An hour later, an enraged John smashed his computer, covered himself with a blanket, and burst into tears. Not many people had seen such vulnerability in this iron-soldier, crying like a child who had lost something precious, unstoppable in his sobbing.

He ordered the guards to bring wine, as much as they could, and a thoroughly drunk John eventually fell asleep on the bed hugging the wine jug...

In his dream, the hazy images were vivid, and he would never forget them...

At that time, many comrades had died, all brothers he had known through years of fighting side by side.

At that time, it was the corps commander who scolded everyone in a tone full of frustrated hopes, consoling them, "Crying? Men do not shed tears lightly. Look at your small attendance? Victory and defeat are common in military affairs, and besides, you won the battle. If you think about it, wouldn't the defeated Saudi soldiers have to commit suicide?"

At that time, the resistance camp was in deep trouble, and it was the corps commander who led everyone to fight against the imperial soldiers, passing on valuable combat experience to everyone.

The corps commander was spirited then, and John vaguely remembered that brilliance. He had said, "I am a soldier of the Atlan Federation, driven by a noble mission; to unite the strength of the resistance; to protect our homeland; and to defend our inviolable dignity. That is why I risked my life to secretly infiltrate Saudi territory. Even if my personal capabilities are outstanding, they are just a drop in the ocean against the imperial power—although the secret base had 2,000 people, only about 500 were actual combatants. The few mobile soldiers we had and our scarce resources were hardly enough to last long, so we had to gather all possible strength."

He had also said, "Temporary comfort will not alter the future or change the situation. The resistance camp can't even have a full meal, waiting here will only lead to decay and decline, like a walking corpse withering away slowly after losing hope. If the conviction of resistance is only to this extent, the outcome will surely not be satisfactory. Ultimately, hiding is just a noble excuse for cowardice. A single spark can start a prairie fire. Fighting for beliefs, fighting for freedom, even if there are towering mountains, what is there to fear? I alone, driven by a will, do not hesitate to fight alone in a foreign land, yet such a dependable force does not get its proper place to be used."

The corps commander's heartfelt words touched every member of the resistance camp and it was he who rescued the fighters from the hellish throes of death; leading them out of the Saudi Empire's prison; it was he who made them see that the light was no longer distant, but then he just suddenly left, which indeed was his typical way of doing things—too strong and in no need of remembrance. Those who understood him did not need to worry, and those who did not understand him also did not need to worry; he did not want everyone to see a mournful face, which would only intensify their longing even more.

In his sleep, John kept repeating Feng Yi's name, repeatedly waking from dreams of victory, only to realize in a daze that it was just an illusion, then falling asleep again, half-dreaming and half-awake, John could no longer bear such torment.

Yes, he had promised the corps commander not to get angry over trivial matters and to restrain himself, but please allow him to be selfish once more.

The next day, John finally decided to carry on the legacy of the fiery corps commander, Feng Yi, taking on this great responsibility. As for reporting this matter to the higher-ups, he had no intention to care for now because, before that, John had to complete a task befitting a corps leader, just as he had thought, please allow him to be selfish once more.

"Damn the Jade Clear Sect. Not avenging an enemy is not the way of a man."

The next morning, the fiery corps gathered all 270,000 members for a roll call, and within three hours, they were fully equipped and ready. The corps did not even inform the Capital but set out without further ado. At that moment, John's face was calm, yet it carried an indescribable bloodlust and ferocity. The moment the order was given, the super fleet slowly ascended amid the roar of the engines, fiercely targeting the Republic of Zana.

In this battle, where gods would be slain if they obstructed and Buddha would be slain if they blocked, how could any order from the Capital matter? Moreover, the Federation might not advocate war upon hearing the news about the corps commander.

With the weight of the fiery corps commander and the Capital's command, Feng Yi had already been able to mobilize the armed forces. Although John's authority was not enough, who was he? A campaign leader who had fought wars for decades, a true iron-blooded warrior, born a desperado, who the hell cares about so much more.

The super fleet, like little stars, stretched out in a line hundreds of kilometers long, hanging in the night sky, flickering on and off, resembling a Milky Way stretching across the heavens, a spectacular sight.

Even the farmers on the ground gathered in small groups, looking up... watching this most spectacular fleet embark...

The large-scale fleet did not start off very fast, even slow enough to be described as such, and under the twinkling and disappearance of lights, the battleships quickly turned into specks of stars vanishing into the dark sky, like shooting stars chasing the moon.

Like a torrent of steel, the fleet continued its relentless journey, leaving Bermuda and passing through the Caribbean Galaxy, traversing various major territories of the Federation, and finally entering Zana's border three days later, with momentum so fierce, it directly targeted Gemini.

This momentum was not a threat but a desperate resolve. The Republic of Zana was caught completely off guard by the Federation—or rather by the fiery corps.

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