The Truth of Lu Ming

“By the way, could I have the diary and the photographs?”

Chen Guan handed her the black hardcover diary and the old photographs.

Su Yuehe took them, her fingertips brushing over the two characters Lu Ming embossed on the cover. Her expression was complicated.

She carefully put the items away, then said solemnly to Chen Guan, “Thank you.”

Chen Guan said nothing. He merely nodded before turning and walking through the door.

The moment he stepped through, the dry, frigid air of the Northern Frontier flooded his lungs.

The scene before him shifted from the stillness of the camp back into a crystal-strewn wasteland. That ominous blue rift still hung in the night sky.

Behind him, after the last person passed through, the ghostly blue circular entrance quietly closed and vanished without a trace.

Twelve people. Not one missing.

The relief of having survived the ordeal did not linger long on anyone’s face.

“How are we supposed to write the report for this mission?” An Changqing’s voice broke the silence.

The question instantly made the atmosphere delicate.

“Report it truthfully.”

Wang Shuo answered almost without thinking, but the moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

He glanced at Su Yuehe’s calm face, then at Chen Guan, who appeared to have nothing to do with the matter. For some reason, his confidence weakened.

Chen Guan looked at Wang Shuo and spoke.

“Just say that we encountered an unforeseen temporal disturbance during the survey, causing all the soul beacons to fail.”

“We were trapped in the chaotic gap between dimensions and barely survived. In the end, we relied on Starswapping to forcibly tear open a stable node and escape.”

Chen Guan looked toward An Changqing. Mythic abilities were practically cheats; they could be used to pin any explanation on them.

Didn’t believe him? Then awaken a mythic ability and see for yourself.

The story was perfectly reasonable and explained why they had lost contact.

In any case, it was only for outsiders. As long as it sounded plausible, that was enough. The bigwigs certainly wouldn’t undermine their own daughter.

“I agree.”

Su Yuehe was the first to voice her support. Her gaze swept over Wang Shuo and the other three students from Yanjing Academy.

“What about you?”

“We… have no objections.”

Who would dare object? Wang Shuo had only just remembered the identities of the people standing before him.

That little act of defiance had been nothing more than putting on a show.

And so, an unspoken pact of silence quietly formed among the twelve.

“Let’s go. Captain Li is probably getting anxious waiting for us.”

An Changqing glanced at his watch and led everyone back in the direction they had come from.

They had not gone far when the hulking outlines of armored personnel carriers appeared in the darkness. There was more than one; a whole line of them followed behind.

A man was leaning against the front of one vehicle.

It was Li Ce.

When he saw them return, he straightened.

Twelve figures emerged from the darkness. Not one was missing.

He turned and waved a hand toward the people behind him.

“Mission terminated.”

His voice remained cold and hard.

“Everyone, get in the vehicles immediately. We’re returning to camp.”

The order left everyone stunned.

There would be no questioning? No on-site investigation? It was simply over?

Wang Shuo even wondered whether the trauma had driven him to hallucinate.

“What are you standing around for?”

Li Ce turned back and frowned.

“Get in.”

Only then did everyone come to their senses. In silence, they walked toward the armored vehicles.

As Chen Guan passed Li Ce, the other man’s gaze lingered on him for a moment. He said nothing.

But Chen Guan understood what Li Ce meant. If he was asking no questions, then someone must have given him instructions.

Who could it be? That was a tough one to guess.

Lady Speaker really was watching them.

…

The vehicles came to a stop. The rear doors opened with a hydraulic hiss, and bright light and the din of voices flooded the cabin.

“We’re here.”

Li Ce’s voice rang out.

“Everyone out. Wang Shuo, you and the others from Yanjing Academy will give a separate report at Tent Seven.”

His orders were clear and decisive, sending the group off in different directions.

Wang Shuo and the others looked as if they had just been pardoned. They scrambled out of the vehicle, desperate not to stay a moment longer.

An Changqing rose and looked toward Su Yuehe, his lips parting as if to speak.

“Captain An.”

Li Ce’s voice carried unmistakable pressure.

“Your task is to submit the report. Now, everyone else, dismissed.”

An Changqing stopped. He glanced at Li Ce, then finally gave Su Yuehe a worried look before turning and heading the other way.

Li Ce’s gaze settled on Su Yuehe.

“Su, stay behind. The Chairwoman is waiting for you.”

Su Yuehe’s body trembled, but she quickly regained her composure.

She nodded and stepped out of the vehicle.

Su Yuehe walked straight toward the Chairwoman’s command tent at the very center of the camp. The area was heavily guarded. Personnel hurried in and out, their expressions solemn.

She stopped at the tent entrance. A guard saluted her.

“Please wait a moment. Madam Chair is receiving a guest.”

Su Yuehe nodded and stood waiting outside. After some time had passed, despite no one entering or leaving, the guard seemed to receive some kind of signal. He gestured for her to enter and lifted the heavy curtain.

The tent was warm from the heating, but it could not dispel the chill inside.

Su Yuehe saw her mother, Su Jin, standing before a massive holographic star map with her back to the entrance. She wore a crisp white uniform. Her figure looked slender, yet she radiated the authority of someone who held everything together.

“I’ve already heard your report.”

Su Jin did not turn around. Her voice echoed through the spacious tent.

Su Yuehe stood several meters behind her and said nothing.

“Using Starswapping to forcibly tear open a temporal node is beyond An Changqing’s current spiritual reserves.”

Su Jin turned around, her face expressionless.

Su Yuehe looked into those eyes, so similar to her own. They held the weight of years and power, deep and unfathomable.

Su Yuehe met her gaze. For the first time, she did not look away beneath her mother’s scrutiny.

“It was all of us together.”

“I used the power of Words of Command to temporarily stabilize the node’s outer structure. That was how An Changqing was able to find its weakest point.”

The explanation placed the most crucial—and most dangerous—step squarely on her shoulders, while also making the operation’s success sound plausible.

Su Jin did not press her. She walked to the table and picked up a data tablet.

“Your mental strength is considerably greater than it was the last time we met. Even your Words of Command are showing signs of restructuring.”

She swiped across the screen, and lines of data flowed past. Only then did Su Yuehe realize that during the brief time she had been waiting outside, her mother had already obtained a complete set of her current physical data.

“Your body cannot withstand restructuring of this intensity. The rejection reaction could recur at any time.”

Su Yuehe listened quietly. Clearly, Su Jin had no intention of continuing to pretend she did not know what was happening.

“I’ve already notified Doctor Zhou.”

Su Jin set down the tablet and looked at her again.

“First thing tomorrow morning, he’ll give you a full physical examination and mental counseling session.”

It was not a suggestion. It was a notification.

Just like before.

Silence fell over the tent.

Su Yuehe clenched the diary in her arms tighter. Then, suddenly, she broke the silence.

“I saw Father’s diary in the ruins.”

Su Jin was not surprised in the slightest. She looked at her daughter and gestured for her to continue.