Failure

Two years can bring about many changes.

For Expedition Technology, these two years were a period of erecting towers in the wilderness.

A time when blueprints transformed into steel and concrete.

And the moment when a dream was about to touch the sky.

The first launch window for Expedition Technology had arrived.

On this day, the eyes of the world were fixed on that launch site along the southeastern coast of Xia Country.

Inside the control hall of the launch site, the air seemed frozen.

Hundreds of engineers and technicians sat at their respective consoles.

No one spoke.

Only the occasional clatter of keyboards and the constant hum of server cabinet fans filled the silence.

On the massive main screen, data streams refreshed like a quiet waterfall.

Lin Yuan stood at the commander’s position.

Dressed in a blue work uniform, his unshaven stubble made him look weary, but his eyes burned with intensity.

Behind him stood all the core executives of Expedition Technology.

Professor Zhou Mingyuan and Dr. Li Mo stood side by side—two former rivals in technical approaches—now equally tense.

Every gaze was locked onto the steadily counting-down numbers on the screen.

60 seconds.

Breaths in the hall seemed to halt.

Lin Yuan clenched his fists, his palms slick with sweat.

He knew this moment wasn’t just about the future of Expedition Technology.

It was about the trust of every member of the "Sky Path Alliance," about the first step in Xia Country’s commercial space endeavors.

50 seconds.

All systems normal.

40 seconds.

The main screen remained a sea of perfect green.

30 seconds.

Then, in the parameter section of the main screen, amid the cascading data streams, several critical readings abruptly turned yellow.

A moment later, a fuel pump pressure parameter flashed a glaring red.

No alarm sounded.

The system deemed it within the "risk tolerance" of the launch window.

But every heart in the room leaped into throats.

"Pressure fluctuations exceed threshold!"

"Gyroscope shows minor drift in attitude angle!"

"Intermittent signal loss from Sensor 3!"

Reports from team leaders streamed into Lin Yuan’s earpiece, calm but urgent.

Professor Zhou Mingyuan’s brow furrowed instantly. He took an unconscious step forward, lips parting as if to speak.

Li Mo’s expression darkened with equal gravity.

20 seconds.

"Abort launch!" one team leader pleaded, voice trembling.

"Risk too high! Recommend abort!" another echoed.

The entire hall was swallowed by a vortex of tension.

All eyes were on Lin Yuan.

If they launched now and failed, Expedition Technology would face ruin, and the Sky Path Alliance might collapse on the spot.

But not launching was also admitting defeat—inviting a flood of mockery and skepticism that would drown them.

A seemingly impossible dilemma.

10 seconds.

Lin Yuan’s gaze remained fixed on the glaring red and yellow warnings.

His mind raced.

He recalled Lu Chenyuan’s words during an internal meeting.

Back when everyone was grappling with an unsolvable technical bottleneck.

Lu Chenyuan had simply asked, calmly:

"Can our simulations replicate reality with 100% accuracy?"

"No," Professor Zhou had answered.

"Then why not launch?" Lu Chenyuan had scanned the room.

Everyone had been stunned.

"On the ground, we can only approximate perfection. But we’ll never uncover the fatal flaws that only real skies, real pressures, real environments can expose."

"Expedition isn’t afraid of trial and error. One costly failure yields data more valuable than ten thousand successful simulations."

"How else do we discover the real problems?"

Lu Chenyuan’s words now resonated in Lin Yuan’s mind like a tolling bell.

Though the man was far away in Jingzhou, it felt as if he stood right behind Lin Yuan.

His legendary reputation and wealth serving as the final safety net for this gamble.

9 seconds.

Lin Yuan closed his eyes.

When they opened again, only resolve remained.

"Continue launch sequence!"

His voice, hoarse but unshakable, echoed through the hall via the speakers.

Everyone froze—even Zhou Mingyuan and Li Mo.

"3… 2… 1…"

"Ignition!"

Orange-red flames erupted from the base of the massive white rocket.

Thick smoke billowed upward.

Like a beast breaking free of its chains, the rocket rose with unstoppable momentum.

In the control hall, every breath was held, every eye locked onto the screens.

Ten seconds… twenty… thirty…

The rocket pierced the clouds, becoming a brilliant speck against the deep blue sky.

"Attitude normal!"

"Speed normal!"

"Preparing for stage separation!"

Had they… succeeded?

A flicker of hope and elation surged in every heart.

Then, the instant the separation command was issued—

The brightest speck in the sky flared violently.

Before the eyes of the world, it burst into a vast, dazzling firework.

The rocket’s wreckage streaked downward like a meteor shower, trailing black smoke into the distant sea.

In the control hall, the roaring cheers were abruptly silenced.

Everyone stood frozen.

Time itself seemed to stop.

Only the screen remained, flashing the glaring red words: "SIGNAL LOST."

And utter silence.

Lin Yuan stood motionless.

His face was white as paper.

Finally, slowly, he closed his eyes.

"Preserve all telemetry data."

"Initiate accident analysis protocol."

His voice was terrifyingly calm.

…

Footage of Expedition-1’s explosion spread globally within minutes.

"Expedition-1 Disintegrates After Launch! Xia Country’s Commercial Space Ambitions Suffer Devastating Blow!"

"A Billion-Dollar Firework Show! The End of the Sky Path Alliance?"

"Lu Chenyuan’s Space Dreams Turn to Ashes!"

Stock prices of Sky Path Alliance companies plummeted instantly in overseas markets.

Panic spread like a plague.

At the same time…

Jingzhou, Cloud Peak Residence No. 1.

In the dim glow of a nightlight in the children’s room, Lu Chenyuan sat on the carpet, telling Lu Shi’an a bedtime story.

"...And so, Little Bunny Qiqi’s first spaceship crashed into the carrot field right after takeoff, smashing to pieces."

Lu Shi’an, in his tiny dinosaur pajamas, listened quietly, nestled against his father.

Mo Qingli sat on the nearby sofa, her phone screen illuminated by the harsh image of the explosion.

Her brow was tightly knit.

Lu Chenyuan’s phone lay on the carpet beside him.

Its screen lit up incessantly, vibrating wildly.

But he seemed not to notice.

He continued the story, his voice gentle.

"Everyone laughed at Qiqi, calling it a loser."

"But Qiqi didn't cry. It ran to the carrot field and picked up the broken pieces, one by one."

"As it looked at those pieces, it finally understood—the biggest mushroom couldn't be a parachute after all..."