He spoke within his sea of consciousness. “Little Dumpling, you once said this world is already on the brink of destruction. Is it because of this kind of imbalanced structure?”
From the corner, Little Dumpling rolled out in a tumble, its voice choked with emotion.
“I… I do not know either! Maybe? Maybe not? I have a huge gap in my memory. I just feel… I always feel that the problem with this world is not only that asymmetrical system! It is just—there is something wrong!”
It suddenly erupted as if its emotions had gone out of control, its light flashing wildly. “But those female zerg are really, really pitiful! They risk their lives on the battlefield, their mental seas get blown apart, and they still have to lower themselves and beg male zerg for soothing! Do you not think that is too much? Waaaah—”
The ball of light collapsed inward, shrinking into a tiny lump as it sobbed. “I know I am not allowed to interfere recklessly… but you are different. You are capable. You are the chosen one! Please help them, all right? QAQ!”
Its voice paused slightly, as if clawing back a sliver of clarity from the chaos. “It is not like there were no warnings… but this world’s auxiliary consciousness has already collapsed. It cannot be repaired at all…”
It floated closer to Gu Qing, its tone suddenly reverent and firm in a way it had never been before.
“Now, the only possibility… is you, Sword Venerable!”
The sea of consciousness fell silent once more. Only Little Dumpling hovered in the void, releasing dim ripples of light, curled up like a young beast awaiting judgment.
Gu Qing was silent for a moment. His gaze turned toward the depths of his consciousness, cold and sharp as a blade that could pierce all things.
“…I do not believe it is that simple.”
His tone was icy, striking straight at the heart of the matter.
“If it were merely physiological dependence, this world should have collapsed long ago, rather than being maintained at this painful brink.”
“Little Dumpling, you say the auxiliary consciousness has already fallen apart and that order can no longer repair itself. Then—who, exactly, allowed things to reach this point? Who forced the female zerg into an unsolvable dependency? And who permitted such a system to continue?”
Little Dumpling shrank into itself, its voice trembling. “I—I do not know… but you are right! I also feel like there is something… pushing everything from behind, like some zerg is manipulating the trajectory of fate…”
Gu Qing did not respond. His gaze was like ten-thousand-year black ice. In the end, however, he withdrew his aura and spoke calmly.
“Even so… I will not act on my own authority.”
“This is the world of the zerg. They are its true inhabitants. Whether they wish to change, and whether they are able to change, should be decided by them.”
He paused, his voice low. “But if they make their choice, no matter where the blade is pointed—if I am needed, I will draw my sword.”
Little Dumpling flared brightly, nearly exploding with excitement. “Waaaah! How can you be this handsome, my lord! This is not saving the world—this is giving the zerg the freedom to choose! I am crying!!”
In an instant, the sea of consciousness returned to stillness.
Gu Qing’s lashes shifted faintly as his awareness quietly returned. He remained where he stood, his expression unchanged. Only those deep, night-dark eyes stirred with the faintest ripple for the briefest moment before settling back into calm.
Across from him, Milton stood silently. Complex emotions flickered through his eyes—long-suppressed anger intertwined with an inexplicable wavering.
“…In the end, we female zerg can only walk the road arranged by fate and choose how to reach the end.”
When he spoke those words, his tone was flat and steady. Yet beneath it lay endless exhaustion and pain. He had struggled before. He had tried to change things. Each effort had been crushed mercilessly by reality.
He lifted his head to look at Gu Qing, wariness and hesitation in his gaze.
Gu Qing did not rush to answer. He simply looked at him, eyes deep as a sea of stars, holding neither disdain nor pity.
“Fate is never lenient, but neither is it absolute.”
“I have seen countless zerg build their foundations amid ruins. I have also seen entire races reshape themselves on the brink of extinction.”
His voice was unhurried, carrying quiet resolve. It was not consolation, but acknowledgment—an acknowledgment of fate’s cruelty and a tribute to the will to resist.
“If a zerg trapped in despair does not abandon himself, then one day, in the narrowest crack, he will carve out a path with his own hands.”
“Fate is not a dead end. It is only a wall. As long as there are still zerg who choose to resist, dawn will eventually shine through the fractures in that wall.”
Milton froze.
He had heard too many ornate, hollow speeches. Never had he heard a male zerg speak in such an equal and sincere tone.
“…You truly do not seem like a male zerg.”
He had once been filled with vigilance toward this unfathomable male zerg. Gu Qing always appeared naive, yet in truth he toyed with others effortlessly and even flirted without the slightest restraint. Milton had never been treated so lightly before, and it was impossible for him not to remain guarded.
Yet the Gu Qing before him expressed understanding of the female zerg’s past suffering. That caught him off guard.
He did not want to believe it. But in Gu Qing’s eyes, he could not find even a trace of mockery. The understanding and resonance toward the plight of the female zerg felt too real—so real that it made one want to lower his guard.
Reason, however, reminded him that such emotional fluctuation was itself dangerous.
He watched Gu Qing in silence. Never had he felt such strangeness toward anyone, nor had he wavered from his stance again and again in another’s presence.
Mental Coordinator—this position had originally been established as a special duty for male zerg. It carried extremely high authority and was primarily responsible for assisting military female zerg in stabilizing and purifying their mental seas. Not only did it require professional mental power training, it also granted the authority, under special circumstances, to mobilize other male zerg to assist in purification. In the past, the role was usually held by high-ranking male zerg, all of whom underwent layers of review and screening. It was a rare privilege class within the military.
And now, this position—one that should have been appointed with the utmost caution—had been personally granted by him to Gu Qing.
On the surface, it was a gift of trust and freedom. In truth, it was a way to bring him under control.
He intended to see clearly what background this male zerg, clad in the guise of white blossoms, truly had—and what he intended to do. If the other harbored ulterior motives, then the closer he drew to the core of power, the more easily he would expose himself.
“Very well. From this moment on, you are an official member of the military.”
“Mental Coordinator. Welcome.”
Within the sea of consciousness, the previously silent Little Dumpling suddenly burst into a dazzling flare of light, spinning and dancing like fireworks that had grown too excited.
“Waaaah—! My lord, you are too good at flirting! This is not saving the world, this is capturing the general’s heart!”
“‘If a zerg trapped in despair does not abandon himself’—I am writing that down! It is going into The Collected Romantic Quotes of Gu Qing and Milton, page three!”
“Gu Qing and the general, fate pulling the red string, so sweet, so handsome! I am already editing the promotional video!”
Gu Qing’s expression did not change. He murmured two words, “Be quiet.”
With a swoosh, Little Dumpling shrank into a tiny glowing speck and drifted back into the corner of the sea of consciousness, still trembling as it spoke.
“(In a super tiny voice) I am quiet, I am quiet… but I will secretly record today’s romantic progress… sob… QAQ…”
Gu Qing ignored it. He merely lifted his gaze slightly and looked toward the end of the military corridor.
The lights there were ordinary as ever, yet it seemed as though beneath them, the undercurrent of fate was already beginning to stir.