At that moment, a sharp, resonant voice cut through the stifling tension:
“The peace of the Empire, and your comfort, exists only because these female soldiers put their lives on the line.”
Gu Qing stepped forward from the edge of the wall, his jet-black uniform accentuating his bronze-toned skin and upright, commanding frame. His long hair was tied back, with loose strands brushing his forehead as he walked, his gaze calm as still water.
In an instant, every pair of eyes in the hall turned toward him.
He had anticipated this storm long ago.
On that day, the situation had been urgent, and Milton had no choice but to forcibly command several males to assist Weli’s spiritual sea purification. Though unwilling, they had to obey orders.
Gu Qing had understood then that the high status of males in the insect hierarchy meant such forceful deployment would inevitably provoke resentment afterward and could serve as a pretext for accusations.
Thus, he had already calculated his move.
This moment was not only to shield Milton from slander but also to defend the silent, steadfast convictions within the military—to uphold a line of justice that must not be trampled.
He stopped before Milton, positioning himself to block the leering, hostile gazes of the three nobles, his tall form a living wall shielding Milton.
For the first time, someone had stood in front of him without hesitation at a moment like this.
Milton’s heart thumped, emotions he could not name surging—why would Gu Qing go this far? He could have chosen to remain on the sidelines.
“Gu Qing?” Yir whispered, eyes widening, “H-his aura… it’s stronger than General Milton’s…”
“Intervening like this…” Phily’s voice trembled slightly.
Gu Qing’s tone was quiet, yet it rolled like thunder:
“He is a general of the military, not your plaything.”
His gaze swept over the three nobles and the Male Protection Association representatives, sharp as a blade:
“If you wish to accuse, provide evidence; if you wish to humiliate, first examine whether you have the right.”
“You rely on your names, he relies on his achievements; you rely on power, he relies on mountains of corpses.”
“A hero cannot be defiled.”
Milton’s fingers trembled involuntarily. He had never trusted others easily; calmness and detachment were instincts honed since childhood. Yet this unreserved, unwavering stand, steady and resolute, was like a sword striking through the armor of his heart.
The Heavenly Dao Little Dumpling popped its head out, whispering excitedly:
“Wow—dude’s aura… he’s hands-down the coolest in the entire hall! Absolutely gorgeous!”
Yir’s ears reddened. “…This is… kinda impressive.”
Phily’s gaze darkened, voice low and cold:
“…Words like that pierce the hearts of every female soldier present.”
Ivan sneered, striking his silver cane against the floor. “And what are you? Just a low-ranking male, daring to lecture me?”
Gu Qing’s gaze remained deep, voice calm:
“No, I’m not lecturing you. I’m reminding you: your presence here is not owed to your noble birth, but to those—those female soldiers you look down upon—who have given their lives to defend this land.”
The air stiffened.
His voice remained icy, words resolute:
“You may not agree with them, but you have no right to trample them.”
“This is not humiliation of an individual; it is betrayal of the entire military.”
He paused, eyes like frost-edged blades:
“Moreover—the rank of general is awarded by the Emperor of Insects. Are you questioning military merit, or the Emperor himself?”
Several members of the Male Protection Association frowned. Ivan’s expression darkened, but he could find no words to counter.
The female soldiers straightened their spines, morale restored by Gu Qing’s words.
From the seats, some association members furrowed their brows, the noble males glared: “Who do you think you are to say that? You’re just—”
“A D-class male,” Gu Qing cut in, calm, emotionless—the lightest yet heaviest words in the hall.
“But I am also the military’s spiritual coordinator. When Weli, the corps commander, suffered a spiritual sea collapse, it was at my request that the general ordered male participation in the purification.”
“At that moment, circumstances were urgent. I judged it necessary to temporarily mobilize their spiritual power to stabilize their mental state. All operations were recorded and backed up. If there is accountability to be sought, direct all questions to me.”
Though his tone was composed, it carried a cold sharpness that left no room for dispute.
The hall fell silent. Some on the staff widened their eyes in disbelief—this seemingly obedient coordinator had voluntarily shouldered such a risk?
No one spoke.
Milton lowered his gaze, emotions swirling—respect, surprise, and an unfamiliar flutter. He had never truly understood Gu Qing. That calm decisiveness, bearing full responsibility, was a silhouette that clenched his fists without permission.
Yir ground his teeth: “This… he’s shielding the general, but putting himself in huge trouble!”
Phily’s gaze darkened, voice low: “No, it’s a masterful counter… clean, precise, dangerously beautiful.”
The silver-light Little Dumpling atop Gu Qing’s shoulder leapt angrily:
“These pompous nobles are so theatrical, acting like they’re dying!”
Whispers and murmurs ran through the hall:
“Is this real…?”
“Is he taking the fall for someone else?!”
“A D-class male, standing up like this…”
Frey furrowed his brows, his voice cold: “You admit it—did you order the use of their spiritual power?”
Gu Qing met his gaze steadily:
“No. I judged they could endure and were willing to support. If there are issues, I alone bear responsibility; the general is uninvolved.”
His tone was calm, almost indifferent, yet every word closed off retreat, redirecting the hall’s perception from “general abuse of power” to “on-the-spot coordination judgment.”
It was a flawless pivot, a decisive counterstrike.
In the ensuing silence, Gu Qing delivered the final blow:
“If this constitutes infringement, I suggest the Male Protection Association immediately cease all male medical coordination—after all, even saving a life would now be considered a crime under your logic.”
The hall erupted.
Milton stood behind him, chest warming, unable to find words.
At this moment, Gu Qing was no longer the fragile white flower; he was the sword cutting through prejudice and desire.
That silhouette, a shaft of light, pierced through all the darkness in Milton’s memory.
Among the military high command, expressions were complex; some exhaled silently.
Frey’s gaze darkened, yet he could find no reply. Inside, he panicked—this was supposed to be a thorough rebuke of Milton, commissioned by three noble males. Instead, this D-class male had cleverly turned the situation, leaving no space for their influence. Frustration and anger twisted in his chest, yet he could only suppress them.
He realized: if Gu Qing’s account was accurate, the case would shift from “males oppressed” to “on-site coordination dispute,” clearing Milton of all responsibility and leaving the association’s complaint without ground.
At that moment, an older military medic rose, expression grave:
“I was responsible for spiritual monitoring records. I can confirm—without his coordination decisions, Corps Commander Weli would have died in the spiritual sea collapse.”
Gu Qing spoke calmly:
“Additionally, I requested a witness to attend, to restore the events accurately.”
Before the words had even settled, a notification came from the back:
“Per coordinator Gu Qing’s request, the witness is waiting outside.”
A young man entered, short purple hair, eyes tinged with stubborn youth. His steps were steady, demeanor serious, bowing to the assembly:
“Ace Mel, male, C-class spiritual power, first volunteer in the purification mission.”
Murmurs arose; some checked his background, others surprised—the Mel family had once been among the Empire’s top nobility, though now fallen.
Ace raised his head, tone neither humble nor arrogant:
“I was the first to support that day. I volunteered to enter the corps commander’s spiritual sea, without coercion or physical strain.”
“My spiritual power is lower than that of the noble males present. If, as you claim, this would have caused overload or damage, I should have been the first to collapse.”
His gaze swept the podium and association members, voice rising slightly:
“But I am standing here—clear-headed and healthy.”
“I respect every male’s spiritual integrity and dignity, but I detest those who exaggerate facts for personal gain, or malign the female soldiers who saved our lives.”
The hall fell silent.
Gu Qing followed the rhythm, adding a final strike:
“I was also a purifier that day, the last one. As a D-class male, my spiritual power should have been the first to collapse, yet there is no anomaly.”
“So tell me—are we too strong, or are you too weak?”
“Males deserve respect, but that respect cannot be built on lies or defamation.”
His words landed like a stone in a still lake, echoes rippling through the hall.
The Male Protection Association and noble males were speechless, the tension peaking.
From the back came a low, astonished whisper:
“Is it him? That D-class coordinator?”
“He’s no ordinary male,” another military observer said softly. “Since his first day at the headquarters, every female soldier he’s purified has reached near-maximum stability.”
“I thought it was a system error…”
“No, we were blind,” a female observer muttered.
A female soldier in the front row, whose spiritual chain quivered under silver-gray hair, rose sharply:
“I saw him enter a rampaging female soldier’s spiritual sea. One coordination brought her back from the brink. You call him dangerous? I say he’s a life-saving insect.”
Those words sparked long-suppressed emotions.
“I endure purification agents, pills, fighting beasts even in dreams! You, sitting at desks issuing orders, know nothing!”
“Gu Qing never feared, never retreated, never despised us… if he isn’t worthy, then who is?”
Voices of female soldiers rose in unison, banging desks, standing up—the pent-up fury finally erupting.
The conference hall boiled over, their cries not for privilege or power, but for the male who silently stood at the eye of the storm.
Milton, seated at the center, felt something unfamiliar—his composure shaken.
Gu Qing had awakened those suppressed voices, the soldiers who usually obeyed orders and buried their emotions, standing together for the first time beside one male. They saw him as a beacon—a sudden light in the long night.
He had thought he could remain calm, observing. But when that silhouette shielded him, he knew he could no longer pretend indifference.
The Heavenly Dao Little Dumpling shrank onto Gu Qing’s shoulder, quietly awed and slightly smug:
“Whoa—look at the shift! They’re really following you now! My lord isn’t just handsome, he’s a god descended!”
Gu Qing gave no reply, only lifting his gaze slightly, scanning the scarred yet resolute female soldiers, his expression calm, warmth hidden in his eyes.
At this moment, no one doubted him.
He was not a tool of politics, nor a pawn of nobles.
He was their “comrade.”
And he was the one they would trust—their light.