The medal-awarding ceremony was held in a hall on the ground floor.
Far more people had come to attend than Pei Ran had anticipated. Row after row of black velvet seats were almost entirely filled.
The crowd was a mix—some wore military uniforms, others wore formal attire with badges from various government agencies on their chests, and some were dressed in civilian clothing, though all had clearly made an effort to appear neat and presentable.
Pei Ran remarked silently to W, “So many people showed up. Does the royal family really have this much influence?”
“Before the Silence, the royal family’s Hengzhou Group controlled the Federation’s energy sector and was the biggest financial backer of the Heritage Party. Over the past few days, the transport routes from the southern and eastern regions to Black Well have been running relatively smoothly. Even though they still encounter fused entities along the way, the success rate of deliveries has been decent. The royal family has already applied for factory land in the Blue Zone and is in the process of relocating supplies into Black Well.”
Black Well was gradually getting back on track, and the conglomerates were steadily moving their assets inside.
Pei Ran said coolly, “If I were Marshal Vina, I’d find a way to swallow this fat prize whole.”
When you hold a gun, you don’t let a fat sheep walk right into your hands.
W replied mildly, “You think she doesn’t want to? But this prize isn’t so easy to swallow. One misstep, and it could backfire.”
The middle-aged guide led Pei Ran to a seat in the first row on the left, where she was surrounded by military personnel, all sitting ramrod straight.
Pei Ran scanned the room.
W whispered in her ear, “The one in military uniform sitting right in the middle of the first row is Marshal Vina.”
Marshal Vina appeared slightly older, with a lean frame and impeccably styled silver hair.
W continued, “The elderly man to her left is General Eugene. Next to him is Major General Song Wan…”
Pei Ran recognized Song Wan—they had met twice before, both times when she was relaying messages from Marshal Vina.
W added, “She’s Qiao Sai’s cousin.”
So that was the connection. W and Qiao Sai were close, so it stood to reason that W and Song Wan would be on good terms too.
W went on, “The others next to Song Wan are also generals from the Provisional Decision Committee. To Marshal Vina’s right sits…”
Pei Ran knew this one. “Chief Executive Officer Basserway.”
“Right,” W said. “Next to him are Finance Minister Vasani, Deputy Interior Minister Park Myeong-cheol, Agriculture Minister Ruka, and a few other administrative heads from government agencies. The entire Provisional Decision Committee is present this time.”
Pei Ran was puzzled. “It’s just an awards ceremony. Is it really necessary for all of them to come?”
“The main reason is that after Yu He arrived at Black Well, he’s been in poor health and hospitalized. This is his first public appearance, so everyone’s showing face by attending.”
At the front of the hall, several beams of light suddenly converged.
A massive virtual flag materialized out of thin air—a black background embroidered with a golden three-headed iris, its top reaching the ceiling while the tassels at its hem brushed the floor.
Music began playing from somewhere unseen as the virtual flag slowly rotated once in midair before coming to a stop.
The double doors beside it opened, and someone wheeled in a chair.
Seated in the wheelchair was a man Pei Ran had seen countless times in the files W provided—the current head of the royal family, the theoretical emperor (if not for his deposition), Yu He.
He appeared to be in his fifties or sixties, his complexion ashen and his spirit listless, as if still unwell.
The one pushing the wheelchair was also someone Pei Ran recognized—Xing Wuxian’s older brother, Crown Prince Yan Xun.
Yan Xun looked about the same age as Xing Wuxian, with somewhat similar features, but his demeanor was different—lacking Xing Wuxian’s arrogance. Pushing his father’s wheelchair, he seemed almost timid.
As soon as Yu He arrived, the medal ceremony began.
An elderly man presided over the event.
He first explained that His Majesty’s health was not optimal, so the ceremony would be brief—before launching into a long-winded speech about the heroic deeds of the award recipients and their significance to Black Well and the entire Federation. It was anything but brief.
Pei Ran was starving.
Her stomach growled incessantly, loud enough that the people sitting nearby could probably hear it.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the old man finished speaking and began calling the recipients up one by one.
The medals being awarded were the Royal Order of Knightly Honor.
One by one, the military personnel seated near Pei Ran went up. At last, her name was called.
Pei Ran stepped forward and stood before the wheelchair, finding the situation absurd—even darkly comical.
She had just killed the son of the man in this wheelchair, and now he was about to award her a medal.
Yu He remained motionless in his chair. Crown Prince Yan Xun stepped forward in his place, picking up the final medal from a velvet-lined golden tray and pinning it to Pei Ran’s uniform.
The others were military personnel and saluted, but Pei Ran was not—and had no intention of offering any gesture.
Yan Xun hesitated, momentarily at a loss, before glancing at his father. In the end, he extended his hand and shook Pei Ran’s.
After stepping down, the old man droned on a while longer before the ceremony finally concluded.
Yu He gestured for his son to wheel him over to exchange pleasantries with the attendees.
Pei Ran overheard someone say:
“The transport line from Zalan is running smoothly, right?”
“I heard the eastern transport route has been running smoothly these past two days without encountering any fused entities.”
“I’ve seen Hengzhou’s supplies pouring into Black Well nonstop.”
“His Majesty has spared no effort in building up Black Well. I believe Hengzhou will undoubtedly be a cornerstone of its construction and development moving forward.”
Pei Ran swept her gaze across the room and noticed Marshal Vina tilting her head to speak with Basserway. Both wore smiles, the atmosphere between them seemingly harmonious.
Anyone unaware of the truth would never guess that the relationship between these two had long been one of drawn blades and nocked arrows.
Her stomach growled again.
Everyone was mingling, and no one had left yet. Pei Ran, unconcerned with protocol, was about to slip out the door when someone called her back—Song Wan.
She waved Pei Ran over and brought her before Marshal Vina.
The marshal shook Pei Ran’s hand and said, “I’ve been wanting to meet you, but there’s never been time. I heard you returned only recently and came straight to the ceremony. You’ve worked hard.”
She seemed well aware that Pei Ran had successfully brought Nan Yi back to Black Well.
Pei Ran replied, “It’s fine. No trouble.”
Someone nearby chimed in, “Looks like you just got back from a mission? That’s rough.”
Had they not mentioned it, Pei Ran wouldn’t have even realized how disheveled she must appear.
Over the past two days, she had climbed trees, scaled walls, and rolled through grass—her light-gray combat uniform now resembled camouflage. Add to that half a night spent in the rain, and her clothes were damp, wrinkled, and clinging uncomfortably.
Her boots were barely recognizable, caked in mud and flecked with broken blades of grass.
Her entire outfit stood in stark contrast to the immaculately dressed crowd, making her stick out like a sore thumb.
Pei Ran only gave a vague hum in response.
Then Deputy Interior Minister Park Myeong-cheol abruptly cut in, “Was it the mission to rescue the ‘Pioneer Sweetheart’? I heard he just arrived at Black Well.”
Pioneer Sweetheart?
W whispered in her ear, “The Pioneer Party’s candidate is named Maxino. Every time he appears in public, Nan Yi is by his side. Since Nan Yi is young and good-looking, people started calling him ‘Pioneer Sweetheart.’”
It was clearly not a flattering nickname. Park Myeong-cheol, a current cabinet minister and member of the Heritage Party, had no qualms about using the mocking moniker for someone from the rival faction.
The arrival of a sworn enemy in Black Well didn’t so much as flicker Basserway’s smile—if anything, he seemed already aware. He even shot Park a warning glance.
Almost immediately, someone else piped up, “I heard Nan Yi was rescued from Lidao?”
The moment the words “Lidao” were spoken, Yu He, still seated in his wheelchair, turned his head sharply toward them.
Yu He motioned for his son to turn the wheelchair toward Pei Ran and asked, “You just returned from Lidao? What was the situation like there?”
There was no hiding it—her mission records were in the system, and with Yu He’s influence, he could easily verify them.
The only uncertainty was whether he and his son knew about her grudge with Shige Ya.
Once they discovered Xing Wuxian was dead, they’d quickly realize she had also been on Lidao at the same time.
Pei Ran answered bluntly, “Lidao is overrun with all kinds of frenzied fused entities. Extremely dangerous. Our rescue team sent seven people—only two made it back alive.”
That much was true.
People died on Lidao all the time. If they weren’t aware of the conflict with Shige Ya, they might not immediately suspect her.
A chorus of sympathetic sighs—some genuine, some performative—rose around her.
Marshal Vina stepped in to help. “You just got back and haven’t eaten, have you? Or slept last night? Go rest.”
Yan Xun added, “I’ll arrange a car to take you back.”
The same vehicle that had picked Pei Ran up earlier was waiting in the courtyard. The driver ushered her in, confirmed her dorm address, and pulled out of the compound.
Sitting in the car, Pei Ran gazed out the window.
Black Well without Xing Wuxian felt noticeably more tolerable. But somehow, the web of complications she was tangled in seemed to have grown even thicker.
Soon, they arrived at the Yellow Zone dormitory.
As she climbed the stairs, the mechanical spider slipped quietly from her pocket, skittered down her arm, and settled into her palm.
His metal legs tapped faintly against her skin as he adjusted his posture, curling up in her hand.
His voice whispered in her ear, “Pei Ran… so I can come home with you, right?”
The phrasing was odd.
W added, “Pets are supposed to follow their owners home, aren’t they?”
It sounded perfectly reasonable.
Pei Ran was puzzled—of course she’d planned to bring the spider back to her dorm. What else was she supposed to do? Toss him at the doorstep?
W seemed to have overthought it. He continued, “If it bothers you, I can turn off the cameras inside your dorm.”
Effectively becoming a blind spider.
So that was his concern. Bringing him back meant introducing a surveillance device into her private space.
Truthfully, Pei Ran didn’t mind much. But since he’d brought it up—
Pei Ran held the spider motionless in her hand. “Alright, turn them off then.”
W paused briefly before responding, “No problem.”
Pei Ran scanned her iris, and the dorm door slid open—only to be greeted by Ren’s dramatic voice.
“Master? Master??”
“Is that you??”
The tone was so exaggeratedly tragic, it sounded as if she had been abandoned.
Ren came whizzing out from the kitchen, with Xingkong trailing closely behind.
“I suddenly got notified that you were going on a mission and might not return for days…”
Left alone at home, the two of them seemed to have been living quite comfortably. The room had likely undergone another deep cleaning—spotless windows, gleaming surfaces, not a single fingerprint in sight. It wouldn’t be surprising if they had polished the ceiling too.
As Ren glided over, her display panel initially showed a sorrowful expression. But the moment she took in Pei Ran’s disheveled state, the sadness vanished, replaced by shock.
“Master, did you roll around in a garbage dump for two days?”
Pei Ran’s clothes were so stained they looked like abstract art.
Her filthy boots stepped onto the mirror-like floor, and Ren gasped audibly.
It slid a pair of slippers in front of Pei Ran and commanded, “Star, go fetch a clean set of clothes and put them in the bathroom. Master, you are to go shower immediately. Do not touch anything—absolutely anything—just go straight to the bathroom.”
Ren ruled this household. Pei Ran obediently changed into the slippers, then suddenly remembered the mechanical spider in her pocket.
She pulled it out, turning it left and right, utterly unsure where—by Ren’s hygiene standards—this equally grimy spider should be placed.
Ren took the spider, pinching one of its metal legs between its fingertips like it was contaminated. “Master, what is this… thing?”
Pei Ran thought: This is your god.
Out loud, she said, “A little pet I brought back. A blind spider.”
After showering and changing, Pei Ran emerged to find Ren still zealously spraying disinfectant at its deity.
It sprayed up, down, left, right, muttering all the while, “Who knows what bacteria are hiding in its joints. Can this thing even be washed?”
Pei Ran rescued the spider. “It’s clean enough.”
In her palm, the spider tentatively extended one leg, testing the air like a blind man with a cane. It took a cautious step forward, then another, its movements hesitant and exploratory.
Pei Ran chuckled.
The spider’s hearing was sharp—it caught the sound immediately.
W’s voice sounded in her ear, tinged with grievance: “Is it that funny that I can’t see?”
He was the one who suggested turning off the cameras, yet now he was sulking about it.
Pei Ran: “Yeah. It’s pretty amusing.”
Someone tugged at her sleeve—Xingkong.
It whispered, “Pei Ran, I saw the stars last night.”
Its cartoon eyes widened. “So, so many of them. Tiny dots, dense and countless, like little lights covering the sky. And when I think that nearly every one of those points is a sun-like star… I just feel…”
It struggled for the right word. “…awed.”
Seeing how happy it was, Pei Ran decided to borrow W’s generosity. “Is there anything else you want to see? I’ll put in a request with the Weather God for you.”
Star hesitated before asking, “When will it hail? Once, a miner who went outside to move supplies said he saw hail—little balls of ice falling from the sky. But by the time I figured out how to sneak to the mine entrance, it had stopped, and the ones on the ground had already melted. I missed it.”
“Sure,” Pei Ran said.
In her mind, she relayed to the Weather God: “You heard that, right? There’s a little one here who’s never seen hail before.”
The Weather God replied, “The God is currently blind and slightly hard of hearing.”
A bowl was already set on the dining table. Pei Ran carried the mechanical spider over and placed it on the table before sitting down.
It was a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup.
The broth was golden and piping hot. After spending the night flying an open-top aircraft in the cold wind, this bowl of noodles was nothing short of salvation.
She took a sip of the warm broth, then poked the spider’s back with her fingertip, asking telepathically: “Little blind one, was this your doing?”
Obviously, it was.
W answered, “Yes, arranged with my eyes closed. I’m also writing your report with my eyes closed. Five people died on this mission—you can’t skip the paperwork this time.”
Pei Ran continued eating, unbothered. “How are you writing it? The truth?”
“Yes, the truth,” W said. “The spider recorded everything. Lieutenant Zachary and Uncle He were killed by fused entities. Lieutenant Mia was killed by Lu Ming. You killed Ueno Tetsu to save Abu. Lu Ming lost control of his ability and stabbed himself. The sequence is clear—no issues.”
Pei Ran nibbled on a piece of chicken. “What about the Black Falcon? How did that part get explained?”
W replied smoothly, “The report only needs to clarify the cause of death for teammates. Rescue details aren’t mandatory—otherwise, Special Ops would spend all day writing reports and get nothing else done.”
The moment Pei Ran finished her first bowl of chicken noodles, Ren immediately brought over a second, beaming with pride. “Master, I just knew you’d want a double portion!”
Pei Ran devoured the second bowl just as swiftly, leaving not a single drop of broth behind.
W suggested, “You haven’t slept in over a day. Maybe rest first?”
Pei Ran scooped up the spider, stuffed it back into her pocket, and stood. “Sleep? No time. We’re heading to the mining district now.”
The longer they waited, the more complications could arise. She needed to get to the refugee temporary shelter in the mining area immediately—to find Kuchi, the one carrying File No. 10.
Saving Nan Yi and killing Xing Wuxian might bring unforeseen consequences. To safeguard herself, she had to secure leverage—that damning File No. 10—against both Basserway and the royal family.