18: Chen Jun's Reflection

After returning to the luxurious yet cold villa at Star Rail Headquarters and putting Lin Wei to sleep—after comforting her as she cried in fright and repeatedly asked if "everything would be alright"—Chen Jun sat alone in front of the huge observation window in the living room.

Outside the window lay the deep, boundless Universe, dotted with stars, quiet and magnificent.

However, Chen Jun's heart was in chaos, as if he had just experienced an interstellar storm, turbulent and unsettled.

Qin Qingxuan's words weighed heavily on his heart like a cold stellar core.

Her all-seeing gaze, her rational and oppressive analysis, and that final remark about the "Federation's survival" and the "Empire's threat" kept echoing in his mind.

In the office, extreme fear and the instinct for self-preservation had made him choose the most direct denial and performance.

But now, having calmed down, he began to think about Qin Qingxuan's words involuntarily.

Empire... War... Federation survival...

To him, these words had once seemed as distant as background noise in the news.

He was just an F-rank Mortal struggling to survive at the very bottom of society, whose biggest worry was where his next meal would come from and how to stay alive.

What did the conquests and the rise and fall of the sea of stars have to do with him?

But now, it was different.

His three daughters were one-in-a-billion Innate Martial Bodies; they were destined to step into that magnificent yet incredibly cruel world.

And he himself, it seemed, had been dragged into the center of the vortex because of this strange "luck."

He took a deep breath and, as if possessed, activated the immersive light screen in front of him and connected to the Federation's interstellar news network.

The Federation's interstellar news was full of prosperity everywhere: some technological Breakthrough, some new policy being released, life becoming better, some celebrity causing a stir again...

This time, Chen Jun didn't want to watch the channels he used to like.

He didn't search deliberately; he just randomly selected a military channel that most people didn't pay attention to and browsed the headlines pushed on the homepage.

An urgent, bolded, red-highlighted war report instantly caught his eye: "Fierce Conflict Erupts on Leonis Star; Our Seventh Fleet's 'Hacksaw' Legion Heroically Intercepts Empire Raid Fleet!"

His heart skipped a beat, and his fingers trembled as he clicked on the news.

There was no impassioned music, no grand panoramic view. What first met his eyes was a rapidly scrolling list of fallen soldiers, complete with military insignia and personal identification numbers, flowing down like a cold waterfall of stars. Behind every name had once been a living, breathing life.

Federation Interstellar Military Organization Structure:

Combat Squad: 4-6 people, smallest tactical unit.

Squad: 12 people (3 squads), commanded by a Sergeant Major.

Platoon: approx. 45 people (4 squads), commanded by a Second Lieutenant or First Lieutenant.

Company: approx. 180 people (4 platoons), commanded by a Captain.

Battalion: approx. 900 people (5 companies), commanded by a Major or Lieutenant Colonel.

Regiment: approx. 4,500 people (5 battalions), commanded by a Lieutenant Colonel or Colonel.

Brigade: approx. 20,000 people (4-5 regiments and support units), commanded by a Brigadier General or Colonel.

Division: approx. 100,000 people (5 brigades and heavy support), commanded by a Major General.

Corps: approx. 500,000 people (5 divisions and direct subordinate units), commanded by a Lieutenant General.

Legion: approx. 1 million - 5 million people (several corps and large amounts of support/naval units), commanded by a General. ('Hacksaw' belongs to this level).

Federation Fleet: approx. 30 million to 100 million people, responsible for the defense of an entire habitable planet, subordinate to several legions and capital ships, commanded by a Fleet Admiral.

Federation Theater: approx. 1 billion to 10 billion people, coordinating the defense of an entire star system to several star systems. Leads several Federation Fleets, commanded by a Three-Star Admiral or Marshal.

Federation Supreme Command: Coordinates all Federation Interstellar Military and fleet forces.

The news anchor narrated with a somber and restrained voice:

"...This skirmish was exceptionally tragic. A detachment of the Empire's 'Blood Blade' Fleet suddenly launched a surprise attack on our stationed 'Gate of Triumph' interstellar fortress. All the officers and soldiers of the First Battalion of the Seventh Regiment of our 'Hacksaw' Legion's Third Division fought bloodily along the fortress's outer perimeter, successfully delaying the enemy's main force for six hours, buying precious time for the evacuation of the rear and the assembly of the main fleet... However, the officers and soldiers of this battalion... suffered extremely heavy casualties, with almost everyone sacrificed..."

Almost everyone sacrificed!

A whole battalion!

Nearly nine hundred lives!

And this was just a corner of this "small-scale friction"!

Chen Jun felt a wave of suffocation.

The light screen shifted, beginning to play a collection of footage that was clearly recorded before the battle, intended for propaganda or as keepsakes for family members.

The first to appear was a big boy with a sunny smile, wearing a brand-new combat uniform. His chest badge showed he was a soldier in the Fifth Squad, Second Platoon, Third Company, First Battalion, Seventh Regiment, named Li Fan, with C-rank affinity.

He smiled somewhat shyly at the camera: "Dad, Mom! Look! I'm wearing this uniform! Do I look handsome? Don't worry, I'm stationed at a rear fortress; it's very safe! When my service term is up and I go back, I'll use my allowance to open a small mech repair shop, and then I'll bring you here to enjoy life!"

His eyes were filled with longing for the future.

The screen switched to a female soldier with a determined gaze, also from the First Battalion, a medic with B-rank affinity. She gave a crisp military salute to the camera: "Little brother, your big sister is going to guard the starry sky! Study hard, try to achieve an Awakening of an Acquired Martial Body, and don't embarrass the Wang family! I'm leaving Mom and Dad to you!"

Her tone carried pride and a trace of imperceptible concern.

The third was a slightly older-looking Sergeant Major with a scar on his face. He was the Platoon Deputy of the Second Platoon, with A-rank affinity and at the initial stage of War General Rank.

He put his arms around the shoulders of a few young soldiers and laughed heartily at the camera: "Wife! Look at the greenhorns I'm leading! They're all good lads! Once we beat back these Empire scum, I'll apply for a transfer back to the rear to be with you and our daughter! Then I'll take our daughter to school every day!"

The tenderness of an iron man was evident in his words.

These pre-death images were full of the warmth of life, dreams, and a sense of responsibility.

However, the next moment, the scene changed to a cold post-battle interview.

The camera focused on a couple as old and withered as dried trees. In their trembling hands, they held Li Fan's portrait and a cold Federation Star Glory Medal (posthumous).

The old woman's eyes were hollow. She repeatedly stroked her son's young face on the photo, her lips trembling, but she couldn't make a sound.

The old father's turbid tears slid down silently. Facing the camera, he used all his strength to squeeze out a few words: "...He's not coming back... He promised... he promised to come back and open a shop..."

Next was a teenage boy with red-rimmed eyes, holding back tears as he looked at his older sister's portrait. He was tightly clutching the last postcard his sister had sent home, which read, "Everything is fine."

He gritted his teeth and said to the camera: "Sister... I will get into the military academy! I will become very strong! I will definitely..."

The rest of his vow was swallowed by his choking sobs.

Finally, there was a young woman crying until she nearly fainted, holding a naive, babbling little girl in her arms.

The woman sobbed uncontrollably to the camera: "...He lied... He said he'd be back soon... He said he'd take Niuniu to school every day... Niuniu doesn't even know how to say 'Daddy' yet..."

The little girl seemed to sense her mother's sadness, reaching out with her small hand to wipe away her tears, calling out innocently: "Mommy... don't cry..."

Sunny dreams before death, broken and desperate weeping after death.

The heroic ambition to defend the country turned into the heartbreaking tears of loved ones.

This stark contrast, like the sharpest blade, stabbed fiercely into Chen Jun's heart!

He abruptly turned off the light screen, his chest heaving violently, his stomach churning.

He had never felt the cruelty of war so intuitively!

That wasn't just cold numbers in the news; it was countless broken families, promises that could never be fulfilled, and blood and tears flowing like rivers!

Qin Qingxuan's words rang out again: "This concerns whether we can survive under the threat of the Tristan Empire, and whether we can let our descendants no longer live in the shadow of war!"

His daughters, Chen Xi, Chen Yao, and Chen Lu, had a bright future, but if the Federation lost, what would await them?

The Empire's enslavement? Or perhaps destruction?

A huge, unprecedented sense of heaviness bore down on him.

He subconsciously looked inward at his mind; the cold system interface was still there.

[Remaining Lifespan: 18 years].

This number, at this moment, seemed so glaring, and yet... so insignificant.

Eighteen years.

Even if he were willing to reveal his secret, willing to "reproduce" again and give birth to another child with an Innate Martial Body... so what?

It takes at least twenty years for an infant to grow up and be able to step onto the battlefield!

It takes even longer to grow into a Planetary Level expert who can influence a local battle!

Distant water cannot quench a nearby fire.

Furthermore, in an interstellar war where casualties are often in the millions or tens of millions at the legion level, how much of a decisive role could one Innate Martial Body play?

Perhaps it could become a banner, but could it reverse the decline of the entire civilization?

He only had eighteen years of life left... A drop in the bucket.

He had originally only been worried about his secret being exposed, about being used as a tool, and about his lifespan running out.

But now, for the first time, he began to worry... about the future of the Federation, about the future of his daughters.

But what could he do? A huge sense of powerlessness!