Chapter 7 Redemption of the mission of the military soul_1

"Don't be fooled by Gandalf that old trickster; though he appears kind-hearted and wise in his words, he really is a shameless fellow. He has stolen his own grilled meat, peeked at refugees bathing, and committed all sorts of deceitful acts. The rest is omitted here...

Caught up in the ways of the world, Feng Yi had no choice but to grimly hail a taxi, then sped non-stop on his way. Hours ticked by... It was his first time riding a Hovering Car since his childhood. Despite the speed, it took several hours to reach the destination.

" Ancient Martial Arts Hall..." Stepping out of the Hovering Car, Feng Yi's gaze swept across the six imposing characters on the signboard and he muttered. The dojo was located in a bustling city area, and it was undoubtedly large, spanning thousands of square meters at least. He hadn't expected the old ghost to have such substantial assets.

Near Feng Yi's ears, he could faintly hear the sounds of striking coming from inside the Ancient Martial Arts Hall. Just by the sound, he could gauge their strength, the group's movements were stiff and routine, like fancy boxing without substance. He shook his head slightly disappointed, as his calm blood didn't feel any stir or burning desire. He then calmly started walking inside.

"Stop right there." Dressed in white, an outer disciple blocked Feng Yi like a temple guardian, "Please show your disciple credentials."

Feng Yi didn't have any credentials. He explained, "I was invited by the old ghost..." He suddenly realized he had misspoke—after all, the old ghost was the head of the dojo. He quickly corrected, "My name is Feng Yi. I'm here to see the old headmaster; didn't he send a message to you?"

"I haven't received any messages." The person shrugged.

"I see—buddy, could you please do me a favor and pass on a message?"

A breeze was the only response, and seeing that this silly old man didn't reply, Feng Yi thought it was unlucky and left with a sweep of his sleeves.

In the next instant, he leaped and flipped over the outer wall almost jump-like. Since his movement was too swift, nobody noticed during that period. Feng Yi thus strolled through the Ancient Martial Arts Hall as if leisurely walking in a courtyard.

What surprised him were the gazes of the passersby. Whether handsome men or beautiful women, without exception, they all looked at him with eyes full of smiles. Sir Feng felt speechless—after all, wasn't he a handsome guy himself? What was going on?

Even the indifferent Feng Yi felt somewhat disconcerted and began to nervously check himself, wondering if he had accidentally stepped on dog poop. That couldn't be; dogs were rare on Alpha.

Little did he know, the Martial Arts Hall had two distinctions: the physical martial arts and the spiritual cultivation factions. As the saying goes, no rules, no standards. The Martial Arts Hall had strict rules; martial artists had to wear martial arts uniforms, while those in spiritual cultivation could dress more casually. A big guy like him, in a martial arts environment that should focus on physical endurance, opted for the spiritual cultivation path, typically preferred by girls who enrolled in this minor branch. Feng Yi's casual attire in the Martial Arts Hall inevitably attracted criticism.

With a face full of frustration, he finally burst out, "Old ghost..."

Silence! Utter silence! When he shouted this phrase, countless eyes focused on Feng Yi.

Suddenly, laughter erupted from the inner courtyard, "Hahaha... Young man, you really are impatient!" A white-bearded old man appeared, kind-looking with laughter that was vigorous as if riding the wind. Since he moved too quickly, he accidentally ripped his pants, creating a ripping sound.

Fortunately, the old man was quick enough to cover the gap between his legs. The inner and outer disciples didn't notice, and seeing the headmaster appear, they gathered around him chirping non-stop... as if this kind-hearted old man was their close kin.

But Feng Yi would not be deceived by the old ghost's appearance, shrugging off, "You old geezer, you're deliberately messing with me." He spoke softly but there was a unique vibration in his voice as if it bore into one's heart.

The old man hurriedly blinked, clearly signalling: You young devil, shut that crow's mouth of yours right now. At that distance, only a martial artist with the old ghost's strength could hear Feng Yi's voice clearly."

The curator leaped forward to Feng Yi, and amid countless disciples' questions, he claimed that the man was a relative from afar who came to learn martial arts and find a job. Only then did everyone understand why the young man dared to be so noisy—turns out he was a spoiled son, though his attire was indeed shabby.

"Child, let's go."

"Hey, I mean, old ghost..." The kindly old curator was enthusiastically not letting Feng Yi get a word in edgewise as he half dragged him into the inner chambers.

"Why so nervous?"

"You little rascal, I'm a grandmaster, wouldn't it scare me if my pants were to split?"

"That makes sense," Feng Yi said, looking around. "Tell me, what can I do here?"

"Of course, wait for the military conscription. Haven't you always wanted to be a mobile warrior, dominating the battlefield?"

Upon hearing this, Feng Yi's eyes suddenly flashed with an imperceptible sadness... In fact, he had only ever longed for freedom, to cast aside vain and exaggerated things, and to confront situations directly and honestly as per his beliefs. However, everyone has inescapable chains predetermined by fate—his was the redemption of military duty.

How keen was the curator's insight? He knew Feng Yi had a story hidden deep in his heart, which he didn't wish to reveal. Casually, he threw the room key and meal card to Feng Yi and spoke at length, telling him to go out and wander as he pleased. As for living at the Martial Arts Hall, they had an agreement to be comfortable but not to freeload. Work still needed to be done...

After composing himself, Feng Yi almost spat out blood when he heard this. Work wasn't the issue—the lack of quality work was. With his skills, he shouldn't have to be a janitor. He was no traditional martial artist; as a warrior, Feng Yi aimed for the battlefield, even the vast universe. However, currently, he didn't meet the requisites for recruitment at Wind Thunder Military Academy. It seemed two old ghosts' lifesaving friendship was worth so little.

Enough of that—there was nothing much to see at the Martial Arts Hall, so Feng Yi habitually jumped over the walls.

He planned to use his dwindling funds to buy some military magazines to read and unwittingly spaced out while walking to the bookstore.

Perhaps everyone has a few hobbies? Feng Yi was no exception; from a young age, he favored Ancient Martial Arts, Mecha, and military life. Despite his reluctance to show emotions, it was due to the environment he survived in—no one truly understood what lay beneath his carefree exterior.

That year, a light drizzle fell from the sky. His survival nearly ended under artillery fire during a surprise attack by enemy ground troops on Colonial Planet 103. Two brave federal mobile warriors on patrol noticed him and shielded him with their bodies.

Feng Yi was lucky to survive—one Phantom Knight exploded on the spot, and another beast-like Mecha was blown to pieces. Even had that soldier not died immediately, losing gravitational field protection meant he wouldn't have survived long.

The dying warrior opened the hatch and painfully took out a letter, then parted his lips...

Feng Yi leaned close, hearing only three intermittent words: "Kill… me…"

Feeling the ice-cold rain on his cheeks and body gradually losing warmth, it was another fervent spirit that upheld this sky. Though they had never met before, the federation soldiers fulfilled their warrior's mission, and their towering figures were permanently etched in Feng Yi's memory.

Overwhelmed with emotion, tears suddenly slid down Feng Yi's eyes. He raised a rusty dagger with difficulty and plunged it into the soldier's chest, to ease his pain—a guilt inside him reached an unbearable level. It was the first time Feng Yi cried, and he swore, it would be the last—perhaps, it was so.

Following this event, Feng Yi never wanted to see brave federal warriors perish one by one, but he couldn't escape witnessing that reality; powerless—it was he who had killed that soldier! To redeem his tainted soul; to carry on a noble mission; to honor the valiant warriors in heaven; he would continue to fight for those who could no longer battle. Unintentionally, he had fallen in love with being a mobile warrior, as the seed of a burning soul sprouted in his heart, uncontrollably growing...

The first soldier who died left no trace, no records to be found, but the other, a sergeant named Zhou Yujia from Earth, Asia Zone, Solar System—the specifics mentioned in the letter were permanently branded in Feng Yi's heart, including the coordinates: 51°23' N latitude, 131°2' E longitude. Feng Yi treasured the undelivered family letter, intending to deliver both it and his remembrance personally to the soldier's family.