Chapter Thirteen: A Broadened Horizon

The Sky Chariot had been flying for an hour and had long since reached the inland heartland. It descended at the edge of a grassland that appeared to lie before a mountain range.

As the chariot touched down and began to move on land, the covetous information wave emitted an exclamation: "Tin foil detection!"

Since the two had switched control entities, this was the first time the covetous wave spoke with such surprise.

"What is tin foil detection?"

"Tin foil detection is a scanning method far superior to phased array radar. It analyzes a comprehensive range of factors—light, temperature, contrast, speed—through integrated analysis. Although still relatively primitive, it already surpasses any detection device I’ve encountered on Blue Star."

"That doesn’t sound all that miraculous."

"The key to tin foil detection isn’t just the integrated analysis. The real breakthrough is that the subject—be it biological or material—makes no reactive response whatsoever, yet the data is still collected."

"Are there any drawbacks?"

"Yes. If there’s anti-tin foil technology, it can be disguised. As long as one masters the frequency spectrum of the tin foil detection waves, targeted countermeasures can be employed."

Xu Yan roughly understood it as a game of detection and counter-detection. To break this tin foil detection technology, one must first know the opponent’s frequency. Despite how easily the covetous wave explained it, achieving that was hardly feasible.

The frequency would never be casually revealed; such a secret would likely be top-level classified.

The Sky Chariot rushed toward the mountains. Having the covetous wave’s explanation, Xu Yan refrained from asking elementary questions.

Duan Peng, however, curiously asked, “This stretch doesn’t seem as desolate as it looks. Why haven’t we encountered any inspections?”

Jing Zhi Min replied, “We’ve been exchanging information with the Sky Chariot continuously since we were still airborne. Manual inspections aren’t necessary.”

No sooner had he spoken than a massive gate, easily ten stories high, appeared ahead of the Sky Chariot.

Only then did the vehicle come to a halt.

On the chariot’s dashboard, a message appeared: Please remain seated and still.

Jing Zhi Min turned from the co-pilot seat to the two and said, “Don’t be nervous. There will be biological scans shortly. Do not resist.”

Sure enough, after he spoke, a beam of light materialized in front of each person, scanning their heads from top to bottom.

—

A few seconds later, the display on the Sky Chariot showed another message: “Detection passed. Entry permitted.”

The chariot restarted and moved directly toward the closed gate. Astonishingly, the gate, as if controlled by an unseen hand, opened a section precisely the size of the Sky Chariot.

Inside, the vehicle seemed like a toy car amid the surrounding equipment, each moving device far larger than it.

After another five minutes, the Sky Chariot finally stopped.

Deep within the mountain was a vast plaza, flanked along the mountain wall by two rows of buildings that seemed to grow directly from the rock face.

The sight overwhelmed Xu Yan and Duan Peng, who were seeing such a real scene for the first time.

It wasn’t just the enormity; when airborne, the Sky Chariot had afforded views of this mountain range, but neither their sight nor imaging revealed these structures.

Clearly, the defenses here were far more sophisticated than they appeared.

On the expansive open ground stood an enormous aircraft of peculiar design and smooth lines.

Its metallic surface reflected a cold gleam, yet it was not harsh to the eyes.

Around the aircraft, people donned in interstellar squad uniforms moved busily, as if entering one fortress after another.

Xu Yan’s information wave sent an inquiry to the covetous wave, but no response came. Since the scan at the gate, the covetous wave had gone silent, like a muted signal—he could barely sense its presence anymore.

In contrast, the vast plaza echoed with many sounds, not chaotic but like the hum of diligent work.

Far ahead of the aircraft was a semi-transparent space where at least a dozen people busied themselves; their silver uniforms distinguished them from the rest.

“That’s the command center for the interstellar fleet. All data is analyzed and commands issued from there,” Jing Zhi Min explained, noticing their gaze. “I’ve been inside only once, to report to the captain. It’s like a limitless brain.”

Jing Zhi Min’s tone was filled with both nostalgia and longing.

“Captain, I know you used to be a member of the interstellar squad. Why did you retire to join the Jinjiang Special Forces?” Duan Peng voiced the question lingering in his heart.

“Not every retired interstellar squad member is as lucky as I am,” Jing Zhi Min replied without elaboration, his voice tinged with melancholy. “Come on, I’ll take you to register. Remember, after registration, it’s all on you.”

“Captain, I still don’t quite understand. Are we here for an assessment or something else?” Xu Yan pressed.

—

“Assessment?” Jing Zhi Min chuckled playfully. “You’re here as sparring partners. This is a simulated assessment exercise for the interstellar squad’s training team. Your task is to ‘die’ as late as possible. Remember, the longer you hold out, the greater your future prospects. If luck isn’t on your side…”

He left the consequence unspoken, but Xu Yan and Duan Peng knew well it would be harsh and hard to accept.

Their eyes met briefly, each seeing in the other a resolve and trust.

Jing Zhi Min led them to the base of a building on the left, entering what appeared to be an elevator shaft.

When the doors closed, the elevator did not ascend as expected but descended—quite a distance, at least ten floors down by rough estimate.

When the elevator doors opened, they stepped into a different scene: a mechanical factory carved underground, surrounded by cold materials even on the floor.

Following a path marked with signs, they soon saw small flying vehicles resembling miniature Sky Chariots—scaled-down versions of what they had seen above.

At the entrance, on a seemingly casual table, a sign read “Registration Desk,” beside which sat a mirror-like device resembling a scanner.

Jing Zhi Min approached first; the device promptly spoke: “Observer, room five to the left.”

Duan Peng and Xu Yan stood before the mirror, which then emitted a different voice:

“Simulated enemy, number 115, flight pod 16.”

“Simulated enemy, number 116, flight pod 16.”

Arrows began flashing beneath their feet, directing their path.

“Go, follow the arrows. I can’t accompany you further,” Jing Zhi Min said finally.

Xu Yan turned to Jing Zhi Min. “Captain, we don’t even know what our exact mission is.”

“You’ll find out once you’re inside the flight pod,” Jing Zhi Min replied without giving details, pointing ahead. “Go. I wish you success!”