The splendid bird of prey belongs to the sky.

Thank you AC for the ko-fi donation!

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Tonight, the “Voice of the Ordinary” channel was extraordinarily lively.

 

The broadcaster’s voice pierced through everyone’s mind: “Kidnapping an despotic monarch and forcing him to issue a public apology does indeed carry a certain shocking resonance, remind us of the time we sent Louis XVI to the guillotine. But we can also observe that this Mr. Bai conducts himself with integrity and grace, preventing all bloodshed. On that level, we can consider this fundamentally different from terrorism.”

 

“In his speech, we saw only a calm, indignant young man, and an inept, exploitative tyrant. I believe everyone has their own measure of right and wrong.”

 

Before their screens, people nodded in unison: “Exactly! What did Mr. Bai do wrong? He just wanted to vent everyone’s anger for us.”

 

“Support Commander Bai!”

 

Some had already taken the lead in calling him “space pirates”.

 

The screen shifted. Kaide stood beside the mineral water bottle, apologizing. Stripped of the emperor’s robes and crown, his entire body was stiff and restrained, his speech halting and stammering:

 

“Uh… I… am sorry for what I did before.”

 

A chorus of jeers rose from below the screen, a stark contrast to the overwhelming approval that had greeted Bai Ling. Viewers scoffed one after another:

 

“This is way too pathetic, isn’t it?”

 

“This is the worst imperial speech I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Without his chief of staff to proofread his draft, he can’t even talk. Lol.”

 

Speaking of that chief of staff, many people viewed him favorably. The broadcaster also gave an objective assessment: “They are the diligent civil servants of this nation. While the nobles were busy eating, drinking, and having fun, they were the ones who worked day and night, cleaning up this mess.”

 

“Among them, one civil servant who wished to remain anonymous told us he had worked consecutive overtime for 700 days, and was thus forced to be separated from his beloved.”

 

“In front of the reporter, he rambled complaining: ‘My little bun has abandoned me and flown away because I’ve left him alone in an empty nest for so long.'”

 

The broadcaster paused, then offered a sincere evaluation: “Clearly, overtime does tremendous damage to a person’s psyche. And we have yet to learn what race or bloodline this ‘little bun’ belongs to…”

 

The voice cut off abruptly. Someone slammed the screen off in fury.

 

“Heinz, Heinz! How does he pop up everywhere?” The Golden Eagle Marshal paced anxiously, hands behind his back. “We absolutely cannot let Heinz take all the credit, or the public will definitely think we, the military, are just dead weight.”

 

Adjutant: “Then what should we do?”

 

The Golden Eagle Marshal stopped in his tracks as his eagle-sharp eyes sharpened: “Just pick someone at random to commend, so it looks like we’re doing something.”

 

The adjutant thought for a moment and said: “That guard who protected His Majesty, seems like he got injured.”

 

The Golden Eagle made the decision on the spot: “It’ll be him. Doll him up and put him in front of the media.”

 

In the palace guard dormitory—

 

The “dying” Honey Buzzard shot up from his sickbed in alarm: “Oh no, I’ve become a hero?”

 

---

 

Honey Buzzard was completely baffled, having no idea how he’d turned into the hero who “bravely saved the sovereign,” sharing the front-page headlines with Heinz, each commanding equal attention.

 

The military even sent a special plane to pick him up, to give him an award.

 

The media snapped photos in a frenzy, lenses swarming like demons, almost blinding Honey Buzzard. And that wasn’t all—to demonstrate their extreme efficiency, the military insisted on processing his promotion overnight.

 

He jumped three ranks, from captain to colonel.

 

However, come midnight, the leader responsible for signing off still hadn’t shown up. Honey Buzzard asked cautiously: “Is the Major General not coming because something came up?”

 

“He’s interrogating a lieutenant colonel suspected of colluding with the rebels.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Lu Hang.”

 

---

 

The military’s interrogation room had an absolutely twisted configuration.

 

It was terrifyingly cramped—barely one square meter. Even locking a cat or dog in there would invite accusations of animal cruelty, yet at this moment it held a fully grown alpha standing 189 centimeters tall.

 

Lu Hang couldn’t bend his knees; he could only stand ramrod straight. Under the blazing overhead lights, his eyeballs ached from the glare as he repeated the same questions over and over in a monotonous, exhausting rhythm.

 

A voice came through the monitor: “Do you know that rebel?”

 

“I don’t.”

 

The interrogation had already lasted six hours, and Lu Hang’s voice remained steady.

 

“Why did you give him your mecha?”

 

“He held me at gunpoint. To save my life, I had to hand over the keys.”

 

The hoarse, terrifying voice asked again: “Did you see the suspect’s face?”

 

Lu Hang answered as before: “No. He wore a mask. I couldn’t see anything.”

 

Behind the monitor, one wall away, the Crab Major General cursed: “Fuck. This kid’s like he’s trained in Occlumency. We can’t get a thing out of him.”

 

That 98% mental stability rating was no empty boast.

 

The Crab Major General didn’t give up. He flipped through Lu Hang’s file on the table. The only stain on his record was that one…

 

“I recall you’ve been interrogated before.”

 

After six hours of standing at attention, Lu Hang’s calves were cramping. But that wasn’t the worst part—the overhead magnesium lamp was the real killer. Its wattage was abnormally high; after baking for so long, his scalp was burning. If he sniffed carefully, he could even catch a whiff of that burnt-protein smell of singed hair.

 

Lu Hang took a deep breath and inexplicably felt a little hungry.

 

His mindset was remarkably stable. He could even answer questions and plan breakfast at the same time: “Yes. Three years ago, my teammate suddenly went missing. Per regulations, I underwent an interrogation.”

 

The voice from the voice modulator was distorted and terrifying: “I must correct you, that wasn’t a disappearance. That was defection.”

 

“Yes, sir. Defection.”

 

“Huo Yuan was a spy who infiltrated our ranks. One day, after stealing classified materials, he vanished. The head of the classified office was found dead at his desk.”

 

Lu Hang answered smoothly: “That gentleman died of overwork. I believe the military’s autopsy report has already reached that conclusion.”

 

“Then, please state once again your relationship with Huo Yuan.”

 

“We were colleagues. And roommates.”

 

“But on one occasion, the pheromone monitoring index in your dormitory showed an excess.”

 

Lu Hang said calmly: “Correct. I was drunk at that time.”

 

“What did you two do?”

 

This was the twenty-fourth interrogation. The Crab Major General stared fixedly at the monitor, trying to find traces of deception in his micro-expressions.

 

Sweat rolled down Lu Hang’s forehead, but his tone remained composed: “I forced him.”

 

“Be more specific!”

 

“I forced Huo Yuan and violated his body. The entire act lasted three hours and twenty-six minutes. After dawn, I turned myself in to the military court.”

 

The Major General let out a cold snort. Fucked him and then turned himself in? So hypocritical playing the upright gentleman.

 

“Huo Yuan is an alpha too. You two were evenly matched—why didn’t he resist? That defies logic!”

 

Lu Hang’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly. Yes, he too thought it defied logic.

 

Precisely because it defied logic, he had taken the initiative to turn himself in, submitted materials to the military court, and taken all the blame upon himself.

 

“Because I restrained him with brutal methods. He couldn’t escape.”

 

“Besides, it’s not like he didn’t resist.” Lu Hang said indifferently, reaching for his uniform collar and pulling it to the right, exposing a stretch of wheat-colored neck:

 

“He bit the back of my neck.”

 

“The bite mark has scarred over. Would the Major General like to come over and inspect it?”

 

On the monitor, the subject’s emotional fluctuation readings remained a single blue line—straight and steady. The Major General stared intently at the file, trying to find some clue, but the investigation report was written clearly and matched Lu Hang’s account word for word.

 

Watertight. No blind spots.

 

Besides releasing him on the spot, there was no other option.

 

Lu Hang walked out of the interrogation room, his legs stumbling slightly. He looked back at the suffocatingly cramped little room and gave a helpless smile.

 

In the future… he might have to come back and visit often.

 

The corridor was deathly silent. Lu Hang walked slowly, one hand bracing against the wall. Outside the window frame, the sky was turning pale with dawn. Scattered, pale clouds drifted sparsely—like ancient ruins carved through by some colossal creature.

 

He gazed toward the distant horizon. That ship had been traveling for nine hours now. By his estimate, it should be approaching the jump point soon.

 

Lu Hang’s lips relaxed slightly, and a trace of peaceful reassurance appearing on his weary, handsome face.

The splendid bird of prey belongs to the sky.