Chapter 984: Execution (Revised)

Chapter 984: Execution (Revised)

The cargo hold of the Kunder main ship held a vast multitude of civilians, the floor carpeted with makeshift pallets and bedding; some sat, others lay, legs tangled with legs, backs pressed against backs, the scene so densely packed it resembled a refugee camp.

Swish—

The hatch slid open, and a fleet of service droids rolled in, pushing carts laden with barrels of mushy sustenance.

"Mealtime!"

A sentinel of the Empire bellowed the order, and the crowd instantly stirred into a restless murmur.

Ever since their captivity began, these Kunder civilians had lived in a state of perpetual dread, terrified of the fate that awaited them. Yet in terms of material conditions, they suffered no torment; the Empire distributed rations on schedule and refrained from abusing its prisoners, which calmed the Kunder populace considerably, preventing any foolish acts of rebellion.

The service droids wove through the throng, dispensing food to all, and the captives sat up to cradle bowls of steaming nutrient paste, devouring it in great mouthfuls while whispering among themselves in small clusters, the atmosphere relatively tranquil.

Amidst the crowd, a large and a small Kunder huddled together; the smaller one, unmistakably a Kunder toddler, nibbled at the nutrient paste in tiny bites, while the adult female beside him poured half the mush from her own bowl into the child's.

"Mom, aren't you going to eat?" the child asked, looking up at the sight.

"You eat first; I'll eat after you're full."

The adult Kunder gazed at him with tender affection, the two of them clearly a mother and her son.

"No, let's eat together," the child shook his head, muttering under his breath, "I wish Dad were here too. Mom, where did he go, anyway?"

Hearing this, his mother fell silent, and seeing the child's unblinking stare, she forced a smile and said, "Your father is probably on another ship and couldn't come to see us. Once we're settled, he'll come find us."

"That's great, I miss him so much," the child brightened up, "but when will we be settled?"

"...Probably very soon."

Her smile grew increasingly strained; though she had not a shred of confidence in her heart, she forced herself to appear resolute.

Forcing herself to muster some spirit, she comforted the child with a few words, and only when he buried his head back into his meal did she quietly turn her face away, wiping away the tears that had nearly spilled over.

Deep down, she knew her husband was likely dead... for she was the wife of a military officer.

After the war broke out, she and her child were evacuated as military dependents, only to be sent back by the Empire's maneuvers and reduced to prisoners of war. Though the Empire had sealed off all outside news, knowing the Kunder had lost the war, she could easily imagine the devastation on the battlefield.

Unable to communicate with the outside world, she did not know if her husband was dead or alive, clinging to a faint, final sliver of hope; yet before her child, she had to forcibly suppress her confusion, anxiety, and unease, hiding them completely while bearing an immense inner burden.

In the dead of night, after the child had fallen asleep, she was among those who wept silently, washing her face with tears.

She did not know either how this civilization known as the Crimson Empire would deal with them, and could only deceive her child.

"Beep, beep, beep—"

Just then, rows of virtual screens suddenly sprang up around the shipyard, instantly drawing everyone's attention.

The images on all the screens flickered in unison, followed immediately by the appearance of a familiar figure.

"It's the Leader!"

The crowd immediately stirred, and many stood up directly, staring intently at the screens.

The very same scene was playing out across all Kunder prison ships; after the Empire took over and sealed off information, most were completely in the dark about the current situation, making this their first time receiving outside news and seeing their Leader on screen since their imprisonment.

The mother also hastily set down her food, pulling the child to stand beside the virtual screen to watch.

On the screen, the Kunder Leader sat with impeccable posture, facing the camera, and spoke slowly:

"My fellow countrymen, I have a heavy burden of news to announce—we have utterly lost this war. Roughly seventy percent of our military forces have been annihilated, and the fleet numbers of the killed and missing are as follows..."

He began to read a lengthy roll of the fallen, and the hearts of all the soldiers' families instantly tightened, terrified of missing a single number.

As the fleet numbers were called out one by one, from time to time someone would collapse to the ground, their heart turned to ash, while heart-wrenching wails continuously echoed through the crowd.

The child listened in bewildered confusion, and suddenly, he felt his mother's body sway beside him, nearly pulling him down; he quickly turned and grabbed her hand.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

"I... I'm fine."

The mother's body trembled slightly; had she been human, her face would have been deathly pale at that moment. She barely managed to steady herself by gripping her child's shoulder, forcing her tone to remain calm, yet unable to mask the quiver in her voice.

Just moments ago, she had heard the name of her husband's fleet from the Kunder Leader's lips; her last shred of hope shattered, her vision went black, and she nearly fainted on the spot.

Remembering her child was right beside her, she forcibly suppressed her emotions; at this moment, she couldn't even cry, her entire being frozen in numb despair, her heart reduced to dead ashes.

Sobs rose and fell in waves, and an atmosphere of profound sorrow instantly filled the chamber.

Finally finishing the roll of the fallen, the Kunder Leader spoke in a grave tone: "I bear the primary responsibility for the defeat in this war; the failed decisions of myself and the high command have led to today's disastrous outcome.

In truth, this war could have been avoided; it was not the enemy who actively ignited the flames of conflict, but I.

The Crimson Empire traveled from afar to explore the unknown; they are, in fact, a peace-loving civilization, yet arrogance and hostility blinded my mind. I was manipulated by a third party to view the Crimson Empire with enmity, inherently placing them in the position of an adversary. Seeking to strike first, I orchestrated an attack, thereby provoking the Empire's wrath.

We had the opportunity to coexist in peace, without war, without bloodshed, with nothing but the blending of cultures; alas, because of my mistake, we have forfeited that future.

My arrogance severed the bridge of peaceful contact between our peoples; everything that has transpired is my responsibility, and my flawed decisions have plunged our entire civilization into the abyss."

As he spoke, he brought up a document—the classified internal files detailing the arrangement of the first Psionic Energy Bomb trap, along with the casualty statistics of the Empire's exploration team, to prove he was not speaking idly.

Then, the Kunder Leader rose to his feet and bowed deeply to the camera.

"I have personally buried your past lives; countless families have been torn apart because of this war. I am sorry."

Hearing this, everyone understood; this was an edict of self-reproach, simultaneously explaining to the people the origins of this war.

Watching this scene, many were filled with fury.

Sorry?

You've brought our entire race to such ruin, is a mere 'sorry' of any use?!

If you hadn't provoked this war, those soldiers wouldn't be dead, we would still be living our normal lives, and we wouldn't have been reduced to prisoners!

It is all because of you that our civilization faces a crisis of survival, a crisis that could have been entirely avoided!

And a single 'sorry' makes it all better?!

Having finished his apology, the Kunder Leader returned to his seat, his expression impassive, and continued:

"I know you are all deeply concerned about how the Crimson Empire will deal with us. Rest assured, my fellow countrymen, the Crimson Empire is a civilization far more advanced than ours; they will not massacre civilians, nor will they subject us to intellectual castration. They have decided to release us, relocate us to another star system, restore our freedom, and help us build a new home..."

Upon hearing this, everyone's taut nerves relaxed; this was the matter they cared about most.

Surviving with their lives was already a stroke of immense fortune, yet the other side was actually willing to let them go, returning freedom to these prisoners of war.

It seems the Crimson Empire truly is a peace-loving civilization... this thought surfaced in the minds of some.

Our side had provoked the war, being in the wrong from the start, while the Empire had treated the prisoners well, showing utmost benevolence; comparing the two, the crowd's hatred toward the Empire lessened slightly.

Of course, on such matters, reason and objectivity do not exist; even as the instigators of the war, the majority of the Kunder still harbored varying degrees of resentment toward the Empire, with the families of the fallen soldiers feeling the most intense hatred.

However, because of this explanation, their wrath was directed more toward the Kunder Leader.

At this moment, the Kunder Leader brought up another document, detailing the brief biography and resume of Han Xiao, information provided by the Empire.

"Our new home will be in the territory of a prominent figure in the Crimson Empire; his name is Black Star, and he will provide us with sanctuary. He is a highly respectable figure, and it was his stance that finally convinced the Empire to grant us our freedom."

The crowd looked at Han Xiao's image on the document, silently committing to memory the man who had spoken on their behalf.

Meanwhile, in an office on Beacon Star, Han Xiao's projection was watching the Kunder Leader's speech alongside Tarrokov; seeing this, he cast an amused glance at Tarrokov.

"You guys really went all out in helping; not only did you hand over the Kunder population resources to me, but you also helped build my image for free."

"You're welcome."

Tarlock took a sip of his botanical health elixir and offered a faint, enigmatic smile.

The speech continued as the Kunde leader outlined the situation of their new home, painting a misleadingly optimistic vision of the future while conspicuously omitting any mention of cultural reformation or the sealing of the interstellar network, before abruptly shifting his tone:

"Strategic blunders have led us to this dire outcome, and the high command must bear the ultimate responsibility. All implicated leaders will be executed. As for me, I shall take this as a stern warning, reflect upon our lessons, and continue to lead our people with greater rationality to build our new home."

Boom—

The moment these words left his lips, the crowd erupted into an instant uproar, the chamber exploding into chaos!

"After committing such a colossal blunder, what gives him the right to keep leading us?"

"Executing all the high command while facing not a shred of punishment himself—what sheer hypocrisy!"

"He’s just going to cling to the throne until he dies, isn't he!"

Nearly everyone was consumed by absolute fury.

He’s ruined our people to this extent, and he still dares to remain our leader?!

Did we ever agree to that?!

The other high officials are put to death, yet the only answer you give us is a flimsy, weightless 'I'm sorry'?!

What good is that?!

Even if you aren't executed, you should at least step down!

Having the audacity to remain in power is nothing but your own lust for control!

Our people have been defeated, yet you remain unscathed, still sitting in that very seat—by what right?!

You feign self-reproach, but in truth, you’re shifting all the blame onto the other high officials; it is utterly despicable!

At this moment, the Kunde leader rose to his feet, flashing a rehearsed, formulaic smile. "I will visit every single starship to offer my condolences and encouragement, hoping to instill in you the courage to start anew. Failure is not to be feared, for I... can make the Kunde race great once more."

These words should have been inspiring, yet at this very moment, nearly everyone glared at the Kunde leader on the screen with unbridled wrath.

The Kunde leader stood up and walked out, the hovering mechanical cameras trailing him relentlessly.

Just then, the cabin doors slid open and a Kunde citizen stepped inside; the civilians present immediately turned to look, murmuring among themselves.

"Who is that, and how is he moving around so freely?"

"I know him. He’s one of the secretaries to the leader; he’s appeared on television before."

The secretary clapped his hands to quiet the crowd and began to speak:

"Everyone, the leader’s first stop will be here to offer his condolences. I expect you all to act overwhelmingly grateful later, to bolster the leader's image."

A surge of furious outrage swept through everyone present.

Even at a time like this, you still want to put on a show?!

We, the bereaved families who have just learned of our loved ones' deaths in the war, are supposed to play along and act grateful?!

Many clenched their fists, trembling with rage from head to toe.

They no longer knew how to describe their feelings; their seething fury and utter disgust toward the leader had nearly reached its zenith.

Soon, the sound of footsteps echoed from outside the cabin, and the doors opened once more.

The Kunde leader strode in, flanked by his secretary and a retinue of attendants, a comforting smile plastered across his face.

Seeing that smile, many were so infuriated they felt their very blood boiling over.

Still smiling?

Smiling your fucking head off!

Yet, upon seeing the attendants flanking the Kunde leader, everyone present was reduced to seething in silent rage, able only to glare at him with eyes full of furious hatred.

Glancing over the crowd, the Kunde leader maintained his smile and spoke:

"Everyone, how have you been faring lately? I know you must be lost in confusion, but do not worry. Whatever is on your mind, you can tell me, and I..."

Whoosh!

Right as he was speaking, a dark object suddenly flew out from the crowd, slapping against the Kunde leader’s immaculate attire with a sharp smack.

Looking down, the crowd saw it was a dining bowl; the nutrient paste inside had splashed entirely over the leader's clothes, sticking to him in a messy glob.

"Get out!" an enraged voice rang out from the crowd.

Once someone set the tone, the rest immediately caught the rhythm, grabbing the bowls around them and hurling them with all their might at the Kunde leader.

Smack, smack, smack, smack—

Blob after blob of nutrient paste slapped against the Kunde leader, his clothes turning into a sticky mess that obscured their original color; he looked as though he had been dredged from a vat of sludge, utterly disheveled and humiliated.

"Stop, stop!"

The Kunde leader's attendants rushed forward to block the hail of flying bowls, shielding him.

Meanwhile, the civilians in the back who couldn't reach him also wanted to hurl things at the leader; clutching their bowls, they pushed forward with all their might, causing the human wall to advance, forcing the Kunde leader and his entourage to retreat step by step.

"Stop pushing! Everyone clear back!"

One of the attendants shouted loudly, shoving the crowd before him; unable to restrain himself, he pushed with greater force, and suddenly, a female was shoved out of the line and fell to the ground.

The very next moment, a tender yet furious cry rang out from the crowd.

"You hit my mother, I'll fight you to the death!"

The attendant suddenly felt a sharp pain in his leg; looking down, he saw a child clinging tightly to his thigh, biting down hard, its teeth piercing straight through his carapace.

"Get off!" he shuddered in pain and couldn't help but slap the child across the face, swatting it aside.

Everyone around witnessed this scene, and their emotions exploded in an instant.

"You dare hit a child?!"

"Beat them!"

The long-suppressed fury of everyone present erupted like a volcano!

Reason shattered in an instant as everyone roared and lunged forward, attacking with their fists, their teeth, and their carapaces.

The crowd was whipped into a frenzy, the situation devolving into a bloody riot, the scene spiraling completely out of control.

Bang!

The Kunde leader was tackled to the ground by a mob, surrounded by people beating him wildly, the agony arching his entire body.

Just then, a searing pain shot through his neck as someone bit down hard; sharp teeth pierced his carapace and sank into his throat, instantly drawing a gush of blood.

The Kunde leader's body violently convulsed; from the corner of his eye, he saw that the one biting his throat was a female Kunde, the very mother of the child who had just been struck.

She clamped her jaws down with unyielding force, her gaze searing itself deeply into his mind.

What a pair of eyes, brimming with such profound anger, hatred, and despair...

Crunch!

"Ahhh!!!" With a violent tear, she ripped the Kunde leader's throat clean off, holding it in her mouth, and raised her head to let out a piercing, guttural roar.

Gouts of blood surged from the gaping wound in his neck; the Kunde leader's body gradually grew limp, his consciousness sinking into a heavy abyss.

Watching his own people ruthlessly ravage his body, his heart, paradoxically, had never been more at peace.

"At last... the performance is over."

Thud!

A crushing blow suddenly struck his skull, plunging his consciousness into the abyss of absolute nothingness.

...

The Imperial soldiers on guard immediately intervened to quell the rioting mob, yet deliberately dragged their feet, allowing the chaos to linger for a while.

At long last, the Imperial soldiers brought the bloodshed to an end, leaving pools of crimson staining the ground; a dozen bodies lay sprawled upon the floor, and among them, the mangled, unrecognizable corpse of the Kunde leader was immediately plain to all.

The hovering cameras trailing the scene captured the riot in its entirety, broadcasting the grim spectacle to the Kunde across the other ships.

"To think they actually beat him to death—well done!"

"A traitor to his race like him never deserved to keep breathing!"

"Only this kind of justice could punish him!"

Many felt nothing but profound satisfaction.

Meanwhile, in the outer corridor beyond the cameras' reach, an Imperial intelligence agent clad in black gloves leaned against the wall, casually tossing a small emotion-agitation device in the air.

Hearing the commotion inside cease, his hand paused, catching the device; he flicked the switch to turn it off, slipped it into his pocket, and turned to stride away.

...

"The play is over." Talrokov switched off the virtual screen.

"You truly know how to exploit every resource to its fullest."

Han Xiao curled his lip. "Instead of executing him by Imperial decree, you let the Kunde kill their own leader. This event will be etched forever into Kunde history as an indelible cautionary tale. In the short term, those stirred up might find it deeply satisfying, but the memory will linger in their minds, exerting a continuous toll. The very spirit of their entire race will collapse under the weight of it, making your cultural reformation all the more effortless."

"Compared to exterminating the entire race, this is gentle enough."

Talrokov's expression remained impassive; after a long silence, he suddenly turned to stare directly into Han Xiao's eyes.

"Black Star, find the mastermind behind this."

Han Xiao sat with his legs crossed, hands folded over his knees, and gave a slow nod:

"Mm, leave it to me."

—