High Martial Arts: Slay enemies to become stronger, forge invincibility from billions of corpses.

There was a long silence from the speaker.

Then Zhou Wangyue's voice rang out again, but this time, there was no laughter in his voice.

"Are you sure the sea creatures are building nuclear bombs?"

"Yes."

Are you sure?

"Old Zhou is right here; he can speak for himself."

Zhou Wangyue was silent for a few seconds before saying, "Let him answer."

Song Chen handed the microphone to Lao Zhou.

Old Zhou took the microphone and recited a string of code, which was the Third Fleet's authentication code, from thirty-two years ago.

Although he hadn't used it for thirty-two years, he remembered every single number.

The sound of keyboard typing came from the speakers, and then the middle-aged woman's voice rang out again, with a hint of barely suppressed emotion in it.

"Identity verification passed. The other party's identity has been confirmed. He was listed as a fallen soldier 32 years ago."

A moment of silence.

Then Zhou Wangyue's voice rang out: "Old Zhou, please speak."

Old Zhou recounted the events of Guangchang Island in greater detail.

He spoke for about twenty minutes, from his capture to the Sea Clan's nuclear industry talent program, to the teaching reactor on the island, to the ship he built.

For twenty minutes, Zhou Wangyue didn't interrupt once.

After Lao Zhou finished speaking, Zhou Wangyue only asked one question.

"Do you have any evidence for what you're saying?"

"There's a reactor instruction manual on board, written by the sea creatures. I took it with me when I left."

A very soft exhalation sound came from the speaker.

"Old Zhou, it's been thirty-two years. Great Xia owes you."

Old Zhou didn't answer; he handed the microphone back to Song Chen.

Song Chen took the microphone: "Teacher."

"Um?"

"I'm getting ready to go back to Daxia. I'm a little homesick."

Zhou Wangyue's voice regained its warmth.

"Of course you have to come back, and the sooner the better."

"We must return to Great Xia within two months."

Why?

"Two months from now, humanity will be making a major move. I can't tell you the details now because communication is not secure. You just need to know the time."

Song Chen didn't press the matter; if the teacher didn't say, it meant they really couldn't say.

"The giant whale king is still in the near sea, the blockade has not been lifted, do not take the sea route."

Zhou Wangyue's voice continued.

"I know."

"You know that's good. Be careful on the road. Come back alive."

"Um."

Song Chen put down the microphone.

There were still people waiting in the square; they also needed to communicate.

He turned around and faced the crowd: "Go ahead and fight."

The crowd surged forward.

After standing by the desk for a while, Song Chen walked out of the square and sat down on a section of collapsed low wall on the edge of the town.

The wind from the Indian Ocean blows in from the east, carrying the smell of the sea and moisture.

The psionic particles were almost invisible in the afternoon sunlight, with only a few occasionally refracting a faint golden hue as they drifted past.

He was thinking about what Zhou Wangyue had said: two months later, humanity would make a major move.

What big move? A counterattack? Impossible.

Humanity has been retreating to its base cities for decades. A counterattack requires supply lines for expeditions, an intelligence network deep within the territory of the alien beasts, and a bridgehead to establish a foothold in the heart of the alien beasts' territory.

Humanity doesn't have these things now, not because we don't want to, but because all our resources and strength have been poured into defense over the past fifty years.

If it's not a counterattack, then what is it? A decapitation strike?

Concentrate your forces to eliminate a sixth-tier royal?

It's possible that the three royal families are the core of the sea race; eliminating one of them could rewrite the power structure of the entire sea region.

However, sixth-tier royals are not so easy to kill. Humans used nuclear bombs to kill them before, but that was because the alien beasts had only recently awakened and did not yet understand the power of nuclear bombs.

So many years have passed, and the alien beasts have begun to actively build nuclear bombs, learned to plant spies within humanity, and learned to convene underwater conferences to coordinate their actions.

They won't fall into the same hole twice.

Or perhaps something else?

Song Chen couldn't think of anything for the time being.

If I can't figure it out, I'll stop thinking about it. Since the teacher said I have to go back within two months, then I'll go back.

Once you arrive in Tianhai, you'll naturally know what's going on.

Just as I put that matter aside, another wave of emotion suddenly surged up.

We're going home now.

I didn't feel anything about going home before, but after drifting at sea for more than a month, living in constant danger of death every minute and every second...

Suddenly it felt different.

Time flies.

A few hours later, he stood up and walked back to the square.

The crowd was still surrounding the communication device.

Old Zhou had already assembled a new one. His fingers slowly touched the panel, as if he were familiarizing himself with the machine he had pieced together from the rubble he had dug out of the ruins.

Song Chen walked to the desk: "Old Zhou, will this work?"

Old Zhou's finger stopped at the edge of the panel.

"Of course it can be used."

"I'll use it again."

"it is good."

Old Zhou removed his hand from the panel.

Song Chen picked up the microphone but did not press the call button.

He looked at the string of numbers on the panel; the Great Xia's communication call sign was still flashing on the screen, like a slowly blinking heartbeat.

Then he reached out and pressed a button to switch to another frequency band, and then dialed a number.

That's the area code for Anning City, and it's my home phone number.

He had memorized this number for over a decade. The static beeped seven or eight times before the call was connected.

"Feed?"

The voice belonged to a middle-aged woman, with a distinctive accent from Anning City, and the last syllable of her voice was slightly upturned.

Song Chen paused for a moment while holding the microphone.

"mom."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Li Xiuying's voice suddenly rose a notch: "Xiao Chen? Is that you?"

"it's me."

"Why haven't you called home in so long? Your dad said you're busy at school and told me not to keep calling you, but you can't just stay silent for so long."

"I called you seven or eight times last month but couldn't get through. Your dad said you must be doing some kind of closed training and told me not to worry about it."

Song Chen listened. His mother always spoke very fast, conveying seven or eight meanings in a single sentence without taking a breath.

He used to find it annoying when he was in Anning City, but now, thousands of kilometers away, hearing this voice from a radio pieced together from rubble dug out of ruins, he felt very warm.

"Are you eating well over there? Tianhai is by the sea, so are you eating fish every meal? You've never liked fish since you were little because you think there are too many bones. Don't be picky about food over there. Martial artists expend a lot of energy, and you can't keep up if you don't eat."

"Mom, I'm eating well."

"That's good, that's good. What's up with your call?"

"I just wanted to make a phone call."

Li Xiuying paused for a moment, then laughed.

"Okay, okay, you wait here. I'll get your dad to pick you up. Old Song, Old Song, it's your son on the phone!"

Footsteps came from the other end of the phone, followed by Song Zhengye's voice, which was much calmer than Li Xiuying's, but he answered the phone twice as fast as usual.

"Song Chen?"

"dad."

"Hmm, how's it going in Tianhai?"

"good."

The father and son always talked like this: Song Zhengye would ask a question, and Song Chen would answer it. Unlike when he talked to his mother, he was bombarded with questions, and unlike when he talked to Zhou Wangyue, he had to think carefully about every word.

It's very simple: one person asks, and one person answers.

"Is the training intense?"

"tight."

"Don't push yourself too hard. The path of a martial artist is very long. Eighteen is just the beginning. If you ruin your body, you won't be able to make any progress for the next few decades."

"Know."

"Did you hear what your mother said? You have to eat fish even if you don't like it. Martial artists aren't picky eaters."

Song Chen smiled.

"it is good."