Chapter Thirty-Seven: An Ideology Impossible to Accept

“Uncle Feng, are you saying that, when the time comes, the headquarters would really issue such a callous order… to treat human lives so lightly? I can’t accept that, I absolutely can’t accept it.” Watching Feng Guoqing’s departing figure, Zhuang Xiaoyuan clenched her hands tightly together. In her mind’s eye, she saw countless cities sacrificing themselves under the orders of the military headquarters, all just to allow a few Divine Armored Warriors to escape…

The very reason the Divine Armored Warriors appeared was to protect humanity from being slaughtered by evil gods and fiends. Why, in the end, should humans be the ones to protect the Divine Armored Warriors? Isn’t that turning everything upside down?

If, for the sake of future strength or hope, we abandon these ordinary people now—can we still call ourselves human? Is not humanity defined by its myriad of emotions—love, friendship, affection, dislike, unity, kindness, hatred, and complaint? Only the sum of all these feelings makes us truly human. If we judge people solely by their utility, then humans become nothing more than cogs in a vast machine—no different from the fiends themselves.

“If, one day, I really have to face such a choice…” As she imagined the possible future, Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s resolve grew firmer: “I must become stronger. If that day truly comes, and I have the power to protect everyone, then no one will have to be sacrificed.”

“Yes, Uncle Feng’s point was clear: the headquarters’ methods are cold, but only because we lack overwhelming strength. If that strength existed… If I obtain it before they issue the order to abandon everyone, then I can protect them all. No one should have to die for such a reason.”

With her goal set in her heart, Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s faith only grew more resolute. The divine power within her, previously unstable from her rapid advancement, now settled into a strange calm, as if even the golden radiance of her power shone brighter.

“Xiaoyuan, you’re awake.” The door opened quietly, and Wen Hui peeked in, glancing around. Satisfied to find only Zhuang Xiaoyuan inside, she slipped in. Her eyes were still visibly swollen and red, evidently from crying.

“I heard you cried a lot, Hui.” Smiling, Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s mind conjured images of what must have happened after she fainted. Though she was touched by Wen Hui’s concern, recalling the scene and her own condition made her want to laugh. Sometimes, Wen Hui really was so guileless—was this her true self, a naturally tsundere girl?

“I—I didn’t cry! How could I possibly cry just because you fainted? I just—right, I just got sand in my eyes, that’s all. There were collapsed buildings everywhere, and it’s only natural that sand would get in your eyes, isn’t it?” At the mention of her earlier embarrassment, Wen Hui’s face changed, and she crossed her arms, turning her head away, refusing to meet Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s amused gaze.

“Heh, thank you, Hui.” Watching Wen Hui sulk, Zhuang Xiaoyuan couldn’t help but laugh again. But even in jest, some things needed to be said. She had to express her gratitude for Wen Hui’s care—it wasn’t a matter of courtesy, but a connection of the heart. If you don’t say it, no one will ever know what you’re thinking.

Zhuang Xiaoyuan was surprised and delighted by Wen Hui’s concern. She had always thought their personalities were opposites, that they’d inevitably clash whenever they met. But maybe things weren’t as she’d believed. Their occasional quarreling might have drawn them closer than most classmates.

“Ahem, y-you don’t have to thank me. Um, I just came to check on you. If you’re fine, I’ll be going. In the next day or two, please make some time to come to the training base at headquarters. Sister Jing is waiting for you.”

If Zhuang Xiaoyuan had teased Wen Hui, perhaps Wen Hui could have retorted as usual, even if she rarely won. But Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s unexpected gratitude left Wen Hui completely flustered, unsure how to respond. Still, her words made Wen Hui happy; she felt as if the distance between them had lessened once more.

“Alright, I’ll go tomorrow. Wait—Hui, did you eat dinner before coming here?” Agreeing, Zhuang Xiaoyuan glanced at the clock on her desk, its hands pointing to five o’clock. No wonder her chest—and her stomach—felt so empty. It was already dinnertime. She’d only had a glass of milk and some jam on bread in the morning, planning to have a good lunch, but then the evil god’s invasion ruined her plans. She’d skipped lunch entirely, and now it was nearly dinner.

“Dinner? Not yet. Oh, you must be hungry too, having slept since morning. Want me to bring you something?” When asked about dinner, Wen Hui thought Zhuang Xiaoyuan wanted her to fetch food. The idea of bringing a meal to a friend—a first for her—sparkled in her eyes with excitement. She’d never experienced this kind of friendship before and was eager to try.

“Uh, that’s… not necessary.” Faced with Wen Hui’s suddenly dazzling, starry eyes, Zhuang Xiaoyuan turned away with difficulty, not wanting to see the pitiful disappointment that would surely follow her refusal. “I plan to cook dinner myself. Would you like to join me? I’m actually a decent cook.”

She snuck a glance at Wen Hui, curious about her reaction, and was startled by what she saw.

The moment Zhuang Xiaoyuan invited her to taste her cooking, Wen Hui, who had just been crestfallen at missing her chance to bring a meal, instantly revived. Her eyes sparkled even brighter as she rushed to the bedside, grasped Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s hands, and—with all the fervor of a love confession—declared, “Yes, I want to! I really, really want to! Please let me join you!”

Compared to the childish act of bringing food for a friend, eating a meal personally prepared by a friend was a far greater step in closeness. Wen Hui looked forward to dinner with great anticipation—it would be her first time tasting a friend’s home-cooked dish.

Truth be told, Zhuang Xiaoyuan was probably the first friend Wen Hui had ever truly accepted. Though Wen Hui’s personality wasn’t bad—just a little tsundere—her classmates never disliked her. Yet, because she was always competing with Zhuang Xiaoyuan for first place, others saw her as an aloof overachiever, hard to approach. Until now, she had never formed a truly close friendship, let alone tasted a friend’s cooking.