Federal rescue vessels darted through the debris like busy worker bees.
They deployed tractor beams to collect identifiable remains of fallen comrades, salvage valuable Imperial equipment fragments, and mark hazardous areas potentially containing unexploded ordnance.
At the battlefield's edge, the main forces of the Iron Fist Sub-Fleet had already regrouped.
Seventy-five starships formed a precise review formation centered around the Indomitable. Battle scars remained unrepaired on their hulls, with some armor plates still embedded with Imperial artillery shrapnel, yet every ship's bow rose high like triumphant warriors returning from battle.
In the central conference room of the flagship Indomitable, a special fleet meeting was underway.
The circular conference room measured thirty meters in diameter. At its center, a holographic projection displayed the real-time star chart of the Elvira Star System, clearly marking the trajectories of the recently concluded battle. From the ambush at Planet Agbag to the decisive engagement at the Seventh Jump Point, every movement was precisely traced in bright blue lines.
Seated around the circular conference table were all Sub-Level Fleet commanders of the Iron Fist Sub-Fleet and their adjutants. All twelve seats were occupied except one - the position to Yang Shao's left remained empty.
The conference room was silent.
No conversations occurred, no data pads were shuffled. Every commander sat upright, their gazes uniformly directed toward the conference room entrance. Some bore smoke-stained faces, others had arms wrapped in temporary bandages, and many eyes were bloodshot - all marks left by eight consecutive hours of intense combat. But now, these marks no longer symbolized exhaustion.
They were badges of honor.
The conference door slid open silently.
Qin Bei Wang entered.
He wore a brand-new dark blue fleet uniform, his shoulder insignia - a silver bar and one star - meticulously polished, gleaming coldly under the conference room's overhead lights. His expression remained neutral, his steps steady, his walking posture almost casual - creating a subtle contrast with the room's solemn atmosphere.
Yet the moment he stepped inside,
Every commander, including Yang Shao, rose simultaneously.
Their standing motion was perfectly synchronized, as if rehearsed. Ten officers in military uniforms straightened their backs, all eyes focused on Qin Bei Wang.
Yang Shao took a step forward.
The Iron Fist Sub-Fleet Commander, a battle-hardened veteran, regarded Qin Bei Wang with an indescribably complex expression - containing awe, relief, guilt, and a trace of unburdening.
"All personnel!"
Yang Shao's voice resonated solemnly and clearly through the silent conference room.
"To our hero!
Lieutenant Commander Qin Bei Wang, Commander of the Pluto Fleet, we extend the highest honors of the Federation military."
No applause, no cheers.
Only eleven commanders saluting in perfect unison.
Their arms raised at identical angles, fingertips positioned precisely at their temples.
This wasn't mechanical movement from training - this was heartfelt respect for the victor.
Qin Bei Wang's footsteps paused for a moment.
He looked at those saluting arms, at those eyes fixed upon him.
Just over ten hours ago, the emotions in those eyes had mostly been contempt, doubt, or indifference.
Now, only pure respect remained.
He raised his right hand and returned a standard military salute.
The motion was clean and precise, but without any extra force.
"At ease."
Yang Shao said.
Arms lowered.
But no one sat down.
Qin Bei Wang walked to the empty seat at the head of the table but did not sit down immediately.
He scanned the conference room, his gaze briefly resting on each face, then spoke, his voice calm.
"This victory does not belong to me alone.
It belongs to every crew member of the Pluto Fleet who held out until the last moment.
It belongs to the warriors of the Uranus Fleet who blocked the enemy's charge with their flesh and blood, and to every officer and soldier of the Iron Fist Sub-Fleet who fought on the battlefield."
He paused.
"It also belongs to those who could not come to this conference room.
Captain Li Zhen of the Lightning is still in critical care in the medical bay, and the three hundred and twenty-seven officers and crew of the North Star will remain forever among the stars.
They are the true heroes."
Only after saying this did he sit down.
The others followed suit.
But one figure remained standing.
Zhao Rui.
The Commander of the Uranus Fleet, the bearded man who had once publicly questioned Qin Bei Wang, who had once been convinced he was nothing but a gilded waste.
Now he stood there, his back ramrod straight, but his head bowed low.
A fresh scar marked his face.
It was left when the Bridge of the Iron Spine was hit by shrapnel, stretching from his right brow bone down to his cheek. Although it had received emergency treatment, the sutures were still clearly visible.
The eyes of everyone in the conference room focused on him.
Zhao Rui took a deep breath, then raised his eyes to look at Qin Bei Wang.
The defiant, unruly light that had once been in his gaze was gone, replaced by a kind of almost heavy sincerity.
"Lieutenant Commander Qin."
His voice was somewhat hoarse, but each word was spoken clearly.
"Before you say what comes next, I have a few words to say."
Qin Bei Wang looked at him, said nothing, and only gave a slight nod.
Zhao Rui took another deep breath, as if the words to come required all his strength to utter:
"From the moment you were assigned to the Pluto Fleet, I looked down on you.
I thought you were a waste who rose through your father's influence, a playboy who would get all your subordinates killed.
During the combat briefing, I openly contradicted you, questioned you, and even cursed in my heart for you to get lost sooner."
His voice grew lower, but more resolute.
"I was wrong."
Three words.
In the silent conference room, they rang out as clearly as metal striking the floor.
"When you annihilated the Dragon Lizard Fleet at Planet Agbag, I thought that was Deputy Commander Zhuang's doing.
When you pursued Wells, I thought you were just giving blind orders.
When you commanded us to fire at the coordinates in the smoke, I thought you were insane."
Zhao Rui's eyes began to redden, not from anger, but from some more complex emotion.
"But every time, you were right.
Every time, you proved with facts just how utterly wrong I was."
He paused, then made a move that stunned everyone present.
He took a step forward, toward Qin Bei Wang, and bowed deeply.
It was no perfunctory slight bow, but a solemn, ninety-degree bend at the waist.
"I apologize for all my previous rudeness, all my prejudice, all my foolish doubts!"
Zhao Rui's voice came from below, somewhat muffled but utterly sincere.
"You are not a waste, not a fop, not some gilded young master.
You are a true Commander, a soldier worthy of your father Marshal Qin Qianfan's name."