S-grade, and even the higher-sequence gene optimizers that exist only in theory or top-secret files.
Technology at that level has long surpassed simple, brute physical augmentation.
Their effects penetrate deep into the cellular level, optimizing metabolic pathways, enhancing neural reflexes, significantly extending telomeres to delay aging, and comprehensively boosting immunity and environmental adaptability.
Outward physical changes are minimal; they might even appear more proportionate and leaner than ordinary people due to metabolic optimization.
Qin Beiwang looked tall and slender, even somewhat thin, nothing like a powerhouse.
But only he knew what astonishing explosive strength, endurance, and recovery capabilities were contained within this seemingly "frail" body.
The brute force that Captain Feng took pride in earlier would likely be no match for him.
As for longevity... he thought of those white-haired, stern-faced old generals in the Joint Staff Department.
Many of them were probably over two hundred years old in reality, yet their appearances were maintained as if they were in their fifties or sixties.
That full head of "wisdom-and-seniority-symbolizing" white hair was mostly deliberately retained, or even a "facade" maintained through technological means.
On occasions requiring approachability or vitality, they could "switch" back to a younger state at any time.
Genetic enhancement was no secret among the Federation's upper echelons; it was another invisible marker of status and a dimension of power.
"Just different grades of injections," Qin Beiwang whispered to Zhuang Zhixuan, his tone as flat as stating an objective fact.
"If it ever comes to dismantling mechs barehanded, the fleet would already be doomed."
After the brief interlude, the reception staff arrived and led Qin Beiwang's group to the orbital elevator heading to the surface.
They passed through a dedicated passage into a spacious, clean, and futuristic elevator car.
The interior of the car was cylindrical, with transparent special material on all sides and the ceiling. It wasn't traditional glass but more like a solidified energy field, crystal clear.
The interior space was comfortable, equipped with fixed seats and handrails, with pleasant temperature and stable air pressure, making movement almost imperceptible.
A young officer curiously reached out and touched the transparent "glass" of the car's inner wall, finding it cool and smooth to the touch.
He exclaimed in surprise, "Not hot at all? But we're going through the atmosphere!"
A slightly older reception officer nearby smiled and explained, "This is multi-layered composite field-constraint material. The outermost layer is an active energy deflection shield, effectively dispersing and neutralizing most of the frictional heat and particle impacts during atmospheric re-entry. It's more specialized in single-item protection than warship shields, so rest assured."
Just then, a faint hum sounded as the car began to descend smoothly and accelerate.
Through the transparent walls, the view outside suddenly opened up.
First visible were countless "light columns" parallel to theirs, glowing with different colored guide lights—these were other operational orbital elevators.
Within some of the light columns, massive cargo-elevator capsules resembling shipping containers could be faintly seen, like steel building blocks strung by invisible hands, moving up and down with terrifyingly steady speed in an endless stream.
Adjacent passenger elevator capsules were even more refined, like gleaming shuttles gliding silently along the light tracks.
The streams of capsules ascending and descending wove a magnificent tapestry of mechanical beauty and ultimate efficiency within this vertical passage between heaven and earth.
As the altitude rapidly decreased, a faint, dreamlike blue-white glow began to shimmer around the cabin—a halo produced by the interaction between the energy shield and the upper atmosphere.
The sea of clouds below was effortlessly pierced, and the details of the planet's surface rapidly magnified.
Breaking through the final layer of clouds, the landscape of the Capital Star unfurled before their eyes like a colossal scroll.
It was an endless steel forest of metal, crystal, and composite materials.
Countless towering skyscrapers stood in orderly rows, their surfaces not mere curtain walls but photon panels flowing with data streams or displaying dynamic landscapes.
Between these giants, an orderly three-dimensional traffic network filled the sky: various models of aircraft—from personal shuttles to small public transport craft—raced along translucent guidance light paths like cells surging through blood vessels, bustling yet never colliding.
Further away, massive floating advertisement platforms drifted slowly, projecting holographic images that spanned entire city blocks.
On the façades of some of the tallest or most prominent buildings, enormous holographic projections played on loop.
Among these, the most eye-catching were undoubtedly the recruitment advertisements of the Federal Military:
In one scene, a sleek Federal Starship fired a broadside volley, its blinding main cannon beams slicing through the dark void, piercing the shield of an Imperial warship and tearing its hull apart, erupting into a brilliant yet brutal fireball.
The scene shifted: several humanoid mechas emblazoned with the Federation emblem roared out of landing pods, heavy assault rifles spewing fire as they tore massive breaches in the walls of an Imperial ground fortress, their movements fierce and powerful.
An impassioned, drumbeat-backed advertisement voiceover followed:
"Your vision should reach farther than the starlight! Your fury should burn for the Federation! — Interstellar Navy Recruitment Bureau."
"Beneath your feet lies our homeland, before you stands the enemy! Forge your body from steel, build the Great Wall across ten thousand miles! — Interstellar Army Recruitment Bureau."
"All for the Federation's tomorrow! Glory be with you!"
The advertisements were visually striking, the music blood-boiling, and the slogans stirring, attempting to portray war as a noble cause filled with heroism and ultimate sacrifice.
Inside the cabin, Qin Bei Wang's subordinates watched in silence.
They had just returned from a real, bloody battlefield of calculations and sacrifice.
The scenes in the advertisements felt both familiar and strange to them. Familiar were the weapons and settings; strange was the "romance" and "passion" crafted through careful editing and musical enhancement.
A Sub-fleet Commander watched the slow-motion close-up of the charging mechas in the advertisement, his lips curling slightly as he muttered to a companion.
"They didn't include the footage of mechas being blown to pieces by anti-armor missiles, or pilots burning to a crisp in their cockpits."
His companion, a gunner, stared expressionlessly at the scene of the starship volley.
"Nor the engine room overload explosions, or the moments when ships, disabled by Imperial electronic warfare, were pummeled like dead fish."
Zhuang ZhiXuan stood beside Qin Bei Wang and said softly,
"Propaganda requires it."
Qin Bei Wang's gaze swept over those dazzling advertisements, then passed over the orderly yet seemingly separated by an invisible barrier of bustling city below.
Everything here was glamorous, efficient, and full of hope.
What the recruitment advertisements tried to outline was a purified form of "honor" and "responsibility."
But what they brought back from Savannah was the real weight beneath that honor, the cold numbers behind that responsibility, and the unavoidable scars within victory.