He turned slightly, facing the central and highest seat of the viewing platform, his expression solemn and respectful as he announced clearly:
"Next, we invite a member of the Federal Supreme Command, one of the Seven Grand Marshals—"
He paused, then uttered that thunderous name in Federal military circles with clarity and force:
"Marshal Qin Qianfan—"
"To personally bestow the 'Planetary Medal' upon Senior Colonel Qin Bei Wang, in recognition of his extraordinary courage and decisiveness displayed in the dire circumstances of the Savannah Campaign!"
"Hiss—!"
Below the stage, countless sharp intakes of breath instantly rose, overwhelming the lingering cheers that had not yet fully subsided.
Marshal Qin Qianfan!
One of the Federation's Seven Grand Marshals, the titan commanding the First Fleet of the Galactic Star Sector, a true pinnacle of the military world!
And moreover... Qin Bei Wang's biological father!
For a father—and a Marshal father at that—to personally confer the "Planetary Medal" upon his son, who has achieved unparalleled military merit, in such a grand public ceremony...
This was not merely an honor but a profoundly symbolic act of legacy and recognition!
A rare and celebrated moment in Federal Military History!
Countless gazes immediately shifted from Qin Bei Wang, burning with intensity, toward the highest point of the viewing platform.
Media lenses frantically adjusted their angles, striving to capture this historic moment.
On stage, Qin Bei Wang's heart tightened sharply the instant he heard the name "Qin Qianfan."
The original body's father!
That Federal Marshal who, in the fragments of memory, stood as imposing as a mountain, reserved in emotion, and perpetually engaged in campaigns far from home!
Since crossing over, he had successfully portrayed "Qin Bei Wang" by relying on the original body's memory fragments and his own abilities, even deceiving his closest adjutant and subordinates.
But facing the biological father of this body—a Marshal whose insight must be extraordinarily keen, and who would have a unique understanding of his son (even if not particularly close)...
A near-instinctive tension, belonging to an "imposter," surged uncontrollably from the depths of his heart.
He could play the part well, but would the details left by bloodline and long-term living expose inconsistencies under close contact?
Would those Eyes, which had seen through countless battlefields and human hearts, detect something amiss?
He strove to maintain a calm expression, his posture still erect, but the fingers hanging at his side curled almost imperceptibly.
At this moment of universal anticipation and Qin Bei Wang's private unease—
A low, distinctive hum echoed over the square, not the roar of fighter craft engines but more akin to the high-frequency vibration of a powerful anti-gravity field operating steadily.
The crowd looked up.
They saw a deep blue figure flying steadily from a high-level platform of the parliament building.
He was not riding in a hovercar but standing directly atop a small, disc-shaped single-person anti-gravity flyer.
The flyer was matte black overall, with almost no exposed components, only a halo of faint blue light along its edges indicating its operation.
And the person standing upon it was the focal point of all gazes.
He wore the deep blue Federation Marshal's Service Uniform, but the tailoring was more refined, the fabric shimmering with an indescribably noble luster under the sunlight.
On his shoulder boards were not military stars, but the silver star insignia unique to a Federation Marshal—a solemn "U" shape formed by smaller golden stars, arching around a central, massive, and brilliant primary star, symbolizing supreme authority over all commanders.
His face appeared to be in his forties or fifties, but his true age was far from that—a result of the highest level of genetic optimization combined with the tempering of time.
His facial features bore a five or six out of ten resemblance to Qin Beiwang, yet they were more sharply defined and rugged, like a rocky peak sculpted by stellar storms over billions of years.
On his chest, no medals were worn, for they could no longer bear the weight of his achievements.
Only a few specially commissioned medals, positioned at the very pinnacle of the Federal Medal System and symbolizing decisive battle victories and lifelong contributions, hung quietly, each representing a legend worthy of being written into textbooks.
And so, riding that silently hovering aircraft, under the gaze of everyone, he glided over the square, descending slowly toward the ceremonial platform.
No grand honor guard, no blaring accompaniment.
Just one man, one aircraft.
Yet the intangible aura and authority of a Federation Marshal descended like a tangible presence.
It swiftly transformed the previously bustling square into one of solemnity, silence, and even a touch of awe-filled breathlessness.
The aircraft hovered precisely at the edge of the platform, half a foot above the ground.
Marshal Qin Qianfan stepped down briskly in one stride, landing on the platform.
The aircraft then automatically ascended, flying away without a sound.
The moment he stood firm, his gaze swept past Qin Beiwang, who was just a few steps away, first giving a slight nod to the six-star general presiding over the ceremony.
Only then did he finally turn his eyes to his own son.
That gaze was calm, profound, like a windless deep sea, showing not the slightest ripple, yet it made Qin Beiwang feel as if a thousand-pound weight were pressing down upon him.
Qin Beiwang immediately straightened his spine, suppressing all chaotic thoughts.
In the most standard military posture, he raised his arm in salute to his father—and to the Federation Marshal.
"Marshal!"
Qin Qianfan looked at his son's youthful face, already beginning to show sharp edges.
He silently observed for two seconds.
Then, slowly raising his hand, he returned a marshal's salute.
The motion was standard, meticulous.
The salute completed.
Marshal Qin Qianfan's movements were steady and precise.
He first took the two brand-new one-bar four-star colonel shoulder boards from the tray held by the protocol officer.
The star insignias shimmered with a cold, glorious luster under the sunlight.
He raised his hands, fitting the new, formal colonel shoulder boards, one after another, firmly onto the dark blue shoulder straps of the military uniform.
Throughout the process, his fingers did not tremble in the slightest, as if he were performing the final assembly of the most precise starship components.
Next, his gaze fell upon the "Planetary Medal."
He extended both hands, gently lifting it, his fingertips brushing over the cool, gem-like surface of the miniature planet, which seemed to swirl with nebulae, and the two golden star rings embedded with fine diamonds encircling it.
Then, leaning forward with a focus and solemnity even greater than before, he once again pinned this weighty medal onto Qin Beiwang's chest, just above his heart on the left side.
After fastening it, he did not immediately release his hands.
Instead, he clenched his right fist and used his knuckles to strike the medal symbolizing an entire planet—neither too lightly nor too heavily, with steady and firm force.
"Thump."
A dull sound, transmitted clearly through the military uniform, reached Qin Beiwang's ears, as if it had struck the hearts of everyone present.
It was not an adjustment, nor a confirmation.
It was a ritual, a branding. Like an ancient blacksmith pressing a red-hot iron onto a shield, declaring ownership and responsibility.
After completing this, Marshal Qin Qianfan finally raised his eyes, his gaze meeting Qin Beiwang's once again.