The next day, Ramba Ral gave Char his answer. The result was touching—the former uncle-nephew or master-subordinate pair were together again, working toward the same goal once more.
Char was overjoyed. He hadn't been this happy since childhood, and it was the first time he felt how wonderful it was to have a completely trusted confidant by his side.
However, Char hadn't really changed. Around those close to him and those he acknowledged, he could temporarily drop his facade. But when facing others, he remained the [Red Comet], still the Char Aznable who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.
Char and Ramba Ral then had a private discussion. They first identified some potential allies before diving into simulation training for the new Mobile Suits.
But Murrue advised Char and Ramba Ral to train in moderation and not become too engrossed. After all, the control systems of the Zaku Warrior, Zaku Phantom, and Messala were different from the Zaku II's. If they grew accustomed to the new systems now, they might struggle with the Zaku II's outdated controls later, which would be problematic.
They all had to return to the Zeon Army eventually; otherwise, their plans would be impossible to carry out.
But they couldn't just bring the Zaku Warrior, Zaku Phantom, and Messala back to Zeon, could they? That would expose all their secrets.
...
Meanwhile, at Earth's Jaburo Base, the internal commendation ceremony had concluded. It had to be said that Yang Hui had once again been used by Revil and Gopp.
While the internal ceremony was indeed safer than a public one, that didn't mean it was without danger!
Although no overt attacks occurred, Gopp and Revil had uncovered a large number of spies within Jaburo Base behind the scenes, even arresting several high-ranking officials. Wasn't this clearly using Yang Hui and the others as bait?
"Revil, Gopp, mark my words! This isn't over!"
"Thump thump thump thump..."
"It's been days already. Is the Major still not over it?" Ford Romfellow whispered to Russ Kessel as they watched Yang Hui pummeling a punching bag in the gym as if it were his mortal enemy, with several already burst sandbags lying nearby.
"Yeah, seems not," Russ Kessel replied expressionlessly.
"Thump~!!"
"Eek~!!!"
With a familiar sound, another sandbag met its heroic end. Ford Romfellow and Russ Kessel trembled as they watched Yang Hui expertly replace it and continue, their legs shaking with fear that he might suddenly turn his attention to them.
Why them?
Because Yang Hui had destroyed countless sandbags over the past few days, terrifying everyone. So whenever he was in the gym, no one else dared to enter.
What? Why were Ford Romfellow and Russ Kessel there?
As temporary secretary and assistant, they needed to be on hand to notify Yang Hui immediately if anything came up, since he carried nothing with him while working out.
"How much longer until shift change?"
"Five more minutes..."
"Five minutes? Can't they just come five minutes early?"
"Be thankful if they're not late. Early? Have you ever been early?"
"No..."
"Then stop talking nonsense!"
Five minutes—usually the blink of an eye—felt like an eternity to Fort Romfellow and Russ Kessel at that moment.
Soon after Yang Hui smashed another sandbag, the PADs of Fort Romfellow and Russ Kessel buzzed, signaling the arrival of their saviors.
"Major."
"What is it?" Yang Hui asked while replacing the sandbag.
"General Revil..."
Yang Hui: (╬￣皿￣)
"What does that old fox want now?""
"Ah… no… that's not it." Fort Romfellow wished he could slap himself for mentioning Revil's name at such a time. "The new recruits have arrived. What should we do?"
"How many days has it been? Why are they only arriving now? Are Revil and Gopp so inefficient? Don't they know the Federation is pressed for time right now?"
Though his words were full of disdain, his actions spoke otherwise. Yang Hui grabbed his clothes and headed out of the gym, leaving the mess behind—someone else would clean it up, no need for them to worry.
Fort Romfellow and Russ Kessel obediently followed Yang Hui without a word, not daring to speak. On one hand, they didn't dare engage in the topic—cursing Revil and Gopp was something only Yang Hui could get away with. Anyone else would face reassignment to remote outposts as clerks for life.
On the other hand, experience had taught them that when Yang Hui was angry, it was best to do nothing. The consequences might not be severe, but they would certainly be… memorable.
As they moved forward, Yang Hui led the two back to the Twelfth Independent Technical Division's base. Seeing Jung and the others already lined up neatly on the training ground, Fort Romfellow and Russ Kessel quickly joined the ranks. As for the new recruits…
Yang Hui only saw a handful of people. Among them were South Burning and Cima Garahau, who had rushed from Granada. Their eyes lit up when they saw Yang Hui, and they stood at attention, especially Cima Garahau, whose gaze burned with intensity.
The others also fell into formation upon seeing Yang Hui. Some looked passionate, some held expressions of admiration, some remained indifferent, and others appeared deeply serious.
"Where are the others?" Yang Hui asked Travis Kirkland, his brow furrowed deeply as he surveyed the sparse crowd. Arriving at a new unit and not immediately assembling to meet their commanding officer—where had they gone? What were they doing? Were these people even soldiers? Had the Federal Army decayed to this extent?
"They went to the MS Hangar," Travis Kirkland reported.
"What's wrong with you all?" Yang Hui scolded. As veterans of the Twelfth Independent Technical Division, why hadn't Travis Kirkland and the others gathered the new recruits and stopped them from wandering off? And the hangar—what kind of place was that? The Astray Gundam was still classified. Was it something to be casually viewed?
"We couldn't stop them," Travis Kirkland explained. "There are many troublemakers, and their ranks are no lower than ours."
Another rotten aspect of the Federal Army was its rigid hierarchy. Those with higher ranks, even if incompetent, could boss around and abuse their subordinates, no matter how capable they were.
"Go bring them back!"
"Understood."
The eight men immediately rushed to the hangar to retrieve the newcomers, knowing Yang Hui was truly angry. These rookies were in trouble, and if they didn't redeem themselves, they would be too.
However, instead of bringing anyone back, chaotic noise erupted from the hangar's direction. Yang Hui's expression darkened further—he knew the new recruits had clashed with Travis Kirkland and his group.
"Follow me."
Yang Hui led the present newcomers to investigate and found both sides already brawling. Thanks to his daily training regimen, his men were no pushovers. Eight of them were fighting over a dozen, and several opponents were already down.
Bang!
Enraged, Yang Hui fired a shot into the air. The chaotic brawl instantly ceased, leaving the hangar eerily silent, with only the gunshot echoing.
Yang Hui didn't holster his pistol, gripping it as he strode forward. He directly asked the newcomers, "Who threw the first punch?"
This wasn't to protect them—Yang Hui trusted his men wouldn't start the fight. By questioning the newcomers directly, he gave them a chance to own up. If they showed responsibility, he might go easier on them.
But he was disappointed. The ringleader stepped forward, smug and arrogant, his nose practically tilted to the sky.
"So you're that pretty boy? Hah, you don't look like much."
"Last chance. Who started it?" Yang Hui's voice was low, repeating the question like a volcano on the verge of eruption—deceptively calm before unleashing devastation.
"Oho? What's this, pretty boy? Think you're tough? I'll—" The ringleader reached out to shove Yang Hui, but before he made contact, Yang Hui seized his wrist, twisted it violently, and a sharp crack echoed.
"Ah—!"
With his wrist bent 180 degrees, the ringleader screamed in agony.
But as he cried out, Yang Hui intensified the pressure, slamming him to the ground while maintaining his grip. He then stomped on the man's elbow—another crack—snapping the arm in the opposite direction.
"Ah—ugh—!!!!"
"Your voice is grating." Just as the man prepared to scream again, Yang Hui stomped on his face, muffling the sound.
"Major! You've gone too far!" Though the others hesitated to challenge Yang Hui's rank as boldly as their leader, seeing their comrade's brutal treatment pushed them to rush forward and retaliate. But...
Bang! Bang!
Two bullets whizzed past their ears, the searing sting freezing them in place.
"Too far? I don't think so." Yang Hui tilted his head, a sinister smirk playing on his lips, his tone and gaze as cold as glacial depths, devoid of any warmth.
"I don't care about your ranks or how coddled you were in your old units. Here and now, you're just rookies. Understood?"
"Y-Yes, sir!" they chorused.
"Louder! Did you not eat!?"
"YES, SIR!" they shouted in unison.
"And you?" Yang Hui looked down at the man beneath his foot.
"Mmph... mmph..."
Yang Hui shifted his foot, allowing the man to speak again. "Well?"
"You bastard..."
Thump! Seeing him still spewing vulgarities, Yang Hui once again stepped on his face.
"Bernard Monsha, ace pilot of the 4th Team, elite Undying Squadron, 18th Air Strike Group. Callsign [Vulture of the Desert], with 13 shootdowns. Correct?"
"Mmmph... mmmph..."
"But your shootdowns are Dopp Fighters and Magella Attack Tanks, not MS. You've never faced an MS in direct combat either. So your kill count means nothing to us. You have no right to be arrogant."
"Mmmph... mmmph... mmmph..."
"My unit doesn't need someone like you. Get the hell back where you came from."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Yang Hui lifted his foot and stomped down hard. A distinct crack echoed from Bernard Monsha's neck. His eyes widened, mouth gaping open but unable to make a sound. The next instant, he lost consciousness.
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