"Ethan, we've arrived."
Marcus Zhang pointed toward the solemn, dignified hall ahead, his eyes brimming with a soldier's pride. "You can feel it, can't you? The enormous machinery of the state has already surged to life for you. The Federation today is like a taut, fully drawn bow."
He paused, looking Ethan in the eye. "And you are the one responsible for firing the arrow."
Ethan pushed open the car door. The crisp night wind swept across his cheeks, cooling the adrenaline. He adjusted his collar and took a deep breath. His gaze became firmer than ever before. If a trace of apprehension had lingered, it vanished now, replaced by the weight of a nation standing at his back.
Since the nation treats me as a National Scholar, I shall repay it as a National Scholar.
Ethan took his first step forward, meeting the gaze of the guards, and walked with a vigorous, steady stride. This was no longer just a meeting; it was the turning point in the history of two worlds, two civilizations, and the Myriad Realms beyond.
Passing through the vermilion gates that symbolized the Federation's highest authority, there were no cold barriers or harsh interrogations. Instead, soft streetlights cast a warm glow over the path. Ethan followed Marcus into a simply furnished conference room.
The red carpet underfoot showed signs of wear, and a classical landscape painting titled Such is the Beauty of the Empire hung on the wall. The air held the faint, lingering scent of aged ink and tobacco.
The moment Ethan stepped through the door, the Elders—men who had been sitting on sofas in quiet conversation—stood up simultaneously.
If the global media witnessed this, the shockwaves would level stock markets. These were figures whose single word could make the geopolitics of Blue Star tremble. Yet, they greeted an eighteen-year-old youth as an equal—or rather, as an honored guest.
The man standing in the center wore a faded, high-collared tunic suit. His face was kind, but his eyes held the terrifying clarity of one who had navigated the storms of history.
This was Prime Minister Lee.
"Pri—"
Ethan started to offer a formal salute, but his hand was caught by a pair of warm, calloused, and surprisingly strong hands. Prime Minister Lee held Ethan's hand, looking him up and down with a smile so genuine it was as if he were looking at his own grandson returning home with a trophy.
"Since you call Marcus 'Uncle,' if you don't mind this old man, just call me Elder Lee."
That simple shift in address instantly defined the room: here, there were no superiors, only a shared cause.
"Elder Lee," Ethan said, finding his voice.
"Good. Good lad."
Lee pulled Ethan toward the sofa. He didn't rush into geopolitics or military logistics. Instead, he personally poured Ethan a cup of hot tea. "This isn't some rare reserve; it's a rough tea I dried myself back in my home province. Taste it. it'll wash away the fatigue."
Once the tea was served, Lee's expression became solemn. He looked at Ethan with profound sincerity.
"Ethan, everything you said to Marcus in the car, and everything you demonstrated at the base... we saw it all. To be honest, even those of us with one foot in the grave were startled. But more than that, we felt fortunate."
Lee gestured toward the vast night sky outside. "We are fortunate that fate blesses the Federation, sending a Qilin Child like you in this Great Era of Competition. What we are even more fortunate about is that your heart is righteous. You chose to trust your country immediately."
"The nation will never betray that trust."
Lee picked up a freshly sealed, red-stamped document from the table and handed it to Ethan with both hands.
"After discussion, the Council has decided to officially appoint you as the Director-General of the Astra Strategic Development Agency, concurrently serving as the Chief Commander of the Multiversal Expeditionary Force."
"Regarding the Starry Sky Base and all future world development, you possess the absolute right of veto. Whether it is mobilizing the military, allocating national resources, or launching research projects, you do not need approval. You decide. Marcus Zhang will be your deputy, responsible for running your errands and handling the logistics."
Ethan accepted the document. Despite his mental preparation, the sheer weight of the authority made his chest tighten. This wasn't just power; it was the nation handing him its very soul.
Discerning Ethan's thoughts, Lee waved a hand dismissively. "Don't feel pressured. Beyond the titles, if you have any personal requirements, just say the word. I know young people hate being restrained. The state will not limit your freedom, nor will we watch you like a prisoner."
"However," Lee's voice took on a sharper edge of dominance. "Your safety is now the Federation's highest priority. To guard against foreign agents or accidents, we have assigned a Shadow Squad. They will handle perimeter security only—they will never interfere with your private life."
"Also, you need a residence in the Capital. The Westmount Estate near the base has been transferred to your name. If your parents prefer not to move, the local government will protect them in secret. If they wish to come here, they will have the best of everything—jobs, schools, healthcare. In a word..."
Lee looked directly into Ethan's eyes. "You open new territories for the Federation on the front lines, and the nation will resolve every worry on your home front. You give us a future, and we guarantee your prosperity for generations."
The promises were blunt, honest, and absolute.
"Thank you, Elder Lee," Ethan nodded, his gaze clearing. "If the nation does not fail me, I shall never fail the nation."
"Haha! Good! Let's not be so serious." Lee laughed heartily and checked the wall clock. "It's nearly four in the morning. After being busy all night, your stomach must be growling. Come, join us old men for a bite."
The dining room was adjacent. There were no rare delicacies or imperial feasts. On the round table sat steaming bowls of millet porridge, plates of crisp pickled vegetables, and two large platters of freshly steamed pork and scallion buns.
"Eat while it's hot," the Elders said, acting like kindly neighbors as they piled buns into Ethan's bowl.
"So, Ethan, where exactly did you grow up? How do you like university life? Is the cafeteria food decent? If not, we'll send a master chef over to give them some 'guidance' later."
At the table, the heavy burden of the world was tucked away. They chatted about life, and Ethan smiled, biting into a juice-filled bun, feeling the warmth of a nation finally wrapping around him.