Beep beep, after two soft sounds, the flying car veered off the main magnetic metal lane and found a spot in the roadside parking area to stop. Boswell no longer doubted the authenticity of the artificial intelligence before him. During this maneuver, neither Fatty nor himself said a word; it was all done by that spherical robot pretending to be the car mascot, with its butt sticking up on the dashboard. No matter how high the level of humanoid simulation, or how seamless the humanized programming, a robot could never automatically take over control of a flying car without human intervention. "I just don’t understand..." Fatty reached out to open the car door. "It’s been a long time since I’ve been home, and soon I’ll have to leave again. They won’t even let me stroll around the streets. What kind of world is this? Is there no human rights left?" "I know you want to satisfy your vanity!" Boswell stared intently at the little kid, addressing Fatty without turning his head: "But if I were you, I wouldn’t get out of the car!" Fatty said in astonishment, "Why, can’t I just stand by the street to get a thrill?" For Fatty, who had been unpopular since childhood, seeing posters of himself plastered everywhere in the city was something that made him feel immensely proud and excited regardless. Just the thought of standing in front of his posters like a superstar, watching people crowd around in surprise and joy to ask for autographs, made Fatty exceedingly happy. "Shallow!" Boswell glared at Fatty disdainfully, feeling a headache coming on. Fatty blinked his eyes innocently, which reminded Boswell of the Command Department’s investigation report on him. The report included not only detailed descriptions from his classmates, teachers, and neighbors, but also comprehensive evaluations from psychologists, sociologists, and intelligence departments. Unlike all other heroes, from some perspective, Tian Xingjian was not someone with mainstream societal thoughts. His mind was blurry, and in many aspects, he even deliberately remained in his adolescent phase. Experiences shape character. And in many experts’ opinions, Fatty’s character was a miracle. It’s difficult for children to distinguish right from wrong. Long-term victims of bullying either become psychologically dark and timid, hiding from society, or psychologically dark and extremely hostile towards it. But Fatty, who had lost his parents at the age of six and grew up alone, bullied and ostracized by his peers, was different. This inherently optimistic, timid, yet kind little boy forged a nearly mad layer of armor for himself during his long growth process, minimizing the costs of growing up under such an exterior. This boy, unable to gain peer recognition or integrate into society, could freely use peeping and various pranks to attract others’ attention under his guise, fulfilling his growth needs. When such behavior became the norm, its cost approached zero. Typically, after being beaten up once, this Fatty would certainly peep ten times to reduce costs, causing the girls’ parents to be both amused and helpless. He could flatter without any psychological stress, could fawn and grovel, could cry on demand, could run away at the drop of a hat, could flirt with girls face-to-face, and could appear shamelessly and despicably in public. He could maximize his interaction with society at minimal cost and fight back against anyone who harmed him in the lowest, most shameless way possible. This was a kind of survival wisdom. A wisdom originating from the ancient Eastern civilizations on Earth, where playing dumb and mingling in society was a survival strategy. Such wisdom was incomprehensible to other civilizations. It was this wisdom that preserved Fatty’s mental sanctity. For in his heart, he always occupied a superior position towards others. When you saw him curling up at your feet crying, laughing at him, mocking him, calling him an idiot, you didn’t know that in his eyes, you were the true fool. Because of concern, Boswell, who had spoken with experts, now fully understood: on the surface, Fatty seemed to want to get out of the car to show off due to vanity. Even his thoughts were like that. However, in his subconscious, seeing himself suddenly exposed to the public felt like a severe threat! Getting out of the car, he just wanted to understand how it all happened. How did others see him? Boswell affectionately looked at the Fatty who was blinking adorably in front of him, sighed, and said, "You should first take a good look at the pedestrians on the street." "What’s the matter?" At Boswell’s words, Fatty looked out the car window. Though the high-rise buildings on both sides of the street had faded somewhat, the bustling crowd still repeated the urban prosperity. After all, this was one of the core commercial districts of the Capital Lutered City. A squad of female soldiers, marching in a line, proceeded along the street. A few girls crossed the street, running up to a bus stop to join others. Beside them, a few middle-aged women and two elderly people with white hair were quietly waiting for the bus. The traffic light at the intersection turned green, and the flying cars on the energy-saving magnetic lanes started one after another. The pedestrians on the sidewalks stopped and waited for the traffic light. Among them were young women, female students, middle-aged women, the elderly, and children. A middle-aged man holding a briefcase walked from the street to the sidewalk, standing quietly at the edge of the crowd, looking conspicuous. Fatty’s eyeballs moved with difficulty. He finally understood what Boswell wanted him to see. In the Leray Federation, men were absent from these streets. They had been gathered, dressed in uniforms, and sent to the front lines. They either died on the battlefield or were preparing to die. In the distance, on a constantly scrolling light curtain announcement board, name after name appeared and quickly disappeared. Fatty knew that those rapidly rolling names were the list of the deceased! The light changed, and the flying cars stopped. Pedestrians quickly crossed the crosswalk. Among the hurried crowd, besides that middle-aged man with a briefcase, there were no other men. The middle-aged man vanished around the corner. Fatty sat back quietly in his chair, an immense sense of loss, sadness, and deep-seated helplessness swept over him at that moment, stripping away his disguise. He ultimately could not change the world. The Federation had won victory after victory, but the war was far from over. The men of this country had no choice but to put down their work and lives, pick up guns, and resist the invasion with their lives. In just over three years, life had been completely transformed. Those warriors who perished on the battlefield were the lovers, husbands, sons, and fathers of these women before him. From now on, these women’s, the elderly’s, and children’s lives would no longer be complete. Their ordinary and peaceful lives were shattered by the war! "The Fei Alliance Joint Army had to stop the Western Alliance from attacking the Leray Federation through the Little Pyrenees and the Public Star System," Boswell said heavily. "The Federation has already exerted its greatest strength. Just in the Bermuda Star System, the daily sacrifices are already unbearable for the Federation. Hastings understands, everyone understands, if Leray continues to be attacked on three fronts, in a few months, we’ll be forced to draft women soldiers to the front lines!" Fatty listened silently, looking through the window at his face on the recruitment posters, feeling utterly powerless. He wanted to end this war, he always had. But this desire had never been as strong as it was now. "You should understand," Boswell said sorrowfully, watching the pedestrians through the car window. "Perhaps we can’t resolve the conflicts between humans in terms of economy, politics, and ethnicity. But at the very least, we should strive for a few more centuries of peace. War is just too cruel." "How do we end the war?" Fatty bowed his head: "The Federation is but a weakling in the human world, at the mercy of others. What’s the use of desperately achieving victories? The war has only just begun." "Indeed. Dozens of human nations, billions of people are being swept up," Boswell’s voice floated in Fatty’s ear. "Countless soldiers, mechas, warships. Once this war starts, it can never stop. Only when one side can no longer continue will we achieve peace." A sad, bitter smile appeared on Fatty’s face: "If that’s the case, the Leray Federation will never last until the end. Whether the Fei Alliance or the Western Alliance wins, we’ll still be the losers!" "But what if we mastered new Space Jump Technology?" Boswell’s voice became somewhat excited. "What if we acquired a supercomputer with Artificial Intelligence? What if we could integrate forces outside Leray?" ***** The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅•𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝗇𝖾𝗍 Don’t use ordinary thinking to speculate about Fatty. From the beginning, I said this is a story of laughing and cursing in war. When you expect Fatty to become a serious general, you’ve already lost the fun of reading this book. .(To be continued, if you want to know what happens next, please visit www.qidian.com. More Chapters are available, support the author and legitimate reading!)