"Emperor!"
As Kenthelion slowly stepped out of the warship Gloriana, countless people lined the streets to welcome him. The solar crisis that once overshadowed them had completely vanished, and a new life full of hope awaited everyone.
"A minor problem like this didn't require such a massive battle," Kenthelion said calmly. "From now on, you will keep your promises and pay the population tax according to the schedule we agreed upon. We will also take some of your people to form the Astra Militarum legion."
A representative bowed respectfully and reported, "Your Majesty, Emperor, you have successfully organized tens of millions of soldiers from various countries to join this Astra Militarum legion for the first time. However, all nations have agreed that before they depart Earth to fight in the galaxy, they want to hold a grand military parade as a farewell."
Kenthelion smiled faintly. "That's not a difficult request. They will be leaving their homeland to battle across the galaxy, so it's only natural they want to see their homes and say goodbye to their families one last time. I approve."
One by one, the leaders of the countries handed Kenthelion their troop enlistment reports. He began reading carefully:
China: 50 million
India: 40 million
United States: 30 million
Russia: 25 million
European Union (combined): 35 million
Africa (combined): 30 million
South America (combined): 20 million
ASEAN (Southeast Asia): 20 million
Middle East (Turkey, Iran, Arab nations, etc.): 20 million
Japan & Korea: 10 million
Australia & Oceania: 10 million
Total: 290 million soldiers ready to join the Astra Militarum under his command.
Kenthelion nodded with satisfaction at the number. "Very well, let's arrange for a large-scale military parade."
-------
A newly composed anthem echoed across the lands.
The newly formed Terra Concordia Legion, equipped with the latest warfare technology, marched in perfect square formations across the vast parade ground.
Lining the streets stood rows of solemn veterans in uniform.
Clutched in their hands were photographs of loved ones—family, friends, children—they would be leaving behind in the universe known as Wandering Earth.
Some kissed the photos gently before tucking them close to their hearts, one final memory of home.
Many of these veterans had long retired, but they were not too old to fight.
They chose to return—not for glory, but to protect the youth.
They knew all too well: if the young were sent to the front, many would never return.
So the older generation stepped forward, giving the young a chance at a longer life.
Among the ranks were new recruits—family members, friends, sons and daughters—joining Terra Concordia.
Elder veterans from each nation stood along the path, saluting them with pride.
"If only we were younger," they thought, "we would march beside you... so fewer of you would have to go."
Generals from all over the world—clad in ornate uniforms—marched side by side with common soldiers.
Today, there were no ranks, no barriers.
They all understood: after this parade, there would be no return.
Only the battlefield awaited, and the honor of becoming part of the noble Astra Militarum.
This military parade was, without doubt, the grandest in human history.
But also, the most heartbreaking.
Many who marched would fall in battles yet to come—fighting alien forces in distant galaxies.
Their names may be forgotten... but their sacrifice would echo forever in the annals of the Imperium Caelestis.
"Everyone, stand tall!"
"Salute!"
Dozens of elderly generals from different nations stood proudly, raising their hands in one final salute.
They gazed upon the marching troops, pride and sorrow in their eyes.
"Our first step into the galaxy... begins with war."
Zhou Zhezhi let out a deep sigh, his gaze fixed on Earth's blue sky—perhaps for the last time.
He spoke softly, barely above a whisper.
-------
"Liu Pieqiang! You little brat!"
"Didn't I already let you live peacefully on Blue Star? War is the business of us old folks! What are you doing here?!"
Zhang Peng glared at Liu Pieqiang, his voice full of frustration.
"I didn't want to join either," Liu Pieqiang replied, scratching his head. "But when they saw how well I performed in training, they approved me. Besides... I saw those giant robots. I wanted to try piloting one!"
His innocent expression made Zhang Peng sigh deeply.
"Liu Pieqiang!"
A Celestial Imperium navy officer approached, holding a clipboard.
"You've been assigned to the Fourth Squadron as an X-Wing pilot."
Then he turned to Zhang Peng.
"Zhang Peng, you'll join the Fifth Transport Team. You're in charge of piloting a transport ship."
"Wait, sir!" Zhang Peng protested. "My scores were better than his!"
"He has actual space combat experience. You don't."
Suddenly, a cheerful voice interrupted.
"Hey, you guys are here too?"
It was Nov, walking over with a grin.
"Wow, I love this ship!"
He stood in awe, admiring the sleek starfighter before him.
"Sir, is he... a journalist?"
The officer looked behind him.
"You're on the wrong ship, pal."
He rolled his eyes and spoke into his comms.
"Bridge 8-4 here. We've got a reporter who boarded the wrong warship. Send a shuttle to pick him up."
"Acknowledged."
As the reporter was escorted away, Zhang Peng turned back to the officer.
"Sir, please—trust me. I really can handle a fighter jet. Let me be in the same unit as Liu. We can watch each other's backs."
The officer hesitated, then handed Zhang Peng a test form.
"Take the qualification test. If you pass, you'll be cleared to join as a pilot."
After he left, soldiers from different countries gathered and started chatting.
American soldier:
"I saw a huge robot on this battleship. One day, I want to be the pilot of one of those."
Russian soldier:
"I saw a massive tank earlier. I want to sit on top like a general!"
British soldier:
"They said those giant robots are called Gundams... but the pilot training is brutal."
The multinational troops continued chatting excitedly—