In a North Ireland underground sanctuary, the phone rang within the Department of Human Refugees, amidst a historical relics museum.

"Hello, this is the 71st Army Headquarters of the Human Alliance. Commander Lance will speak to you shortly."

Zheng Rong closed the book in his hand and answered, "Lance?"

Lance’s voice was hoarse and weary. "Hello, Zheng Rong."

Zheng Rong remained silent, sensing that if Lance was calling personally, something significant must have happened.

"The research facility exploded," Lance said gravely. "I'm sorry, but I need you to come to Siberia. The North Ireland military will arrange a private jet for you. As the only relative of Zheng Feng, it's crucial that you come immediately."

By the time Zheng Rong arrived, the scientific research zone within the East Siberian underground military bunker had been completely obliterated. The first test of the particle generator had triggered an energy storm. All six researchers involved in the experiment, including his brother Zheng Feng, perished in the ensuing explosions, which also ignited a chain of blasts in nearby munitions storage. Nothing remained—no bodies, no data, only a gaping hole connecting the underground chamber to the surface.

At the underground airstrip, Lance and his aide personally greeted him.

Zheng Rong asked coldly, "Where is my brother's body?"

"We don’t have time for that," Lance replied. "We have less than an hour. The Mayans will soon discover this military base. Please come to the conference room. The military needs your opinion on some follow-up matters."

Lance's bloodshot eyes and the hardened scar on his face reflected the toll of recent events. The man beneath the navy-blue military uniform seemed more weary than ever.

Zheng Rong was well-acquainted with Lance, having known him since his school days when Lance, still a cadet, often crossed paths with him and his brother Zheng Feng. Back then, Lance, just 18, often sneaked into the academy to meet Zheng Feng and occasionally brought gifts for Zheng Rong, who was then only 14. Lance had become like an older brother to the two of them. Over the years, while Lance rose through the military ranks, becoming a general, Zheng Rong had grown distant from him. He always felt that Lance shared a deeper bond with his brother, Zheng Feng, which diluted the affection his brother had for him.

When their parents died during the Five-Year Defensive War, Zheng Feng became the only family Zheng Rong could rely on. Yet even that familial bond had to be shared with Lance, especially after Lance introduced Zheng Feng to a military scientific research institution, after which his brother almost never returned home.

Lance stopped at the conference room door, waiting for Zheng Rong to catch up. His posture was stiff, resolute, like a banner that would never falter. Without turning his head, Lance said, "I'm deeply sorry for Zheng Feng's death, Zheng Rong. From now on, if you'd like, I could be like a brother to you."

Zheng Rong replied icily, "Everyone dies. Today it’s him; in a few days, it will be us. Life is precarious in this era. I was prepared for this the day you convinced him to join the military. Worry about yourself."

After a brief pause, Lance murmured, "I'm deeply saddened."

He placed his finger on the fingerprint scanner outside the conference room, unlocking the heavy alloy doors to reveal seven people seated inside.

Zheng Rong recognized a few of them, senior military personnel whose faces he'd seen in propaganda materials or giving speeches advocating resistance against the invaders. Lance pulled out a chair for him and introduced him: "This is Zheng Rong, Zheng Feng’s brother."

The meeting began without the usual formalities—no briefing materials or slides. The group sat around a gray-white circular table under harsh lighting, as if in judgment.

An elderly man spoke first. "Seven hours ago, an explosion occurred at this research facility."

"This is General Peck, the lead of the human scientific research project," Lance interjected.

"We only have an hour left," Zheng Rong interrupted abruptly, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. His voice was biting: "So, please, get to the point. The Mayans are about to find us."

The crackle of the lighter and the waft of smoke punctuated the sudden silence in the room. Zheng Rong offered a cigarette to Lance, who refused, and said indifferently, "Please, show some understanding for his emotions."

Zheng Rong smiled but said nothing more.

A woman spoke next. "Mr. Zheng, how much do you know about your brother's research?"

"Nothing," Zheng Rong replied.

Peck interjected, "Don’t lie. Our military sources confirmed that Zheng Feng maintained monthly contact with you over the past few years."

Zheng Rong took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke before answering in a mocking tone, "You’ve all heard the theory by now—positrons and quarks collide, causing annihilation and releasing enough energy to distort space-time. The resulting distortion can replicate every molecule, atom, and even memory of that moment in real time. If you want to hear it again, I don't mind explaining. But the particle generator is destroyed, so what’s the point?"

Another officer spoke up. "It produced immense energy, causing the explosion that forces us to abandon this entire base. It’s a grave consequence. Someone must take responsibility."

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Zheng Rong shot back, "My brother already paid with his life. What more do you want him to bear?"

Silence fell over the room. After a pause, the woman asked, "Do you know the historical coordinates your brother selected for the initial experiment?"

Zheng Rong coldly replied, "No."

"If the particle generator could be rebuilt, would you be willing to continue your brother’s work?"

Zheng Rong laughed. "He was a physicist. I study history and mysticism. If I could carry on his work, why would the military need to train officers at all?"

"Why don’t you send a three-year-old into battle next time?"

General Peck declared, "Lance here is a martyr’s son. After I die, my children and grandchildren will continue this fight. As long as there are Pecks, humanity will never surrender to the Mayans!"

The woman added, "Zheng Feng was a genius. You’re his brother. I believe you have it in you too. I know he taught you a lot about physics when you were younger, and his groundbreaking ideas are likely known only to you."

Zheng Rong understood their implication. The military believed he knew something about his brother’s research and hoped he would continue where Zheng Feng left off.

Mockingly, he said, "You kept his work secret, imprisoned him here, and now, after his death, you hope I know his secrets. I have no clue what he was working on. Sorry, but I suggest you all start evacuating. It’s already been half an hour."

Zheng Rong stubbed out his cigarette and stood up to leave.

"Please wait, Mr. Zheng," General Peck called after him.

Zheng Rong stood before the cold steel door, unmoved, and after a pause, muttered, "Who said they’d look after me like a brother?"

Lance unlocked the door, and Zheng Rong stormed out. Lance hurried after him, their footsteps echoing through the freezing military base as soldiers prepared to evacuate. Despite the urgency, there was no panic among Lance's well-disciplined troops.

Catching up with Zheng Rong, Lance placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your brother left something behind."

Zheng Rong’s eyes flickered with a barely noticeable shift. "Handle it for me. You were closest to him. I’m tired. I want to go home," he said.

"No," Lance replied. "This is important. Even the military doesn’t know about it. Only you can take it."

Lance led Zheng Rong to a sterile laboratory in the corner of the base. "This is what was left after the explosion," Lance explained. "It’s the first sample from his experiment."

Zheng Rong’s heart skipped a beat. "He brought something back from the past?"

Lance didn’t answer. Instead, he input a 16-digit code and completed fingerprint, voice, and retinal scans to unlock a viewing wall.

Inside the sterile room, bathed in blue disinfection light, lay a man.

"A man from the past," Lance confirmed. "He’s unconscious."

Zheng Rong’s pupils contracted slightly as he took in the scene.

The man, stark naked, lay bound to a medical chair with alloy restraints on his wrists and ankles. His long black hair fanned out behind him.

"When the energy from the explosion dissipated, all other matter was vaporized, but this man appeared in their place."

Zheng Rong glanced at the heart monitor, noticing stable vital signs and a brainwave pattern indicative of dreaming.

"This is a real person, with independent thoughts," Zheng Rong remarked. "The brainwave activity suggests intense dreaming."

Lance nodded. From one perspective, Zheng Feng’s experiment had been successful, but no one knew who this man from the past was.

"He’s in his prime," Zheng Rong observed, studying the muscular figure, "around thirty or slightly older. Judging by his physical condition, he might have been a general."

The man’s muscular frame bore scars from blades and faint red marks on his neck, shoulders, and waist.

"It looks like he was facing death when he was brought here," Zheng Rong speculated. "The scar on his neck suggests he was about to be beheaded."

Lance agreed silently.

Zheng Rong continued, "He’s well-built, likely a cavalry officer, not a strategist. His broad shoulders suggest long hours of archery practice."

Lance looked at Zheng Rong, intrigued. "Do you have any guesses about who he might be? His era? Your brother must have discussed potential candidates with you."

"I never talked to him about it," Zheng Rong replied, studying the man’s feet and wrists. He realized who this man might be but chose not to reveal it.

"His left forearm is slightly more developed," Zheng Rong continued. "He probably wielded heavy weapons. Judging by the calluses on his hands, he was likely proficient with spears or staves."

"Chinese warriors loved to duel," Lance remarked. "But I doubt a brave general alone wins wars."

Zheng Rong smiled faintly but said nothing more.

Lance pressed further. "You know who he is, don’t you?"

Zheng Rong replied nonchalantly, "You’re not familiar with Chinese history. Even if I told you, it wouldn’t mean much."

"Try me," Lance challenged.

Zheng Rong listed a few names. "It could be King Zhou of Shang, or one of the Meng brothers, or Bai Qi, Li Mu, Xiang Yu, or Han Xin. You might recognize a few of them."

Lance wasn’t fooled by the distraction. "Who do you think it is?"

Zheng Rong didn’t answer, instead making a cruder observation about the man’s physique, intentionally irritating Lance. Finally, he asked, "Are you planning to turn him over to the military?"

Lance thought for a moment, then remained noncommittal.

Zheng Rong had expected this. An unidentified man would be of little use to the military, even if they were desperate for a war advisor. Yet, Zheng Rong didn’t want to reveal who the man truly was. He simply wanted Lance to struggle with the dilemma a little longer.

After all, this man was the result of his brother's ultimate sacrifice.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Zheng Rong said, "Give him to me. I’ll try to work with him."

Lance asked, "When can he be of use to the military?"

Zheng Rong's eyes turned cold. "You still don’t get it? He’s a person."

Lance sneered, "You are his descendant, not me."

Zheng Rong shot back, "If you can’t understand that his cooperation requires his consent, you’re doomed to failure. His unwillingness could cost you an entire army—or worse, end this war sooner than you think."

Before Lance could respond, a nearby monitor beeped. The man in the sterile room was waking up.

Zheng Rong and the man locked eyes through the glass. Despite his confusion, the man exuded an unmistakable aura of authority.

"Quite handsome," Zheng Rong muttered. "Rugged, with character."

Lance asked, "Do you understand ancient Chinese?"

"I do, but I doubt he’ll be in a talking mood," Zheng Rong replied.

Suddenly, the base shook violently as the Mayan invaders launched their attack.

"We need to move!" Lance shouted. "I’ll arrange for him to be evacuated."

Another blast rocked the base. As the danger escalated, Zheng Rong ordered, "Get him some clothes and bring him with us!"

Inside the sterile room, the ancient man, sensing the imminent threat, struggled fiercely against his restraints, letting out an angry roar. His muscles bulged as he pulled with such force that the alloy restraints snapped.

Zheng Rong’s eyes widened. Lance drew his knife, shouting, "Stand back!"

But before he could act, the man broke free of his restraints and lunged at Lance, overpowering him with terrifying speed. Though Lance had once been a military academy champion in hand-to-hand combat, he was no match for this ancient warrior.

"Run, Zheng Rong!" Lance yelled, barely holding his own.

Zheng Rong was about to flee when the man, having overheard their brief exchange, realized who the true target was. He kicked Lance aside and seized Zheng Rong by the throat.

Zheng Rong struggled, raising his head defiantly.

The man narrowed his eyes and coldly demanded, "Who are you?"