Brother, just how powerful is our family?

"Your wish—'to ensure that the elderly are cared for until their end, the able-bodied are employed, the young are nurtured, and the widowed, orphaned, lonely, and disabled are all provided for'—has been fulfilled by your descendants. The elderly are cared for until their end—living for thousands of years, remaining youthful, and dying peacefully. The able-bodied are employed—everyone has their own role, and everyone contributes to civilization. The young are nurtured—free education, individualized instruction, allowing every child to become a genius. The widowed, orphaned, lonely, and disabled are provided for—there is no poverty, no hunger, no helplessness. Every descendant of the Yellow Emperor lives with dignity, hope, and a future."

Qin Feng's eyes reddened slightly, but no tears fell. He was the leader of the Yanhuang civilization; he couldn't cry. But he could be moved.

"Today marks the fifth thousandth anniversary of the Yellow Emperor's reign. Your descendants, from every corner of the Orion Arm, have come to stand before you and report—report our achievements, our glory, and our determination."

"We will not stop. We will continue our journey, to the center of the Milky Way, to the ends of the universe. We will continue to develop, to develop technology, to develop civilization, to develop ourselves. We will continue to protect, to protect the descendants of Yan and Huang, to protect the blue flag with a golden dragon, to protect the roots you have passed down."

"Please bless us, our ancestor Xuanyuan. Bless the descendants of Yan and Huang, may they continue forever. Bless the civilization of Yan and Huang, may it never decline. Bless the blue flag with a golden dragon, may it forever fly in the starry sky."

Qin Feng bowed again. This time, he did not straighten up.

In the square, hundreds of thousands of people bent over, motionless. Fifteen trillion descendants of Yan and Huang, bent over, motionless.

The wind stopped. Time seemed to stand still. Only the morning light grew brighter and warmer.

Finally, Qin Feng straightened up. He turned around and faced the crowd in the square.

There were no tear stains on his face, but his eyes shone with light.

It is a light that has been passed down for five thousand years, a light that the descendants of Yan and Huang will never be extinguished.

"The farewell is over." His voice returned to calm. "A new year has begun."

In the square, hundreds of thousands of people stood up at the same time. Their faces were streaked with tears, but their eyes shone with light.

It was the same light that Qin Feng saw.

In the crowd, a young father is holding his son.

My son is only a few years old and doesn't understand what the Yellow Emperor's era or the Yellow Emperor's ancestors are.

But he could feel his father's heartbeat, the emotions of the people around him, and the solemn, sacred atmosphere.

He stared wide-eyed at Qin Feng on the high platform, at the blue flag with a golden dragon fluttering in the morning breeze.

"Dad, who is that person?" he asked softly.

"That's our leader," the father replied softly. "He's the one who led us to where we are today."

"He's amazing."

"Yes, he is very capable. But the most capable is not him alone. It is everyone. It is you, it is me, it is every descendant of Yan and Huang. For five thousand years, every descendant of Yan and Huang has been contributing to this civilization."

The son nodded, seemingly understanding. He looked at the flag, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and longing.

"Dad, when I grow up, I also want to contribute to the Yanhuang civilization."

The father smiled. "You can do it now. Eat well, grow up well, and study hard. When you grow up, you will find your place."

"Um!"

The son nodded vigorously, then continued to look at the flag.

The flags fluttered in the morning breeze, and the golden dragon danced on the blue cloth.

That is the symbol of the Yanhuang civilization, a legacy of five thousand years, and the pride of 1.5 trillion people.

The sun rose. Golden rays shone on Yanhuang Square, on everyone, and on the blue flag with a golden dragon.

A new day has begun, a new year has begun, and a new five thousand years have begun.

Nobody knows what the future holds.

No one knows what lies at the center of the Milky Way, no one knows what enemies lurk in those more distant star systems, and no one knows whether the Yanhuang civilization can continue forever.

But everyone knows one thing: as long as the descendants of Yan and Huang are still alive, the blue flag with a golden dragon will never fall.

As long as the blue flag with a golden dragon remains, the Yanhuang civilization will not perish.

Qin Feng stood on the high platform, watching the sun rise.

Behind him lies five thousand years of history.

Before him lay five thousand years of the future.

In his heart lies a belief that has lasted for five thousand years.

"Comforting our ancestors is not superstition," he said softly, as if speaking to himself, yet also to everyone else. "It's a spiritual sustenance. It reminds us where we come from and where we are going."

He turned around and stepped down from the platform. The crowd in the square began to slowly disperse.

People head towards the stargate, towards the shuttle, towards their respective planets, their respective homes.

There is still so much work to be done in the new year. New planets to explore, new technologies to develop, and new enemies to contend with.

The 1.5 trillion descendants of Yan and Huang have no time to dwell on past glories.

But they will remember this day. They will remember the first day of the five thousand years of the Yellow Emperor's era, Qin Feng's words of comfort, and the responsibility and glory that have been passed down for five thousand years.

On a planet deep within the Orion Arm, a young scientist stands by the window of his laboratory, gazing at the starry sky outside.

He held a data report in his hand, on which were written a few words: "The situation is abnormal, and it seems to originate from the direction of the galactic center."

He looked at it for a long time, then put down the report and picked up another one.

Those were design proposals for a new type of warship. He had to continue working. For the sake of the Yanhuang civilization.

On another planet, a young mother is telling her child a story.

The story is about the legendary ancestors of the Chinese people, namely the Yellow Emperor, the Yan Emperor, and Chi You.

The child listened intently, eyes sparkling. After finishing the story, the mother kissed the child's forehead. "You are a descendant of the Yellow Emperor," she said. "Remember, your roots are where you are."

In the Kuiper Belt of the solar system, a new Revenge-class warship is being launched.

On the ship's hull, a blue flag with a golden dragon slowly rose.

The crew members stood on the deck and saluted the flag.

Their gazes were firm, and their hearts were filled with pride.

In the administrative center of the Yanhuang Continent, Qin Feng stood by the window, watching the sunset outside.

He also had a report in his hand. He looked at it for a long time, then put it down and continued watching the sunset.

The sunset was beautiful. Golden rays shone on the Yanhuang continent, on the land he had created with his own hands.

Fifteen trillion descendants of Yan and Huang live, work, study, and reproduce on this land.

The sun set. Night fell. But the starry sky lit up.

In that starry sky, there are twelve black holes, silently rotating.

There are thousands of life-bearing planets, brightly lit. Tens of thousands of warships cruise through the starry sky.

There are 1.5 trillion descendants of Yan and Huang, sleeping peacefully on their respective planets.

They dreamt of their ancestors. They dreamt of the Yellow Emperor, the Yan Emperor, and Chi You. They dreamt of those forefathers who braved hardships and expanded their territories. In the dream, their ancestors spoke to them—

"Good children, you did a great job."

"Keep going, don't stop."

"The civilization of Yan and Huang will never perish."