Starting with God's perspective, how to lose an interstellar war?

His eyes remained as deep as the sea, but at this moment, beneath that calm surface, there seemed to be some indescribable undercurrent surging.

That wasn't the look a marshal gave a subordinate; it was more like a father looking at a son who had suddenly grown up to be someone he was proud of, yet also someone he felt a little unfamiliar with.

He spoke, his voice not loud, but it carried a power that pierced through the noise and reached the heart, clearly reaching Qin Beiwang's ears.

"Honor and responsibility go hand in hand; all for the Federation!"

"No graves in the starry sea, all for the Federation!"

Qin Beiwang gave a standard military salute, then spoke calmly.

Qin Qianfan nodded, then turned and left.

His indifferent demeanor was not much different from that of the Grand Marshal in the original owner's memories.

Next came the awarding of medals to Zhuang Zhixuan and the others.

Zhuang Zhixuan was promoted directly from captain to major and received a Star Ring Medal, which was not a substantial reward but merely an honor.

The others were also promoted one level and received a Star Ring Medal.

The awarding of medals was also handled by a general.

Meanwhile, in a distant star system.

In the Opal Starfield Command, in the private operations room of Imperial Admiral Strauss.

The huge circular screen did not display the Empire's star map or fleet deployment, but rather a live broadcast signal of the Federation's award ceremony, which had been quietly switched in by the technologist.

In the scene, Qin Beiwang's planetary medal on his chest and the colonel's star emblem on his shoulder are shining brightly, and the cheers from the square seem to penetrate the screen.

Strauss sat in the large conductor's chair, his fingers gripping the alloy armrests tightly, his knuckles white.

His face was sinister, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were etched as if by a knife due to suppressed anger.

The excessively young face on the screen was like a poisonous thorn, piercing his eyeballs and, even more so, his pillar of shame.

Savannah.

That damned galaxy, that battle that should have been a crushing victory, became the stepping stone for this little brat from the Federation to become famous!

Obsidian, Bloodblade, and Iron Curtain suffered successive setbacks; the Langkawi base was destroyed; and even the entire Megalodon fleet was annihilated...

This series of resounding slaps, though most of the blame was placed on that unfortunate Lancaster and Commander Megalodon.

But as the highest-ranking official in the entire Opal Starfield, how could Strauss completely absolve himself of responsibility?

He could sense the mockery and schadenfreude in the eyes of those old foxes in the Supreme Command, even if they didn't say it aloud!

The nickname "General Adding Fuel to the Fire" even began to circulate, implying that he kept sending fleets to Savannah, as if adding fuel to the fire for Qin Beiwang's achievements!

What a shame!

"Twenty-two years old... Senior Colonel... Planetary Medal... Mothership Fleet..."

Strauss uttered these words through gritted teeth, each one laced with icy hatred.

"You've climbed so fast, stepping over the corpses of my empire's soldiers, Qin Beiwang."

He stared intently at the screen showing Qin Beiwang and his father Qin Qianfan looking at each other, and at the planetary medal that was being solemnly worn, a twisted and cold smile spreading across his face.

"Laugh."

"Enjoy your moment of glory, little hero of the Federation."

Strauss's voice was deep and hoarse, like the hiss of a viper.

"It won't be long..."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes flashing with a terrifying cold light, a light that was a mixture of the pleasure of revenge and the cruelty of an impending bloodbath.

"You'll then know what it feels like to be truly targeted by the Empire."

"You think Savannah is the end?"

"No, that's just an appetizer."

He slammed his hand on the armrest, stood up, and roared at the empty operations room, as if he were speaking to the radiant young man on the screen.

"The Empire's new offensive is ready."

A week later.

The brilliance and hustle and bustle of the capital planet, like a fleeting and mesmerizing dream, were left behind.

Qin Beiwang and his officers embarked on a long journey back to their front-line base in the Wanshi Starfield aboard a dedicated interstellar shuttle.

Over the past week, under the enthusiastic (or rather, forceful) arrangements of Luo Hao and his gang of "Twelve Young Masters of the Capital," Qin Beiwang experienced almost every form of luxurious entertainment that this core federal planet could offer to the elite.

From private space observation decks requiring special permission to enter, to multi-sensory experience halls simulating extreme environments of different planets, to top-tier banquets featuring delicacies from all over the galaxy…

He perfectly portrayed a victorious young general who should be indulging in pleasure, even more so than the original owner of the body in his memories.

During this period, he tried several times to contact his father, Qin Qianfan, through formal or informal channels.

After that brief but weighty conversation at the medal-awarding ceremony.

He felt that he should, and indeed needed, have a more private meeting with his father, the marshal, who was both familiar and unfamiliar to him.

But each request was politely declined by the adjutant beside the marshal, whose expression was always proper and whose tone was always respectful, for almost the exact same reason.

"Your Excellency is extremely busy with military affairs and is unable to spare the time. Please forgive him."

Qin Beiwang understood.

A federal marshal, in charge of the defense of a vast star field and the fate of countless fleets, must be incredibly busy.

Although the Battle of Savannah has ended, the threat from the Empire is ever-present, and strategic maneuvering at a higher level continues every moment.

That brief appearance and message at the award ceremony was perhaps all the father could muster between public and private matters.

He suppressed that faint feeling, which he couldn't quite define as either disappointment or relief.

This is good, as it reduces the risk of being exposed in close contact.

The shuttle made one monotonous but precise leap after another along its predetermined route.

Outside the window, the starry sky constantly distorts and then recovers, while inside the cabin, the engine hums steadily.

Even with his enhanced physique, Qin Beiwang felt deeply mentally exhausted after being in a state of slight temporal dislocation caused by the jump for an extended period.

That's not just physical; it's more about the combined drain from the intense battles, the stressful awarding of medals, and dealing with the complex interpersonal relationships on the capital planet over the past period.

Finally, the shuttle broke free from its final jump and was captured by the familiar gravitational field of Shiva.

The atmosphere on Shiva is completely different from that of the capital planet. The spaceports here are more militarized, starships come and go with clear purposes, and there are fewer flashy aircraft and GG projections in the sky, replaced by patrolling formations of fighter jets.

The transport ship docked smoothly in the officer's designated berth.

There was no welcoming crowd, no media.

Only the cold lights of the port and the routine ground staff.

Qin Beiwang bid a brief farewell to the officers who accompanied him, and they returned to their respective posts or dormitories.