Doom of the Myriad Races

Year 350 of the Anping Calendar. The Stone Dominion, Nanyuan City. The Smith Residence. The moment Ethan Smith stepped through the front door, the rich aroma of food greeted him. He tossed his backpack aside, walked straight to the dining table, casually picked up a piece of braised meat, and popped it into his mouth. Chewing happily, Ethan glanced toward the kitchen and said indistinctly, “Dad, can we change the soup tomorrow? Eating meat every day is getting a bit old.” “You should be grateful there’s food at all, and here you are being picky!” A grumbling voice came from the kitchen. It was Marcus Smith. “You’re eighteen already. When are you going to learn how to take care of yourself? I’ve been playing both father and mother all these years—finally about to get some freedom.” Still chewing, Ethan laughed. “Dad, your cooking’s too good. You’re basically a professional chef now. I’d love to cook for myself, but the problem is… what I make isn’t edible.” “Hmph!” Marcus snorted. All talk and no action—if you’re so capable, why don’t you come into the kitchen? Soon enough, Marcus walked out carrying the dishes, still wearing an apron. He stood nearly six feet two, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, yet the small apron hanging awkwardly from his frame made him look downright ridiculous. As usual, Ethan couldn’t help himself. He shook his head and said, “Dad, can’t you get a bigger apron? It’s not like we can’t afford one.” “What do you know!” Marcus ignored him, set the dishes down, didn’t bother taking off the apron, and sat down. “Eat! Saving where we can matters. Besides, this apron is new—” “You’ve been saying that for three years!” Ethan rolled his eyes. Three years ago it was ‘new.’ Three years later, it was still ‘new.’ His old man really had some nerve. Marcus didn’t care. He dug in immediately, eating fast and fiercely. Ethan was long used to it. Sitting down as well, he ate while sighing, “Dad, there’s fighting on the front lines again, isn’t there? I saw a recruitment vehicle downstairs when I got back. They’re conscripting people in our neighborhood. Don’t know whose turn it’ll be…” Marcus’s movements paused slightly. He set his chopsticks down and said solemnly, “Defending the homeland is everyone’s responsibility. From the sound of it, are you saying being a soldier is a bad thing?” “No!” Ethan hurriedly backtracked. His father was a retired soldier—this was not something to joke about. Those fists were no joke. Marcus snorted softly and picked his chopsticks back up. After eating for a while, his tone changed, growing heavier. “Ethan, the front lines are unstable. The major war legions have issued recall orders again and again—recruiting new soldiers, summoning veterans back.” Ethan’s chopsticks paused mid-air. He looked up, his earlier casualness gone. “Dad, this has nothing to do with us, right? You’ve been retired for eighteen years. I just became an adult, and I’m preparing for higher academies. The draft won’t reach our family.” “Eighteen years…” Marcus exhaled softly. Yes—eighteen years. “In those eighteen years, the Demon Suppression Army has issued recall orders five times, including this one. After fifty, you’re no longer eligible.” “The first four times, you were still young. I worried about you, worried you couldn’t take care of yourself, so I didn’t respond.” Ethan’s expression shifted. “Dad, we’re allowed not to go. The policy permits it.” “Yes, the policy allows it.” Marcus grinned faintly and looked at his son. “That’s why I didn’t go. Four recalls in eighteen years—I stayed home every time. But today, my son is grown. You’re eighteen.” “Dad!” Ethan’s face changed completely. “What are you trying to say?” “You know exactly what I’m saying.” Marcus looked at him, pride and relief mingling in his smile. “Eighteen years ago, your old man wasn’t much, but I was still a squad leader in the Demon Suppression Army. Thirty men under my command.” “When your mother was about to give birth, I took leave and came home. Who knew… she’d pass away just like that. You were barely born. No elders at home to help. I couldn’t leave.” “So I retired.” Marcus bared his teeth in a bitter smile. “When I left the army, not a single one of my brothers came to see me off. Not because they wanted me gone—because they were afraid I’d run back.” “For eighteen years, no one contacted me. Afraid I’d miss it. I still dream of them yelling at me, telling me to go home and take care of my kid.” “Out of thirty men, nine died in the first year after I left.” “Not one retired and came back alive. Of the remaining twenty-one… do you know how many are left?” “They’re still on the battlefield.” Marcus’s eyes reddened. “I was selfish. I didn’t dare ask. Didn’t dare inquire. I ignored the first four recalls—but this time… Ethan, even if I die, I want to die on the battlefield. Wrapped in horsehide. Your old man… doesn’t want to die in the rear.” Ethan fell silent. He had always known his father still thought about the front lines, about those brothers. If not for his mother’s death, his father would never have left the army. He thought eighteen years would be enough. It wasn’t. “Dad…” Ethan’s face was pale. “The front lines are getting worse. More soldiers die every year. Five recalls in eighteen years—you were a soldier. You know what that means…” “I’m not married yet. I haven’t even entered a higher academy. I haven’t given you a grandson—” Marcus grinned. “That’s fine. I’ll wait. What, you think I’m going back just to die? I’m going back to win.” “Dad!” “Enough. Eat.” Marcus cut him off, chewing as he spoke. “After this meal, you’re on your own. No food? Eat out. There’s money on the card—you know the password.” “They’re waiting for me downstairs. I can’t stay long.” “When you get into a higher academy, write to me. I’ll receive it.” “Aim for the Great Xia Civilization Academy. You’ll make me proud. Ten chances out of ten. Your teachers already talked to me—barring accidents, you’re guaranteed to make it. The Smith family finally produced a talent!” “Seriously, how is your brain wired? Too smart. Sometimes I wonder if you’re really mine… but at least you look just like I did when I was young.” Ethan couldn’t help himself. “Dad… are you sure you looked like me when you were young?” “Nonsense! Of course I did!” Marcus raised his head, his rugged face splitting into a grin. “Ask the neighbors—don’t I look like you?” Ethan sighed. He knew his father was changing the subject. “Dad, are you really going? Not to disrespect you, but you’ve been off the battlefield for eighteen years. You stopped cultivating long ago. You’re only at the Ninth Layer of the Thousand-Pound Realm. Will you even be useful?” “Who are you looking down on?” Marcus snapped. “So what if I’m at the Ninth Layer? War isn’t just about brute force. If strength alone decided everything, there’d be no war. Anything can happen on the battlefield. Back then, I was only Seventh Layer and still killed Ten-Thousand-Stone experts!” Ethan frowned. True or not, his father had said this for years—and it might not be false. The point was, he didn’t want his father going back. The front lines were collapsing year by year. His father was nearly fifty. He didn’t dare imagine it. “Dad—” “Shut up!” Marcus stood and cleared the table. “I’ve already registered. If I don’t go, I’m a deserter. Before registration, it was optional. After registration, not going means death.” “Dad, couldn’t you at least wait for me to come back and discuss it?” Ethan was furious. But he already knew—nothing could change this. “Discuss what?” Marcus waved him off. “Don’t worry. I won’t die. Even if I do, the compensation’s good. Remember to collect it. Enough for you to marry and have kids. I’ve planned everything.” He picked up his packed bag, took off the apron, and slung it over his shoulder as if going on a short trip. “Study hard. Supporting humanity from the rear is still support. Make the Smith family proud at the academy.” “When I get back, I’ll brag—my son made it into the Civilization Academy. Better than all those guys!” “Too bad I won’t see the acceptance letter. Take a picture and send it with the letter, or they’ll think I’m lying.” “Dad!” Ethan rushed after him, panic setting in. His father was really leaving. For eighteen years, they had depended on each other. He wasn’t ready for this. “You’re an adult now—not a kid. Stop crying.” Marcus grinned. “If you weren’t grown, I wouldn’t go. But now I must. Eighteen years ago, some kids in my squad were your age. Ethan… I dreamt of them. Crying. Saying it hurt. Telling me to kill those beasts. Sometimes I regret it—I should’ve sent you to the military family quarters.” His eyes reddened.