If they could prove that either side belonged to the Golden Oriole Legion, this matter would become much simpler to handle.

Song Jin had Li Xiao ask the old man if he had any old photos or video footage preserved.

Li Xiao asked without holding out much hope, but to his surprise, the old man actually had some. However, the old man didn’t live here, so they would have to wait until he closed up shop in the afternoon to visit his home and check them out.

It was already past three in the afternoon, which wasn’t too far from closing time. Finding no other leads in the area, the two simply stayed in the shaded alleyway to cool off and wait for the old man to finish his workday.

“You kids are really curious about things from the past, huh?” The old man asked an extra question, seeing that they were actually sitting around waiting for him.

Li Xiao lied through his teeth offhandedly, “Our teacher assigned us a task to write a paper.”

The old man nodded knowingly. “When I was in school, writing papers was what I hated most. Don’t worry, I’ll try my best to give you as much material as possible.”

Li Xiao replied, “Thank you.”

Sitting idly was genuinely boring. After finishing his ice cream, Song Jin decided to hunt for treasures inside the old man’s grocery shop. He rarely got the chance to wander through a place like this, and it proved to be quite interesting.

A loop around the shop revealed items mostly favored by the elderly; the only thing useful to him was the cattail palm fan.

Turning around, his eyes landed on two large wine vats. Song Jin leaned in to take a sniff; the aroma of the alcohol was rich, pure, and infused with a distinct, delicate sweetness. He asked the old man sitting at the entrance in Danse language, “Is this wine for sale too?”

The old man replied, “I brewed that wine myself—it’s not for sale. If you want to drink, ladle some for yourself. No charge.”

Li Xiao translated his words for Song Jin.

Song Jin didn’t actually want to drink; he was purely looking for something to do out of boredom. Squatting in front of the wine vat, he opened the lid and remarked casually, “Making only ten credits in revenue for an entire afternoon isn’t even enough to cover a meal.”

The old man gave a gentle, amiable laugh. “I’m not that short on money. When you get old, you just need to find something to keep yourself busy, otherwise, all that’s left is waiting to die.”

Li Xiao: “…”

Song Jin asked, “What did he say?”

Li Xiao translated it for him.

Song Jin let out a soft chuckle. “When we get old in the future, let’s open a little shop in an alley too, selling ice cream and small cookies.”

Li Xiao countered, “I’m afraid when the time comes, you won’t bear to sell any of it and will just spend every day eating it all yourself.”

Song Jin: “…”

The liquid was crystal clear and overflowing with fragrance—it truly was fine wine.

Song Jin scooped a little into a disposable cup. To be safe, he had 07 run a toxicity test before taking a sip. “Not bad.”

Song Jin stepped out to hand it to Li Xiao, then turned to ask the old man, “What did you brew this wine with?”

The old man answered, “It’s brewed with grains and plum blossoms. It’s a specialty of our Gaofeng race.”

Just as Li Xiao was about to drink, he paused slightly upon hearing that. “Plum blossom wine?”

The old man set aside a fan he had finished making and looked up at him. “Yes, have you drunk it before?”

Li Xiao knit his brows slightly. “No.”

However, he had seen it mentioned on the back of the group photo featuring Royal Uncle Li Xun and Yan Qing.

Written on the back of the photo was that Royal Uncle helped Yan Qing investigate the truth, so Yan Qing entertained him with ten-year-aged plum blossom wine.

Li Xiao had originally assumed that plum blossom wine was a specialty of the Bique race or something similar.

As the sun set in the west, the old man packed up, locked the shop door, and led the two toward his residence.

The houses in this area were old, but luckily the surrounding greenery was well-maintained and peaceful, making it a very suitable place for retirement.

The two sat in the small courtyard and waited for a moment. They saw the old man emerge carrying a rusted iron box, sitting down on a rattan chair to rummage through it.

“It should be this one, though I don’t know if it still works.” The old man handed a tiny storage drive over to Li Xiao.

Li Xiao glanced at the box; it was printed with cartoon patterns, looking like something used to store toys. Inside were also quite a few collectible cards and small models popular decades ago, likely collected during the old man’s youth.

The storage drive model was extremely obsolete; standard readers on the market couldn’t match it at all.

Song Jin took it from Li Xiao’s hand to take a look. “I happen to have brought one.”

As he spoke, he reached into his pocket and had 07 morph into a compatible reader before pulling it out.

The old man reminisced, “Communications were cut off for a long time back then. We couldn’t ask for help at all and had to rely entirely on ourselves.”

Li Xiao asked, “Did the disruption start from the moment that legion appeared?”

The old man thought for a long time. “I’m not sure. At the very beginning, a friend of my father’s contacted him in the middle of the night, saying fighter jets had appeared near his home making quite a racket. Shortly after, we couldn’t get in touch with him anymore. We set off for home at crack of dawn and saw a massive legion approaching District 68 halfway through. I originally wanted to snap a picture to send to my friends, but that was when I noticed there was no signal left.”

Li Xiao listened patiently.

According to the old man’s narrative, when the first unit appeared, only District 68 lost communications. By the time the legion arrived, all districts had lost signal—which meant electromagnetic bombardment was likely initiated at that point.

“Got it.”

Song Jin projected the footage into the air.

The footage was taken from a long distance, but one could clearly see a legion approaching at the horizon, while numerous fighter jets were operating within a specific zone.

Li Xiao zoomed in on the fighter jet section; it was very blurry, to the point where even he couldn’t identify the model.

The warships on the legion’s side were somewhat clearer, but just as the old man had said, it was indeed impossible to tell which legion they belonged to.

The exterior of Danse’s warships didn’t bear any legion-related insignia, but they had identification codes that could be used to confirm the legion’s identity.

However, no codes were captured in the video.

“Is there anything else?” Li Xiao asked.

The old man replied, “I only filmed this one.”

Li Xiao asked, “May I make a copy of it?”

The old man nodded. “You may.”

Before saying goodbye to the old man, a thought suddenly crossed Li Xiao’s mind, and he asked the old man about the process of brewing plum blossom wine.

On the way back, Song Jin asked out of curiosity, “What are you suspecting?”

Li Xiao said, “Just an unreliable guess.”

His terminal vibrated—it was a communication request from Gao Cheng.

Li Xiao made an agreement with him to meet at a nearby hotel an hour later.

After dinner, the two went to that hotel and booked a room.

Walking up to the door, Li Xiao saw Song Jin wearing a sour face. “Afraid it’s a heart-shaped bed again?”

Song Jin looked thoroughly impatient. “It’s practically a curse.”

Li Xiao pushed the door open. “Doesn’t that just prove even heaven wants us to be together?”

Song Jin let out a soft hmph. “It was clearly something I fought for myself.”

Li Xiao chuckled. “The first time you shared a bed with me, you slept soundly. Are you like that with other people too?”

Song Jin followed him inside, hugging him from behind. “I’ve only ever slept with you.”

Li Xiao corrected him in a serious tone, “We haven’t slept together yet.”

Song Jin: “…”

Song Jin rested his chin on Li Xiao’s shoulder, looking at him lazily. “Then before the person arrives, shall we sleep first?”

Li Xiao replied with a straight face, “There’s only half an hour left; that’s not enough time to sleep.”

Song Jin: “…”

Just as he finished speaking, a knock sounded at the door.

Li Xiao opened the door to reveal a tall, lean middle-aged Beta standing outside. His facial features lacked distinct identifiers—the type who would easily blend into a crowd without being remembered.

“I am Gao Cheng.”

Li Xiao nodded, gesturing for him to come in.

The three went into the living room.

Li Xiao got straight to the point: “Regarding the Golden Oriole coup seventy-six years ago, what have you uncovered?”

Gao Cheng answered respectfully, “Events from back then were deliberately erased. Coupled with the fact that too much time has passed, even though I’ve moved around Z152 for many years, the things I’ve uncovered are very limited.”

As he spoke, he opened a reader and projected images into the air.

“These were gathered from some elderly members of the Gaofeng race.”

Li Xiao and Song Jin looked toward the screen.

There were about a hundred photos, mostly long shots where the fighter jets appeared smaller than ants in the frame.

A portion of the photos focused on crowds scrambling through the streets, with only the shadows of fighter jets appearing in the corners.

Only two photos were close-ups.

One captured a fighter jet bombing another fighter jet of a different model, while the other showed a formation of fighter jets flying through the air.

Li Xiao’s gaze locked onto these two photos. “Which side is Golden Oriole?”

Gao Cheng replied, “It cannot be determined yet. The information loss is too severe. I used the military system to check the ordnance numbers, but there were no records; I can only confirm that both sides are military fighter jet models.”

“What else?” Li Xiao asked.

Gao Cheng opened another thirty-or-so video clips.

Just like the photos, most of the videos offered little usable information—the lenses were filled entirely with people fleeing in all directions, only occasionally capturing a flying fighter jet.

“This is all you’ve found after so many years?” Song Jin looked at Gao Cheng, his eyes full of skepticism.

Gao Cheng bowed his head slightly. “I am deeply ashamed. Very few members of the Gaofeng race survived back then, and among those who lived to this day and remain knowledgeable about the event, the numbers are even scarcer. This is already the result of using every possible method to gather leads.”

Song Jin pressed, “Including the Gaofeng people who were in Z152 back then and later immigrated to other planets?”

Gao Cheng nodded. “They are all accounted for here. The eyewitnesses back then weren’t limited to the Gaofeng race, but the higher-ups instructed that the investigation be kept secret and that we couldn’t publicly seek out witnesses, leading to slow progress on that front.”

To search for eyewitnesses from seventy-six years ago without making a commotion meant the target scope was simply immense.

Li Xiao pressed further: “Besides photos and videos, did you hear anything else?”

Gao Cheng projected a document. “These are my interview records over the years. Most people only knew that District 68 was bombed back then; only a select few saw that the combat units were a legion flying in from the outside. One mentioned seeing a warship land above the local garrison base, deploying many mecha and fighter jets that attacked the garrison base.”

Li Xiao scanned the document; it contained specific interview times and detailed contents, recording what time the interviewees saw what, and what occurred.

“Have you been working on this case these past two days as well?” Li Xiao asked casually.

Gao Cheng shook his head. “Recently, many cult organizations have been resurfacing. The higher-ups instructed me to help investigate them as well. This trip happened to align with contacting local colleagues here.”

Li Xiao knit his brows.

In his previous life, during the early build-up to the Meng family’s coup, the shadows of cult organizations had also been present.

Seeing Li Xiao deep in thought, Gao Cheng asked respectfully, “Do you have any leads, Your Highness?”

Li Xiao replied, “With just this little material, what leads could possibly be sorted out?”

Gao Cheng crossed his hands in front of him, speaking with a touch of apology: “I am truly sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Li Xiao had Gao Cheng transfer all the data over to him. “Go handle your affairs first; I’ll contact you if I need anything.”

Gao Cheng nodded, and having finished his business, he departed.

Song Jin watched him leave. “He seems pretty honest.”

Li Xiao asked, “Seems?”

Song Jin said, “Finding only this little bit of information after so many years is still suspicious—even though the difficulty is indeed considerable.”

Li Xiao instructed 09, “Monitor this room.”

09: “All audio and visual surveillance devices hijacked.”

Li Xiao pulled up the photo showing one fighter jet bombing another and asked Song Jin, “Does this look familiar?”

Song Jin leaned in with a hand on Li Xiao’s shoulder to take a closer look.

The photo actually contained only one complete fighter jet; the other was currently in a state of exploding and disintegrating.

Song Jin’s gaze fixed on the wing of the intact jet, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The wing inside the Rubik’s Cube carved with ‘Justice is Never Absent’—is it the same model as this one?”

Back when they participated in the gold rush game inside the Rubik’s Cube, they had seen walls covered in Bique script writing “extinction” and “death,” as well as a broken wing welded onto the corridor carved with “Justice is Never Absent”—which he had mocked at the time.

“Smart.” Li Xiao patted his head. “This fighter jet’s model is F900-K. Those words on the wing were even scratched out, done by a different person than the one who carved them.”

As he spoke, Li Xiao opened another photo alongside the video obtained from the fan-making old man, placing them together for comparison.

“Comparing these two—one large and one small—their short, stocky contours are identical.”

Looking at the video provided by the old man alone wouldn’t have been enough to tell, but combining it with the close-up photo provided by Gao Cheng, one could determine that the fighter jets bombing District 68 belonged to the exact same model, G80-L, as the fighter jet formation in the photo.

The F900-K with the carved wing clearly belonged to Golden Oriole’s side, and they had attacked the G80-L—which happened to be the very combat unit that bombed District 68 first.

Song Jin pulled up several more photos for comparison, confirming they were identical.

“So we can basically deduce that Golden Oriole only entered the stage after District 68 was bombed, and they weren’t part of the same crew as the combat unit that executed the bombing.”

Li Xiao nodded. “Golden Oriole learned through some unknown channel that District 68 was being bombed, and rushed over attempting to drive off this combat unit.”

Song Jin picked up the thread, “Only to be framed as rebels by the Meng family army at the time. Furthermore, Meng Jian captured Wei Feng and the others, locking them inside that abandoned base to perform research on them, while scratching out ‘Justice’ on the wing and intentionally mounting it inside the Rubik’s Cube to fuel Raven’s hatred.”

Li Xiao questioned, “What combat unit could run wild on the Meng family’s turf? Bombing residential areas at will without consequence, yet the moment Golden Oriole stepped in, they started counterattacking?”

Song Jin sneered, “Naturally, only their own people.”

“But that brings us right back to the original question.” Li Xiao looked at him. “Through what channel did Golden Oriole receive the news, and why did they go to a non-stationed star cluster on their own authority? When they realized something was wrong, why didn’t they retreat?”

“And why did the Meng family bomb District 68 in the first place? As well as—” Song Jin met his gaze. “Why did your grandfather destroy all the records?”

Li Xiao swiped open his terminal, searching for Yan Qing’s frequency. “Let’s first figure out where the plum blossom wine at Yan Qing’s family came from.”

Song Jin asked, “You suspect his grandfather had a connection with Zhan Qiming?”

Li Xiao said, “Not just Yan Qing’s grandfather, but Wei Feng as well. Rushing to Z152 from other stations to help the Gaofeng race—no matter how you look at it, that wasn’t an ordinary friendship.”