The Hardworking Jason

"What's the problem?"

Jayce watched Sparta circle around him, inspecting him. Leaning against the bench, Jayce raised an eyebrow slightly, his face filled with confusion.

The moment Jayce mentioned what his wife looked like, Sparta reacted like this.

"Mm... nothing. I was just taking a look."

Sparta shook his head, passed by Jayce, and sat back down on the bench.

"What happened afterward? Please continue."

He gestured for Jayce to go on.

Jayce frowned, tapped the bench's armrest twice with his fingers, then continued:

"After that, I didn't kill her, and we spent a year together. During that year, we eventually fell in love."

"She and I had a son. He's twenty-three this year, and his name is Jason."

In an instant, it felt as though countless pieces of information had been forcibly stuffed into Sparta's brain. He stood frozen in place, with only his eyes still blinking.

It took him a long while to process all that information. When he finally came back to his senses, he asked curiously:

"You had a child with another Fuh... no, an alien woman. Didn't you have reproductive isolation?"

Species living on the same planet had reproductive isolation, let alone two different races living on different planets.

How had they done it?

To his surprise, Jayce turned his head slightly and asked curiously:

"What is reproductive isolation?"

Jayce's question left Sparta speechless. Irritably, he scratched his cheek with his fingertips, not knowing how to answer for a moment.

The Viltrumite Empire was a military state. Most of the knowledge it taught was about fighting and military strategy.

Beyond that, biology and even cultural knowledge were almost regarded as useless within the Empire.

Other races needed to consider racial invasion, technological advancement, and the development of people's livelihoods.

Viltrumites, on the other hand, clearly had more to consider. They only needed to fight and kill across the universe.

Comparing the two, the difference was obvious!

In fact, most of the Empire's advanced technology had been "borrowed" from other civilizations.

Sparta took a deep breath and tried to explain it in the simplest way possible:

"Reproductive isolation means... different races usually can't produce offspring, just like fish and birds can't have children together."

After hearing that, Jayce nodded thoughtfully. Then, a strange expression appeared on his face:

"So that means the child might not actually be mine?"

Hearing that, Sparta frantically waved his hands.

"Huh? That's not what I meant. Maybe reproductive isolation doesn't exist at all. I was just guessing."

There had been reproductive isolation on Earth before he transmigrated, but that did not mean it existed in this universe.

More likely, Viltrumite bodies were more compatible with the genes of other races, so reproductive isolation did not exist.

Of course, those were only his guesses. Sparta did not have a girlfriend, so he had never tested it.

Seeing his anxious appearance, Jayce pointed at him through the air with a finger and smiled meaningfully.

"You really can't take a joke. I know the child is mine."

"We Viltrumites possess powerful genes. Other races might have reproductive isolation, but we don't."

Sparta lowered his hands, which had been shaking so fast they left afterimages, and let out a heavy sigh of relief.

Jayce withdrew his gaze and continued:

"When you first entered the Recruit Company, I saw you training in the training room and thought of Jason."

Sparta was confused.

"Why? Because Jason and I look alike?"

Jayce clasped his hands together and placed them behind his head.

"You know your title in the Military Department, right?"

Sparta nodded lightly. Although he did not know what Jayce meant, he still answered:

"Of course. The hardworking Sparta..."

Jayce's face was filled with worry, though there was even more pride in it.

"Jason is as hardworking as you. Almost every moment of every day, he trains to improve his strength."

"But... things did not go as hoped. At twenty-three, that child's strength is only at the level of a fifteen-year-old Viltrumite."

"I'm worried. Worried that he can't protect himself and his mother. But I'm also proud of him, because he could have chosen to give up, yet he has kept working hard."

Sure enough, no matter where they were, parents were all cut from the same mold. They feared their children getting hurt, yet took pride in their children's persistence.

Complicated.

"Let's go. It's time to head back."

Jayce patted Sparta on the shoulder, stood up from the bench, and strode back toward the hospital.

Sparta said nothing and quietly followed behind him.

Viltrumite Empire, the Emperor's bedroom.

Emperor Algor stood before the window, lowering his head as he flipped through the paper reports in his hands one by one. The chair that had been smashed apart earlier had already been replaced.

"They're certainly going all out, sending so many Alien Warriors to encircle and suppress Empire soldiers again."

"They've truly put a lot of effort into opposing us."

Relying on their absolute numerical advantage, the Anti-Viltrum Alliance had forcibly turned the battlefront into a stalemate and even showed signs of pushing back.

The Empire soldiers' casualty count was several times lower than that of the Alien Warriors. It had practically become an outrageous one-against-ten situation.

The enemy had many people. It looked as though the Empire was gradually falling into a disadvantage, but in reality, they had not yet exerted their full strength.

Algor crumpled all the paper reports in his hands into a ball and casually tossed them into the trash bin beside the desk.

"Commander Thragg, what you said not long ago is about to come true. Empire soldiers have been beaten back again and again."

"Sigh, I originally thought they were merely putting on a show for the other races. Who would have thought they actually intended to fight to the bitter end?"

At first, he had only believed that the Anti-Viltrum Alliance's encirclement of Empire soldiers was propaganda.

They wanted to make a statement to the other races in the universe, attract more aliens into the Anti-Viltrum Alliance, and expand themselves.

Who would have thought they truly wanted to fight from beginning to end? What were they after?

Emperor Algor took a few steps, sat in the newly replaced luxurious jewel-encrusted chair, and glanced sideways at Thragg, who stood like a statue.

"Commander Thragg, what do you think about this matter?"

Having learned his lesson from last time, Thragg did not voice his own opinion this time. Instead, he followed Algor's orders.

"I will obey whatever Your Majesty commands."

He did not want to be scolded again.

Algor closed his eyes to rest. He knew Thragg was being perfunctory, so he pressed on:

"Commander Thragg, I want to hear your opinion."

The moment Thragg heard that, his expression stiffened, and he felt utterly helpless.

He truly did not want to give his opinion, but constrained by the Emperor's authority, he had no choice but to speak after hesitating.

"This subject... still believes that Empire soldiers should be dispatched to support the front lines."

Thragg raised his eyes and carefully observed Emperor Algor's expression, wanting to know whether he was angry.

This time, Algor was not angry. He merely kept his eyes closed and lightly tapped his fingers.

Thragg was not in a hurry either. He quietly stood some distance away, waiting for the Emperor's response after careful consideration.

After all, he was only offering an opinion. Whether to take action was something the other man needed to decide.