Chapter Thirty-Five

“Boss, do you think they might have made a mistake?” a burly man with a face full of scars asked in a buzzing voice.

“Who knows?” The one-eyed boss propped a leg on the armrest of his chair, eyes closed, savoring a puff from his cigar with blissful delight. This was real quality—a purely natural growth, refined by a master craftsman. It wasn’t something you could buy for a few hundred credits at any old shop.

“Boss, I’m afraid something’s changed!” Standing respectfully beside him was a thin, wiry man whose shifty eyes darted ceaselessly—a clear sign he was the group’s strategist.

“What do you mean?” the one-eyed boss replied lazily, still half-reclined.

The strategist whispered, “Boss, think about it: our informant inside hasn't sent word for six days. Chances are, things didn't end well for him. Besides, we’ve been waiting here so long. If everything was going as planned, they should have arrived by now.”

“Mm!” The boss nodded approvingly. “You’re right. So what should we do? Do we have to return the deposit?” A look of pain crossed his face.

The strategist grinned slyly. “Heh, boss, you don’t need to worry about that. That guy would never dare leak the matter. He’s more scared than we are about it being exposed. If word gets out, we might lose some reputation, but for him, it would mean ruin and disgrace! We’ve got the money now—there’s no way we’re giving it back!”

The boss laughed heartily, clapping the strategist on the shoulder. “Not bad, not bad! You’re sharp as ever. So there’s nothing left for us to do, right?”

The burly man spoke urgently, “Boss, going back empty-handed is bad luck. The brothers will complain!”

The boss stroked his chin, considering. “You’re right. Returning empty-handed will hurt morale.” Just then, a small henchman burst in, panting, face alight with excitement. “Boss, there’s a fat sheep ahead—a big, big fat sheep!”

The one-eyed boss threw his head back and laughed. “Ha! Looks like luck can’t be stopped when it comes. Tell the brothers to get ready!”

Ye Chong and his two companions sat in the room.

Gu Shaoze glanced at the door, troubled. “What now? Are they going to confine us? Why post guards? We’re not prisoners, are we?”

Number Two, seeing the young master’s worried face, felt a pang and reassured him, “Young master, don’t worry. They’re just suspicious about our identities. Without solid proof, they won’t dare do anything to us.”

Ye Chong ignored the two, closing his eyes to conserve strength. In unfamiliar surroundings, his vigilance never wavered; his body was in a subtle state, ready to deliver a deadly blow should the enemy appear.

As for the two guards outside, Ye Chong was unimpressed. He didn’t believe they posed any threat or could restrain him.

Ye Chong found it odd—the bodies of everyone he encountered seemed so fragile. Surely a slightly stronger impact would tear them apart! Didn’t they realize the body was the foundation of everything? It was baffling!

Gu Shaoze watched Ye Chong, admiring his composure, but also curious—he desperately wanted to know what Ye Chong had done before.

The guards at the door were both senior mecha warriors. The captain’s instructions still rang in their ears, and they obeyed him without question. Though they felt that posting two senior warriors to guard three kids was an overkill, they carried out the order scrupulously.

Suddenly, their communicators crackled with new commands. Both men’s faces changed as they exchanged glances. One opened the door and addressed the trio solemnly, “Please do not leave this room at will. Otherwise, we cannot guarantee your safety!”

Number Two quickly asked, “Sirs, what happened?”

The other hesitated, then replied, “We’re under attack from space pirates—looks like it’s the Crimson Hawk Pirates!”

“Crimson Hawk?!” Gu Shaoze and Number Two exclaimed in unison, their faces drained of color.

Their reaction was expected. One of the guards spoke, “We’re going into battle now. Rest assured, we’ll do everything we can, fight with all our strength!” His final words carried a note of resolve—success or death, evoking solemn respect.

“We’re leaving. Take care!” With hurried faces, the two rushed out, leaving the three alone.

“Crimson Hawk? Impossible…” Number Two muttered, despair written all over his face. Gu Shaoze was equally shaken, mind in turmoil. Only Ye Chong remained as calm as ever.

“What is Crimson Hawk?” Ye Chong asked, curious at their panic.

The two stared at him as if he were an idiot. “Are you even human? You don’t know Crimson Hawk?”

“Is it very powerful?” Ye Chong asked.

“Oh my god, someone actually asked such an unbelievable question!” Gu Shaoze looked about to faint, and with his pale face, he seemed no different from someone suffering severe anemia.

Number Two forced himself to explain, “Crimson Hawk is a very powerful pirate group. Maybe not the strongest, but certainly the most notorious. They're crueler than other pirate gangs—those captured by them almost never survive.”

Ye Chong tilted his head, thinking, and asked, “So that means they’ll definitely board our ship?”

Number Two nodded. “Without a doubt!”

Ye Chong suddenly rose, startling the other two.

Gu Shaoze cried out, “What are you doing? Don’t do anything crazy! They kill without blinking!” Then he paused, realizing Ye Chong himself was someone who killed without blinking.

“I need a mecha. Do you know where to find one?” Ye Chong asked coolly.

Number Two found Ye Chong unfathomable. Facing overwhelming odds, he was still calm and brimming with fighting spirit—maybe ignorance was truly fearless!

“In the lowest level warehouse, there should be a few spare mechas, in case a warrior’s mecha is damaged beyond immediate repair. In a merchant convoy with so many warriors, there will definitely be some backup mechas.” Though Number Two doubted such a struggle would help, hope flickered in his heart—if Ye Chong succeeded, the young master might be saved!

“How do I get to the warehouse?” Ye Chong’s eyes burned with sudden intensity at the mention of mechas.

The warehouse door was tightly locked, and opening it required a password.

There was no time to ask for the password. Ye Chong took a deep breath. His chest expanded like a bellows, muscles flooding with heat like molten fire. He lowered his stance, bent his elbow, and drew back his fist, his whole body arching like a legendary bow, slowly accumulating all his strength.

When his lungs could hold no more, the heat in his body made him feel swollen and uncomfortable—the bow was drawn to its limit!

Without hesitation, Ye Chong let out a roar like thunder, his right fist swept forward like a furious hurricane, accompanied by a deep whistle from its friction with the air, smashing into the center of the warehouse door.