Chapter Thirty-Six

Bang! A stifled, oppressive sound burst forth. Centered on Ye Chong’s right fist, countless fine cracks frantically spread outward, blossoming into a silvery-white flower streaked with crimson upon the black warehouse door—its petals opening in fury before Ye Chong.

Crash! Like the shattering of glass, tiny metal fragments fell one by one, the fractured pieces of the door raining down in a dense cascade. Ye Chong glanced at his right hand; his fist was torn and bloody, flesh mangled. He silently noted to himself that breaking doors barehanded was best avoided in the future.

Without pausing for thought, Ye Chong rushed into the warehouse like a gust of wind.

He quickly spotted rows of spatial buttons for mecha suits neatly arranged on a shelf by the wall. Like a starving wolf finding prey, Ye Chong let out a cheer and dove toward them.

Since these were reserve mecha suits, aside from a few specialized models for reconnaissance, most were suited for space operations.

After a brief consideration, Ye Chong selected a jet-black, scorpion-shaped mecha—the Sandstorm Bug. It boasted impressive speed, wide visibility, and a body thick enough for satisfactory defense. Its dark armor made it harder to detect in space, but these features weren’t the only reason Ye Chong favored it; the Sandstorm Bug’s unique functions truly caught his eye.

Looking at the cabinet, Ye Chong gritted his teeth and swept all the spatial buttons into his waist pouch.

He climbed into the Sandstorm Bug’s cockpit, only to find the interface required initial settings—Ye Chong panicked. Mu’s system was much easier: just a drop of blood as identification.

Ye Chong stared fixedly at the information flashing on the holographic screen, his hands moving so fast their shadows blurred. The Sandstorm Bug had many special features, and for ease of use, Ye Chong had to configure them carefully. On the battlefield, life and death hung by a thread; Ye Chong dared not go in unprepared.

Despite the urgency, Ye Chong proceeded methodically, making no mistakes in his setup.

If only Mu were here, his life would be secure, sparing him this frantic struggle!

Gu Shaoze and Number Two sat quietly in the room, silently watching each other.

The battlefield was chaotic; both sides were contesting with their mecha pilots. Lasers of every color crossed and collided, brilliance flashing across the deathly still night sky.

The Oak Leaf Squad’s pilots resembled an army, their formation disciplined, supporting and assisting each other in perfect order. Ten elite pilots formed the backbone, with Captain Ferde as their brains.

Under a famous name, there are no weaklings. The Red Hawk Pirates vastly outnumbered the Oak Leaf Squad, and their force was entirely combat-ready. Like cunning wolves, they avoided direct confrontation, constantly harassing and biting at the squad’s flanks and rear, never entangling themselves, merely engaging in guerrilla maneuvers.

On the surface, neither side seemed able to overcome the other, but with time, the scales of war slowly tipped toward the Red Hawk Pirates by virtue of their greater numbers.

Ye Chong carefully maneuvered the Sandstorm Bug, hiding behind a merchant ship, his heart pounding as he watched the chaos unfold. Though he had lived for years on the harsh, unforgiving Junk Planet, the scene before him made his innermost being tremble.

Countless mecha suits darted and hovered, explosions erupting in bursts of brilliance like fireworks flashing past Ye Chong’s eyes. Even after countless matches in the consciousness training base, and destroying many mecha suits himself, nothing had ever approached the shock of this moment.

Ye Chong struggled to calm his restless thoughts.

Survive… survive… I must survive! Ye Chong repeated to himself like a mantra. He couldn’t die here—not after finally escaping that cursed Junk Planet, not before seeing the wider world. How could he end his journey here?

He must not die! Ye Chong screamed inwardly.

Gasping for air, his breathing loud and heavy, Ye Chong gradually regained his composure.

What should he do? If things continued, the Oak Leaf Squad’s defeat was inevitable. Ye Chong knew his own abilities; he wasn’t arrogant enough to believe himself invincible. In this situation, even if he joined the fight, it wouldn’t change the outcome.

Calm now, Ye Chong began to think.

Seeing both sides locked in battle, with no one paying attention to his position, Ye Chong’s mind stirred. Perhaps he could pilot a merchant ship and slip away quietly—after all, he’d consulted Gu Shaoze about such tactics before, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.

No, Ye Chong immediately rejected the idea. With a merchant ship’s speed, by the time the pirates finished the battle, he’d barely have gotten anywhere. Pirate ships were faster and would surely catch up.

What if he escaped in a mecha suit? The enemy probably wouldn’t notice, and even if they did, they wouldn’t send many pursuers. Against one or two, Ye Chong felt confident.

But mecha suits weren’t meant for long-range travel—there wasn’t enough energy, nor supplies of food and water. Even if he escaped, he’d end up starving or dying of thirst in the endless void.

What then? Ye Chong frowned in frustration.

Suddenly, he spotted a uniquely shaped battleship surrounded by pirate vessels, evidently the flagship. An idea sprang unbidden to his mind, and once conceived, it could not be erased.

Seeing several floating rocks dozens of meters across in the distance, Ye Chong’s plan took shape.

The battle had reached fever pitch, casualties mounting, everyone’s attention focused on the center.

A perfect opportunity!

Ye Chong made a snap decision, gritting his teeth to gamble everything on this move—life or death hinged on it.

He straightened in the pilot’s seat, closed his eyes, and began breathing in a special rhythm, consciously relaxing every muscle and calming his mind. His hands rested lightly on the control panel, fingers naturally curved.

Suddenly, Ye Chong’s eyes flew open, sharp and intense.

With a low shout, his hands blurred into phantom shadows. In this life-or-death moment, Ye Chong held nothing back—he could guarantee his hand speed was the fastest ever.

Accelerating, shifting gears, Ye Chong pushed the Sandstorm Bug to maximum speed, darting diagonally toward the merchant ship in front, as if possessed by a deep and bitter grudge.

At just ten meters from the ship, Ye Chong entered its massive shadow, seemingly about to crash full-force into it. His hands accelerated, and the Sandstorm Bug’s auxiliary engines, already primed, roared to life.

The Sandstorm Bug traced a graceful arc, narrowly skimming beneath the merchant ship. At its closest, the mecha was less than ten centimeters from the hull.

Ye Chong stared intently at the holographic screen, calculations racing through his mind, hands never slowing, sweat beading on his brow—this operation was clearly exhausting.

The ship’s underside was only fifty meters wide, and at current speed, the Sandstorm Bug would clear it in less than a second.

Within that fleeting second, the Sandstorm Bug underwent a total transformation!

Its smooth black armor became rough and uneven, sprouting irregular protrusions. The long scorpion tail retracted into the body. Now, the Sandstorm Bug resembled a space rock, common and unremarkable. All engines shut down the instant before it exited beneath the merchant ship.

Such a complex series of maneuvers completed in less than a second—Ye Chong’s hand speed was astonishing!

For the first time, Ye Chong felt grateful for Mu’s “inhuman” steel ball training.

The Sandstorm Bug slipped silently through the merchant fleet, as unnoticed as a stray stone. The two battling sides, engrossed in combat, failed to register its presence.