Chapter Thirty-Nine

Ye Chong lay quietly outside the door, like a leopard lurking in a shadowy corner, waiting for the moment his prey let down its guard. On his way here, not a soul crossed his path; the entire pirate ship seemed deserted, until he reached the vicinity of the main control room and overheard voices, prompting him to sneak closer.

Inside the control room were only two men. Judging by his black eye patch, the one with only a single eye exposed appeared to be the leader, while his companion was clearly terrified of him.

Ye Chong felt the dagger at his waist. His laser sword was too long for the cramped interior of the ship, and its bright glow would easily draw attention. He tossed it into a dark corner. He had also removed his escape suit—it was simply too bulky and cumbersome.

The one-eyed leader was directing his subordinates through a holographic screen, his gaunt strategist standing behind him. Both men had their backs to Ye Chong.

Ye Chong waited with patience for the perfect moment.

The one-eyed leader spoke at length, then, breathless, cut off the communication. This was exactly the moment Ye Chong had waited for.

He crouched low and slipped silently behind the one-eyed leader. The thick carpet in the control room muffled his footsteps, giving Ye Chong a considerable advantage. Those accustomed to living on the edge often possess uncanny instincts for danger. The one-eyed leader seemed to sense something amiss and was about to glance behind him.

Ye Chong startled. His legs tensed and he sprang forward, the dagger in his right hand flicking out like a snake’s tongue—swift, ruthless, precise. Ye Chong never held back; his dagger aimed straight for the leader’s neck. He was certain that if the blade found its mark, it would leave a gaping wound.

Hearing the sudden rush behind him, the one-eyed leader was terrified. He pushed off the armrests, rolling forward like a ball to narrowly evade Ye Chong’s strike, and even as he left his seat, he remembered to activate the communicator.

The gaunt strategist had yet to comprehend what was happening, staring blankly as the leader tumbled onto the carpet, wondering what was going on.

Ye Chong hadn't anticipated his strike would miss. Briefly stunned, he spotted the dumbfounded strategist—almost instinctively, Ye Chong's left fist smashed into the man’s waist. With a dull thud, the strategist flew like a rag doll, tracing a parabola through the air before crashing against the wall. Blood sprayed, painting the white wall with blossoms of crimson.

Seeing the raw power of Ye Chong’s blow, the one-eyed leader’s expression changed dramatically.

Suddenly, a holographic screen popped up, startling Ye Chong.

On the screen, his subordinate’s face was filled with confusion, unable to understand why the leader had reinitiated contact immediately after closing the channel. He asked, “Boss, is there anything else you need?”

The one-eyed leader cursed furiously, “Need? Idiot! Can’t you see I’m being attacked? Get over here—” His words were abruptly cut off, for he saw Ye Chong lunging at him.

He understood that if he could stall for a bit, his men would arrive—just a minute, no, perhaps half a minute would suffice! He comforted himself with this thought.

His vision blurred; Ye Chong appeared before him like a phantom. The dagger’s cold gleam trailed a faint, elusive tail through the light.

The one-eyed leader’s face paled completely. He hadn’t expected his opponent to possess not only immense strength but terrifying speed as well! Having weathered countless storms, he knew that while brute force was formidable, speed was far more practical. Swift, fierce, precise—speed always came first. As the saying went: nothing is unbreakable, only speed is. Yet, when strength and speed merge, the result is truly fearsome.

The one-eyed leader could never have imagined he would encounter such a formidable adversary today. His heart sank.

But the leader was no coward. Seeing he couldn’t dodge in time, he gritted his teeth and raised his arms to shield his vital spots.

The sound of the dagger piercing flesh came first, followed by the crack of breaking bone. The leader let out a scream as pain flooded him, overwhelming his senses. Desperate, he tried to do something—anything—to lessen the agony.

Ye Chong noticed the gap left by the leader’s pain-stricken defense and deftly withdrew his dagger. Blood gushed forth like a fountain. His gaze sharpened, and his right hand, dagger in hand, struck like a snake—unerringly finding the leader’s throat.

The leader’s single eye bulged lifelessly, staring at Ye Chong in disbelief. One hand clutched his neck; his mouth opened as if to speak, but only the whistling of air through a cut windpipe was heard. Blood poured from his mouth. Within seconds, he collapsed.

The subordinate on the holographic screen was utterly stunned, his mind short-circuited as he watched the scene unfold before him. When he finally saw his leader fall, he snapped back to reality, letting out an earth-shattering roar.

Ye Chong glanced coolly at him, then shut off the communicator.

He knew there was only one thing left to do—escape.

Ye Chong sat at the control console and piloted the ship in reverse. It was his first time flying a starship, so his movements were clumsy. The area was crowded with pirate vessels guarding their leader; Ye Chong frequently collided with nearby ships.

The pirates hadn’t learned their leader was dead. They assumed he was simply enjoying a ride, and the minor collisions caused no real harm. The pirates left on other ships watched their leader’s awkward maneuvers with amusement, cherishing the rare chance to laugh at his expense.

Soon, Ye Chong grasped the knack—it wasn’t so different from piloting a mech!

Ferdie was silently cursing. The pirates’ relentless harassment had nearly depleted his team’s energy reserves, and the enemy gave them no chance to refuel. Another two or three minutes and his brothers would become helpless lambs, ready for slaughter. Ferdie was almost in despair.

Suddenly, something bizarre happened on the battlefield.

One pirate stopped attacking, then others followed suit, as though infected. In less than half a minute, nearly all pirates ceased fire.

Ferdie stared at the uncanny scene, unable to make sense of it. Was it a trick? The enemy had no need for such tactics. Were they showing mercy? Ridiculous—a band of ruthless pirates praying for peace? He scoffed, thinking he’d become a saint himself if that were true.

He dared not waste time, afraid the opportunity would vanish. He quickly ordered his men to return and refuel.

As they rushed back, Ferdie glanced over his shoulder—and nearly lost his eyes in shock. The enemies were retreating too, and even faster than his own group! Distracted, Ferdie almost crashed into a merchant ship, utterly flustered.

A battlefield once filled with gunfire and fierce combat was suddenly empty in the blink of an eye.