In warfare, if the equipment of the two sides is separated by an entire era, the outcome is inevitably tragic.

Just as the main cannon of the Hongxian Federation began to illuminate, a small muzzle atop the Mars fired. A flash of deep blue light zipped across, striking the main cannon muzzle of the Federation flagship precisely where the circular energy shield had formed.

The muzzle, brimming with immense energy, contracted strangely, surging as if stirred by an undertow.

“Report! The main cannon’s energy is highly unstable, I fear… I fear it might run wild…” An aide suddenly shot to his feet, his expression fraught with alarm.

“How is that possible?” The Commander’s face immediately paled.

The main cannon is the heart of a warship; the primary purpose of a warship lies in annihilating the enemy. A vessel incapable of destroying its foe, no matter how advanced, is merely an expensive ornament. The importance of the main cannon is self-evident. A warship without its main gun is a tiger stripped of its claws.

“Immediately sever the main cannon’s power supply!” Recalling the terrifying consequences of an energy overload, the Commander made a swift, decisive order, striving to minimize potential losses.

On the main cannon’s muzzle, the energy wave, deprived of continuous supply, ceased its expansion, flickered a few times, and then, like a punctured balloon, the contained energy vented outwards, dissipating into invisible rays that vanished into the void of space.

This unexpected turn of events sent the Hongxian Federation personnel into a frenzy of delight. They had already braced themselves for the loss of a main cannon. Who could have known that the God of Fortune had chosen to smile upon them this time; the main cannon remained perfectly intact.

Zhong Yun sighed with genuine regret. For the main cannon, which had completed its energy charge, to be unharmed after being struck by the “Chaos Ray,” he couldn't help but marvel at their sheer, rotten luck.

The “Chaos Ray” itself carried negligible power; when striking a person, it caused no damage whatsoever. But it possessed a singularly bizarre property: any ordinary energy cluster it hit would instantly have its energy balance disrupted, becoming chaotic, violent, and subsequently uncontrollable.

Loss of control usually resulted in a massive explosion. For the energy to dissipate so peacefully, as it had now, was exceedingly rare. This was why Zhong Yun lamented the sheer stroke of luck bestowed upon the Hongxian Federation fleet. It seemed fortune was not always on his side.

What a pity the Mars lacked an “Antimatter Cannon”; otherwise, this would not have been so troublesome. One ship, one cannon, and the problem would be solved. Those warships without energy shields stood absolutely no chance against an “Antimatter Cannon”—it was practically a death sentence.

“Can we blow up their main cannon like we did just now?” Zhong Yun suddenly inquired. That earlier shot had struck the unlucky warship’s main cannon, triggering a violent explosion that rendered it useless.

“The distance is too great. The probability of a secondary weapon hitting the enemy’s main cannon is only two percent. What happened earlier was a low-probability event,” Xiao Ling’s voice returned.

Zhong Yun felt a pang of regret, but thinking it through, he understood. How large was the enemy’s main cannon? The distance exceeded two thousand kilometers, not to mention the target was moving at high speed. Even with perfect aim, the projectile would have drifted by the time it arrived. Only something traveling at the speed of light, like the “Chaos Ray,” could negate such distances.

He glanced at the main cannon’s energy gauge. Fifteen minutes remained until it was full.

“Activate engines. Vector… acceleration set to.” Zhong Yun issued his order once more.

Seeing the strangely elusive vessel preparing to flee, the commander of the Hongxian Federation fleet paused for a moment before realizing his error. No matter how advanced an ordinary vessel might be, engaging a dedicated warship head-on offered little hope of victory.

This current vessel, despite possessing formidable firepower, was inherently flawed, forcing it to hide and strike from the shadows rather than confronting them directly.

Once this point was grasped, he finally understood why the opponent, possessing superior firepower, chose to conceal itself for sneak attacks instead of fighting them openly. It wasn't, as he had previously surmised, due to any apprehension regarding the dictates of the so-called Grand Cosmic Federation laws.

For a moment, the commander felt a rush of blood to his head. His vision darkened; he was almost struck down by the crushing weight of this realization. He gripped his chair, taking several harsh breaths to forcefully swallow back the sweet, metallic taste rising in his throat.

“Commander, are you alright?” The Vice Captain, seated nearby, noticed his distress and approached with concern.

The Commander waved his hand, signaling he was fine, yet the profound exhaustion etched onto his face could not be concealed. With trepidation, the Vice Captain returned to his post, frequently glancing back worriedly at his superior.

To think I considered myself a master strategist, yet I made such a catastrophic decision in this crucial engagement. The Commander felt that his entire lifetime of wisdom had been utterly annihilated in this instant.

That argument, that “provisional vote,” felt like a stinging slap across his face in front of one hundred and sixty-three subordinates.

Because of his error, the strategic moment had been lost, causing irreparable damage to the Federation’s fleet. He had never felt the seat beneath him so much like a bed of nails.

He stared intensely at the dark-cyan, egg-shaped vessel on the screen. It. It was the source of all this calamity. Now, it lacked the majesty of its sneak attack; it was fleeing in panic, appearing utterly wretched.

However, its acceleration was too slow.

For nations of Intermediate Civilization, starship speeds generally approached the speed of light. What truly differentiated performance in terms of velocity was acceleration. Most standard vessels required days, even weeks, to reach light speed. In contrast, the Hongxian Federation’s “Quasi-Satellite” class ships, when running at full thrust, could achieve light speed within two days. This was an astonishing figure. One must consider that even the most advanced vessels built by Davo required three days to reach light speed. This vast disparity gave the Hongxian Federation an enormous advantage in combat. With such powerful maneuverability, they could fight fiercely when winning and flee instantly when losing—a virtually invincible capability. Regrettably, the Federation’s sole fleet, composed entirely of “Quasi-Satellite” class warships and the focus of unlimited hope for the entire Federation, had inexplicably lost five vessels to a single, unknown ordinary starship.

“Catch them! Capture that ship!” The Commander’s face contorted into something monstrous at that moment. “I will survive this.”

You cannot escape. His sinister gaze seemed capable of piercing the ship’s hull, stabbing directly into the fleeing vessel, directing waves of killing intent toward the indistinct enemy within. I will make you regret ever being born into this world.

All his regret and self-reproach transmuted into pure hatred for the master of that ship.

And so, in a remote corner of the universe, a scene unfolded: two long, spindle-shaped warships were chasing a single, slightly slower, egg-shaped vessel. Trailing those two warships, two even slower vessels kept a tight pursuit.

The distances between them waxed and waned. They only needed to close the gap to a critical point before the brutal conflict would erupt anew.

Every warrior of the Hongxian Federation awaited that moment, and Zhong Yun, too, waited in silence.

P: At this crucial juncture for securing Monthly Tickets, the boss has forced me to work overtime—I feel utterly crushed. I finally managed to churn out two thousand characters during my lunch break and afternoon rest, thinking you might be waiting, so I uploaded it now. The next chapter probably won’t arrive until after midnight. Regardless, there will still be three thousand more characters forthcoming. I checked the Monthly Tickets; we finally pulled ahead. Thank you so much for your support and encouragement, but with only a five-vote lead, my heart is hanging by a thread—it’s far too dangerous; the other side just needs one quick push to overtake us. The poor 45 [referring to himself] is weeping tears of blood while working overtime, begging you for Monthly Tickets.