It was perfectly normal for four Ghost fighters to eliminate two medium-sized warships; this was due to the inherent weakness of the type, a dynamic dating back to World War II when dive bombers carrying aerial torpedoes could sink battleships. After the advent of the aircraft carrier, carrier-based aircraft sank countless capital ships; if the opposing side lacked fighter escorts, purely relying on anti-air artillery offered no defense against carrier-borne attacks.

Aircraft hold an inherent advantage against surface vessels, and this remains true even when the battlefield shifts to the void of space. In space, warships still suffer from being large targets, relatively slow speeds, and sluggish maneuverability—along with a weakness even more pronounced than their surface counterparts: the aft propulsion unit.

Once this weak point is struck, it can easily ignite the reactor, leading to the detonation of the entire vessel. The Ghost fighters achieved swift victory by leveraging their extreme speed to bypass the medium warships entirely, striking directly at their engines.

Had the pirates been more cautious and deployed their own carrier-borne aircraft to screen the perimeter beforehand, the Ghost fighters, even without stealth capability, would not have succeeded so easily. Unfortunately, the base’s prior forbearance had led them to underestimate the danger; by the time they realized the Ghost fighters were closing in, it was already too late.

In a sector of space one hundred light-seconds from Fortran Base, the main fleet of the Shark Pirate Gang lay in wait: three large warships, four medium warships, and nearly twenty small frigates. At that moment, San Yan, the leader of the Shark Pirate Gang, received confirmation of his detachment’s annihilation and was roaring in fury from the captain's chair on the flagship's bridge.

“These useless, cowardly, idiotic scum! The two medium warships spat out only two sentences before blowing up—one of which was a direct insult to me!

Unbearable!” The lean, blond, blue-eyed man, dressed like a gentleman, was incandescent with rage, his eyes bloodshot, his right hand hammering the armrest of his chair. “Boss, calm down.

Poise, maintain some poise,” a nearby pirate murmured in warning. “Yes, poise.” San Yan took two deep breaths, smoothed his disheveled hair, and turned to fix the speaker with his blood-red gaze.

The pirate visibly recoiled, leaning back slightly. “Boss, why are you… looking at me like that?” San Yan suddenly lunged forward and gripped the pirate by the throat.

“Those were two medium warships! Medium!

Not small gunships, and certainly not fighters! How can you expect me to just ‘calm down,’ hmm!” San Yan roared.

“I demand vengeance!” Because the command station where the captain’s chair sat was elevated above the control consoles that encircled half the bridge, San Yan shoved violently, sending the pirate tumbling down the steps. The assembled crew below instantly fell silent, chilled by the action.

“Have you analyzed the results?” San Yan demanded of those below. Having vented some of his rage by pushing the man, he appeared calmer.

A pirate who looked like a civilian analyst responded, “We have too little information. We don’t know the exact number or model of the enemy fighters deployed.

We only know their speed was exceptional—they instantly circled behind our ships, and the detachment was eliminated before they could even react.” San Yan sat back down, murmuring to himself, “Could that new base possess the latest fighter models? Just who in the blazes are they?” He considered the situation, ultimately deciding he lacked the certainty required for a direct confrontation.

“We know too little about them. We need more intelligence,” San Yan declared, looking up and shouting, “Go!” Just as everyone expected him to order the main fleet to sail for immediate revenge.

“We’re relocating,” San Yan finished. The entire crew nearly fainted.

The pirate who had just been thrown down the steps managed to scramble back up. “Boss, didn’t you just shout about revenge?” “Nonsense!

A true gentleman cannot let this slight stand!” San Yan declared with sanctimonious authority. “But there’s also a saying: A gentleman’s revenge is never too late.

Our withdrawal now is for the sake of better vengeance later. First, we find intelligence support and investigate their background.

This way, we minimize our casualties when we strike back. I am doing this for the sake of your lives!” As he spoke, San Yan gestured broadly toward the bridge crew, acting as if his considerations were entirely selfless.

“A gentleman? We’re pirates, Boss, not gentlemen,” the recovered pirate chimed in, incapable of self-censorship.

“Even piracy has its code; the ancient sayings of China hold great truth, and a gentleman is an Eastern noble—your boss is a gentleman among pirates,” San Yan stated, adjusting his uniform to project an air of unflappable composure. “Unlike you lot!” Five hours later, a Protoss Observer dispatched by Yang Ying spotted the retreating fleet and recognized them as the Shark Pirate Gang, immediately relaying the intelligence back.

Yang Ying, exhausted from a full day of travel and activity, had just lain down when Kalia summoned him back with the report. “It seems our base can enjoy some quiet for a while.

However, as we expand, we will inevitably encroach upon the living space of other factions. Therefore, threats of all kinds will keep coming, ceaseless like a great river.

We must never let down our guard!” Yang Ying’s tone was resolute, as if he could already foresee the path ahead. “Of course, Officer.

We maintain vigilance at all times,” Kalia replied, his expression stern. Yang Ying added, “As for the Shark Pirate Gang—since they’ve made an enemy of us, we must find a way to eliminate them to prevent future trouble.

But since a localized battle just occurred here, if they are annihilated immediately, we will instantly find ourselves standing on the precipice. This does not serve our interests.

We are new here and unfamiliar with this territory; showing our strength too soon to the major powers in the Asteroid Belt risks pushing them into an opposing coalition, which would hinder our long-term development.” “I understand what needs to be done,” Kalia bowed slightly. “Excellent.

Good night.” “Good night, Officer.” The next morning, as Yang Ying shared breakfast with his new personal assistant and secretary, Katherina, his communicator rang again. Yang Ying answered, and it was indeed Kalia.

“Officer, please turn on the television, the news channel. The matter we discussed previously has come to pass.” Yang Ying activated the standing television.

The news anchor reported: “Per Presidential Order No. 145, due to guerrilla elements deployed by enemies of the Ancient Legion bypassing the Saturn defense line and conducting harassment operations deep within the Solar System, the military finds itself short-handed for pursuit.

Therefore, a total bounty of one trillion credits has been issued to the Mercenary Alliance to eliminate the Ancient Legion. Specific details can be found on the official government and Mercenary Alliance websites.” “It seems we have something to occupy ourselves with,” Yang Ying’s eyes brightened.

The cups and saucers on the table lifted, circled the air once, and settled gently back onto the surface. Katherina offered a slight smile.

“You seem quite pleased, Officer.” “Officer, this contract won't be resolved quickly, and I have a matter here that requires your prompt response,” Kalia continued, keeping the communicator open. “What is it?” Yang Ying asked, never having muted the line.