The bridge of the pirate flagship was in utter chaos; they were thrown about by successive laser blasts that shattered their command structure.

"Pull them back! Now!" Little Thompson, seeing the carrier-based aircraft being massacred, grabbed a fallen communications officer and barked the order.

The pirate comms officer immediately scrambled back into his seat, clamped on his headset, and yelled, "Carrier wing, stand down, return! I repeat! Return immediately!"

"Continue launching the next wave of missiles!" Lilia's voice was utterly steady, almost chillingly so. When dealing with the enemy, she knew nothing of mercy.

Following the Valkyrie's sustained missile barrage, only two or three heavily scarred pirate aircraft managed to escape the kill zone.

"How could this happen?" Little Thompson sat slumped in the captain's chair, his gaze vacant.

The white-haired pirate struggled to rise from the deck and offered, "Little Thompson, we must counterattack immediately, or it will be too late!"

"Yes, we counterattack!" Little Thompson slapped himself twice, snapping back to alertness, and commanded, "Where are our laser cannons? Are the gunners trying to die? Fire them now!"

"Right away!" the gunner shouted back, pulling himself up from the floor. He set the targets on the console, slammed the firing stud, and roared, "Laser cannons, fire!"

Instantly, a massive, bright beam erupted from the main caliber laser cannon on the medium-class warship, joined by several smaller secondary batteries that opened up across the board, relentlessly lashing out at Yang Ying's position.

As the flagship fired, the Thompson Pirate Fleet’s other medium warship and six small warships focused all their firepower onto the leading Valkyrie frigate.

According to the galaxy-standard classification for laser cannons, based on energy level, there were ten tiers, from the lowest Level One to the supreme Level Ten. Anything below Level One was considered a laser pistol, while anything above Level Ten was so prohibitively expensive that it was reserved only for the military fortresses of truly powerful races.

Considering every race in the galaxy, the highest-grade laser cannon mounted on a starship was Level Ten; a full-power strike from such a weapon was capable of turning a planet's surface into a wasteland.

Given the Solar System's relatively shallow technological prowess, even the most advanced super-heavy warships could only mount Level Six main cannons; Level Seven main cannons were only found on select, crucial military installations, and even those were rare.

The pirate medium warship's main laser cannon was only Level Three, and its secondary batteries were Level Two; the small warships sported Level Two main cannons, with some even carrying Level One secondary guns meant only for engaging fighters.

The Valkyrie's main laser cannon was also Level Three, but though smaller in bore, its energy containment was far superior, granting it greater range and accuracy. The pirates' laser technology was comprehensively outmatched. Furthermore, the Valkyrie's armor could shrug off all attacks below Level Three, meaning as long as she wasn't pounded too heavily by the pirate fleet's Level Three main batteries, she would be fine.

The inherent inaccuracy of the pirate fleet's lasers was due to the nature of space combat; engagements typically occurred over distances exceeding one thousand kilometers. A slight divergence in the firing angle meant the beam could miss wildly over that vast distance, and even minor ship vibrations could throw off the aim.

The pirate fleet's volley resulted in only a few Level Two laser blasts striking the frigate carrying Yang Ying, causing minor jolts throughout the bridge.

"Report damage!" Lilia sat firmly in the captain's chair, completely unmoved and composed.

"The pirate shelling did not penetrate our hull integrity; everything is nominal!" The Observer handled not only radar monitoring but also the constant internal status checks of the warship.

"Where are Ghost Fighter Squadrons One and Two?" Lilia shifted her attention back to the battle.

"They are currently flanking around to the pirate rear and will reach attack position in one minute," the Comms Officer reported after confirming with the Ghost fighters.

"Maintain fire density and continue the assault!" Lilia appeared significantly more relaxed after saying this, realizing the probability of the pirates breaking the stalemate in that single minute was less than the chance of pies falling from the sky.

Suddenly, the bridge convulsed violently, as if struck by a thousand-pound hammer slamming into the deck.

"We've been hit by a Level Three main cannon! Report damage assessment!" Lilia gripped the armrests to steady herself. After issuing the order to the Observer, she immediately turned to Yang Ying: "Sir, are you unharmed?"

"Worry about yourself; you continue command." Yang Ying stood perfectly steady. His swordsmanship had honed his footing to be incredibly stable, and his reflexes were sharp; this level of vibration could not unseat him.

The Observer quickly called out, "The starboard side was hit by a laser blast; one secondary battery was destroyed. Lines connecting to the starboard thrusters are partially damaged. Two crew members sustained minor injuries; zero fatalities. The H.A.L. missile system deployed on the starboard side remains intact."

Immediately after, the Comms Officer shouted, "Ghost Fighter Squadrons One and Two have reached attack position and are ready to engage!"

"Tell them to hit them hard!" Lilia's tone remained cool, but Yang Ying sensed the deep-seated rage boiling beneath her surface—the pirates had hurt her precious warship, and she desired nothing less than total annihilation.

Seconds later, a string of missile trails appeared behind the pirate fleet. Before they could react, the ordnance slammed into the propulsion section at the stern of their vessels.

The Ghost fighters' laser cannons were only Level One, but their missiles carried the destructive equivalent of a Level Two laser blast. The resulting explosions within the pirate engines were catastrophic.

At this point, the pirate flagship was already burning fiercely from the Valkyrie's main cannon strikes and suffering severe structural damage. Normally, they would have retreated long ago, but Little Thompson stubbornly insisted that the enemy was just a small fleet that needed to be crushed by the firepower of a medium warship to avenge their lost air wing.

The impact from the main cannon had momentarily cheered him, but as the smoke cleared and he saw the negligible damage to the enemy hull, he finally considered retreat. Just as he was about to issue the withdrawal order, an unprecedented, violent shockwave hurled him and everyone else on the bridge into the air before slamming them back down.

The white-haired pirate stared up from the floor with an expression of utter despair, mumbling, "It's over. We are finished."

"What happened? Report damage!" Little Thompson lay on the deck, grinding his teeth. He felt his arm was broken, his face deathly pale with pain.

A pirate scrambled up, worked the controls briefly, and cried out in horror, "The propulsion system took a massive hit! The main engine is malfunctioning—it's going critical!"

"How is that possible? How did they hit the thrusters?" Little Thompson looked on in bewildered terror as explosions erupted around him.