The young man walked up to the little girl, pinched her soft, rosy cheek, and asked, puzzled, "I clearly pressed for a scream, why is she laughing?"

"Don't tease people!" the little girl pouted, her voice so sweet and soft it almost melted one's bones.

The young man ignored her, just shook his head, and sighed, "The flaw is too severe; even cuteness can't stop me now." She turned and commanded the shop, "A120, take T88 back for reconstruction."

As he spoke, a silver-white robot, nearly two meters tall, emerged from the shop, extended long arms, picked up the little girl, and walked toward the interior.

The young man paused in silence, then suddenly remembered something and added, "Remember to strip its clothes before recycling."

The robot emitted a stiff, synthesized voice: "Yes, Master."

"…!" An Junlie stood there dumbfounded, a bizarre feeling washing over him?

The young man caught a glimpse of him standing rigidly like a human statue out of the corner of his eye, feeling a touch of surprise, but he said nothing, turning back into the room.

Just as he entered, a fluffy little ball flew toward him, aiming precisely for his head. He reached out, intending to intercept it mid-air, but it deftly curved in the open space and settled lightly on his head, bouncing around amidst his dark, stiff hair. The young man caught it and took it down from his head. "Little Sprout, you're mischievous again."

Little Sprout's two large eyes rolled around, and a tiny green sprout emerged from the top of its head, growing two emerald leaves. The leaves swayed back and forth, expressing its excitement. "Cotyledon, Cotyledon, I feel like I've seen that person somewhere before, do you remember?"

The young man, addressed as Cotyledon, replied in a buzzing tone, "Don't you have photographic memory? Why ask me?"

"I just wanted to test you," Little Sprout teased him like a child, the small sprout on its head bending into a question mark in coordination, looking quite elfish.

"Forgot," Cotyledon responded with little interest.

"An Junlie! He is An Junlie!" Little Sprout called out persistently. Of course, it wasn't worried about An Junlie hearing; it was transmitting the sound waves directly into Cotyledon's ear.

Cotyledon sighed sadly, yet what he said was the exact opposite: "I really forgot."

Little Sprout bounced up in displeasure and landed squarely on her head, declaring its dissatisfaction. "I don't believe you! You used to worship him so much; I saw your ears turn red like grilled meat just now."

Cotyledon immediately shot it a sharp glance.

Still clueless about danger, it rubbed affectionately on her head. "Later, you're in charge of charming him, and I'll check his physical data. How about it?"

"Charming him?" Cotyledon laughed faintly, shaking his head. "Stop fooling around; he's not someone we can afford to mess with."

"Don't be like that," Little Sprout pleaded. Seeing her expression dim, it couldn't help but bounce onto her face, kneading her small visage like dough, from top to bottom, left to right, to appease her. "Cotyledon, Cotyledon, utilize your unique talents as a woman…"

Before it could finish speaking, Cotyledon grasped the tiny sprout on its head with two fingers and tossed it onto the nearby table. It rolled twice, scrambled up, and watching Cotyledon's resolute back, let out a helpless sigh.

She clearly lacked any feminine grace yet was unwilling to become more womanly—how frustrating.

Idly, it looked toward the door. An Junlie was gone, as if he had been nothing more than an illusion just moments before. It immediately deflated like a punctured ball, its entire body shrinking as it slumped onto the table.

It must have been a hallucination. How could An Junlie possibly be on this place? This was a prison planet!

Little Sprout was utterly disappointed.

Just then, that tall figure returned, walking straight toward its location. Its eyes lit up, and it suddenly puffed up its energy, rising on the table, even making the sprout on its head stand taller.

An Junlie tapped on the door.

Little Sprout sprang up from the table, desperately trying to project its presence.

An Junlie glanced at it, seeing only a spherical optical computer, and continued knocking.

Little Sprout felt deeply resentful.

He dared to ignore it? That was too much! The sprout on its head flared into a flame shape in anger, but the tiny thing was too inconspicuous to draw An Junlie's attention.

Hearing the knocking, Cotyledon walked in from the backyard. Seeing it was An Junlie, she froze, forcing out a single sentence from her throat, "How may I assist you?"

An Junlie fought to suppress the discomfort in his body and asked with a dry throat, "Where is a mecha repair shop?"

Cotyledon gripped the rag she was using for work tightly, composing herself, and replied concisely, "There are no repair shops here, only repair stores."

An Junlie looked around at the environment. The room was vast and empty, with a single table, two stools, and a robot standing by the door—it looked nothing like a repair facility. He asked, "Where?"

Cotyledon pointed to a sign hanging behind the counter. "Here."

An Junlie held little hope for this establishment, suppressing his irritation as he asked, "Are there any others?"

Cotyledon replied expressionlessly, "I apologize, this is the only mecha repair store on the planet; there are no other branches."

An Junlie was instantly struck by a feeling of powerlessness, like a tiger fallen to flat ground. This feeling was more debilitating than fighting Kalu. When fighting Kalu, he knew his strengths and weaknesses; he had room to maneuver. But on this tiny planet, a single mech shop—no, a single toy mecha shop—claimed absolute dominance.

It’s not terrifying when the monkeys rule because the mountain lacks a tiger; what's terrifying is that no matter how formidable the monkeys are, they are still just monkeys, lacking the tiger's capabilities.

He sought out a repair shop merely clinging to a sliver of hope: if he could just replace the power core, if the optical computer could function normally, he could contact the legion and summon a technician for repairs.

However, Cotyledon's answer plunged him into complete despair.

This damned planet—he didn't want to stay a second longer. But his rationality reminded him what mattered most. Frowning, he asked, "What about a technician?"

Cotyledon spread her hands. "This store operates on a small scale; it's just me."

An Junlie opened his mouth, left speechless. If he hadn't spent so long on civilized planets, he would have sworn profusely!

Cotyledon glanced at him, picked up Little Sprout, and walked toward the back. "Come on, let me look at the mecha first."

This was the only peculiar aspect of the storefront: the main room lacked a back wall, instead featuring four or five large doors, all leading outward in various directions. He followed Cotyledon out of the leftmost door.

It was an open area situated among a cluster of massive factory buildings, spanning over a thousand square meters.

Seeing this scene, An Junlie closed his eyes in despair.

How could he explain the animal skeletons and hides filling this yard? What was the meaning of the trash and dust covering the ground? It looked like an abandoned slaughterhouse, made even more sinister by the tangled roots—it resembled a mass grave. He gripped the spatial button containing the mecha with one hand and whispered, "Brother, it's not that I don't want to save you…"