Ziye’s mind raced, her eyes fixed on the bridge section of the enemy escort ship.

It was thanks to her prior work on the battleship blueprints that she was so intimately familiar with ship architecture.

The bridge was the vessel’s central hub; if it was blown, the ship was nothing but debris.

The enemy had superior numbers, and their escorts were hardly top-tier; she estimated their projectile weapons had a maximum range of perhaps 40km.

Thus, an excellent strategy immediately sprang to mind.

Kiting! Ziye made a snap decision: full-speed retreat! Once she had widened the distance to over 40KM, she would charge her energy, unleash a sudden burst, scream forward, pivot, and fire! After all, the Ping’an-class laser cannons boasted a range of 60KM! As long as the distance between them was greater than 40KM but less than 60KM, blasting the enemy would be child’s play.

To prevent them from closing in, Ziye cleverly used the nearby meteorites and asteroid field for cover—that area, once a pirate hiding spot, had now become her potent asset.

Ziye finally leveraged the mech’s strengths, engaging the pirates in nimble guerrilla warfare.

However, just as she was feeling confident about wiping them out, Little Sprout emitted an emergency alert: “The Viper is ahead!” Ziye stiffened, blurting out, “Run!” The Viper was one of the most notorious pirate capital ships, a genuine nightmare for anyone traversing interstellar lanes or asteroid fields.

It was also one of the most infamous escort vessels, capable of handling cruisers several times its own size.

Red Hair had once warned her there were three cardinal rules for spacewalking; the first was, if you encounter the Viper, never engage—flee as far as you possibly can! As a lone, inexperienced mech pilot facing a vessel of that caliber, refusing to flee meant certain death.

Ziye immediately converted her humanoid frame into fighter mode and activated the jump drive.

The jump drive required five seconds to spool up.

Five, four, three, two! Before the engine could fully engage, Ziye saw fiery projectiles from the distant Viper screaming toward her mech’s back on the display screen.

Staggered, she frantically deployed her shields, which shattered with a boom, dissolving into fragments scattering into the boundless void! What terrifying ordnance! A chill ran down Ziye’s spine, but what was more terrifying was the Viper firing in rapid succession—the first shot destroyed her shield, and the second was already closing in.

Ziye was paralyzed by terror; this was the first time she had been so thoroughly caught off guard, so utterly defenseless.

There was nothing left in her mech that could offer any further protection.

Was this how it would end? Ziye squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face, thinking, I still have so much left undone—I’m not ready to die! She clenched her fists and shot upright.

At that precise moment, she saw the engine had ignited, carving streaks of afterimage across the viewport.

The Ping’an-class mech’s warp speed exceeded 4000m/s.

The Viper’s cannonballs harmlessly plummeted less than three meters behind the mech, vanishing into space.

Ziye’s heart hadn’t even settled when a fresh wave of cold sweat drenched her.

Only once she had successfully warped clear of the pirates’ operational zone, seeing no sign of them whatsoever, did Ziye finally relax, slumping against the cockpit controls, trying to calm the heart hammering against her ribs.

That was too close—it was a life-or-death gamble! The sweat had soaked her clothing, sticking unpleasantly to her skin.

Even her thick, coarse hair had been so terrified it felt softened, plastered to her forehead with the perspiration, making her feel as if she’d just been hauled out of water.

But these discomforts were minor details.

Ziye rubbed her chest, gasping for air.

The lingering aftermath of fear was always worse than the terror felt in the moment.

Ziye’s limbs trembled uncontrollably, her lips shook so violently she could barely speak.

Only now did the full realization hit her: she had just narrowly escaped death’s door.

If she had been just a fraction slower, she would be nothing but space wreckage now.

Hoo… Ziye exhaled and asked, “Little Sprout, where are we now?” Little Sprout offered no response.

Ziye paused slightly, then looked over to see it completely engrossed in searching the Galactic Net on its datapad.

“What’s wrong?” She poked Little Sprout’s head.

Still no reaction until the final search query failed.

Then, it jumped up: “I finally figured out why we lost contact with the alien!” Ziye blinked in confusion: “Did he die back there?” Little Sprout sharply turned its head, its black glass eyes whirring, “I see he’s quite weak in your estimation.

Relax, we deviated 10.2 degrees from his trajectory.

He wasn't on this route.” Ziye managed a soft “Oh,” finally processing the information.

“Then what did you find about him?” Little Sprout projected its screen, displaying it before Ziye to view.

“From the moment we left the pirates’ location, I haven't been able to find Silver Rune’s signal again.” Ziye’s eyes widened: “You mean…?” Little Sprout nodded: “Exactly.

The reason we lost the alien’s signal wasn't because he perished, but because that area was blocking the transmission.” Ziye sighed.

Well, at least he wasn't dead.

Seeing her expression hadn't brightened, Little Sprout chirped, “Don’t look so glum, we’ve already jumped out of the wormhole, yeah!” As it cheered, a meteor slammed towards them.

Little Sprout swiftly piloted the mech aside, dodging the impact.

More meteors whistled past as Little Sprout weaved and danced through the asteroid field, leaping upward.

Then, she saw the sky ablaze with falling stars.

It was Cyartus! It was dawn on Cyartus; golden light streamed from the opposite side of the planet, illuminating Ziye’s face.

The light washed over her, feeling like a rebirth… Ziye didn't enter the planet via a regulated star lane; instead, she landed stealthily in an uninhabited area, so almost no one noticed the addition of one more person to the planet.

She stored the battered mech in her spatial clip, picked up Little Sprout, and asked as they walked, “Little Sprout, where should we head first?” On Silver Rune, everything had been clear—the goal was to find An Junlie.

But now that she was actually out here, realizing she no longer needed to find him, arriving on an unfamiliar planet among strange crowds left her adrift.

She had no money, no influence, not even a passport; moving forward felt impossible.

Entering a city on Cyartus, before the sunlight even fully reached the ground, the tourist throngs were already bustling—a fitting scene for a major tourist planet.

Little Sprout’s eyes darted among the chattering tourists, flickering with internal processing lights.

Once clear of the densest crowd, it whispered, “Mistress, do you want to reclaim your old identity, or forge a new one?” The old identity? A child raised in an orphanage, a student at Feilv Junior Academy? Having vanished without a trace for over two years, reappearing now meant having to fabricate endless lies—which was always harder than starting from a blank slate.

Besides, she never wanted to return to that planet.

“Can you create an entirely new identity for me?” Little Sprout grinned cheekily and displayed its screen.

On it was a crisp electronic passport, complete with her photo, name, and serial number.

It boasted, “Your Master just hacked into the Interstellar Federation’s archive system and built this.

I took care of the social welfare system, medical records, and all the sundry bits too.

We can just use it to register a new one at the certification center later.” Ziye stared dumbfounded; Little Sprout truly was capable! Cyartus was a tourist world, so all infrastructure prioritized aesthetics.

Even the certification center was shaped like a tower, its lines exquisite and brimming with local Cyartus flavor.

The exterior walls, which looked beige, turned out to be transparent organic glass indoors.

She rode up to the two-hundredth floor, commanding a view of nearly half the city.

As far as the eye could see, airships, hovercars, mechs, and starships moved in orderly streams along aerial tracks, like giant, graceful birds.

Dozens of holographic display units stood in the center of the hall, cycling through various services, with numerous terminals nearby for guest queries.

Almost all staff in the center were robots.

Ziye approached a self-service kiosk and proceeded through the authentication sequence.

After scanning, the passport ejected from the machine: “Reissuance successful.” Ziye took the passport, a slight smile curving her lips.

She felt as if she had been reborn.

The former Ziye, having been missing for a year, had her civic registration canceled; she was gone.

Now, she was the new Ziye, a Ziye dedicated to vengeance.

Sometimes, a simple card represented everything a person was.

Ziye instructed Little Sprout to scan the passport and save an electronic copy, then approached another machine to check her personal data.

To her surprise, the machine indicated she had unclaimed social aid funds.

Little Sprout was too amazing; fearing she'd be penniless upon arrival, it had even altered the relief system for her.

Self-service always had one advantage: no need for intrusive questioning from staff.

Claiming the relief funds was on the 150th floor, so she hurried toward the elevators with Little Sprout in tow, heading to collect the money.

The Interstellar Federation’s policy was quite generous: independent orphans under the age of majority received a monthly government stipend of 3,000 credits, forfeitable if not claimed promptly.

Her relief funds from the previous year were indeed forfeited, but she could still claim over 20,000 credits just from the current year.

After obtaining the relief card, Ziye grinned broadly and shouted, “Little Sprout, Little Sprout, we have money! Woohoo!” Little Sprout puffed out its chest proudly: “Heh heh, thank your esteemed Master.” Ziye kissed it affectionately.

“Master is mighty, thank you, Master.” With money in hand, Ziye felt a surge of confidence and headed for a restaurant, planning a feast.

However, even an ordinary-looking eatery charged several hundred credits for a meal.

Right, things were always overpriced in tourist zones.

After eating, Ziye made a firm resolution: “This is too expensive for long-term living.

We need to find a cheaper planet.” The person and the datapad searched for half an hour in the restaurant and decided on somewhere closer.

The Cyartus system was under the governance of the Interstellar Federation, making it relatively secure.

Among them, Kira Star was a good choice.

In a way, it served as Cyartus’s logistics hub—rich in resources, primarily supplying the needs of Cyartus tourists, not overly populated, reasonably priced, and equally convenient for transport.

It happened to be in the same system as Silver Rune.

Should they go there? RS