An Junlie did not launch a second physical assault on Bobo. But Bobo, feeling guilty and at a disadvantage, coupled with the trauma of being thrown down once, spoke the truth in his exhaustion: "Ziye died during the exchange of fire in the Tuba Galaxy."

An Junlie narrowed his eyes: "You killed her?"

In that instant, killing intent exploded like silver bottles shattering, causing every hair on Bobo’s body to stand on end. "I didn't kill her; she left the destroyer on her own!"

An Junlie said coldly, "But you were the one who hijacked her onto that destroyer, weren't you?"

Bobo’s face went pale. Just as An Junlie released his grip, he lost his balance and fell back onto the floor, covering his face. "I hijacked her. I caused her death. I never wanted her to die." He had only intended to use her to gain Bai Lanxue's support.

Who could have foreseen that such a childish, playful kidnapping would escalate into an interstellar war?

Every time he saw the interstellar news broadcasting casualty figures and the losses incurred by various legions, his heart trembled.

If he had known the outcome, he wouldn't have taken the position of Federation Commander even if it were offered.

An Junlie had neither the mood nor the interest to listen to Bobo's repentance. "Where is the body?"

Bobo mumbled, "I don't know; I never saw it." An Junlie roared, "Then how do you know she’s dead? Why didn't you die?"

Bobo’s face was ashen gray. "I escaped. Admiral Molin threw down hundreds of nuclear super-missiles, triggering a void storm... Their deaths truly had nothing to do with me."

An Junlie leaned down, his gaze sharp as a drawn sword, locking onto Bobo's eyes. "Bobo? Amaniite, remember every word you’ve said today. If there is a single lie among them, I will flatten this Commander's Mansion!"

With that, he turned and walked toward the exit.

The assistant, followed by Douzai, also departed. Before leaving, Douzai cast one last look at Bobo—a pure, moist, and pitiful gaze.

Bobo’s heart clenched, and he silently turned his face away.

Being looked at like that was comparable to the searingly accurate words delivered by the 'Poking Sister' on that variety show.

An Junlie stepped out of the Commander's Mansion. Soldiers stood rigidly on both sides, weapons shouldered, but without orders, they dared not obstruct him.

The assistant asked, "Commander, what should we do?"

An Junlie stated firmly, "Ziye couldn't possibly have died so inexplicably."

She survived being thrown out from the Siyatu star system and landing on Silver Talisman Star; how could she possibly die in this inexplicable void storm?

However, this thought sparked an idea: perhaps Ziye had run off to some remote planet again this time?

He opened the internal comms and sent a message to the Angel Domain Rescue Team: "Centered on the Tuba Galaxy, search the surrounding star systems and planets, paying special attention to remote sectors."

Immediately afterward, he dialed A'Can’s SilverCom. "A'Can, see if you can track Ziye's mech AI signal or Little Sprout's signal. She usually carries Spatial Buttons of the Divine Crow and Peace types; she might use one of them."

The assistant followed behind, filled with admiration.

Most people, upon hearing this news, would either be heartbroken or utterly helpless, as there were no wreckage to be found across the entire galaxy. But An Junlie, based on her habits, was able to make such incredibly meticulous deductions.

Truly worthy of being the Commander!

The rescue team quickly responded: "We will dispatch the Thor Fleet to search for the future Madam Commander. However, the Vice Commander stipulates that in exchange, during the war, you, Commander, must remain stationed with the Legion."

An Junlie read the message and smiled faintly, saying to his assistant, "Let's go, we're going home."

The assistant was overcome with gratitude, momentarily forgetting the iron-weight pressure of Douzai resting on his arm. "Yes, Commander, let's go home."

Ziye, much like Bobo, never imagined that a small kidnapping would escalate into a galaxy-wide war.

After Little Sprout’s energy ran out, she intended to pilot the Divine Crow type toward Bicycle Planet, but she discovered she couldn't!

Because in her panic, Little Sprout had jumped to some unknown galaxy; the Divine Crow's AI couldn't search for coordinates, nor could it see any navigation beacons.

The nebulae, thick and heavy, shrouded everything like oppressive, low clouds, offering no clear path. There were one or two planets nearby, but Ziye had no intention of landing, so she paid them little mind.

But this place was too bizarre.

Ziye felt a knot tightening in her stomach.

She spotted a few probes in the storage bay. She swapped out her ammunition for the probes and launched them. Moments later, the probes relayed data: the surroundings were densely packed with spatial anomalies.

She had been determined to jump in one direction to escape this region. Seeing nothing but anomalies made her break out in a cold sweat—thank heavens she hadn't jumped, or she might have plunged into an unknown void.

Ziye dared not move and remained stationary, carefully mapping out a relatively safe route.

Just as she was about to initiate a jump, the probes suddenly emitted a harsh alarm.

She looked at the screen and cursed: good heavens, there were four or five mechs charging toward her position!

Ziye magnified the view. The mechs were dark, all models she had never seen before.

The fringe sectors were already dangerous enough; the sudden appearance of unknown parties made the situation even riskier. Ziye retracted the probes, reloaded her ammunition while simultaneously turning to flee.

No matter the direction, escaping was the priority.

But the escape failed.

The opposing force seemed intimately familiar with the environment, precisely avoiding the spatial anomalies and encircling her from behind.

Ziye halted her flight, hovering silently in place. She checked her ammunition, ballistic systems, and shield integrity—everything was operational for combat. After confirming readiness, she activated the voice communication system, requesting dialogue.

The next second, Ziye was so annoyed she wanted to flip the table. Damn it, there was no voice system!

What kind of junk mech was this?

The designer deserved to be dragged out and executed on the spot!

She raised her turret and fired a warning shot.

Whether they were ignorant or simply capitalizing on superior numbers, they ignored her warning and continued to rush forward, even entering her safety zone.

Ziye stopped holding back, aimed at the leading mech, and fired.

Boom!

Direct hit!

The opponent’s armor, whether it was shoddy or just bizarre, disintegrated on the spot.

Huh?

Ziye blinked in surprise.

The other mechs seemed to snap out of their trance and began firing while charging toward her. Ziye now felt confident enough to take them down before initiating high-speed cruising.

The pilots of those mechs, perhaps lacking tactical sense, only seemed to know one thing: envelopment.

The ones blocking her way in front showed no fear of death, firing as they closed in.

Ziye became increasingly irritated and fired again, blasting a couple more mechs apart.

The opposing pilots were probably enraged too; they swarmed forward, resorting to the most primitive fighting style: a dogpile!

Ugh!

Ziye’s forehead was covered in black lines.

She had received professional training. In a long-range engagement, she couldn't allow the enemy to close the distance, especially when they were the majority. She fired two more shots at the two leading mechs.

Boom, boom!

Two more mechs turned into scrap metal.