Moustached Man didn't say whether he was looking for cloth or buying cloth, but in any case, he was gone for a very long time. Ziye sat bored, examining everything in the shop, and still, he hadn't reappeared.

Growing impatient, Ziye stomped her foot and shouted toward the partition door, "Have you found it yet? If you haven't found it soon, I'm leaving!"

Moustached Man's voice drifted from inside, "Almost there."

Ziye snorted internally, then watched as Moustached Man emerged, clutching a stack of fabric. He looked slightly winded, sweat beading on his forehead, as if he'd run a great distance.

Ziye settled back onto the low stool. "You look hot. Have some water."

Moustached Man glanced at the table. He had placed two cups of water out earlier; Ziye had drunk the one he had intended for her, which pleased him immensely. He handed the cloth stack over to her, picked up the other cup of water, and drank while saying, "This is the finest material we have here. You won't find anything like it anywhere else."

Ziye nodded, saying nothing.

There were three pieces of fabric in the stack, just enough for the three of them. They were unbleached, pale yellow muslin—the rejects among the unbleached goods. Yet, on a Junk Planet, they were considered luxury items, like prized preserved eggs.

Moustached Man eyed Butler W and the probe robot standing nearby, secretly planning how to detain the pair. Suddenly, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, and he exclaimed in alarm, "Why am I feeling faint?"

Ziye watched him, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Then, he collapsed onto the floor, his body out of his control.

He had drunk the wrong water!

Moustached Man struggled to look toward the cup he had drunk from. It had clearly been marked as the non-drugged one. How had it been switched? Had he made a mistake earlier? His only solace before losing consciousness was that he had used the excuse of finding fabric to sell Ziye off to the planet's ruler, the Ten Thousand Man, and had already received payment.

Once the Ten Thousand Man arrived, this mere slip of a girl wouldn't stand a chance of escaping.

Ziye remained seated. After Moustached Man fell into a complete stupor, she walked over and kicked him. Seeing he didn't stir, she quickly threw two pieces of the fabric to the two robots, kept the last one for herself, wrapping it around her head with the remainder hanging down like a cloak to conceal her overly conspicuous clothing.

Once set, she made a swift exit.

Just as she burst out the door, she heard someone shout in Interstellar Common, "Hey, beautiful, don't run!"

Ziye ran even faster.

Behind her came a flurry of pounding footsteps, mixed with slightly clumsy Interstellar Common: "Beautiful, you can't outrun me! This entire area is my territory!"

Ziye looked back. Surrounded by a group wearing relatively uniform attire was a small, elderly man. Oh, heavens, he looked utterly sleazy, even more so than Moustached Man by a good margin! And furthermore, he was wearing a pink outfit.

What terrible taste!

However, it was clear he possessed far more wealth than anyone else she had encountered on this planet so far. While he was repulsive, his clothes and accessories were carefully coordinated, even if his aesthetic sensibilities were impossible to condone.

Perhaps this man could be useful.

Thinking this, Ziye slowed her pace.

Moments later, the man and his entourage rushed up and completely surrounded Ziye and her two robots. The little old man stood at the front, his gaze raking over Ziye from head to toe as if assessing merchandise. Finally, he fixed his eyes on her fair little face and clicked his tongue in appreciation, "Not bad, for the price, she's worth it!"

Ziye waited calmly until he finished his appraisal, then extended her hand. "If you want her, you have to pay."

The little old man burst into loud laughter. "She's got spirit; I like that."

He extended both hands, one palm up and one palm down, intending to grasp Ziye's hand. "My dear beauty, I will cherish you..." Before he could finish speaking, before his hands could even touch her, Ziye snatched her hands back with lightning speed, hiding them within the pale yellow fabric.

The little old man, undeterred, felt a flutter of excitement. "Come with me, my beauty. I have the best house, the finest meals, and the sweetest fruits."

Ziye’s face darkened. Did she look like such a glutton?

However, since she needed to stay on the planet for a few days to test for rare earth elements, offending him would likely yield no benefit. Furthermore, this area was desolate; there wasn't even a place to borrow lodging, let alone an inn or hotel. So, she said, "I have some business to attend to shortly. How about I come to your place tonight instead?"

The little old man was overjoyed and repeatedly agreed, "Good, good! I will send someone to fetch you tonight."

Whether he trusted her word or was certain Ziye couldn't escape, no one followed them after Ziye made her statement. Ziye and the two robots headed toward the garbage mound, finding a spot less frequented, less malodorous, and crucially, upwind, and began their work.

The probe robot did the primary work.

Ziye was there to supervise and concurrently work on system coding using her light brain.

Of the four systems she had worked on during her time on the Bicycle Planet, she had only completed one. After being kidnapped by Bobo, her Light Brain lost all its hyper- and synchronic information. Fortunately, Little Sprout had saved backups and transmitted them to the Black Crow-model mecha's light brain before its energy ran out.

She disassembled the mecha light brain and began using it as her everyday processor.

The first task was to search for space signals. An Junlie would surely mount a rescue attempt after her kidnapping on the Bicycle Planet. If she could locate a space signal, she could contact An Junlie.

The problem was, the Junk Planet was too backward. It was so backward that there were no space signals reaching this far out.

She reluctantly abandoned that path and redirected her mental energy toward system construction.

Ziye installed the verification program into Butler W's core system, tasking it with certifying data accuracy, and then began the hard work. Besides backing up her data, Little Sprout had also provided her with invaluable warship schematics. She calculated each system individually and listed them out.

The process was long and arduous, but highly effective.

Once Ziye reviewed the systems she had designed on the Bicycle Planet and gained clarity, the remaining three systems were built rapidly. When all four systems were complete and integrated, everything clicked into place naturally. The vast amount of previously disconnected knowledge suddenly synthesized into a coherent whole.

She re-audited everything and discovered the most crucial principle of warships: the essence of all warships is fundamentally the same. Beyond the four main systems, the core nature of the warp drive system, the shock absorption system, and others were also identical. Different warships merely featured different areas of emphasis based on specific requirements.

In truth, she didn't need to agonize over designing a battleship versus a dreadnought, as their underlying principles were identical.

After completing these major systems, Ziye rapidly created standardized versions of the shield system and the firepower system.

The subsequent steps became straightforward. Depending on the type of warship desired, she merely needed to focus on enhancing the relevant aspects. This time, she abandoned her fixation on a single design and instead drafted one for every distinct direction.

One: A short-range raider with devastating firepower and hardened shields, discarding all auxiliary functions—everything dedicated precisely and singularly to combat, perfect for Red Hair to blockade and engage at station entrances.

Two: A long-range attack vessel with mediocre firepower but packed with various electronic warfare equipment, specifically designed to disrupt enemy battleships.

Three: A long-range attacker with decent firepower but weaker shields, capable of carrying a massive complement of drones—a battleship variant.

Four: A dreadnought with comprehensive reinforcement across all systems.

Occasionally, passersby glanced over in surprise, but they were quickly shooed away by figures stealthily positioned nearby. However, because Ziye was deeply immersed in system creation, and the robots paid no mind to anything outside the immediate safety perimeter, no one noticed the intensive work.

Ziye became increasingly fluent and delighted in her coding, failing to notice the sky rapidly darkening.

Butler W calculated precisely using light transfer readings: "It will be dark in one hour."

Ziye looked up belatedly, only to hear her stomach rumble loudly. She realized she hadn't eaten in hours. In fact, since being abducted on the Bicycle Planet, she had only consumed that single cup of water. If she hadn't previously made contact with the Twins, who taught her how to recognize signs of drugging, the person who collapsed in the shop earlier might have been her.

She rubbed her stomach. "How long are the days and nights here?"

Butler W replied, "Fifteen hours of daylight, four hours of night."

Ziye sighed. "Meaning, I suppose I need to find somewhere to sleep?"

Butler W confirmed, "Given your established rest cycle, that would be appropriate."

Ziye stood up and took a few steps, calling back the probe robot that was testing samples nearby. The probe robot had already collected about ten samples. Upon returning, it displayed the samples one by one before Ziye. "Besides detecting rather rich concentrations of these rare earths, we found a very peculiar metal as well. It's still under analysis."

Ziye nodded. "Good. We'll come back tomorrow."

The three packed up their gear and headed toward the street. The figures concealed around them suddenly emerged. Startled by being blocked, Ziye's first instinct was to hide her light brain—it contained all her life's work!

The figures spoke in halting, rigid Common: "Please, go... go..." They stammered, unable to articulate the destination.

Butler W whispered discreetly to Ziye, "They are the same group that stopped you on the road this morning. The leader is the one in the pink shirt."

Ziye finally understood; these were the small old man's subordinates. No wonder the repulsive man hadn't feared her escaping. He had people watching her all along.

Ziye, weak with hunger, didn't argue. "Lead the way."

Amidst these endless mountains of refuse, being invited to dine by someone at the apex of this trash pyramid was truly a blessing.

The entourage marched Ziye and her two robots forward. After winding around one garbage mound, they arrived at an unexpectedly large compound—and it was remarkably clean, looking like a villa amidst the trash. A villa, indeed!

As Ziye reached the gate, someone ran in to announce her arrival. Moments later, the little old man rushed out, beaming with excitement. "My beauty, I've waited so long for you! You've finally arrived."

Ziye: "Heh heh."

Once inside the villa, the little old man ordered the meal. Soon, servants brought out five or six dishes: mounds of white meat, long black vegetables, some strange items whose origins were unrecognizable, and finally, two pieces of fruit.

The little old man declared proudly, "These are the most luxurious dishes on the entire planet! Aren't they magnificent? I sent people across half the planet to find these two fruits—they are worth a king's ransom!"