Ziye felt her body slipping beyond her control.

She craved more, always more.

A feeling of being cherished and protected bloomed in her heart, a potent poison to which she was utterly addicted.

She loved the strength of his embrace, the sense of security she found nestled against him—she loved it! A fierce tremor shot through her body, nearly making her knees buckle.

An Junlie lifted her entirely, spun around, and pressed her against the door with a loud thud—An Junlie snapped awake; Ziye awoke too.

An Junlie anxiously felt the back of her head. "Did you hit it hard?" The door was metal and made a substantial sound, but the actual impact hadn't hurt much.

By this time, Ziye was fully conscious, the residual stirrings slowly retreating to the depths of her heart, yet her cheeks felt hotter than ever.

Not knowing what to say, she simply burrowed into his chest and pretended to be inanimate.

An Junlie, thinking she was seriously hurt, gently rubbed her head while carrying her to sit on the sofa.

She had grown too thin recently; holding her, he could feel nothing but bone.

Perhaps, he thought, he should focus on getting her to eat more robustly? An Junlie began mentally planning a restorative diet...

Following this minor incident, An Junlie dared not take any further liberties with Ziye.

Even though he desperately wished to devour her right then and there, even though the thought of her leaving him again was unbearable, he ultimately ensured she was safely delivered to the Wolf’s Den, left his battlecruiser with her, exchanged a few words with Old Dog, and returned to the Angel Domain.

Ziye would eventually choose to stay by his side, An Junlie thought, looking back as she embraced her comrades at the Wolf’s Den, his heart filled with unwavering certainty.

Upon returning to the Wolf’s Den, Ziye was met with a collective welcome.

Old Dog enveloped her in a massive hug, so moved he was nearly in tears. "Dog Sister, you’re finally back!" Ziye was so touched she almost wept herself.

The people of the Wolf’s Den had not forgotten her! Old Dog patted her head, immediately snapped a photo, and posted it to the internal information network.

In moments, everyone knew: Ziye had returned.

Old Dog and a few others conferred briefly, then sent another message: "The Wolf’s Den’s Director of Strategic Weaponry has miraculously survived and returned! To express our gratitude, every hardworking brother on the front lines will receive one free robot designed by Ziye—choose any model.

All brothers and sisters working hard in the rear echelon may also select one robot as a reward.

The victory of the Wolf’s Den belongs to you all!" On the internal network, collective cheers erupted.

Old Dog was generous—too generous! That single announcement swept away all of Ziye’s lingering emotion.

Ziye: “...I just got back.

Is there anyone who exploits labor like you do?” Old Dog chuckled. "No worries, you made enough models before.

No need to design new ones for now." Ziye huffed. "I won't haggle with you for now.

Don't come crying poverty later when you're short on funds." Someone rushed over, laughing. "You have no idea how happy Dog Bro was to see you back.

The Legion can certainly afford this little expense; we made a huge fortune in this war!" Old Dog slapped him on the head. "Go play somewhere else.

Dog Sister, since you just got back, do you want to rest first? We can celebrate tonight." Ziye shook her head quickly. "No need for celebrations.

The brothers outside are still fighting; we have nothing to celebrate.

If we start celebrating, it will chill their hearts." Old Dog sighed. "Fine, we'll do as you say." Ziye said, "Then I'll go rest now." She then proceeded to her quarters, clutching her only luggage: Comrade Little Bean Sprout.

She owned a private villa in the Wolf’s Den, a benefit allocated to the original group who came from Silver Talisman Star when the Den was first established.

Back in the villa, she threw herself onto the thick carpet and rolled around once, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Little Bean Sprout, Little Bean Sprout, we’re home." Douzai rolled on the floor. "Jee jee jee jee?" Ziye closed her eyes. "Your Mama is on my ear.

Tomorrow, we head to Kela’s air force assembly workshop.

We’ll build the warships we have on hand first, then we’ll retrieve that thing." Douzai blinked blankly. "Jee?" Ziye didn't bother explaining, just rubbed its soft belly. "Sleep." When she had first returned, everyone in the Wolf’s Den wore smiles, making it seem as if the war hadn't affected them, but the next day, when she emerged, she saw their faces taut and strained, as if the previous day’s joy had been a dream.

Leaving Douzai at home, Ziye followed the logistics fleet to the Hope Legion’s front line and finally experienced the war's ruthlessness and slaughter.

Drones shrieked their challenges; Iron Cavalry fighters crushed everything in their path like steamrollers; the booming fire of the battleships sounded like rolling thunder.

Countless warships appeared as mere specks on the view screens, and all manner of shells ripped through the tranquil void again and again, leaving wreckage scattered across space amidst smoke and floral bursts of fire.

Any warship, with just one lapse in judgment, could instantly become history.

On the opposing side was the joint army of the Interstellar Federation and Fia; on this side, the Wolf’s Den and the Angel Legion supported the Hope Legion’s defense.

Even so, the Hope Legion could not hold them back.

Ziye watched helplessly as a Hope Legion warship was brutally torn to shreds by enemy fire, forcing her to turn away, unwilling to look.

She was neither a pilot nor a captain; she had only one path: to manufacture more powerful weapons and defeat them! Ziye returned with the logistics supply ships to the Wolf’s Den, retrieved Douzai and its father, packed her new Ultra-Signal and Silver-Signal devices, and took her optical computer, setting off for the air force assembly workshop.

Having already contacted Iron Hand upon returning to the Angel Legion, the metal supplies were mostly ready by the time she arrived.

Furthermore, she applied to the Legion for one hundred billion in funds—fifty percent for purchasing metal, fifteen percent for renting production lines and hiring labor, and the rest for components.

She was determined to build these warships for her own Legion, so profit was not a consideration; she only sought every possible means to make the ships the absolute best.

Only for some non-critical components would she spend money to buy them.

The production lines at the air force assembly workshop were the newest and fastest, capable of producing five engines per day.

Ziye set dozens of different lines operating simultaneously.

In less than a week, all parts were gathered and moved into the assembly bays for construction.

Once assembled, the clone captains were sent directly to the battlefield for test flights.

Data returned from the combat zones was used to make immediate modifications to the new warships.

The Wolf’s Den lacked manpower, and its resources were merely average, but the Wolf’s Den possessed the most ferocious people.

The perverts were churning out clone captains daily, Ziye was manufacturing warships daily, and Old Dog was drafting new battle plans based on the battlefield situation daily.

Everyone performed their designated roles perfectly; for the joint army of the Interstellar Federation and Fia to bring them down would not be easy.

An Junlie wished to visit Ziye at the assembly workshop, but she refused.

During wartime, any activity not centered around the war effort was simply profligate nonsense! As warships rolled off the lines one after another, Ziye’s vision became clearer: she wanted to design a battleship as formidable as Little Sprout's original form! She had already figured out the design schematics.

Coincidentally, Douzai’s father had accumulated a sufficient reserve amount of necessary materials.

Ziye thus set the robots to handle the daily routine operations and plunged into researching her peerless battleship! Things had not gone smoothly since Bai Lanxue departed for Note Star.

Especially on the return journey, her command ship was severely damaged.

She barely managed to pilot an escape pod out before, by sheer ill luck, she ran into pirates.

Fortunately, she was quick-witted enough to escape after being lightly grazed by ammunition.

Even so, she was injured; blood poured from her shoulder as if it were worthless, the pain nearly driving her into a frenzy.

The escape pod had no self-defense capabilities, and its armor shields were essentially useless.

While inwardly thanking providence for saving her life, she simultaneously hated Silver Talisman Star, hated Rainer, and hated everyone.

She swore that if she managed to return alive to the Interstellar Federation, she would make everyone who had wronged her taste a life worse than death! Bai Lanxue received only cursory treatment at a small space station hospital before taking the star-bus—a form of transport she usually disdained—back to Federation Headquarters.

She expected to resume her reign upon returning to the Federation.

However, the moment she arrived, the Federation Commander summoned her.

All along the way, everyone looked at her as if she were a joke.

A vague sense of foreboding settled in Bai Lanxue’s heart.

She had been a dominant figure in space for many years, so she suppressed the urge to question anyone until she stood before Commander Karu.

Standing beside Karu was the woman she detested the most—the most affected, the most shameless woman alive: Illya! Illya was playing the part of a meek little lamb.

Upon seeing Bai Lanxue approach, she greeted her with a saccharine smile. "Sister Bai." Bai Lanxue's face instantly fell. "Don't call me sister.

My sister died hundreds of years ago." Illya’s face immediately paled, and she clung tearfully to Karu’s uniform, looking ready to weep.

Karu frowned angrily. "Bai Lanxue, look at yourself! Little Ya just wanted to be close to you; was it necessary for you to be so hostile?" Bai Lanxue gave a cold laugh. "What business is it of yours to speak to me like that?" Karu narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean? Are you suggesting even a Commander cannot criticize you even slightly?" Bai Lanxue glared back, refusing to yield. "And so what? I am the Federation's Secretary-General, not your subordinate!" Karu looked at her as if she were an idiot. "Secretary-General? Did you not know that while you were absent these past few days, Little Ya has been serving as the Acting Secretary-General?" Boom—This statement struck Bai Lanxue’s head like a bolt from a clear sky.

Illya was the Acting Secretary-General of the Interstellar Federation? Illya was from Fia!!! Bai Lanxue felt everything had exceeded her tolerance threshold; she couldn't help but roar, "Does she have my personal authorization? A woman from Fia lecturing us in our Federation—who does she think she is?" Hearing this, Karu flew into a rage. "Stop being so obtuse! She has the President's direct authorization! Bai Lanxue, perhaps you are the one who needs to clearly understand your position right now!"