Fortunately, she had learned to keep a cool head over the years. She immediately sent the coordinates of the dead pervert over. “How far are you from here? I’ll have the dead pervert come out right away.”

The red-haired woman replied, “I’ll enter the docking bay of Xilian Station One in five minutes. Come pick me up.”

Ziye agreed while already sprinting out, clutching Little Sprout, moving as fast as a gust of wind.

Halley was just about to go look for her and was about to call out when Ziye’s retreating figure vanished from sight.

For a moment, he considered following, but immediately dismissed the idea.

Having served as her assistant for so long—no, he should call himself her adjutant—he knew one thing clearly: he couldn't stay by Ziye’s side every second like a regular assistant. As an adjutant, his job was to ensure that everything she commanded ran smoothly, no matter where Ziye was.

Ziye piloted her shuttle to the docking bay, quickly switched to the battleship equipped with basic medical facilities, opened the access ramp, and contacted the dead pervert.

Before long, a mech slid in through the ramp.

She retracted the ramp, requested access to the main station, and flew toward the star system where the dead pervert was located.

The dead pervert had originally planned to move the Rose Garden headquarters to the Xilian Star System, but the promotion for that system had been so successful that the surrounding asteroid prices kept soaring. Feeling the costs were too high, he moved to the neighboring Xidu Star System instead.

It only required two jumps.

The battleship was much slower than the shuttle, but the shuttle couldn't directly receive a mech, and its medical equipment was rudimentary. Since the Xidu Star System wasn’t far—a maximum difference of five minutes—she chose the battleship.

As the jump drive engaged, the air currents on both sides rushed backward like fine white threads.

Ziye stood up, tossed Little Sprout onto the command chair to watch the jump, and then rushed toward the rear with the T-series medical robot and the W-series butler.

The mech’s hatch opened, and the red-haired woman tumbled straight down from above!

The W-series butler reacted with astonishing speed, rushing forward to catch her with both hands.

A sharp metallic clang echoed as the butler’s arms were completely wrecked upon impact. Skin and flesh tore away, scattering parts across the floor.

Because of the catch, the red-haired woman avoided direct contact with the deck.

However, this action made the red-haired woman’s injuries far more severe.

One had to remember: movement was the most dangerous thing for a severely injured person.

Ziye took a sharp breath as she saw the condition of the red-haired woman.

Blood streamed down from above her forehead, running down her nasolabial folds like bloody tears washing over her face.

Ziye felt her heart seize up and hastily ordered the T-series robot to attend to her.

The T-series robot placed the red-haired woman into the medical pod, opened the surgical kit, and began emergency treatment.

Ziye watched from the side, her heart contracting painfully, yet she could offer no assistance. Every second she stood there felt like an eternity of torment.

She took a deep breath and turned to look at the red-haired woman’s mech, hoping to find clues there.

Just then, the escort ship’s broadcast announced their imminent arrival at the station.

She temporarily abandoned the idea of examining the mech and instead dialed the dead pervert on the hyper-com, arranging a time and place. She secured the red-haired woman’s mech, signaled the T-series robot to pause its work, lowered the protective shield, input the tracking command, called for Little Sprout to open the ramp, entered the shuttle, and slid out from the battleship’s access ramp. Once the T-series robot and the red-haired woman’s shuttle had slid out, Little Sprout remotely retracted the ramp, and they flew toward the dead pervert’s battleship.

The dead pervert possessed a custom-built battleship equipped with the complete set of medical instruments he preferred.

Upon boarding, the dead pervert exclaimed, “Red Hair encountered a real opponent this time?”

Ziye caught the implication in his tone. “How so?”

The dead pervert replied, “Good thing she’s in my hands.”

By then, the G-series little girl had helped him put on his sterile suit. He pushed the red-haired woman toward the operating room while saying, “The last time she sustained injuries this severe was when she was thrown onto Silver Rune Star.”

Ziye froze, about to speak, when the operating room doors hissed shut.

She hesitated where she stood for a moment, then quietly asked Little Sprout, “What should we do?” The red-haired woman’s sudden injury had caught her completely off guard.

The rebuilding of the Wolf’s Den had been too peaceful lately; it was so calm that Ziye had begun to believe a peaceful life was finally within reach. The red-haired woman’s injury shattered that illusion, reminding her that the conflict was far from over.

Little Sprout bounced up. “Whoever dares hurt our people, we’ll strike back a hundredfold, a thousandfold!”

Ziye took a deep breath, sent an alert email to the legion, and then pulled Little Sprout toward the mech hangar in the rear.

On the dead pervert’s escort ship, only the mech hangar was empty.

Arriving at the hangar, Ziye brought out the red-haired woman’s mech.

This machine was the pinnacle of Wolf’s Den engineering, an upgraded version of the Divine Raven type.

Little Sprout cried out after one scan: “Shields totally depleted; armor completely gone; structural integrity at ninety-eight percent damage, cockpit damaged eighty percent.”

Ziye glanced at the wreckage that looked like scrap metal, forced the hatch open, and entered the cockpit.

The Divine Raven was a bonded mech, requiring confirmation via the pilot’s iris, skeleton, and other biometrics before system checks could begin.

Ziye didn't have time for formalities; she used the highest authority—that of the Divine Raven’s designer—to initiate the mech’s self-diagnostic sequence, simultaneously instructing Little Sprout, “Help me check what inflicted this level of damage on the machine.”

Little Sprout chirped in assent and flew outside the mech, flapping its wings. Ziye couldn't wait for the self-diagnostic to finish. She projected the full holographic display from the light screen to review the logs.

After scanning the mech’s outer shell, Little Sprout flew into the cockpit to report to Ziye, only to find her slumped in the seat, her face ashen white. It couldn't help but peek at the light screen.

The video recording was paused. In the magnified image Ziye was staring at, Little Sprout saw an incredibly familiar figure: Bai Lanxue!

Damn it!

Even Little Sprout felt like cursing.

It flew gently to hover above Ziye’s head. “Ziye, Ziye, you silly thing.”

Ziye recovered, wiping her face. Unaware of when it had happened, her cheeks were wet with tears. She silently repeated Bai Lanxue’s name in her heart. “What about the external diagnostics?”

Little Sprout sent the diagnostic report to the light screen. After reading the report and cross-referencing it with the mech’s self-diagnosis, Ziye knew the red-haired woman had barely escaped death this time; if she had escaped 0.1 seconds slower, the structure would have been entirely compromised.

She knew this wasn't luck on the red-haired woman’s part—it was because she possessed the ability to do so.

But she never wanted to witness a situation like this again.

Ziye sat fixedly in the mech cockpit for an unknown amount of time. Eventually, the G-series little girl came to deliver a message: “Surgery complete. Patient transferred to the intensive care unit. Master requests your presence for dinner.”

Ziye sighed with relief; transfer to the ICU meant the red-haired woman was temporarily out of mortal danger. She acknowledged the message, then turned back to look at Bai Lanxue’s image on the light screen, clenching her fist.

The dead pervert hadn’t performed a five-hour surgery in a long time; exhaustion was etched onto his face. He slumped in his chair during dinner, being fed by the G-series little girl. He ate with his eyes closed, but his mind was still working. “What are you planning to do?”

Ziye had already regained her composure. “I plan to research the mech cockpit, or perhaps the escape pods on the warships. I’ll need your support for this.”

The dead pervert’s mind was still fuzzy. He didn’t quite grasp it. “Support for what?”

Ziye explained, “The mech cockpit has procedures and equipment to protect the pilot, but it lacks self-repair capabilities and equipment to treat the pilot.”

The dead pervert finally understood. “So you plan to integrate the cockpit with a medical pod?” He smacked his lips. “That’s a good idea. This old man is going to sleep now; we can discuss this tomorrow.”

Ziye didn't stop him. She turned to Little Sprout. “What do you think?”

Little Sprout chirped, “I will help you.”

Ziye smiled faintly, opened her light-brain screen, and pulled up the schematics of the mech cockpit. On another screen, she displayed the schematics of a medical pod, and on a third screen, she began designing the fusion of the two.

Perhaps fueled by anger, perhaps by the panic of potentially losing the red-haired woman, or perhaps because her resolve had hardened, the fusion design proceeded remarkably smoothly. She drafted blueprint after blueprint, incorporating the most vital function of the medical pod—‘automatic cellular repair’—into the cockpit system, and setting the prerequisites for activating this function.

Furthermore, she meticulously located the optimal positions for the repair fluids and nutritional supplements required during restoration and modified the cockpit systems accordingly…

Ziye worked without pause, drafting designs for a full twelve hours. When she finally finished, exhaustion overtook her, and she drifted into a deep sleep.

Little Sprout remained by her side, reviewing her drafts from beginning to end. Using direct intrusion, it filled in the fine details Ziye hadn’t managed to address, streamlined complex procedures, and corrected the few errors she had made.

Once finished, it glanced at its deeply sleeping master and nodded approvingly. “Not bad. Your design consciousness is improving.”

Whether it was a mech or a starship, all designs were ultimately aimed at a better life.

This cockpit design could ensure that, even if the pilot sustained severe injuries, the most critical areas could recover rapidly, significantly increasing the chances of survival.

A cockpit like this would surely bring about major reforms in space travel!

It smiled inwardly.

This was Ziye, the one it had chosen.

Before the design, Ziye had also mentioned the cockpit’s capability for self-repair.

This was not impossible.

It felt a flicker of excitement, wondering what method Ziye would ultimately use to integrate this functionality into the cockpit.

Of course, it would be best if this function could eventually be transferred to the entire mech frame.

If a mech possessed self-repair functionality, much like the automatic cycling of an energy plate, it would usher in another new revolution!

Little Sprout happily flapped its wings and rolled over Ziye’s body.

Ziye was sleeping too deeply to notice anything.

So, it curled up beside her to catch some deep sleep too.

“What else needs modification? Just the automatic repair system shouldn’t be enough, right?” Ziye’s voice suddenly cut through the air, startling Little Sprout, which reflexively replied, “Of course, it’s not enough. The key is repairing critical areas; otherwise, even if the superficial skin heals, the interior will still be a mess, and people will still die.”

After speaking, Little Sprout waited for a response but heard nothing for a long time. It turned its head and saw that Ziye hadn't even woken up yet.