AHDIBCB Chapter 69

Any mecha worth its name comes equipped with thrusters. The power of those thrusters varies, but the heavier the mecha, the stronger the thrust—otherwise, there’d be no way to move something that stood over two meters tall with any speed. Without those, they wouldn’t have dared to exit the module at all. But the force pinning them down was even stronger. Even at full thrust, they couldn’t pull themselves away from the module’s surface.

“What the hell’s going on?!” Luo Qizheng roared, still seeing no signs of weapons fire.

“General! This module’s got something wrong with it—it’s locked onto us and won’t let go! And our mecha energy is draining fast!”

“General, maybe we should pull them back in first!”

“No!” Luo Qizheng snapped. “Even with their thrusters at full, they couldn’t get back in. What if more of us go out and get stuck too? You out there—try contacting the main ship again!”

“We tried, sir! Still no signal! Nothing’s getting through!” someone shouted from outside. “General! We’re down to 60% energy!”

They had all launched with fully charged mechas. There hadn’t even been any combat since arriving on the Zhenyuan Ship. And these were composite-energy mechas—capable of converting and using multiple energy sources. Not just electricity, wind, and solar—they could also run on blue gel. Being an elite force, they were well-stocked with blue gel reserves.

But now, none of that mattered. Every form of energy was being suppressed—and worse, continuously drained. The most terrifying part was that in the vacuum of space, without air to transfer heat, the mecha suits had to burn even more energy to protect their pilots from the extreme cold.

As Luo Qizheng watched the clock tick down, Night Wolf’s voice suddenly chimed in:
“General Luo, your mecha should be different from theirs, right? It has that special anti-drain layer, doesn’t it? You could activate it. Why don’t you try going out and saving them?”

Luo Qizheng had already considered this—but with Night Wolf’s reminder, he hesitated again. He couldn’t be sure this wasn’t just another trap waiting for him.

None of his subordinates said a word. Because they all knew—yes, the general’s mecha did have that function.

Luo Qizheng gritted his teeth. “Activate your scanners! Check if there are any unusual connection points ahead or to the sides!”

The team outside quickly responded, “General, nothing! The pulling mechanism must still be on the opposite side!”

One of the guards said, “General, if we’re going to break through anyway, we might as well make an exit on the opposite side. Even if the module grabs us again, at least we’ll be able to attack the thing dragging us.”

Using the Vajra Division’s encrypted internal comm channel, Luo Qizheng sent a silent thought-transmitted message: “Do not attack the drag module. We need to find it intact—that’s our only shot at gaining some leverage.”

This wasn’t spoken aloud, but instead formed as a command within his mind, transmitted as an encoded audio message directly to the others.

He pointed to a location, and a soldier moved to cut open another exit on that side. Fortunately, their mechas could withstand the vacuum and cold of space for a short time—otherwise, exposure would’ve meant instant death.

Luo Qizheng activated the anti-drain layer on his mecha and flew out. Just as expected, he wasn’t pulled back toward the module. He tried flying to the top of the hull to see what had happened to the first team—and found their mechas tightly stuck to the surface, gripped by metallic claw-like devices. No wonder they couldn’t break free.

He flew in, blades flashing—clang, clang, clang—and sliced around the edges of the suits. The armor took some damage, but it was enough to break them loose. Once detached, the soldiers could quickly return inside the module.

It took him nearly five minutes to free them all from the hull. Then he moved toward the other side to scout.

Meanwhile, several guards had also exited the module to assist.

If what Li Heng said was true—that the towing system could keep dragging them for thirty to fifty days—then the drag module must have a huge energy reserve. If they could somehow force it to change course and steer toward the Mingzhu Ship’s location, their chances of survival would greatly improve.

Luo Qizheng still couldn’t visually identify what the drag module actually looked like, but his scanners picked up a massive energy signature up ahead.

He pushed his thrusters to full speed, charging straight toward the energy source—but almost simultaneously, the drag module accelerated as well, and no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t catch up!

Seeing himself falling farther and farther behind, Luo Qizheng gritted his teeth and pushed forward with all his might. If he was left behind and stranded in this star river, it would mean certain death.

His energy reserves were draining rapidly—each blink of an eye cost him another 1%. Panic started to set in. This was nothing like fighting on land. On the ground, he could at least try to find food or water, find a way to hold out. But here, the cold, the low pressure, the high radiation—any of these could kill him. And if not them, hunger would.

He ordered his AI assistant to continuously attempt contact with the Mingzhu Ship—again and again, each attempt failing—until finally, success! A signal got through!

But even at top speed, the nearest reinforcements would take 40 to 50 minutes to reach his location.

Luo Qizheng made a split-second decision—he ditched his heavy equipment, switched to ultra-lightweight mode, and launched himself forward. Burning through the last of his energy reserves, he became like a falling star streaking through the void—and at the last possible moment, barely managed to catch up to the module that had almost disappeared from his sight.

By the time he re-entered the module, his mecha was hanging on by a thread—armor stripped to the bone, weapons gone, power drained.

When he thought about who had caused all of this, his jaw clenched with fury.

The captain of his guard asked, “General, what do we do now?”

Luo Qizheng asked, “What about the gel coins we found earlier? Can we use them?”

The guard replied, “No good. They’ve already been completely drained.”

This module was cursed—every bit of energy they brought in was rapidly being sucked away.

Luo Qizheng suddenly shouted, “Quick! Energy reallocation! Transfer all of your remaining energy into me and Number Three!”

His mecha was the only one with a special anti-drain shield that could prevent energy from being siphoned off—but he still needed someone else to help him.

Number Three was one of his personal guards. The others quickly complied, each channeling a portion of their remaining power into Luo Qizheng and Number Three. Once Luo’s suit was “fully charged,” he ordered the rest to continue searching for whatever was absorbing their energy, then took Number Three and left the command module.

Just like the first team earlier, Number Three was immediately pulled tight against the outer hull, unable to move. But this time, they had exited from the side facing the drag module.

Luo Qizheng didn’t bother with scanners this time. Instead, he used the simplest, most direct method. He pulled a backup tether from his mecha, handed one end to Number Three, and dragged the other across the outer hull.

He wasn’t weighed down now, so movement was much easier than before—and to his surprise, the “dumb” method actually worked better!

As he swept the rope across a particular spot, he felt resistance—something invisible but solid. Luo quickly moved in for a closer look and discovered multiple transparent threads, completely invisible to the eye. Their material was unknown, but clearly incredibly strong—they were pulling a massive object at high speed through space without snapping.

Following the threads, Luo climbed across the hull for about thirty meters—and there it was: an invisible drag module.

He grabbed onto a handle-like protrusion, yanked it open, and slipped inside. Sure enough, it contained a control panel. It was simple, but clearly responsible for towing the command module behind it.

Time was running out, so Luo immediately began inspecting the controls, trying to see if he could reroute the drag path.

Although his mecha couldn’t easily contact the Mingzhu flagship at the moment, it could still track trajectory. After all, the Vajra Division mechas were built specifically for interstellar combat—this kind of operation was well within his capabilities.

He tried to redirect the flight path—and succeeded. But just as the course was adjusted, Night Wolf’s face appeared again on the control screen and immediately reversed it back!

Without hesitation, Luo Qizheng forcibly cut off the control signal, then asked his guard, “Try contacting the Zhenyuan Ship from the control area—see if that’s possible!”

The guard quickly replied, “General, no signal!”

Luo thought to himself, Good. That’s how it should be. Then he immediately rerouted the drag module, setting its course toward the Mingzhu Ship at top speed.

Say what you will about Li Heng’s morals—he might be devious, but at least he hadn’t lied about the energy supply. The drag module did have enough power to keep flying for thirty to fifty days. At maximum speed, they actually stood a chance of making it back, and they’d probably still have some energy left to spare.

Meanwhile, the soldiers in the command module were still frantically trying to identify whatever was draining their energy. Just then, a voice came through as Luo maintained control of the new heading.

“General, do you have any energy left over there? Our mechas are about to lose basic functionality!”

Their mechas had been stocked with ample oxygen, which was one of the key reasons they’d survived this long. But the oxygen supply system also required energy to function.

And there was energy—quite a bit of it, in fact. High-purity blue gel.

Yet in that instant, Luo Qizheng hesitated.

He asked, “Have you found the reason why our energy is being abnormally drained?”

A guard replied, “Not yet, sir.”

“Then wait,” Luo said. “I’ll try to extract some energy and send it over.”

Everyone waited anxiously—but Luo didn’t actually move to do it.

First, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to return to the drag module if he went back to the command pod. Second, there was only a limited window of time, and with that many people in the command pod, if he distributed energy to all of them, there might be nothing left when they returned.

The rate of consumption was just too fast.

Suddenly, someone shouted in panic, “General! We’re down to less than 2% energy!”

Luo Qizheng didn’t respond.

The drag module’s hatch remained tightly sealed, and the command pod’s temporary breach had long since been welded shut.

Luo clenched his jaw—and silently cut off all communication channels with his subordinates.

Inside the command pod, just when the soldiers thought they were seconds from death, a small surge of energy arrived.

Not much. But just enough to keep their basic life functions running—for now.

The oxygen system kept running, and their body temperatures were still stable.

Someone called out, “General?!”

No response.

More voices joined in, calling out to Luo Qizheng—but not a single reply came. And yet, he was clearly still alive. His status bar was still visible on their mecha displays.

Slowly, the realization began to dawn on everyone.

Someone snapped, “Damn it—he’s abandoning us!”

The captain of the guard said cautiously, “Maybe something went wrong… Let’s wait and see.”

Another retorted, “Wait? What’s there to wait for? If he really did offer up his omega to gain favor and promotions like Li Heng said, then it’s not hard to believe he’d ditch his own men, too!”

Back when Li Heng first said it, many of them were skeptical. Especially after Luo risked himself to save people earlier—they thought maybe Li Heng was just trying to sow discord and shake their faith in their commander.

But now… it was looking more and more like the truth.

In peacetime, none of this ever showed. And when they volunteered for this mission, they knew the risks. But this—this kind of betrayal—they hadn’t expected.

Just then, someone interrupted, “Quiet! Doesn’t something feel off to you?”

Everyone fell silent.

The faint vibration under their feet—the soft, constant tremor of movement—was suddenly… gone.

The command module had stopped moving—the tether connecting them to the drag unit had been severed.

That selfish bastard!

One of the soldiers suddenly bolted toward the sealed hatch, intending to chase after Luo Qizheng. But before he could reach it, the captain of the guards—Luo Fan—grabbed him and held him back.

“Don’t be reckless!”

Luo Fan urged, “Even if you get out now, you won’t catch him. With what little energy you have left, you’ll just die faster!”

The soldier roared, “We’re all dead anyway! I’m not afraid of dying, but I refuse to die like a coward! Now move!”

Luo Fan shouted, “Restrain him! You won’t catch up—stop losing your mind!”

Another guard hesitated, then asked, “But Captain… what now? He’s even cut off contact with the Zhenyuan Ship. No one even knows we’re out here. Are we just supposed to wait to die? Or do you really think… he’s coming back for us?”

No one answered.

Because the truth was obvious: if Luo Qizheng ever intended to save them, he would never have abandoned them in the first place.

Someone sneered, “Isn’t this ridiculous? All because of that high-purity blue gel? Or maybe just because he didn’t want to risk making one trip to deliver energy? Captain Li was right. We really know how to choose the people we’re loyal to.”

Silence blanketed the entire module.

They weren’t afraid of death. But this kind of death—betrayed, discarded, left to suffocate in silence—how could anyone accept that?

Luo Fan finally spoke, “Everyone, calm down. We got an energy pulse earlier, which means there’s still a chance. From this moment—”

He didn’t even finish his sentence before someone interrupted coldly, “I’m never going back to the Vajra Division.”

Luo Fan said, “That’s not what I meant. But we still have to find a way back. And even if we don’t return to the Vajra Division, what—head to Heavenly Wolf fleet or Zhenyuan instead?”

The other man replied, “And why not? At least Captain Li would never do something like this. If he were that kind of man, do you think Fei Qian would follow him to hell and back? You guys know why Li Zhi hasn’t shown up in this campaign? He’s Captain Li’s adjutant. I have a classmate in Heavenly Wolf Fleet—he told me that after the Nine-Colored Star Bridge incident, Li Zhi would’ve been beast food if Captain Li hadn’t gone after him alone and nearly died doing it. He was badly hurt, and that’s why he’s been resting all this time.”

Another chimed in, “Funny, isn’t it? After the home world was attacked, our family’s helper robot was destroyed while fetching supplies. My grandpa couldn’t go to the market or the hospital alone. Captain Li’s spouse organized deliveries and even took my grandpa to the doctor.”

Luo Fan asked, “Then why’d you still take this mission?”

The man didn’t answer.

He had just wanted a chance to repay a debt. He didn’t know where Yuan Yi was, but with all the buzz online saying Captain Li and his partner were deeply in love, he figured this was a good way to return the favor.

Then someone else said, “Hey… doesn’t something feel weird to you guys? The energy we’ve been getting isn’t much, but it’s just enough to keep us alive. What if… what if Captain Li never actually intended to let us die?”

At that moment—clunk—a docking sound echoed from outside, followed by mechanical rotation.

Everyone instantly went on alert.

Luo Fan, as if pulled by instinct, tapped one of the worn-down buttons on the control panel.

To their shock, Li Heng’s face appeared on the screen once again.

This time, he wasn’t surrounded by troops—just one person stood behind him.

They all recognized him: Winter Wolf, Captain Li’s personal guard commander.

Li Heng sat casually on a sofa, seemingly unsurprised that Luo Qizheng was no longer in the command module. Dressed in a lieutenant general’s uniform, he twirled an unfamiliar-looking stone between his fingers.

“So,” he said with a calm, almost amused tone, “were you all looking for me?”

Luo Fan asked, “Captain Li, what exactly is your intention with all this?”

Li Heng set down the stone in his hand and picked up another, studying it closely. His tone was plain and straightforward.

“Intention? In a war between two armies, what other intention could there be? Obviously, I want to win. And what about you? Now that Luo Qizheng has run off, are you planning to return to the Vajra Division, go home… or do you have other plans?”

Someone hesitated and asked, “You’re… not going to kill us?”

Li Heng kept one of the stones—apparently satisfied with it—and gestured for Winter Wolf to put away the rest. Then he said, “If you go back to the Vajra Division, you’ll die by my people’s hands sooner or later. But if you want to go home—or elsewhere—I’ll arrange transport. My spouse told me there’s a grandfather waiting for his grandson to come back. Asked me to show some leniency. And I’m about to become a father—I should do some good. I’m not like your Commander Luo. I’m whipped. If my wife says something, I listen. So I’ll let you off the hook this time. But only this time.”

Everyone: “…”

An alpha commander, leading fleets and armies, openly admitted in front of a whole room of fellow alphas that he was afraid of his omega???

Li Heng turned his head and eagerly asked Winter Wolf, “Did my wife ask for me today?”

Winter Wolf glanced at the mecha soldiers on the screen. Their faces were hidden, but he could tell they were baffled.

He answered truthfully, “No. But didn’t he say to hurry it up?”

Li Heng grumbled, “You think I don’t want to be done with this? Where’s Luo Qizheng now?”

Winter Wolf replied, “Still flying toward the target point.”

Li Heng nodded, then turned back to the screen. “So, what’s your plan? Better decide quickly.”

Before Luo Fan could respond, the “grandson” whose grandfather was said to be waiting for him spoke up: “Captain Li, can I serve aboard the Zhenyuan Ship?”

Li Heng replied, “Not right now. First, if you switch sides so abruptly, you’ll hesitate when facing familiar comrades. Second, our combat protocols are different—you wouldn’t be able to adapt instantly. But if you truly want to join the Xingyan Army, there is something I can assign you. The main star is still unstable. If you’re willing to return and help organize protection for civilians, that would be very helpful.”

Several others immediately echoed:

“I’ll go too!”

“Count me in!”

“I want to help as well!”

No one truly wanted to fight their own people, but this was the path they’d chosen, the duty they had. And that choice often came with conflict.

But if it meant protecting the people, they were more than willing. It meant saving their own lives, and pursuing what they believed in—what could be better?

Voices volunteering rang out one after another, until in the end, only Luo Fan—the unit captain—remained undecided.

Li Heng said, “You can open the door yourself now. Go rest, eat if needed. There’ll be someone waiting for you when you arrive. As for you, Captain Luo—my earlier offer is still valid for fifteen more minutes. Think it over.”

Some tried to persuade Luo Fan to join them, but he didn’t answer. After everyone had left the command pod and entered the reception area, leaving only Luo Fan behind, he suddenly asked:

“Captain Li… may I meet your spouse?”

A flash of hostility passed through Li Heng’s eyes, and his tone turned steely. “Why?”

Luo Fan answered, “I misjudged before. This time, I want to see clearly before I speak.”

Li Heng was silent for a few moments. Then he said, “Xuan Ying—ask if my wife agrees.”

Xuan Ying did—and then patched the call directly through to the command pod.

Luo Fan saw an omega sitting in a rocking chair—a young man with delicate, refined features. But what struck him most wasn’t the man’s appearance—it was the light in his eyes. It wasn’t the kind of light seen in ordinary college students. In fact, as an alpha, Luo Fan actually felt a sense of pressure from this omega’s gaze.

Yuan Yi was dressed in a light gray collared shirt and matching suspenders, made by Ji Lan. He was gently massaging his lower back, expression unreadable. “Captain Luo wanted to see me?” he asked calmly.

Luo Fan replied, “I heard someone on the main star has been organizing supply deliveries for the elderly, disabled, and others in need. Do you have a concrete plan for that? Like how long it’ll continue, or what standards you use to determine who receives aid?”

Yuan Yi said, “Of course. We’ll keep going until no one needs help anymore—or until my people and I are no longer able to do it. Why? Does Captain Luo have family who need assistance?”

Luo Fan shook his head. “No. But… if it’s possible, I’d like to work under you in the future.”

Yuan Yi: “Hmm?”

He looked genuinely surprised.

Li Heng, on the other hand, was furious. “Luo Fan, you’ve got some nerve.”

Luo Fan said, “Captain Li, once Xingyan wins, Owanda will no longer be the Owanda we knew. When that happens, someone will need to be by Young Master Yuan’s side to protect him. If you don’t mind my origins in the Vajra Division, I am willing to swear allegiance with my life. Also… I know Second Highness has a hidden fleet near Aysdiya—you’ve been looking for its location. I can tell you roughly where it is. And… thank you for sparing my brothers.”

Night wolf muttered, “Well, well, Luo big brother. Serving under our lady is a cushy gig. Even us true borns are fighting tooth and nail for a spot, and here you are talking like it’s that easy. What, you think the whole Zhenyuan and Heavenly Wolf fleet crew are just for show?”

But Luo Fan kept his eyes on Li Heng.

Li Heng considered for a moment, then gave a short order: “Go. Bring him over.”