Mech: Shattering of the Galaxy Chapter 1548 64: S-Class Bulletin

A heavy battlecruiser, measuring three thousand meters in length, possesses a menacing aura when considered on its own.

However, juxtaposed against the colossal black storm that stretches across millions of kilometers, it appears no larger than an ant that narrowly avoided being swept away from a dam.

"My battleship, the Wind Chaser! I dedicated seven entire years to it, plundering eleven planets alongside the Expeditionary Corps just to afford it. Now, its hull has sustained 45% damage!"

Within the rhombus-shaped bridge, a slender Saint Luo man, standing at 195 centimeters and clad in a black sensing helmet, grips the console with palpable anguish etched across his features.

Beside him stands a man, ten centimeters shorter but notably sturdier. He too clutches a handle for stability, his voice raspy as he implores, "Can't we simply escape first? The Black Storm is still dragging the warship!"

The two occupy the command platform at the bridge's forefront. Behind them lies a broad operating area where over thirty Saint Luo crew members, dressed in matching black uniforms, diligently pilot the warship using crystal balls.

Unlike the typical arrogance displayed by Saint Luo warriors encountered in the Luqin Universe, these individuals wear expressions of solemnity and intense concentration.

At the perimeter of the operating platform stands a Peeping individual, whose grotesque appearance sets him distinctly apart from the others.

Tiny droplets of apricot-colored blood begin to bead from this Peeping individual's prominent eyeballs. The veins on his neck bulge like earthworms, while rapid arcs of energy flash within the large crystal ball he holds.

"Ebot, just hold on for one more minute!"

The burly man on the elevated platform glances at the increasingly fractured crystal window before him and shouts back.

The Peeping individual nods emphatically, the blood vessels around his head swelling further as the navigational data stream within the spore neural network refreshes at a furious pace.

Successfully guiding a warship to safety from the formidable Black Storm is, for a Peeping individual, a paramount achievement.

Once his piloting footage is transmitted for verification, his Navigator Rank, currently Level 4, will ascend to at least Level 6!

Attaining Level 7 would grant him entry into the prestigious Saint Luo Expeditionary Corps. Through acts of wartime valor, he would undergo the most significant transformation possible for a Peeping individual.

The prospect of acquiring a landed fief would cease to be a mere fantasy.

Such is the allure of reward!

Conversely, should he not push himself to his absolute limit, and should the warship be buffeted by the Black Storm's energy backlash, annihilation would be the fate of all aboard.

Such is the threat of peril!

Fueled by the combined pressures of incentive and danger, the Peeping individual Ebot unleashes astonishing capabilities. Under his expert guidance, the battered heavy battlecruiser maneuvers with the agility of a nimble turtle, wrenching itself free from the Black Storm's crushing grip.

The warship's colossal, rhombus-shaped hull sees six of its eight engine groups abruptly cease operation, causing it to plummet diagonally towards a desolate planet, approximately fifty kilometers in diameter, located nearby.

Lacking an atmosphere, there is no air resistance to provide a buffer. The warship's hexagonal energy shield is instantly compressed flat upon impact, carving a long, deep gash into the ground before finally coming to a halt, kicking up dust that billows thousands of meters into the sky.

"We're alive..."

Within the warship, ragged gasps of relief are first heard, quickly escalating into thunderous cheers.

"Ebot, your salary will see a 50% increase starting immediately!" The Vice Captain, a burly figure, his heart still pounding from the near-disaster, remembers to display generosity to foster loyalty among his subordinates.

The blood vessels on Peeping individual Ebot's temples burst open, revealing a dozen or so tendrils. Though the blood slowly recedes and healing begins, he manages to push himself up into a bow, succumbing to exhaustion.

This is an extraordinary honor for a Peeping individual.

To pilot a warship out of the Black Storm, an endeavor with a staggering 95% mortality rate!

"Luke, I solemnly swear I will never venture to this place again. We couldn't even locate those primitive, barbaric planets, and now all my accumulated assets are gone," the tall, gaunt Captain confides in his companion. Despite his relief at surviving, the thought of the damage inflicted upon their vessel causes him to feel a near-fatal heartache.

"Job, while the financial devastation is immense, upon our return, this incident will undoubtedly become a tale to recount with pride in high society. We can leverage this voyage as a compelling advertisement, thereby expanding and deepening our client base!" Vice Captain Luke offers words of comfort.

As individuals of the High Purity lineage within the Saint Luo Clan, they are true nobles, belonging to the rare and distinguished ranks of adventurous aristocrats.

These harrowing experiences will undoubtedly become brilliant accolades, instrumental in crafting their public image.

Luke firmly believes that in the future, these esteemed reputations will invariably translate into substantial wealth.

"Lord Job, what are our next steps?"

A crew member inquires from below.

With blood concentrations ranging from 60% to 65%, these operators qualified as excellent Reserve Combat Bodies, and their skillful handling was instrumental in our successful evasion of the Black Storm.

Captain Job, hearing his subordinate's query, took a moment to compose himself. He then gazed at the expansive Black Storm belt that still dominated the view ahead. After his breathing evened out slightly, he responded, "Cultivate the spore and perform repairs. Restore two engines within 12 hours, then proceed to the nearest planet for thorough maintenance."

"Understood, Captain Job!"

Instantly, from the four corners of the colossal, rhombus-shaped battlecruiser, circular platforms approximately one hundred meters in diameter ascended.

Yellow-green spore clusters began to expand. As mechanical equipment injected nanometals, the surface of these spore clusters slowly adopted a pale silver hue.

"Whew... Once this warship is properly fixed, I'll need a three-day break and a session with a psychologist," Luke expressed, after processing all directives. He then heavily sank back into his large, plush Star Body chair, casually waving a hand beside him, which conjured a three-dimensional light screen into existence.

"Let's check the latest Star Network communications and then formally report our Wind Chaser battleship's incredible ordeal."

As Job's fingertips danced lightly, the hexagonal, stitched ring-shaped information graph on the 3D light screen spun rapidly clockwise, a single piece of information flashing into view.

Suddenly, a stark red tag caught his eye.

The apricot-yellow blood in Job's pupils surged violently, propelling him directly from his chair. He seized Vice Captain Luke's arm, disbelief etched on his face, and exclaimed, "You must see this information!"

Luke, naturally composed and already calculating the current losses on his Light Computer, looked up with annoyance. "What information? Please don't interrupt me while I'm working. How many times have I told you?"

"No, no, look quickly! My God... I swear on the Black Storm, this is undoubtedly the most explosive news I've encountered in my entire life! Our universe has actually been invaded by other beings... Good heavens, this has to be the biggest joke of the century!"

"What?" Luke frowned, setting aside his work to lean in for a closer look.

A stream of information clearly illuminated before their eyes.

[Cameron galaxy military issues an S-level announcement: All navigators, if any of the following two creatures are sighted, simply provide their coordinates. Generous rewards await, including 3 billion Xiling... ]