Chapter Four: Miss Dong, You Look Beautiful When the Corners of Your Mouth Turn Down

The battle itself was actually very brief; most of the time was spent simply letting the heavy missiles fly. Major campaigns have their own strategies, just as minor skirmishes require different tactics—much like how different dishes require different cooking methods. For this battle, the approach was akin to a quick, violent stir-fry: short, explosive, and brutal.

Yet, Liu Shaoyu found himself worried—would the salvage from this skirmish cover the cost of those few missiles? Lost in thought, another incoming communication interrupted him.

Once again, a flash of fiery red appeared on the screen.

“Well, well, kid. Not bad! You’ve got guts; didn’t run away. I figured you were just a pretty face, but you’ve got some spine. Come on, board my battleship and let me have some fun with you,” the red-haired woman teased.

Honestly, she was far more appealing with her mouth shut, Liu Shaoyu thought again. He kept his lips tightly sealed, unwilling to respond. He certainly couldn’t tell her, “My first ship could fit several of you.” Who would believe him?

“I should get back to mining, don’t want to trouble you,” Liu Shaoyu replied, scratching his head and putting on an innocent smile. In truth, Liu Shaoyu was quite good-looking. Years in the military and his uniform lent him an air of solemn inviolability. But once he shed the uniform and played the fool, he had a certain boyish charm.

“What’s the point in mining? How much money can you make? Come, let me show you a good time. I promise you’ll live the good life,” the red-haired woman said, her gaze growing more suggestive, even licking her lips as she spoke.

Liu Shaoyu had never encountered such forwardness and was instantly flustered. “I really need to mine, or I’ll miss dinner,” he stammered, trying to end the call and prepare for a quick jump away.

“Lock him down. If he runs, blast him to pieces.” Just as he was about to disconnect, Liu Shaoyu heard this chilling command, his hand trembling with fear. He didn’t dare activate the jump drive now. If he got hit, he’d end up as scattered debris like those pirates.

“Ma’am, please have mercy. Just let me go, like a fart in the wind?” Liu Shaoyu pleaded, lowering his voice and putting on a supplicating expression.

His performance sent the red-haired woman into peals of laughter, her body shaking with mirth.

“Such a big man and not a shred of backbone. Fine, go on, but don’t come around here alone next time. You won’t always be lucky enough to run into someone as kind as me to protect you. Remember, my name is Miss Dong. If anyone bullies you, just mention my name—it’ll help.” With that, the call ended, and space around Miss Dong’s fleet rippled before they vanished in points of light, disappearing into the galaxy.

“Miss Dong?” Liu Shaoyu muttered to himself, feeling a strange sense of admiration. For some reason, though this woman left him thoroughly disoriented, he found her beautiful when her lips curled downward.

Why was Miss Dong’s fleet here? Because her fleet was part of the universe’s other armed force outside the military: the Bounty Guild. These bounty-driven armed groups were loosely managed compared to the military—direct authority existed only within squads. The Bounty Guild was a vast coalition of countless armed squads, a formidable organization present throughout the galaxy with numerous members, not to be underestimated.

However, because the Guild didn’t exercise direct control over its squads, its overall combat strength couldn’t rival the military. But since their interests rarely clashed, and in fact, they often cooperated, the Guild and the military maintained close ties.

Miss Dong’s fleet was only of moderate strength within the Guild. This skirmish with pirates was simply a bounty mission; salvaging wreckage was just a bonus. The real profit lay in the generous rewards for hunting pirates.

So, compared to the bounties, even expensive heavy interstellar missiles were a trivial cost.

As for Liu Shaoyu, Miss Dong had merely teased him out of boredom and quickly forgot about him. What she didn’t expect was that they would meet again soon.

Once Miss Dong’s fleet had jumped away, Liu Shaoyu activated his own jump drive, preparing to return to mining. Back at his original site, he found the cargo containers he’d jettisoned for weight reduction before leaving had vanished. With no new containers, he couldn’t continue mining, so he decided to head home.

But as soon as he docked his barge at the spaceport, the security squad contacted him. After his transport ship left, they’d sent someone to investigate whether the rookie mining ship had been destroyed. The investigation revealed it wasn’t the mining ship, but a pirate raider. If it had been equipped with advanced drones, that might have been plausible, but for a raider of this class to be destroyed by drones was still unlikely.

Thus, upon his return, Liu Shaoyu was summoned for questioning. Of course, he didn’t reveal that his mining barge had been converted into an assault ship; instead, he attributed everything to Miss Dong’s bounty squad.

That explanation was much more credible. After being cautioned to be more careful and to mine in groups for safety, Liu Shaoyu was released. The questioning, however, took longer than his entire mining trip. Annoying as it was, he couldn’t help feeling touched by their genuine concern.

At his doorstep, Liu Shaoyu was surprised to run into a familiar face. Why “again”? Because it was his friend, the very person who’d given him a second life—Wang Weifu.

How did Wang Weifu find him? It started with the name Liu Shaoyu used when registering his barge. If Wang Weifu could upgrade Liu Shaoyu’s personal computer, his own computer privileges were even higher. He could access even more classified data if he wished.

As the creator of the “God Project,” Wang Weifu knew his friend might have survived. Although Qingyi did an excellent job of keeping things secret and dealing with aftermaths, all Wang had to do was enter the relevant keywords into the search engine and let the computer filter the results. The name “Young Dragon” quickly surfaced. By cross-referencing the captain of the Young Dragon, Wang Weifu’s retina displayed Liu Shaoyu’s name.

The combination of “Young Dragon” and “Liu Shaoyu” confirmed his hunch. Using special methods, Wang Weifu accessed the video data from Liu Shaoyu’s barge registration. The familiar face appeared, and Wang Weifu finally breathed a sigh of relief before flying to the mining planet himself.

A reunion after a long separation—no, meeting an old friend in a distant land—filled Liu Shaoyu with emotion. He refrained from slapping Wang Weifu’s shoulder, remembering the last time he did so, he ended up dead. Who knew what would happen this time? Instead, he grinned playfully at Wang Weifu.

Wang Weifu remembered well: the last time they met, he’d collapsed before they even spoke. So this time, he broke the silence first.

“This new body is a lot younger, huh,” he remarked.

Liu Shaoyu nearly slipped. “You think I wanted this? It never feels like myself—I feel like I’m living in someone else’s body,” he half-joked.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Wang Weifu asked.

“Come in if you want—who’s stopping you?” Liu Shaoyu replied, entering his home.

Wang Weifu spent nearly two hours explaining everything that had happened over the years. When he got to the “God Project,” a heavy silence descended. They sat quietly for half a minute.

“So, how do you feel about it?” Wang Weifu finally broke the silence.

“Honestly, after waking up again, I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Liu Shaoyu replied, arms crossed, eyes clouded with confusion.

Wang Weifu wasn’t surprised. After all he’d been through, it was natural for Liu Shaoyu to feel lost. But Wang Weifu couldn’t fully understand his friend’s complicated emotions—few ever experienced resurrection.

“Have you thought about what you’ll do next? Are you really planning to be a miner for life?” Wang Weifu asked, turning to look at Liu Shaoyu.

“Of course not. I’ve been reading these past few days, trying to figure things out. The front line is still at war—thirteen of my first eighteen years were spent learning how to fight. Suddenly leaving the military, I feel out of place,” Liu Shaoyu replied, burying his head in his hands, as if recalling difficult memories.

Given the current situation, the chance of Liu Shaoyu returning to the capital’s military was slim. While he could enlist in the colonial forces with his new identity, it would take a lifetime to reach his former rank.

Seeing his old friend in pain, Wang Weifu felt guilty. It was, in a way, all his fault. But what’s done is done; no use regretting—better to look ahead.

“Actually, returning to the front lines isn’t something only the military can offer,” Wang Weifu finally revealed his true purpose.

Catching up was one thing, but Wang Weifu had also come to help his friend return to the battlefield. He didn’t want Liu Shaoyu, whose future had once been so bright, to waste away because of him. There were other reasons, too, ones he couldn’t say aloud.

Liu Shaoyu’s head, once bowed, snapped up.

“You mean…?” he asked, meeting Wang Weifu’s gaze.

“These days, besides the military, several other armed organizations are also at the front. Most are involved in smaller battles, but a few major groups are fighting on the main battlefield—like the Bounty Guild, the Universal Galactic Corporation, and the Galactic First Bank’s mercenary corps,” Wang Weifu explained.

“Why is the Fengtower System such a hotspot now?” Liu Shaoyu asked.

“There’s been an issue with rare mineral sources. The galaxy’s supply has been cut off. Fengtower is the closest system to the Milky Way and the only one in the Virgo Supercluster still producing rare minerals. The Milky Way is determined to seize it,” Wang Weifu answered.

“So you’re saying I can join one of these groups and return to the front?” Liu Shaoyu asked, having grasped Wang Weifu’s meaning.

“To be precise, you should join the Bounty Guild. Of these forces, only the Guild is composed of free agents. The others, despite the ‘mercenary’ label, are essentially private militaries—sometimes stricter than the official armed forces.”

Wang Weifu’s words confirmed Liu Shaoyu’s own knowledge. Only the Bounty Guild was a realistic option; he knew the nature of the other groups.

“Plus, the military is offering unprecedented rewards this time. Any group within the galaxy’s sphere of influence that distinguishes itself on the main battlefield will receive honorary military ranks directly from the military command.”

On hearing this, Liu Shaoyu finally made up his mind. But in his current state, he couldn’t even afford a decent battleship, let alone a fleet. If he went to the front, he’d be cannon fodder. The military used clone armies for that; in other groups, it was regular humans who filled the role.

But Wang Weifu had come prepared. Noting Liu Shaoyu’s interest, he said, “Come, I’ll introduce you to someone.”