Chapter

After settling the monkey and Long Ruyuan, Liu Shaoyu and his companions had no choice but to begin preparations for recruiting the remaining members of their team. First, they posted a recruitment notice for new crew members on the public channel of the Cyclops Bounty Guild. The guild had an enormous internal personnel database, and crew members recruited from here came with no worries about their origins, as all members were required to provide biological specimens upon registration. This was only one aspect; each member’s bounty records within the guild also attested to their abilities.

Battles erupted constantly across the universe; it was not uncommon for entire fleets to be wiped out, with survivors returning home empty-handed while their ships were lost. This internal employment system encouraged crew members to dedicate themselves fully to the fleet’s missions, as each individual could earn corresponding rewards to help build or rebuild their own fleets. Of course, such arrangements typically applied to members lacking influential backgrounds or corporate sponsorship.

Most of the fleets within the Cyclops Bounty Guild of the galaxy were, in reality, the legitimate armed branches of various powers. This was an open secret among those factions. As for the authorities, although they were fully aware of the situation, they could only exercise limited control due to complex reasons—they could not eradicate it entirely. After all, no government could maintain a standing army sufficient to cover every corner of its domain, and at times, these private militias were necessary to defend their territories.

While browsing the public channel, Liu Shaoyu unexpectedly came across a familiar name: Miss Dong’s recruitment ad. Evidently, the spoils from their last pirate-hunting mission had been substantial. Miss Dong’s post was a call for a squadron command team; it seemed her fleet had added another warship. Only now did Liu Shaoyu learn that Miss Dong’s fleet was named “Red”—a fitting moniker for her, he thought with a smile.

About three hours later, as Liu Shaoyu was reading, he received a request for a temporary communication.

“Hello, are you recruiting new members?” appeared a resolute-looking young man on the screen, around twenty, with a square jaw and a crew cut. His thick brows lent him an air of integrity, Liu Shaoyu thought.

“Yes, I am,” Liu Shaoyu replied with a smile.

The other man seemed briefly taken aback to find such a young person on the other end of the call, but quickly continued, “I just submitted my personal information. Please let me know the result. Thank you.”

Despite Liu Shaoyu’s youth, the man’s tone was consistently respectful, never dismissive—a manner Liu Shaoyu found quite pleasant.

The communication ended promptly after the man’s thanks, drawing Liu Shaoyu’s attention to the file that had been transmitted. Recruiting new crew was not a matter to be taken lightly, and a basic background check was essential. Recruitment was not only about the captain choosing crew, but also the crew choosing their captain.

Joining a fleet was tantamount to entrusting one’s life to the captain. Any crew member who abandoned their captain to save themselves would be despised throughout the guild and even the galaxy.

Opening the file, Liu Shaoyu’s brows furrowed slightly—the applicant was the sole survivor of his previous team, but his appearance did not suggest the type to flee alone. As Liu Shaoyu read on, his frown deepened: the previous captain of this applicant’s fleet had been his own father, and the entire fleet except him had perished in the Fengtower System less than two days ago.

“What could make him so eager to return to the battlefield?” Liu Shaoyu wondered as he opened the personal records. With captain-level clearance in the recruitment channel, he could view the applicant’s bounty information as archived by the guild—a right automatically granted at the time of application. Bounty information typically chronicled all combat records in guild missions, along with evaluations.

Hiss! Liu Shaoyu drew a sharp breath. This was... astonishing.

The applicant’s honors were staggering. He was a year older than Liu Shaoyu, yet had destroyed 1,346 enemy ships, including 400 capital ships over 500 meters long. The sheer scale left Liu Shaoyu speechless.

He had served as the primary fire control officer in his previous fleet, holding an advanced license, and had attained a level five certificate in drone operations.

If a fire control officer’s license confirmed one’s ability to command a certain number of drones, then drone operations certification measured skill. At level two, with the same number of drones, one could easily annihilate enemy forces and keep allied losses under 40%. This was the standard for drone operations assessment. Everyone who earned a fire control officer’s license was automatically considered level one in drone operations; to advance, one applied for evaluation, and if a simulated battle against AI of equal rank resulted in under 40% losses, promotion was granted.

Liu Shaoyu himself was only level three in drone operations—a leader among his peers—yet this man, just a year older, was level five. It was hard to believe.

Beyond drones, the applicant also held a level four mecha pilot’s license. For army officers, mecha proficiency was a core requirement, with level three being the minimum for deployment to the front lines. For space fleet members, level two sufficed unless they belonged to special forces handling both space and planetary operations, in which case the army’s standard applied.

All members of the former Wandering Dragon team had reached level three; Liu Shaoyu himself had attained level four.

“Looks like this guy’s even better than me,” Liu Shaoyu mused.

According to the records, it had taken him less than three years to rise from the third fire control officer on the right to the first on the left, after which there had been no further change—perhaps due to his youth.

He had joined the fleet at the age of ten. Liu Shaoyu, who at ten was still in school, couldn’t help but feel self-deprecating. There was always someone better.

Yet, for such a crewman, whatever his reasons, it would not be easy to win him over. Still, with such formidable skill, Liu Shaoyu was determined not to let him slip away without a conversation.

He applied for communication, and soon the resolute young face reappeared on the screen.

“I’ve reviewed your record,” Liu Shaoyu said sincerely, “as captain of the Young Dragon Fleet, I welcome you to join us. Have you made your decision?”

While Liu Shaoyu had been reviewing his file, the applicant had also been examining Liu Shaoyu’s. But the spotless record left him puzzled.

This... this was the resume of a newborn. Because of his new identity, Liu Shaoyu’s former licenses and certificates were mostly gone; only the captain’s assessment had been completed, qualifying him to lead a new team.

But anyone with such ability was certainly no fool. There were two possibilities: either this was a person of special status, brought in for a sensitive mission by some faction using extraordinary means to conceal the details; or, more likely, he was the scion of some wealthy family, equipped with a ship and a crew of bodyguards for entertainment. The applicant leaned toward the first. Even if it were the second, such a person’s life was more valuable than his own—he would never be sent to die needlessly, and there would surely be a generous reward after the mission, enough to rebuild his own fleet. Regardless, he intended to test this captain before committing.

“Let’s have a duel,” he replied.

“Drone or mecha, your choice,” he added.

Liu Shaoyu was a little surprised by this answer, but quickly understood the reasoning. However, which to choose? He was no match in drones, and picking mecha might seem opportunistic. As he hesitated, the other spoke again.

“Mecha. I could use some exercise.” Sensing Liu Shaoyu’s momentary pause, he guessed the reason. After all, he didn’t want to embarrass his potential future commander and so took the initiative, even looking slightly apologetic.

Liu Shaoyu immediately took a liking to this upright young man—so considerate! “Alright, see you in the simulation arena,” he agreed.

The Cyclops Bounty Guild’s space station was equipped with all the necessary facilities, including a simulation arena for crew combat training.

Following the guide lines, Liu Shaoyu arrived at the arena and spotted a tall figure waiting in the distance. He quickened his pace.

“Hello, I’m Liu Shaoyu,” he greeted, recognizing the face from the earlier call.

“Hello, Hua Qiang,” the young man replied—none other than the resolute applicant.

After shaking hands, Hua Qiang was quick to say, “Shall we begin?”

Evidently impatient, Liu Shaoyu replied, “Certainly,” and they each entered a simulation pod to request a match.

The environment was randomly set to a planet filled with flammable gases. Liu Shaoyu’s mecha materialized in a jungle. Outside, a blue star cast ribbons of cerulean light through the air.

“Thomas, generate a holographic map and report planetary data,” Liu Shaoyu ordered, hiding his mecha in a nearby thicket.

Instantly, countless tiny drones streamed from the mecha’s back, dispersing in all directions—these components created a temporary holographic map and could move with the mecha’s combat radius to maintain battlefield awareness.

“Low gravity; mind your force. Atmospheric ignition point: 100 degrees Celsius. Recommend shutting down engines. Surface erosion on mecha detected; activate energy shields immediately,” Thomas reported, giving Liu Shaoyu the outline of a plan.

With the planet’s atmosphere igniting at 100°C, any engine use would mean instant doom—combat would rely solely on mechanical movement. All ranged weapons were out, but Liu Shaoyu excelled at close combat, and his right arm was equipped with a particle blade, along with some auxiliary weapons. If Hua Qiang was fully armed, the match would be over before it started. With the battlefield restricted to the ground and only mechanical jumps possible thanks to low gravity, and with corrosive gas requiring constant shielding (draining capacitors), the only option was to end the fight quickly.

Hua Qiang’s thinking was the same. Like Liu Shaoyu, he specialized in close-quarters mecha combat, but to an even greater degree—he hadn’t even equipped any ranged weapons, save the standard laser emitter. Both hands gripped a massive particle blade styled like a war scythe—an impressive sight. Hua Qiang was set on a quick, decisive battle to exploit his strengths.

Suddenly, a red dot flashed on Liu Shaoyu’s radar; the holographic map revealed Hua Qiang’s mecha. A blue-metal mecha shimmered with an azure shield, wielding a violet-glowing particle blade as it charged—a striking spectacle.

What an over-the-top weapon, Liu Shaoyu thought, but he gripped his own particle blades and charged forward to meet him.

This was a contest of strength. The two mechas barreled toward each other—Hua Qiang relished this style of combat, the way of true men. He drove his mecha forward, weapon poised for a direct, dragon-like thrust at Liu Shaoyu.

Just as they were about to collide, Liu Shaoyu’s mecha leapt, twisting mid-air, and brought both particle blades crashing down on Hua Qiang’s rear shield. Energy burst forth, sending the volatile atmosphere into a frenzy, as though sparks might ignite an inferno at any moment.

Reacting instantly, Hua Qiang wrenched his mecha around and swung his blade in a counterattack. Liu Shaoyu, having landed his blow, retreated nimbly—though it appeared effortless, the immense inertia of the mecha taxed his new body’s limits. Liu Shaoyu realized he still wasn’t fully accustomed to such demanding maneuvers.

After losing the first exchange, Hua Qiang quickly retaliated, but Liu Shaoyu, knowing he couldn’t rely on the same trick twice, prepared another tactic—he wasn’t naive enough to think Hua Qiang would fall for it again.

Their blades clashed; Liu Shaoyu blocked Hua Qiang’s attack with one particle blade and struck through a gap with the other.

Finding his attack parried, Hua Qiang reassessed Liu Shaoyu’s strength. He leapt back, evading the counterstrike.

But Liu Shaoyu seized the moment, lunging forward with the mecha’s full weight. Hua Qiang could only raise his weapon in defense; the impact nearly overwhelmed him, driving his mecha’s legs deep into the ground.

“Damn!” Hua Qiang cursed inwardly as he struggled to wrench his mecha free.

For Liu Shaoyu, it was the perfect opportunity. Just as Hua Qiang managed to pull one leg free, Liu Shaoyu landed a kick squarely on the mecha’s core. Off balance, Hua Qiang toppled, barely catching himself on one arm.

Seeing Hua Qiang supporting his mecha with a single arm, Liu Shaoyu charged both blades to full power and hacked down on that limb.

Another eruption of energy; though he didn’t sever the mechanical arm, the blow dealt serious damage to Hua Qiang’s shield.

It wasn’t over. As Hua Qiang braced his mecha with the remaining arm, his other leg was still trapped in the ground. Liu Shaoyu leapt again, slamming his mecha down on top of Hua Qiang’s.

Boom! Overwhelmed, Hua Qiang’s mecha finally crashed to the ground. The rest was straightforward.

Liu Shaoyu pinned Hua Qiang’s weapon hand, wrenched his other arm behind his back, and unleashed a barrage of blows with his particle blades.

“Shield integrity compromised. Shield down—armor sustaining damage.”

With the battle at this point, there was no need to continue. Hua Qiang ended the simulation.

The two emerged from their pods, both drenched in sweat. For once, the usually stoic Hua Qiang managed a faint smile as he saw Liu Shaoyu equally exhausted.

“Captain!” Hua Qiang saluted with the guild’s standard gesture, the equivalent of a military salute.

It meant, simply, that Hua Qiang had yielded.