Because the body revealed by that girl was actually a pure black mechanical prosthetic!

　　In this era of advanced technology, humanity, in pursuit of ultimate power and the extension of life, had long since developed methods to combine the human body with machinery.

　　However, excessive use of mechanical prosthetic components could cause people to lose their true nature, leading to a disease known as "Mechanical Prosthesis Syndrome," which, in medical terms, would be classified as brain death.

　　Therefore, such mechanical prosthesis modifications had always been strictly limited to no more than 30% of the human body, a rule even the military had to follow.

　　But the one before them now, aside from the head, had almost nothing left that was human. The degree of mechanical prosthesis exceeded 90%—she was practically a walking machine! In the whole world, there was only one such unique and beautiful cyborg...

　　"Phantom Joan of Arc?!"

　　The pilot couldn't help but call out this name—the most terrifying monster on Earth. When merchants hired her, she was a spy; when the military hired her, she was the god of death; and when she acted on her own, she was the nightmare of all living things.

　　"Kid, you actually recognize me? As a reward, I'll let you die a little more quickly." Joan of Arc smiled with dimples, a lollipop between her lips.

　　"So what if you're Joan of Arc?! If you dare touch the cargo of my Overlord Group, you have only one way out—death!"

　　The pilot furiously activated the laser pulse cannon. Dozens of crimson lasers burst from the dome generator on the back of the quadruped war vehicle, sweeping wildly like disco lights in a dance hall, except everything they touched was neatly sliced apart. Even the 30-centimeter-thick titanium alloy floor was scorched with deep marks, and Joan of Arc's voluptuous little body certainly couldn't withstand it.

　　But strangely, Joan of Arc strolled forward as if dancing, weaving flawlessly through the thousands of lasers, elegantly sliding into a split beneath the vehicle. Twelve-barreled Thor cannons extended from the bottom, aiming at Joan of Arc's head and beginning to spin up.

　　"Not playing anymore."

　　Joan of Arc bit down and crushed the starlight lollipop between her teeth. Steam gushed from the seams of her pitch-black mechanical right arm, which glowed like a red-hot branding iron.

　　With a boom, Joan of Arc punched the underside of the vehicle, blasting straight through four layers of tactical armor, like a red-hot knife slicing into butter.

　　The pilot didn't even have time to feel pain before being burned to death in the cockpit, and the spinning cannons came to a halt.

　　"Rich people's dogs, how pitiful. It's us free wolves who are truly happy."

　　Joan of Arc sighed as she pulled out her mechanical arm, the crimson glow fading back to pitch black. From the ammo compartment that popped out of her thigh, she took a new starlight lollipop and began to play with it in her mouth.

　　Boom! Boom! Boom!

　　With three punches, Joan of Arc blasted open the warehouse doors, sturdier than a bank vault. As the alarm blared like an alarm clock waking everyone from their sweet dreams, Joan of Arc was already standing before Henry Clark's most treasured cargo.

　　Who would have thought that in a warehouse big enough to hold 4,000 tons of rare ore, there was only a single three-meter-diameter ice crystal. Billowing cold mist rolled down its surface, and even after more than a hundred days under the giant searchlights, the ice crystal showed no sign of melting.

　　"At last, we meet, my treasure."

　　Joan of Arc smiled as she stroked the minus-120-degree ice with her mechanical palm. Through the pristine crystal, she could clearly see a naked girl sleeping beneath the ice!

Chapter Two: Hiding Under My Sheets

　　Aboard the Pioneer, the surround-sound alarm blared like a rousing symphony, stirring the blood and sending over a hundred armed guards rushing toward the warehouse.

　　As for the pursuers coming after her, Joan of Arc paid them no mind at all. Twirling the starlight lollipop on her tongue, she gazed obsessively at the girl inside the ice crystal, marveling at the world's unfairness for creating such a flawless body, and even using unmelting ice to preserve her beauty forever.

　　"My little darling, what's your name? Big sister really wants to know." Joan of Arc smiled with dimples.

　　"Stop!" The reply didn't come from the girl in the ice, but from a display screen that lit up behind her. In the center of the screen appeared Henry Clark, with a face as handsome and chiseled as a Greek statue. "Joan of Arc, name your price."

　　"Oh my, isn't this our supreme Antique? I'm truly honored you know my name." Joan of Arc turned and bowed mockingly.

　　"I don't care who hired you. I'll pay ten times the price." Henry Clark was always decisive, never haggling.

　　"Antique's offers always make my little heart go thump-thump." Joan of Arc seductively stroked her metal chest. "Too bad I don't have a heart. Money really can't move me."

　　"Do you want status? I can give you a whole city, make you emperor above tens of thousands."

　　"Emperor? Sounds nice, but I still don't want it. Clearly, what my employer is giving me is something you can't offer." Joan of Arc declined.