“If it weren’t for those dispensable attachments on this ugly, stupid thing, and that misshapen cockpit, this mech would have been scrapped long ago, and the person inside would already be in heaven.” The next speaker’s voice was steady, but carried a mocking agreement. “This is nothing but a farce. I oppose wasting manpower and resources to investigate this person’s origins and whereabouts! Although we should thank and reward the one who rescued the Red 9 mech, that also requires the other party’s willingness. If they simply vanish into thin air, it means they’ve given up the reward!”

The hall erupted in an uproar. Rather than being shocked by the video, most people were sighing at how that mech, like a toad in a mud pit, stubbornly clung to life, struggling desperately to survive.

And the pilot of that battered mech had no idea that even such banter had piqued the interest of the bigwigs in this room—and what that might mean.

For officials in the Empire who were desperately climbing the ranks, it was a potential turning point of fate. For corporate tycoons, it might mean inexhaustible power and wealth. But for an ordinary person piloting a broken-down mech, it could represent an opportunity that three generations of ancestors could never encounter—or a life that would never again know peace.

Of course, all of this was as fleeting as a flower in bloom, because of the lack of information about that pilot.

“No matter whether this person is extraordinary or not, from the recorder footage, one thing is certain: during the storm, he demonstrated a familiarity with the local terrain of Haizhou No. 12, repeatedly using the landscape to evade tidal surges. That’s absolutely not something a newcomer could do. So, he must be a native of that junk planet.” An intelligence officer placed the final conclusion on the table. “But over the past month, we have never found that battered mech, let alone any information about its pilot.”

Duchess nodded and stood up. Her security advisor immediately followed. Now that the dust had settled, all she wanted was the result.

At the door, she gave a slight bow to those in the room. “I’ll leave the follow-up investigation and everything that’s happened during this period to all of you. Thank you for your hard work.”

Everyone stood up, watching as Grand Duchess left. Then, the crowd gradually dispersed.

Only a stern-faced, middle-aged man in a general’s uniform remained seated, the last frame of the recording still lingering on the crystal screen.

A few others in the room hadn’t left either. They stayed because they saw that the middle-aged man was still deep in thought. The “Golden Leaf Violet” Imperial Combat Hero Medal on his chest was awe-inspiring—there were only five people in the Empire who held such an honor. So his silence naturally carried an unusual weight.

The middle-aged man pressed his fingertips together, his expression and features hidden beneath the high arch of his hooked nose. After a long pause, in the now nearly empty room, his deep, strangely compelling voice sounded.

“This is not a coincidence.”

Those who remained exchanged glances.

Because they understood: if everything recorded on the screen was not a coincidence, what did that mean? What a shocking conclusion that would be.

“Find him!”

This command from Imperial Combat Hero Isaac Turner would never be entered into the official meeting minutes.

Yet, not long after this order was given—

Across the vast, dazzling galaxy, a special detachment composed of elite personnel and the Empire’s advanced Harrier-class space reconnaissance craft, trailing brilliant fire tails, sped toward that gray junk planet in the depths of the universe...

Onward!

……

Capital Star of the Great Eagle Empire.

Duke's Residence.

This modern-retro building faced a meticulously manicured lawn, stretching out to meet the Empire’s azure sky.

In front of a floor-to-ceiling window on the third floor stood a girl.

She wore a simple, form-fitting V-neck fleece loungewear set, her exposed skin fairer than snow. She was the TV station’s female anchor who had recently become the goddess of otaku across half the Empire—her figure and looks would inspire envy in anyone.

Her beauty was utterly natural, without a trace of impurity.

A knock sounded at the door behind her.

The person who entered was the impeccably dressed butler of the Duke's Residence.

Seeing the girl standing by the vast window, her gaze deep, the butler sighed inwardly. No matter how optimistic and cheerful a child may be, after witnessing such a hellish scene, she would surely be dispirited for some time...

“Miss Nolan. Your Red 9 mech has already been sent to Naan Company for repairs. They said, given the extent of the damage, it will take at least three months to fully restore it. This mech saved your life—even if it can’t be used in the future, it can be kept in the mansion’s warehouse as a permanent keepsake and memento...”

“…I understand.” The girl nodded gently, her voice as soft as fireflies over still water.