Chapter 61: Crisis of Trust

Shao Lan didn’t waste time with theatrics—just a cold, sharp laugh before barking out the order: “Fire!”

In seconds, the rebel warships lit up like a dragon waking from slumber. Missiles tore through the air, trailing smoke and flames, screaming toward the Alliance forces.

The Alliance's fourth-gen mechs, gleaming with their high-tech arrogance, snapped into formation. A shimmering blue energy shield erupted before them, soaking up the rebel barrage. The missiles slammed against the wall of light, fizzling out in bursts of harmless sparks.

“Commander, at this rate, we’ll run out of ammo in three hours tops. Rescue isn’t coming in time,” Shao Lan’s second-in-command stammered, anxiety cracking his voice.

Shao Lan narrowed her eyes, her gaze slicing through the battle like a scalpel. She studied the fourth-gen mechs, dissecting their every move, every defensive flicker. Then came the snap decision, her voice cutting through the chaos like a whip. “Concentrate fire. Keep attacking.”

The crew hesitated, doubt swirling in the air thick as the smoke. But hesitation wasn’t an option. “Yes, ma’am!” they roared, before throwing themselves into the relentless assault.

The battlefield was chaos incarnate—roaring explosions, choking fumes, and the oppressive drumbeat of war. But in the command center, Shao Lan was calm, almost surgical. She perched before the supercomputer, her eyes glued to the battle metrics, scanning for the slightest crack in the Alliance’s defenses.

“Interesting,” she muttered to herself. “The Lu Zhanxing fleet intercepts us, but their mechs stay in a purely defensive posture? No weapons? Just that shield?”

Then it hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her lips curled into a feral grin. “Their mechs are unarmed. They’re banking everything on that shield. Idiots.”

Her voice carried a venomous edge as she turned to her team. “Keep hammering them. That shield isn’t invincible.”

“But, Commander, their energy shield absorbs everything we throw at it. Isn’t this pointless?” one officer dared to ask.

Shao Lan didn’t blink. Her confidence was unshakable, predatory. “It’s woven from energy ions. Sure, it absorbs attacks, but everything has a breaking point. And that shield? It burns out at high temperatures.”

Hope flickered in the room like a spark in a powder keg. “What temperature?” someone blurted out.

“1,200 degrees Celsius,” Shao Lan replied, her voice cold and calculating. “At that point, the energy ions destabilize, the structure collapses, and the shield shatters. Finish them.”

She watched the temperature data climb, her grin widening as the numbers neared critical. “Twelve minutes to meltdown,” she barked. “Prepare the final missile barrage. Thirty mechs? A joke. Lock in their coordinates.”

Meanwhile, over on the Alliance side, panic was brewing. Even without Shao Lan’s genius, they weren’t blind. Her relentless assault meant she’d found something—some fatal flaw they’d missed.

Alarms screamed across their systems.

[WARNING: HIGH TEMPERATURE DETECTED! SHIELD STABILITY COMPROMISED!]

The mecha's outer shell is heating up fast—way past the safety limit. It’s on the verge of frying, so quit stalling and do something about it before things go south.

Their faces turned ashen. Thirty mechs, no weapons, and a defense system ready to crack like glass under a hammer. They were screwed, pinned like prey waiting for the predator’s final strike.

“What now, boss?” Lai Xueluan’s voice shook as she turned to Yu Mo.

Yu Mo’s laugh was dry, bitter. “If it comes to it, we self-destruct the mechs. Take the rebels down with us.”

Someone hissed through clenched teeth, “The rebels are nothing. They’re not the problem. Shao Lan is. That woman’s a goddamn plague—sharp as a razor and twice as dangerous. You think we’ve got advanced tech? She cracks it in minutes, tears it apart like it’s child’s play.”

“Dozens of top-tier scientists spent half a year perfecting these mechs,” another growled. “Shao Lan? Half an hour, and she’s dismantling it in her head. And let’s not forget—she’s a psychotic, trigger-happy genius. The kind who’s not just playing to win. She’s here to dominate.”

Yu Mo’s voice dropped, cold as steel. “If we can take her out—even if it kills us—it’ll be worth it.”

That grim determination spread like wildfire. No one flinched now. If dying meant dragging Shao Lan into the abyss, they’d gladly pull the trigger.

Lu Zhanxing stood silent for what felt like forever, his thoughts swirling in chaos.

Shao Ye's words crept back into his mind, uninvited but painfully clear, whispered in that cramped little shack in the Dust Zone: “Life’s the greatest miracle in the universe."

“Yeah, we’re all just poor bastards marching toward death under the guise of ‘growing up,’ but still, I want to live. Living means there’s a chance for a miracle. Like me making it this far, only to meet you.”

“You make life meaningful. Hell, if I get to stick with you, I might even want to live a little longer just to see what’s next.”

Those words hit like a slap in the face, jolting him awake. His eyes sharpened, cutting through his haze of doubt.

Shao Ye was still out there, stuck on that goddamn ship. And here he was, ready to throw in the towel without even giving them a real shot at this mess of a life together? What a joke.

What the hell was so scary about death, anyway?

Living—that’s the real battlefield, where guts and grit count. If he died here just to take down one lousy bastard, it’d be pathetic. A coward’s way out.

No. He’d live. He’d survive this nightmare, claw his way back to Shao Ye, and stick to him like glue till they were old and gray.

That thought snapped into place, solid as steel. Lu Zhanxing’s voice rang out like a whip crack: “Nobody dies today! The ones who need to die are our enemies, not us. I brought you all out here, and I’ll damn well do whatever it takes to bring you back alive.”

The others froze for a second, then the weight of his words slammed into them. Shame flickered across their faces as they realized how childish their panic had been.

“Yeah, he’s right!” Yu Han chimed in, voice steadier now. “We don’t back down—not till the last breath. It’s those bastards who deserve to rot, not us.”

Lu Zhanxing clenched his fists, a quick glance confirming the mecha shields were circling the drain.

[Current temperature: 1,123 degrees. At the current rate of increase, maximum tolerance will be reached in three minutes.]

Teeth grinding, he barked his next order: “All units, prepare for spatial jump! Three minutes—activate simultaneously!”

A squad leader spoke up, nerves showing through the cracks. “Three minutes? Commander Lu, we’ve all got experience, but spatial jumps? That wasn’t in our training or combat drills. If anyone’s mental link falters under stress, they could suffer permanent neural trauma—this could ruin them for life!”

Yu Mo nearly lost it, stepping up with a growl. “Are you blind, or just stupid? The shields are about to fail. This is the only chance we’ve got to stay breathing.”

The rest of the team hadn’t realized just how dire the situation was, but Yu Mo’s outburst hit like a bomb. Panic swept through them, toughened soldiers or not—facing death has a way of shredding nerves.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be next-gen mecha? What the hell is this garbage falling apart already?”

“We’re out here with prototypes? Weapons systems incomplete? Is this a mission or a goddamn suicide pact?!”

“Wait, didn’t the commander’s partner design this thing? Figures—it’s Omega work. Useless!”

“…”

“You… you sons of bitches!” Yu Mo was trembling with fury, barely holding himself back. If the mecha weren’t out of ammo, he might’ve let loose on these whining cowards right then and there.

They didn’t have the luxury of wasting time bickering like children. There wasn’t even a goddamn minute left on the clock.

Then came Lu Zhanxing’s voice—calm, commanding, and with a razor edge of finality. “Everyone, open your mech’s mental network to external links and sync to key 0998. Now.”

No one had a clue what the hell he was up to, but orders were orders. They did as he said.

Lu Zhanxing didn’t waste a beat. “All units, stay put. Activate autopilot mode.”

And just like that, it clicked for Lai Xueluan. Her stomach dropped as she realized what this lunatic was planning.

Autopilot mode—also known as the pilot protection protocol. It was designed to shield the pilot’s mind in case of injury or a mental link failure. It was their safety net against catastrophic mental strain, especially during something as risky as a first-time warp. A misstep could fry their brains and leave them mentally crippled for life, forever unfit to sync with a mech again.

But Lu Zhanxing wasn’t interested in safety nets. By linking everyone’s mechs to him, he wasn’t just trying to protect their fragile little psyches—he was planning to take on all thirty units himself. Solo. And guide them through a goddamn warp.

The sheer audacity of it made Lai Xueluan’s blood run cold. A feat like that wasn’t just hard—it was insane. Even the toughest, most battle-hardened Alpha would collapse under the strain. One pilot’s mental focus was barely enough for one mech, let alone thirty. It was the stuff of legends, or fools’ fantasies.

“Boss, no way this works!” Lai Xueluan’s voice shot out, laced with panic.

Lu Zhanxing cut her off with a calmness that was maddening. “We don’t have time for debates. Everyone, prep for warp.”

That’s when it hit the rest of the team. His plan. His insane, suicidal plan. The realization left them breathless, their faces pale and slick with sweat.

Moments ago, this guy had the gall to bark at them about not dying, and now he was ready to throw himself into the meat grinder for this sorry bunch of cowards who couldn’t hold it together.

“Boss, this is a death wish!” someone blurted out.

“It’s reckless!” another chimed in, desperate.

But Lu Zhanxing’s voice stayed steady, sharp as a blade. “This isn’t reckless. I’ve got it under control. Trust me.”

“Bullshit!” Lai Xueluan snapped. “Even if you pull it off, you’ll burn yourself out. You’ll be lucky if you don’t end up a drooling mess for the rest of your life. You can’t risk it!”

“Enough!” Lu Zhanxing barked, his tone slicing through their protests like a whip. “Listen up! Shao Ye upgraded the mental link system for the fourth-gen mechs. That’s why these green recruits managed to keep their mental link stability above 90% their first time in the cockpit.”

The room stilled. They couldn’t deny it—the new mechs did handle like a dream. The mental link felt smoother, the stability unprecedented. Maybe… just maybe, it wasn’t as impossible as it sounded.

But Lu Zhanxing wasn’t done. “If you don’t trust Shao Ye’s genius, then fine. I’ll shoulder the risk. You think those lab Omegans died for nothing when they built these mechs? They designed them for Betas and Omegas with weaker mental strength. If an Omega can pilot one, then I, as a top-tier Alpha, can damn well handle thirty.”

The confidence in his voice was maddening, infuriating—and undeniably real. Lu Zhanxing wasn’t just making a bet. He knew.