Chapter Index

    Chapter 29

    Su Su reported the location of the space station starport; his Silver Dragon Starship was parked there.

    Qi Hanyi arrived quickly, almost simultaneously with Su Su.

    From a distance, Qi Hanyi saw a player dressed as a shark mascot, bouncing on short legs and waving at him.

    “Over here, over here!” The player was full of excitement, as if looking forward to their meeting.

    Although he didn’t have any special status in the game and was just an ordinary player with a plain appearance.

    Qi Hanyi didn’t understand what the other person was so excited about, but his footsteps involuntarily quickened.

    As soon as Qi Hanyi stood in front of Su Su, Su Su grabbed his clothes with his small fish-fin-like hands: “Come, come, come! I’ll show you something cool.”

    Qi Hanyi was not used to being pulled like that, even in a virtual game. He instinctively tried to shake off the other person, but he stopped just a second before that action, as his gaze fell on a starship not far away, allowing Su Su to drag him in that direction.

    They arrived in front of a shiny silver starship, and Su Su beamed with pride like a friend showing off new equipment: “This is the Silver Dragon Starship, a gift from my friend. Isn’t it beautiful?”

    Qi Hanyi stared at the restored starship, slowly clenching his fist.

    The Silver Dragon had been retired due to severe damage a year before his birth and was once piloted by his father when he commanded the Imperial Star Expeditionary Force.

    “It’s beautiful.” Qi Hanyi looked up at the shimmering starship on the dock, his heart filled with silver light.

    “Right? I think so too!” Su Su was even happier to receive affirmation from his friend: “I think the Bai Ze is definitely more beautiful.”

    A vision of the Bai Ze flashed through Qi Hanyi’s mind. The Bai Ze was indeed very attractive; it didn’t have the lavishness of the Silver Dragon, but its exterior was more streamlined, the coating enhanced its stealth capabilities, and in terms of capacity and performance, it represented a significant upgrade over the Silver Dragon Starship.

    But this starship had been piloted by his father. Even if it was just game data, it made Qi Hanyi feel a strange connection.

    “Want to join me?” Su Su opened the hatch and invited him.

    “Okay.” Qi Hanyi stepped in with large strides.

    The Silver Dragon was significantly larger than entry-level starships and could theoretically accommodate more mechas and combat personnel. The game restored the starship to a one-to-one ratio; however, there were no mechas or accompanying combat personnel on Su Su’s starship, so it looked rather vacant.

    In the main cockpit, there were positions for the pilot, main gunner, and observer. This was also something that entry-level starships lacked.

    Generally speaking, this is a standard configuration for piloting a starship. The observer serves as the eyes and brain, while the pilot and main gunner act as the hands and feet. Compared to entry-level starships, the operation of this advanced starship was more complicated, and one person couldn’t manage all the tasks; having three people divided the work considerably.

    However, the premise was that the three had to have enough synergy; otherwise, in the rapidly changing battlefield, a slight mistake could lead to losing the opportunity for victory.

    If they used mental force to pilot, they wouldn’t need a main gunner or observer; one person could perfectly control the starship without worrying about any coordination issues.

    Su Su curiously touched the buttons in the cockpit and then settled into the pilot’s seat, starting the starship.

    Qi Hanyi took his place in the observer seat with the best view.

    While Su Su was adjusting the machine, Qi Hanyi didn’t get too involved; he casually adjusted the screen to the mode he was most comfortable with. When he wasn’t using mental force to pilot, he often sat in the observer’s chair to observe the surrounding conditions.

    “What are we going to do next?”

    “Uh, just a casual spin.” Su Su replied nonchalantly.

    Qi Hanyi’s fingers paused slightly as he adjusted the screen view. Just a casual spin?

    His schedule was always filled with various plans; it felt as if any moment not spent doing something would be a waste of time.

    Such aimless wandering undoubtedly made him feel quite out of place.

    However, Qi Hanyi didn’t oppose it. The guest follows the host; anyway, regardless of where Su Su went or what he did, his purpose was merely to personally observe how the other operated the starship.

    Su Su reclined in his seat, and the metal of the seat quickly secured him snugly.

    Qi Hanyi’s gaze was fixed on Su Su, observing his movements. He contemplated how long it would take the other to switch to mental force mode today.

    In the next instant, the starship’s tail wing emitted white flames and suddenly accelerated. The silver wings rapidly contracted; the starship shot out of the port like a silver streak of light.

    Without any operation, the other almost switched to mental force control the moment they took off, much smoother than in the video.

    “You can control the starship without using the console.” Qi Hanyi feigned surprise and asked, “You can use mental force to operate it?”

    Unfortunately, he wasn’t very convincing, his tone lacking genuine surprise and confusion.

    Luckily, Su Su didn’t think too much about it; he felt that Qi Hanyi’s calm demeanor was quite normal, as he usually spoke that way. It seemed nothing could throw him off balance.

    Su Su happily responded, “I don’t really understand it either. The last time I piloted a new model, I somehow learned to do it. It’s way easier than using the console.”

    “Speaking of which, piloting the Silver Dragon with mental force seems even simpler than controlling an entry-level starship; it almost connects with just a thought. Is this the advantage of advanced starships?”

    “Advanced starships do respond more sensitively to mental force connections.” Qi Hanyi observed the real-time footage playing on the screen.

    The “White Scaled Shark” was quite an adventurous person; he did not follow basic operational standards when piloting the starship, brushing dangerously close to asteroids and even diving into gravitational fields, performing sharp turns in mid-air and rolling without reducing speed, somewhat akin to performing acrobatics while advancing.

    Yet he piloted it very steadily, calculating angles and speeds perfectly.

    Advanced starships meant better operational capabilities and a higher operational ceiling. However, it didn’t mean that higher-level starships were easier to control. On the contrary, the higher the level, the greater the requirements for mental force talent and the greater the energy consumption.

    Only those with a powerful mental force talent who can precisely control their mental force can handle such operations.

    Qi Hanyi didn’t convey these thoughts to Su Su, allowing him to pilot the Silver Dragon while wildly racing through the universe.

    Su Su was having fun but this time didn’t forget about Qi Hanyi sitting in the observer seat. He remembered that during the tournament registration, Qi Hanyi had failed to pass the pre-selection and was keen to offer help, “Mental force piloting is especially simple; it’s much easier than normal mecha control. If you learn it, dealing with the pre-selection should be no problem.”

    “Are you going to teach me?” Qi Hanyi’s interest piqued. The “White Scaled Shark” seemed completely unaware of how remarkable it was to be able to use mental force to pilot. Hadn’t his veteran friend who gifted him the starship mentioned it either?

    “Yeah! I’ll tell you, just concentrate, mobilize your mental force, and try to merge with the starship,” Su Su was a hands-on person and didn’t really know the actual process of mental force connection; he only recounted his personal experiences.

    He didn’t realize that even humans with mental force needed to undergo training for some time to grasp certain skills for fluid usage.

    “But I don’t have mental force,” Qi Hanyi stated.

    “Eh!” Su Su was taken aback, and even the starship paused mid-roll. He suddenly remembered that humans were not like mermaids; not everyone had mental force.

    Qi Hanyi subtly probed into Su Su’s background, “Only those humans who combine with mermaids can have descendants with mental force.”

    When talking about mental force, one could not help but mention mermaids. But it seemed that because they were online, Qi Hanyi didn’t feel the same emotional restlessness he usually felt upon hearing about mermaids.

    Su Su, unguarded with online friends, replied honestly, “My mother is a mermaid.”

    Sure enough. Humans born to mermaid mothers have the highest talent for mental force.

    “I heard that only nobles can combine with mermaids. Are you an imperial noble?” Qi Hanyi asked deliberately.

    Of course, he knew the other wasn’t, but he was merely trying to extract information and test whether the other would lie to him.

    “No,” Su Su quickly denied, “My family is quite unique. My mother fell for my father and ran off with him from her family. Later, I was born.”

    Surprisingly, it was a free union between a mermaid and a human. Qi Hanyi was a little taken aback.

    Such situations existed in the Empire as well, though they were rare. More commonly, they could be found on Freedom Island.

    Qi Hanyi couldn’t help but ask, “Were your parents affectionate? Were they good to you?”

    This was unrelated to the main topic, but Qi Hanyi realized it had slipped out. The other was a child of a mermaid and human union, which instinctively made him feel some kinship, also harboring a vague hope that the other’s life would be different from his own.

    Su Su took it as casual chat and responded casually, “They are quite affectionate, always glued together, hardly caring about me.”

    “Not caring about you?” Qi Hanyi was puzzled; if the couple was harmonious, why wouldn’t they care for the child? He thought only he experienced this; his mother’s disdain for his father and humanity caused her to consider him an enemy too.

    “Right, I’ve been catching my own fish since I was little. If I couldn’t catch any, I’d go hungry.” Su Su said this lightly, as if merely jesting.

    But this was actually his real life. Sharks inherently lack the instinct to rear their young; his mother conformed to local customs and entirely forgot that her mermaid bloodline made him naturally much weaker than other sharks, leading a truly difficult life in his early years.

    However, Su Su never blamed his mother; after all, other young sharks had also grown up on their own effort. He was thankful to his mother; although she didn’t give him a stronger physique, she gave him a thinking mind, the blood of a typical mermaid that allowed him to come to the human world and live a life entirely different from that of a shark.

    Based on Su Su’s description, Qi Hanyi envisioned a free-spirited youth living by the sea, earning a living by fishing and with parents who were not stringent in their upbringing.

    He felt relieved. The other was different from him. Perhaps his parents really did not care much about him, but he at least hadn’t been harmed because of it.

    He grew up unrestrained; perhaps because of the relatively simple living environment, he seemed a little naïve about the world. He acted without a plan and truly enjoyed the present moment.

    The silver-winged dragon soared freely through space, as if there were no bounds to where it could go. It once again dove through a small asteroid belt. Su Su excitedly raised both hands, cheering like a jubilant child.

    Qi Hanyi looked over, the boy in the pilot seat clad in shark mascot skin obscured his true expression, but the wagging tail already revealed his current happiness.

    From him, Qi Hanyi understood Xiang Chen’s words about enjoying the simple pleasure of piloting a starship. It turned out that one didn’t need to bear any burdens or ponder work and meaning; piloting the starship according to one’s heart could also be a source of joy.

    Qi Hanyi had been born with expectations and responsibilities, every word and action needing to be measured; he had never seen anything wrong with that. Yet now, he suddenly felt a tinge of envy for the unencumbered youth.

    He envied the freedom etched into the other’s bones, a freedom that had never been restrained by anything. He envied his innocence, simplicity, daringness, capriciousness, and that he operated solely on intuition.

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