Innocent words could sound like a joke, but Chi Zhuo didn’t take Ji Chenxi’s words lightly.
He climbed up to the control deck and fiddled with the controls casually. Then his eyes narrowed slightly. “I guess I underestimated you, Your Highness.”
Ji Chenxi’s smile didn’t waver. “Don’t mention it.”
The others might not have realized what was going on, but for Bai Han, who knew her stuff, it was all too obvious. Right under their noses, Ji Chenxi had tampered with the starship—just like the silent system interference earlier.
Seeing the two of them about to clash again, Shadow’s head was pounding. He was terrified that if they actually fought, everyone else would end up as collateral damage.
Chi Zhuo and Ji Chenxi faced each other, and even the middle-aged man felt the pressure. At that moment, they truly understood the meaning of “trouble from within and threats from outside.”
Chi Zhuo casually set down the glass in his hand, a faint, cold smile on his lips. “I was just joking with Your Highness.”
“I was joking with Brother Chi Zhuo too,” Ji Chenxi replied.
He hid what Chi Zhuo had just revealed once more. Technically, he didn’t need to. But up until now, he hadn’t fully countered Chi Zhuo. That meant control still rested entirely with Chi Zhuo. If Chi Zhuo said they’d cooperate, they would; if he decided to hand Ji Chenxi over to the Red Scorpions, his life would be at risk.
In terms of sheer strength, facing Chi Zhuo head-on was far worse than being captured by the Red Scorpions. But unfortunately, the Red Scorpions didn’t just want to capture him—they wanted him dead. Could he, alone, really resist an entire army?
Ji Chenxi had no choice but to play a little cunning.
It was a dangerously risky move. Chi Zhuo might have gotten angry or embarrassed, but luckily, he didn’t directly lose his temper—whether he was joking or simply sizing up the situation, no one could tell.
The encirclement tightened. Pirate ships kept firing photon cannons at their starship. Even a ship as well-built as theirs couldn’t take repeated hits like that.
The middle-aged man piloted the ship, dodging wave after wave of attacks. His calm face betrayed faint beads of sweat. The firepower was overwhelming; their single starship was simply too weak.
The young man stared frantically at his neural interface, signaling anyone nearby to hurry. If something went wrong, no one could take responsibility.
As the danger escalated, even Ji Chenxi’s face lost some of its initial ease.
At this moment, Chi Zhuo was the calmest of all.
“Stop wasting energy on the guns,” Chi Zhuo warned.
“Yes,” the middle-aged man replied.
As an S-class Alpha, the middle-aged man managed countless forces for Chi Zhuo. It had been a long time since he’d faced a situation where he was completely at a disadvantage. The root of all this was that Third Prince, and the safest move would have been to drop the prince, who had a delicate relationship with their master. But their master hadn’t said a word, and he didn’t dare offer any suggestion.
Not using energy on the guns did make them dodge faster, but as long as the pirate ships got close, they would fire at the starship. Even though the middle-aged man could steer the ship around most attacks, a few still grazed the hull. Over time, the repeated hits were starting to wear the ship down.
Chi Zhuo sighed, and the middle-aged man’s face turned a little pale, a faint dampness on his hand showing.
“Master,” he said.
Chi Zhuo signaled that everything was fine and leaned slightly forward to pilot the ship. At this point, changing positions would have been enough time for the pirate ships to unleash countless attacks—but even in this awkward posture, the ship’s performance changed dramatically.
It slid through the storm of fire with surprising smoothness, and he calmly assessed, “Our people won’t make it in time.”
The young man hurriedly said, “Master, we’ve already contacted Mr. Hua.”
Even Ji Chenxi knew of Mr. Hua—he was one of Chi Zhuo’s most reliable right-hand men.
“Those people can even interfere with the magnetic fields. Do you think just telling him will get him here in time?” Chi Zhuo said, and the young man had no reply.
Chi Zhuo clearly understood the situation they were in. From the moment the jump failed, they’d been completely on the defensive. Earlier, if the Poison Scorpion hadn’t personally acted, it would have been merely troublesome. But now that they had stepped in themselves, a small problem was quickly spiraling into a dead end.
“Your Highness… you’re really not here to kill me?” Chi Zhuo asked earnestly.
Following Chi Zhuo’s pace, Ji Chenxi’s tone was no longer the deliberately innocent kind, but a flat statement: “If I wanted to kill you, it would’ve been done already.”
Chi Zhuo let out a light chuckle, suddenly maneuvering the ship to dodge an incoming attack. This attack was different from the previous random shots; the enemy was predicting the ship’s trajectory, calculating exactly where it would be next.
Sure enough, before long, the ship’s communication system linked up with the other side. The man on the other end didn’t show his face. Ji Chenxi only saw a luxurious seat and a complex outfit from the chest down. His gaze lingered slightly on the man’s large, rough hands, adorned with massive green gems.
This communication was deliberate, and unlike previous Red Scorpion messages, it was polite. The man said, “Is this Mr. Chi Zhuo?”
Chi Zhuo’s dark eyes glinted coldly with a hint of amusement. “So you know me, huh?”
“I knew it was you, Mr. Chi Zhuo, that’s why I acted personally. My subordinates earlier… they were reckless and offended you,” the man explained.
Chi Zhuo’s smile was faint, neither fully friendly nor cold. “No harm done.”
“Mr. Chi Zhuo, you know we’re just rough people. We take money to solve problems. This little rose of the empire—someone pointed him out to us and offered a reward I couldn’t refuse. That’s why we had to take this measure. As for offending you, Mr. Chi Zhuo, I’ll make sure my men apologize properly. All you need to do is hand over this little rose.”
The politeness in his tone was striking. Shadow glanced at Chi Zhuo quietly. He didn’t know much about the Empire, but who was this man that even the leader of the Red Scorpions spoke to him so respectfully?
“Too bad you’re a little late. This little Rose you’re talking about… not long ago, he really got under my skin. I haven’t even had my revenge yet, so I can’t just let him die first.”
The man on the other side paused slightly while stroking his ring. “So, Mr. Chi Zhuo, you’re not planning to talk to us Red Scorpions properly?”
Chi Zhuo sneered. “Have you ever spoken to me properly?”
He wasn’t about to pretend he didn’t know who fired that photon cannon.
“Perhaps you should think carefully. We Red Scorpions may not be clean in our methods, but we value our word.”
“Word?” Chi Zhuo chuckled lightly, saying no more. “Rather than keep chasing us, Mr. Poison Scorpion, maybe you should think about retreating now. You know me—I never forget a slight. If you pull back, maybe I’ll just pretend none of this ever happened.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then soon, the name Red Scorpion will vanish from the star pirates.”
Chi Zhuo said it without changing his tone at all, yet his calm certainty made it clear that wiping out the Red Scorpions would be no trouble for him.
There was a long silence before the man finally said, “You’re bold, Mr. Chi Zhuo… like people say we take money to settle matters, but someone over there’s still going to want their answer.”
Clearly, the man didn’t want a full-scale war with Chi Zhuo’s forces—but he still needed Ji Chenxi alive.
Saying anything more now would be useless. Chi Zhuo used one hand to decisively cut the communication.
So decisive?
Ji Chenxi blinked.
“Brother Chi Zhuo… you really won’t consider working with him?”
Chi Zhuo precisely redirected the ship’s energy, using the least possible to maintain their current dodging speed. Sure enough, right after he cut the comm, the previously paused cannon fire flared up again.
Facing the storm of attacks, he actually had the mood to reply to Ji Chenxi. “So, Your Highness… do you think handing you over would make them let me go?”
“No,” Ji Chenxi answered firmly. “Chasing the Red Scorpions this time has completely offended them. Offering to hand me over is just a delaying tactic. If your forces arrive in time, they’ll just send a few ‘ignorant’ people to die. If they don’t… then they’ll eliminate you, the real danger they’ve been offended by.”
The Chi family had become a fearsome force because of Chi Zhuo. Without him, those under him—even if they wanted revenge on the Red Scorpions—would only be a minor nuisance to the Red Scorpion leader.
“So… are you just stalling for time?” Ji Chenxi asked.
“Something like that,” Chi Zhuo replied, “though it’s not very effective.”
Ji Chenxi scanned the surrounding area and came up with a bold idea. “Why don’t we just land on a random planet?”
Once they touched down, anyone chasing them would have to land too. And as for bombarding the planet directly—forget it. Even the surrounding military couldn’t ignore that. Not to mention the sheer size of the planet.
They were already in a remote sector. Most planets that could handle a landing were either barren or undeveloped. The nearest was a small blue-green world that looked peaceful at first glance.
Chi Zhuo considered Ji Chenxi’s suggestion seriously. Their ship was low on energy and already damaged—barely enough to hold out. But an undeveloped planet carried its own unknown dangers.
“Landing directly isn’t a good idea,” Chi Zhuo said.
Ji Chenxi understood. A direct landing would draw countless pursuers to their exact location. The better move was to force them down.
Before Ji Chenxi could say more, Chi Zhuo started attacking the dense mass of ships behind them.
Even though Ji Chenxi had seen Chi Zhuo’s precise control before, watching it again left him genuinely impressed.
In a short time, Chi Zhuo had destroyed countless pirate ships.
Such reckless use of energy was clearly a last-ditch effort. The pirate ships grew even more frenzied, firing relentlessly, but Chi Zhuo dodged with skill, targeting the most accurate ones first, sending devastating attacks back.
These weren’t ordinary photon shots. Every hit was catastrophic—ship destroyed, crew wiped out.
Ji Chenxi even thought that if their side had more ships, it might feel like they were the ones chasing the Red Scorpions.
Nearby, the small planet watched silently as the black pirate ship’s energy warnings ticked down, hitting the final 1% after a dozen consecutive shots.
“Get ready—” Chi Zhuo called out.
Sure enough, the next shot hit the energy-drained ship, sending it plummeting toward the planet.
And it wasn’t over. The pirates fired several more shots at the falling ship.
Ji Chenxi, forcing the system to keep the ship from exploding, felt the rare, exhausting sensation of his hands being pounded to the limit.
As they accelerated downward, unstable and dangerously fast, Ji Chenxi couldn’t help but smile. He counted silently in his mind.
Three—
Two—
One.
At the final count, chaos erupted among the pirate ships. Nearly half of them went out of control. Countless ships plummeted—some landing on the planet alongside the starship they’d destroyed, but most falling into the endless void of space, exploding with terrifying force.
Ji Chenxi’s smile grew wider as he witnessed it.
As their ship descended faster and faster, Chi Zhuo caught sight of Ji Chenxi’s smile. His expression grew colder.
Hah. This was the alpha who had shown weakness in front of him. The moment you think he’s soft and harmless, he can tear your throat out in an instant.
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
