Chapter 54: Retreat

"Mao Handsome? Big Rat, your name is Mao Handsome?" Han Feng stared at Mao Si's rodent-like features, which bore no connection to handsomeness in any universe, and struggled painfully to suppress his laughter.

Hearing Han Feng's words, Tifa and Sun Fei burst into laughter, swaying with amusement.

"My name is Mao Si! 'Mao Handsome' is my alias, my alias! Who would use their real name for this kind of account?" Mao Si snapped, a bit ashamed. He hated being called mouse or rat more than anything. "Besides, don't you think this face is exceptionally handsome?"

Pfft! Cough, cough, cough!

Sun Fei, who had just taken a sip of water, sprayed it all over Han Feng's back, coughing uncontrollably.

Mao Si shot Sun Fei a sidelong glance, as if to say, "You have no taste! I, the great Mao, am the most handsome!"

"The money's been transferred. Can I go now?" The thought of all his money now belonging to someone else twisted Mao Si's heart with pain and despair.

"Not so fast," Han Feng said languidly. "Tell me, what do you know about Brandon Arthur?"

"You said you'd let me go!" Mao Si shrieked.

"Answer my question and I will. I’ll even give you an escape pod—you can go anywhere no one will ever find you."

Mao Si’s face fell. Shelterless, he had no choice but to bow his head. If he could have beaten these people, he thought, he would have killed them long ago.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

"Tell me everything you know," Han Feng replied.

"Fine. Truth is, I don’t know much. Brandon Arthur is the head of the Power Angel Group’s division in the Marilla Star System. He oversees all their operations there. Personally, he’s a grade-B transformation-type beast warrior, but I don’t know the specifics—I’ve never seen him fight in person. He doesn’t have a fixed base, always on the move. Occasionally, he’ll spend a couple of days in an abandoned small space station, but I don’t know its coordinates." Mao Si poured out all he knew. "That’s all I know. Please, let me go."

“Thank you for your cooperation. Safe travels,” Han Feng nodded.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Mao Si scrambled to his feet, eager to escape.

A soft sound.

Mao Si’s throat was slit, blood spraying across the floor. His body twitched, then stilled forever.

“Tifa, please clean up the ship. Leave no one behind,” Han Feng instructed Tifa and the other hunter warriors.

“Yes, Captain,” Tifa replied, leading the hunters from the control room. They went to deal with the remaining pirates on board; they were non-combatants and would be swiftly dealt with.

Only Han Feng, Michel Fran, and Sun Fei remained in the control room. Sun Fei was merely along for the ride; earlier, Mao Si had insisted she come, and to avoid raising his suspicions, they had brought her as a “hostage.”

“You’ve seen it yourselves—these men were pirates for the Power Angel Group, members of the Angel Group’s combat sequence. We need to get out of the Marilla Star System fast. We can’t afford to provoke a grade-B,” Han Feng said to Michel Fran and Sun Fei. “I wonder how Jordan is doing.”

As Han Feng finished speaking, Michel Fran’s portable computer beeped with Jordan Pires’s coded signal.

“They’re fine too—successfully took the ship and cleared out the pirates. Ready to set sail at any time,” Michel Fran relayed.

“Then we leave now. The longer we wait, the more risk,” Han Feng ordered. “Contact Taurus and Blood Tiger. Initiate jump, now.”

The three ships turned and entered warp, transforming into streaks of light that vanished into the distance.

...

Marilla Star System, shattered asteroid belt, inside a derelict small space station, Brandon Arthur received an unexpected visitor.

“Brandon Arthur, you’re not easy to find,” a tall, stubbled man entered the vast chamber where Brandon Arthur was.

His hair was a tangled mass of black; his khaki long-sleeved T-shirt had the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and army green cargo pants ended in battered brown boots. He looked like a worker just off his shift, or perhaps a wandering traveler.

“It’s you?” Brandon Arthur was surprised.

“It’s me. What, won’t you offer me a drink?” The man settled himself on the sofa opposite Brandon Arthur, arms spread across the backrest. “You’ve done a fine job renovating this place.”

Seeing him, Brandon Arthur knew all his men must be dead. He produced a crystal octagonal glass, poured in amber liquor, added three ice cubes, and slid it across the table.

The man took the glass, drained it in one gulp, and set it down with a sigh. “Excellent drink! Who knows how many years’ salary I’d need to afford a bottle?”

“Well, why not come work for me? You can drink this every day,” Brandon Arthur responded.

“That’s impossible. You know I hate pirates,” the man replied casually, but his words dripped with hatred.

“Yet you dare drink my liquor? Aren’t you afraid I poisoned it?” Brandon Arthur laughed.

“You wouldn’t. For all your violence and cruelty, you’re still a man of your word.” The man stood, stretched lazily, and said, “Well, we’ve reminisced, had a drink, time to loosen up. I wonder how much you’ve improved after all these years. Last time you got away, the boss berated me for days. This time, you won’t get another chance.”

“Heh, Qin Zong, don’t boast too soon!” Brandon Arthur crushed out his cigar and stood, rolling his neck.

Qin Zong said nothing more. He drew a long blade—plain in design but radiating a fierce, murderous aura. The edge seemed to carry the chill of countless slaughters, enough to make even a glance sting the eyes of an ordinary person.

Brandon Arthur shed his shirt and entered his full beast transformation. He was a transformation-type beast warrior who had awakened the demon wolf bloodline. His body expanded, growing past three meters, resembling the werewolves of the dark races—muscles knotted, hair bristling like spikes, claws gleaming with lethal sharpness.

Boom!

The battle between two grade-B superhumans shook the very station. Razor-sharp blade auras slashed through everything—sofa, cabinets, walls, metal pipes, and flesh alike.

Brandon Arthur’s body regenerated at startling speed; myriad fine cuts healed within seconds, while his claws swept into a storm of slashing shadows.

The two mighty figures clashed and crossed, their psychic energies colliding and surging into a violent storm.

After a long while, the storm abated. An entire level of the derelict station was reduced to ruins. Amid the wreckage, Qin Zong sat against a shattered metal pipe, his body covered in claw marks and soaked in blood.

One hand gripped his blade, the other pressed a gaping wound in his abdomen. He spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva. “Damn it, these were just bought—secondhand shoes!”