Bearing the weight of everyone’s blazing stares, Chu Huaizhi had no choice but to dial Lin Xiaohe’s contact.
His heart was a mess—shame and guilt bubbling up inside him like a simmering pot.
Sigh. Look at how things had turned out.
He’d told the Security Department and the Federation councilors time and time again: always leave a way out for others, because you never know when you might cross paths again.
But no one listened. They’d find someone soft and squeeze them dry without mercy.
And now look—Lin Xiaohe wasn’t some soft persimmon at all. She was a solid steel ball!
Chu Huaizhi rubbed his face, trying his best not to look so dejected.
Beep… beep… beep…
No one picked up. A thin layer of cold sweat formed on his palms.
The conference room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Nobody was stupid. Everyone knew exactly what they’d done—they knew damn well the Federation had wronged Lin Xiaohe. And yet, they still felt entitled to her help.
Seconds ticked by. Just as Chu Huaizhi was about to hang up, the call finally connected.
On the virtual screen was a lively, festive scene.
Wesley and a miniaturized octopus were arguing fiercely with a giant eight-legged bug that stretched a full twenty meters when fully extended.
Wesley: “Steamed! Steaming is the best! Look at that plump belly—it’s packed with roe. The flavor will be incredibly fresh and bright.”
Xiao Shi strongly objected: “Stir-fried! I like stir-fried—the seasoning really soaks in.”
“Steamed!”
“Stir-fried!”
The two were red in the face, screaming at each other, looking like they were about to throw down any second.
Lin Xiaohe glanced at the crab-like creature and couldn’t help but salivate: “Catch another one. One steamed, one stir-fried.”
Coming to this planet was the right call.
Originally, this had been an ocean world, teeming with all sorts of fish and shellfish. After the Zerg took over and wiped out every living thing, they dropped biological bombs. The Zerg left behind on the planet mutated on their own, eventually growing into these giant crab-like forms.
Their massive pincers had an incredibly strong bite force—capable of easily snapping a hovercar in half. Their eight thick legs made them lightning fast. And their shells were tough, with defensive capabilities on par with the Void Devourers.
Thinking of this, Lin Xiaohe turned and reminded everyone: “When you eat, be careful. Save the shells—we’ll use them to reinforce the Ark.”
“Don’t worry, Party Leader!”
“Your will be done, my Lord.”
These upgraded Zerg, with their terrifying appearances and formidable offensive and defensive abilities, were forced onto the dinner table under the combined assault of the Stardust Humans and the octopuses, transformed into one delicacy after another.
The people in the conference room were utterly speechless.
Chu Huaizhi swallowed hard. The speech he’d rehearsed died in his throat.
Lin Xiaohe sniffed—the aroma of stir-fried crab kept wafting in, making her mouth water. Growing impatient to eat, she asked with some irritation: “Is there something you need?”
“Huh? Oh, yes, there is.” Chu Huaizhi’s mind went blank.
He’d always thought of himself as well-traveled and widely experienced, but he’d never seen anything like this. When did the Zerg become human delicacies?
That young man, Wesley, found the Zerg too large to handle, so he simply tore it apart with his bare hands.
And these were Zerg whose armor couldn’t even be pierced by ordinary guns and artillery!
His head was spinning.
For the first time in his life, Chu Huaizhi stammered: “Xiaohe, um, the battlefield situation in the Federation is dire. There’s something I don’t know if I should say.”
“Then don’t say it.” Lin Xiaohe cut him off flatly.
She cast a casual glance at the crab, her expression calm—no anger, no trace of “what goes around comes around” smugness.
But that very nonchalance felt like a hard slap across everyone’s faces.
She couldn’t even be bothered to be angry. Complete and utter disregard—far more humiliating than any hysterical outburst or harsh rebuke.
The Federation councilors tugged at their collars. This call felt like someone had a hand wrapped around their throats, choking the breath out of them.
One councilor, burning with rage, stood up to leave, only to have his secretary frantically wink at him.
The secretary’s eyelids were nearly cramping from the effort, terrified that his boss would keep up that arrogant attitude.
Please, gentlemen, open your eyes! Times have changed!
The Federation was getting its teeth kicked in by the Zerg, while Lin Xiaohe could string them up and roast them on a skewer.
That’s what real power looked like!
Now wasn’t the time to care about her origins. The Federation needed her help, so they had to have the right attitude.
After finally catching his secretary’s hint, the councilor took several deep breaths to suppress his fury and reluctantly sat back down—though his face remained stiff, incapable of forcing a smile.
Chu Huaizhi scratched his head awkwardly. Prodded by everyone’s expectant gazes, he spoke again: “Xiaohe, humanity is at a critical moment of life and death. According to our intel, the Empire… they’re actively integrating Zerg genes, trying to become the Zerg’s lackeys.”
Lin Xiaohe gave him an odd look, pointing at Xiao Shi, and retorted: “My relationship with the Zerg seems even closer than that. I already defected from the Federation long ago. Are you trying to force me to defect from humanity itself?”
With one sentence—what did the Federation’s survival or humanity’s survival have to do with her?
Lin Xiaohe’s icy demeanor made everyone in the room lose face.
“How can you be like this? After all, we all carry human genes in our bodies.”
Lin Xiaohe pursed her lips. If they really wanted to split hairs about that, who knew exactly whose genes made up more of her body?
A torrent of accusations came crashing down.
“Lin Xiaohe, don’t be so selfish. Sure, you suffered some injustices before, but you came out fine, didn’t you? Besides, when it comes to right and wrong on a grand scale, we need to think about the bigger picture.”
“You grew from an embryo into an adult—didn’t you use any of the Federation’s resources at all? Wasteland Star belongs to the Federation. Every breath of air you take belongs to the Federation!”
“In the face of all of humanity’s survival, I think you should set aside your personal grievances and join us in saving humanity!”
“Enough!” Chu Huaizhi roared.
He swept his gaze across the room and said heavily: “This is not how you have a proper discussion.”
Then he turned back to Lin Xiaohe: “I know you’ve been wronged. The Federation did make mistakes in the past. What kind of compensation are you hoping for?”
Lin Xiaohe gave a half-smile: “What can you offer?”
Chu Huaizhi thought carefully: “First, as Marshal of the Federation, I’ll issue a public announcement to the entire Federation, formally apologizing to you and everyone affected. Second, I’ll push for judicial action to severely punish the Security Department personnel who abused their authority.”
“On top of that, we’ll provide material compensation. If there’s anything else you want, you can name it.”
Lin Xiaohe shook her head with a sigh: “Where were you when I needed this?”
Her eyes were cold, carrying a detached calm that was neither moved by gain nor saddened by loss: “I’ll take my own revenge. The Security Department personnel who hurt me—I’ve already killed them all. As for my reputation in the Federation, I couldn’t care less. All I have to do is stand by and watch, and the Federation will collapse on its own.”
“Don’t go too far! What exactly do you want?!” A councilor couldn’t take it anymore and shot up, roaring.
Lin Xiaohe let out a mocking laugh: “Heh. What do I want? How about you try getting on your knees and begging me?”
