Xyrin Empire

"That's quite a lot of information, the dad of the child."

After leaving that remark, Bubbles closed her eyes and retreated into her own world, possibly leading over ten thousand Shepards and Diablos in swinging bricks, or maybe pondering in Demacia, but she was definitely not engaging in our discussion.

She had already laid out the valuable information filtered from the spaceship log before us. The remaining deduction and analysis were not what her super computing machine excelled at, so wisely, Bubbles handed this task to me and Sandora.

The decrypted log information certainly contained more than just a video and a name. It included a plethora of items, such as numerous inexplicable star system coordinates, spaceship terminologies, warship voyage records, and a set of warship crew regulations, along with a myriad of indecipherable things. Sandora was rapidly browsing through these professional matters, but our discussion remained focused on the information revealed by the recent video clip.

"This spaceship somehow ended up in the hands of a group of carbon-based beings," Sandora stared at the rapidly refreshing holographic images, her sea-blue eyes flickering with starlight, "This surely couldn't have been handed over to them through normal channels. Visca wouldn't do such a thing... Look at these things, and listen to the sound from that log. These unknown people have given numerous new names to the equipment on this Eternal-class battleship. They call the spaceship 'Ancient Divine Messenger Level,' the Ghost Energy Shield as 'Protection Shield,' and their reactions when attacked are laughable. They did not organize an effective counterattack based on the characteristics of an Imperial battleship, resulting in the spaceship's shield system overloading within a few minutes."

"By the way, who do you think attacked them?" I suddenly asked.

Sandora pointed at a static image on the screen, extracted from the spaceship log when the battleship was being attacked. It was recorded by another external probe. I roughly judged that it should be the anti-aircraft gun emplacement on the latter half of the Eternal-class battleship, which had already been engulfed by a mass of white light. The dense near defense guns twisted into abstract black threads under the high-energy impact, and within that white light, there were roughly five or six vague little black shadows, somewhat familiar, yet I couldn't recall what they were after thinking for a moment.

Sandora, however, had already recognized them. Her understanding of Imperial weapons was extraordinary, and she just took a glance before clearly stating the model of those little black shadows: "X-6 Tomb Digger, super-heavy jump missiles, capable of effective jumps within one light year after launching, directly appearing within 2000 meters from the target for terminal guidance attacks, and possessing secondary tracking ability. Even if the target uses super space-time jumps to evade, it can track residual space indicators, pursuing up to three times. High-speed spaceships can relatively easily shake off such heavy missiles, but an Eternal-class spaceship, which cannot continuously teleport multiple times, can only withstand it. They are lethal weapons against large warships, and in fleet battles, one-third of the large ships are eliminated by this series of jump weapons. The spaceship called 'Hope' is truly unlucky, without gaining any hope."

"The spaceship was shot down by Imperial weapons," I knowingly nodded, yet another information-filled message, but not surprising at all. I'm already calm about the behavior of the old Empire indiscriminately throwing flammable waste everywhere back in the days. It's as if chaos arises in any world, there must be one or two pieces of Xyrin heritage stirring things up, or the world wouldn't feel complete. What's slightly unexpected this time is that even Visca had such a period of indiscriminate flammable waste disposal—although that girl always adhered to a policy of cleaning up the world thoroughly, she was also a scatterbrain and often dropped things. She even misplaced her clone after the battle with Atlantis, which is still hanging in the sky now. "Do you think those attacking this Eternal-class battleship are those otherworldly people? I have a hunch."

Sandora raised her eyebrow: "A group of carbon-based beings mastered Xyrin heritage from the Ancient Era, learned to control it, and now they're fighting? That's a reasonable explanation, but without definite evidence, nothing can be confirmed."

I chuckled, mentioning how I am quite good at irresponsible speculation. Sandora, however, values intelligence based on solid evidence, which is the difference between professional and amateur: she is a professional ruler and military strategist who started to sweep through the galaxy millions of years ago, whilst three years ago my greatest skills were escaping school with Qianqian to surf the internet or rolling dice when taking English exams...

"Anyway, nothing is clear right now, my guess might turn out to be true," I said, stroking Sandora's silky golden hair, a habitual action I've developed unknowingly. Mainly because whenever I'm with her, I can't resist the urge to touch her hair, similar to how I'd subconsciously twist the spring of the Mercury Lamp whenever I'm with her. "You know, I suddenly thought of Mobra."

Sandora immediately looked at me with puzzlement.

"They also have 'heritage,' although not spaceships like Eternal-class. If the Pope hadn't appeared, Mobra might have eventually ended up fighting amongst themselves — brain matter scattered everywhere, which in a way shows the Pope actually had merit. Although he locked the entire civilization's potential, he at least prevented the world from being wiped out by Ghost Energy for 300 years."

"What's this mess, such a big leap," Sandora nudged my stomach with her elbow, "Let's talk about this log, the coordinate system it records is really strange, look for yourself."

An array of colorful numbers and symbols instantly filled my sight, giving an urge to flee: is such professional stuff meant for Earthlings?

Sandora also knows how capable I am, so she pointed out a couple of things and simplified those numbers and symbols into a spherical 3D dot matrix map, with dimensions marked in big letters, making it much easier to understand.

"This is the star map recorded in the ship's log," Sandora said, bewildered, "and it's the entire star map. In other words, all the cosmic coordinates recorded by the disassembled Eternal-class starship are within this range. This point is the farthest it has traveled. Look, there's a word on it, which in their language system translates to 'Land of Termination.'

"It's half the size of the Sun's gravitational boundary... and the farthest this ship has traveled in its lifetime is less than a light-year? Its range of activity is just this small?"

"Isn't that strange?" Sandora chuckled lightly, "The Eternal class is a mothership capable of supporting inter-world expeditions. A distance of one light-year is not even considered a warm-up for it. Yet, the star map in the ship's log is written this way, with its route range not exceeding one light-year. I can't imagine a space civilization with a normal mindset would be content to just go around their doorstep after obtaining such a ship."

"They really know how to waste things," I felt a wave of toothache. Having a ship easily capable of crossing worlds yet only daring to circle around its own solar system—what an eccentric group are they? Don't they have any ambition? Leaving aside other things, just look at the audacious Earthlings. Even if you give them a single-soldier fighter jet, they would dare to colonize Centaurus two years later. This is a kind of boldness, the basic boldness needed by an enlightened civilization daring to venture into outer space. Thus, when knowing this Eternal-class battleship, which crashed on Mars, was used by unknown Otherworldly humans merely as a transit tool within their constant star system, I could only say they are truly an eccentric rarity of the introverted realm.

"You can't draw conclusions too early," Sandora was quite open-minded, "Looking at these coordinates, all those near the border have warning marks, which is intriguing. Perhaps it's not that they don't want to go out, but that something forbids them from leaving their constant star system. I'm curious as to what could entrap an enlightened civilization equipped with an Eternal-class battleship. This is more intriguing than how those otherworldly people acquired an Imperial Starship."

"And there's another thing, how did a civilization unable to leave a solar system learn to operate a ship like an Eternal class?" I started pondering as well, "That thing isn't a bicycle; no one learns it after a few falls. It's a space battleship, even if you unlock all its permissions and hand it over to a bunch of primitives, they wouldn't be able to fly it, right?"

"Don't speculate too much; the more you guess, the more it interferes with your judgment," Sandora gently shook her head at me, "Especially since this thing was left behind by Visca. The stuff she tosses around—do you think it would be normal?"

The voyage log continued to refresh rapidly on the holographic display. Most of it was boring, predominantly detailing what time the ship started, what time it resupplied, and the status of a particular section at a certain time, along with a couple of nonsensical lines written by some bored technician in the log, such as "XX, bring me two big pancakes," or "Today's buns in the canteen have too much alkali." Such content appearing on an Imperial Starship's voyage log made Sandora furrow her brows more than once. Finally, when a lengthy article criticizing the canteen's food over three hundred times appeared in the footer of the voyage log in a grand and dignified manner, our Queen exploded, grabbing my arm and pointing at the screen, raging:

"How can their canteen be so irresponsible!"

Me: "..."

Clearly, for Sandora, the key word that grabs her attention is always "eat"...

After I had already started to feel drowsy, Sandora finally finished rapidly browsing all the valuable information in the voyage log. We can now confirm three points:

First, the crashed Eternal-class battleship on Mars has been occupied by a group of intelligent beings from another world, and their tribe may also control more Imperial Weapons, including spaceships and heavy artillery, while they remain mutually hostile and engage in conflicts with each other.

Second, the level of civilization of those Otherworldly Humans is quite a contradictory thing. The star map indicates their understanding of the universe is limited to within one light-year, yet they have an Imperial spaceship capable of instantly reaching the edge of the universe and know how to operate it. On this contradiction, Sandora can only speculatively judge there is something intercepting all flying devices attempting to leave the constant star system inhabited by those 'carbon-based monkeys.'

Third, "their" world also has steamed buns, and the alkali in the canteen's steamed buns is often excessive.

Sandora believes the third point is the most crucial piece of intelligence, making her feel that life now is exceptionally wonderful: at least Anwina's steamed buns never had too much alkali.

Alright, the kid is just hungry again, she's rambling.

After coming out of the Mother Nest, Sandora kept complaining about being hungry. But it was only ten thirty in the morning, not exactly meal time, so I could only take her to the Food Street in Shadow City to scavenge for food, using various snacks to appease the Queen's growling stomach.

The Food Street in Shadow City is situated at coordinates corresponding to the old food street in the old town of K City in the real world, only much larger in scale. Most of the vendors here are Heroic Spirits with too much free time, who even when on the occasional mission only send a clone. This group of well-fed individuals, who usually wreck the natural environment in Avalon, has plenty of time to do all sorts of odd things in Shadow City. For example, they might hold a guest lecturer title at the Imperial Military Academy, teaching Sister Misaka some very strange and dangerous knowledge. And then, when they have no classes, they hit the streets to sell skewered food and Shandong-style savory pancakes, much like those hard-working teachers who, after preparing lessons, wear a mask to sell buns in alleyways ten kilometers away from school to make ends meet. The only difference is these guys lack any of the dignity and ethics of those teachers.

But you can also say they've greatly enriched the daily life of Shadow City, ensuring this military capital isn't as boring as a strict military camp.

After all, most of the residents here are either leaders of heroes from various worlds or Imperial Soldiers on missions. Who among them would idle away their time setting up a permanent kebab stall at a street corner? Lola once sold spicy boiled fish at Beierhuan for a couple of days, but by the third day, Isana had complained, and we all said she got what she deserved...

Speaking of Imperial Soldiers who can't pursue a business due to their missions, Sicaro doesn't count. Recently, he's even fallen to taking on foot massage services. Pandora and Visca are contemplating whether to confine that old guy for ten thousand years, then exile him from his hometown, so if Bubbles ever gets bored, we can blindfold him and give him a couple of kitchen knives, making him drop equipment...

See how the First Family resents that unrepentant guy.

Sitting with Sandora at a stall selling spicy hot pot waiting for our food, my mind was scrolling past all sorts of chaotic thoughts like a flashing screen. I didn't even know what I was supposed to be thinking about, but I suppose it was just to keep my mind from being blank. I have a good trait that when faced with something I can't figure out, I try to set it aside. However, I also have a bad trait: a slight compulsion that makes me feel something's missing when I set something aside, so I fill my mind with jumbled thoughts. This time, a pile of voyage logs left me puzzled over the crashed spaceship, and after realizing I couldn't figure it out, I decided to ponder over how to cultivate Sicaro into a training dummy that could grant five level-ups upon defeat and when Sandora would finally be full.

Beside me, a sound like a small animal nibbling on nuts continuously reached my ears. Sandora was eyeing the disposable chopsticks container and sterilized plates not far away while licking her lips. She had eaten a lot in the morning, but it was meaningless; Her Majesty the Queen was perpetually hungry, and although she wouldn't starve even after going without food and drink for tens of thousands of years, who could say if she'd die of craving? And to Sandora, craving is akin to hunger.

Cu Chulainn was busy at a stove not far away. The once gallant hero was now wearing a street-bought t-shirt worth around fifty bucks and a Crayon Shin-chan apron, grasping a handful of spicy hot pot ingredients to throw into boiling water. Behind him was a line-up of a dozen or so people, some I recognized, some I didn't, over ten Heroic Spirits. Even Red A and Hercules were busy, causing a dozen stalls next to the hot pot stand to pause their operations. The only task for these ancient heroes now was to prepare enough spicy hot pot to feed Her Majesty the Queen before she went berserk from hunger—easy for Anwina but enough to keep a dozen superhumans busy to death.

Sandora's eyes first landed on the spicy hot pot as soon as she arrived. Cu Chulainn, you're such a miserable soul. And the unlucky Heroic Spirits who set up their stalls near Cu Chulainn were dragged into the mess, having to help out to prevent their wares from being eaten up.

"Look, you scared them to death," I teased Sandora, nudging her elbow.

"I'm hungry anyway, they should serve the Queen," Sandora puffed out her tiny chest arrogantly, clearly no longer thinking clearly due to hunger.

"Ahem, strictly speaking, you're not their Queen. Their leader is Dingdang..."

I muttered under my breath, feeling like even my words sounded like nonsense.

Sure enough, Sandora immediately rolled her eyes at me: "Dingdang? They listen to Dingdang, but who does Dingdang listen to?"

I was speechless.

There's actually a concept we often overlook here, which is that the Heroic Spirit Army isn't part of the Imperial military hierarchy. Though they're active in most worlds with Imperial military presence and take on tasks from the Time-Space Administration, acting as fire brigade across different worlds, technically speaking, they're vassals of the Divine Race—a part of Dingdang's army. On another level, the military collaboration between the Star Domain Divine Race and the Xyrin Empire in the New Era began when the Heroic Spirits were collectively recruited over and had their energy levels maxed out by Dingdang's Golden Finger.

However, everyone takes it for granted that although this theoretical Divine Servant Army doesn't have an independent establishment, they do answer to Dingdang. And the most common thing Dingdang says to them is:

"You ask Ah Jun! Dingdang listens to Ah Jun!"

So even the Heroic Spirits themselves often think their superiors are actually the two Xyrin Emperors, especially a certain unfortunate gunman.

Fortunately, whenever they forget themselves, there's usually some Heavenly Punishment that strikes down, reminding them of their true boss. Unfortunately, Cu Chulainn is the one who most frequently gets the Heavenly Punishment, and he's the most forgetful. His blasphemous tendencies earned him the nickname 'human lightning rod of Avalon.' Sometimes, I worry if he'd be completely obliterated because of a slip of his tongue.

The fact that the Heroic Spirits collectively ignore their Divine superiors once left Bingdisi despondent. The Rogue Goddess dramatically lamented how the glory of the Divine Race was ruined by a small individual. She stood on my coffee table making this sanctimonious remark, with a piece of dried snack grabbed from Little Baobao's mouth in her hand...

I think the Heroic Spirits firmly uniting around the Empire's leadership team led by Sandora and me is a very wise choice; at least we're much more reliable than those Immortals.

"By the way, since so many Heroic Spirits have returned, it seems the troubles on Earth have mostly been resolved, right?"

I looked at the bustling market in the distance and whispered to Sandora.

"The troubles on Earth? I've never been too concerned about that," Sandora nonchalantly waved her hand, "those are just minor annoyances. What I really want to know is which world that crashed spaceship came from. The voyage logs didn't include any world coordinates. Those carbon-based monkeys messed up; they don't know the first thing about cross-world transfer technology and tampered with the spaceship's coordinate library. Now, finding its origin is impossible, and we can only wait for the life sample Dingdang sent to the Divine Realm for new insights."

I nodded. At that moment, the spicy hot pot was served, and Her Majesty, who had been waiting for ages, lightly cheered and immediately got lost in the hot pot ocean, abandoning any concern or world-dominating demeanor she had before.

Just as I was about to snatch some food from Sandora, a figure suddenly appeared beside us.

I looked up and saw it was Medusa, dressed in jeans and a small T-shirt.

"Boss, I'm afraid there's some worrying news," Medusa pushed her glasses up her nose and said with a mischievous smile, "Humans plan to land on the moon." (To be continued. If you enjoyed this work, please visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast your recommendation votes and monthly votes. Your support is my greatest motivation.)