The moment the flames of war ignited, soldiers on both sides of the Federation and the Empire poured their deepest malice and bloodlust onto their enemies without reservation.
There was no shred of mercy—only icy resolve and manic slaughter in their eyes.
Every barrage of artillery fire reaped lives on the opposing side.
Though this attack was, in truth, a deliberate feint staged by the Federation to deceive the Empire's defending forces and pin down their main force, it had to be convincing enough to pass as the real thing.
And so, this feint had already become indistinguishable from a desperate, all-out battle to the death.
Every inch of airspace was being contested in a life-or-death struggle.
Leading the frontal assault were the Federation's Sirius Fleet and Golden Palace Fleet.
Together, the two fleets numbered over two hundred thousand warships.
Like two unstoppable tides of steel, they hammered the Bravik Lane—one of the three main navigation routes in the Bushman Star System.
On the Empire's side, thirteen hundred war fortresses were densely arrayed along the lane, forming an impenetrable defensive barrier.
Each fortress was a fatal iron nail driven into the Bravik Lane.
The dense mass of Federation warships, like a swarm of ants, slowly closed in on that deadly cluster of fortresses.
Every step forward carried the resolve of those marching to their deaths.
They spread out in full breadth, their formation stretched wide in an attempt to evade the tracking of the fortress cannons.
Along the forward course drifted the wreckage of allied warships destroyed in the previous assault.
Shattered bows pointed grimly toward the stars, twisted hulls scarred with charred scorch marks.
Each piece of wreckage was a silent tombstone.
It quietly bore witness to the bloody carnage of the battle just fought, and served as a warning to every warship advancing onward.
The next to fall might be you.
The Federation warships moved as if threading through a minefield, cautiously weaving around the debris.
Closer and closer they drew to the fortress cluster.
Eight hundred kilometers.
Seven hundred kilometers.
Six hundred kilometers.
Then, the fortress cannons concealed deep within the meteorite craters began to silently accumulate energy.
Cerulean arcs of light danced and flickered wildly at their gun muzzles.
Within that blinding blue glow lay a destructive force capable of tearing apart any hull and annihilating all life.
It was enough to send a chill down anyone's spine.
Inside the bridge of a Federation cruiser, the lights flickered dimly as a young operator stared fixedly at the ever-brightening blue glow on his screen.
Instinctively, he whispered a prayer under his breath.
"Don't aim at me... don't aim at me... please..."
None of the crew members around him mocked him.
Because everyone else was doing the same thing—silently praying in their hearts.
Begging in desperation that those lethal light columns would target other warships.
Fear crept like vines, coiling tightly around every heart.
But they had no choice. They could only steel themselves and press forward.
Of course, beyond this self-deceiving psychological comfort, the Federation fleet still had countermeasures.
The next second, rockets loaded with high-density metallic particles burst forth from the launch bays of every warship.
With a shrieking howl as they tore through the air, they shot straight into the airspace ahead of the fleet.
The moment the rockets detonated, dense metallic particles scattered like dust.
Spreading and diffusing rapidly before the Federation fleet.
A gray, hazy jamming cloud eventually formed, completely concealing the fleet's position.
These metallic particles could effectively scatter the fortress cannon's lasers, disrupt its ranging systems, and turn radar locks into complete gibberish, making it impossible to precisely track the warships' locations.
On the bridge, the operators stared at the thickening jamming cloud on their screens, their taut nerves relaxing slightly.
Perhaps this time, they could make it through.
But then.
The next second, a blinding blue light column pierced straight through that gray jamming cloud.
It ignored all interference, carrying an overwhelming, world-destroying momentum as it stabbed directly into the heart of the Federation Fleet.
Wherever the beam passed, the shields of Federation warships shattered like thin paper, instantly crumbling into annihilation.
Though the Federation Fleet had already dispersed as widely as possible, trying to evade damage.
That blue light column was simply too thick, too domineering.
Its coverage was immense—the warships struck were never just one or two, but an entire swath.
Explosions flared across that airspace in rapid succession, one after another, each flash accompanied by the extinguishing of countless lives.
Sirius Fleet's flagship, the Sirius, bridge.
The communications officer's voice carried an unmistakable choke, every word forced out from the depths of his throat.
"Reporting to the Commander... the Empire fortress's artillery bombardment from just now—the impact results have been confirmed."
The communications officer took a deep breath and recited clearly and heavily.
"Our classified fleets, the Fire Wolf Fleet and the Grey Wolf Fleet, have been directly hit."
"Upon detection, this attack was a high-energy particle beam, with power exceeding the maximum capacity of our T5-class shields by a full 200%."
At this point, his voice was trembling completely, his eyes visibly reddening.
"The Fire Wolf Fleet's flagship, the Fire Wolf, was directly destroyed. Including the fleet commander...
All personnel killed in action. No survivors."
"In this bombardment, our total warship losses..."
He paused, his voice filled with despair.
"Over seven hundred vessels."
On the bridge, the silence was so deep you could hear heartbeats, as if the very air had frozen solid.
Seven hundred ships.
This wasn't just a cold number—it was over a hundred thousand living souls.
Over a hundred thousand comrades who had fought side by side, sharing life and death.
In that single fatal blue light, they were annihilated in an instant.
Someone slowly lowered their head, shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
Someone clenched their fists so hard their nails nearly dug into their palms.
Still others bit down hard on their lips, teeth sinking deep into the flesh.
"Bang!"
A dull, heavy crash shattered the deathly silence.
The Gunnery Chief slammed his fist onto the control console before him.
His eyes were bloodshot, his voice burning with towering rage.
"Those treacherous Empire barbarians!"
"Last round's bombardment wasn't nearly this powerful!
They must have deliberately lowered the output—deliberately lulled us into complacency!"
These words struck like thunder, instantly jolting everyone present awake.
During the previous assault, when that fortress cannon had fired, it had only taken out a little over two hundred warships.
This time, they had learned their lesson and spread their formation even wider—yet casualties had more than tripled.
Lu Chengfeng stood before the command console.
His face bore no expression at all, calm to the point of near indifference.
As if the news of seven hundred warships lost and over a hundred thousand comrades fallen had nothing to do with him.
After a full several seconds of silence, his voice finally rang out across the deathly still bridge.
"Continue forward."
Lu Chengfeng met everyone's gaze, his expression still calm.
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."
His tone remained calm—so calm it was terrifying.
Yet those deep, profound eyes were as unfathomable as a bottomless sea.
Within them churned a grief, resolve, and forbearance that ordinary people could not see.
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