Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Returning from preschool, Luo Ci burst into the toy warehouse, brimming with excitement.

The toy warehouse was as vast as an exhibition hall, a place where one could easily get lost without familiarity.

Recently, a new craze had swept across the stars: mini mechas. These small, custom-made mechs for younglings lacked weapons and had limited flight altitude, yet they were immensely popular among the little ones.

They also served as a novel form of personal transport.

At Luo Ci’s age, curiosity for such things was at its peak. The moment he unboxed the mini mecha, he was utterly captivated.

If not for preschool, he would have spent every waking moment with it.

Squatting down, knees hugged to his chest, he patted the mini mecha’s head with his chubby little hands. The mecha activated, a voice prompt saying, “Welcome, Master,” before its cockpit door opened.

“…Hmm, first step is to walk around and inspect the mecha. Second step… uh, what was it again?” Luo Ci mumbled to himself.

When the mini mecha was first delivered, Tristan had laid down strict safety rules: if Luo Ci wanted to play with it, he had to follow them.

Resting his chin in his hands, Luo Ci pondered for a long time. He remembered the steps from the third onward, but the second and third steps had momentarily slipped his mind. His thoughts even drifted to lunchtime at preschool.

Shaking his head to clear the jumble of thoughts, he eagerly dragged the mini mecha out.

The mini mecha was only 50 inches tall, shaped like a chubby little bumblebee with a round head and body—easy enough for a youngling to move around.

He plopped into the cockpit, fastening his seatbelt.

Luo Ci started up the mecha. Tristan had been unusually busy lately, and with no one to cling to, Luo Ci had grown quite familiar with the mecha. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say he could operate the controls blindfolded.

This was partly because the mini mecha’s controls were fairly simple.

Thinking of Tristan, he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d been up to lately… Even when Luo Ci tried to casually ask, Tristan acted as if bound by a confidentiality agreement, refusing to tell him. Even No.02 was rarely seen these days, always busy.

Lost in thought again, Luo Ci pouted unhappily.

Younglings were like that—their minds prone to wandering. Even while doing one thing, their thoughts could leap to something entirely different.

The bumblebee mecha bobbed unsteadily in the air, rising and dipping unpredictably. When it came time to turn, it reacted sluggishly.

Luo Ci tumbled clumsily, rolling a few times before crashing into a wall with a skidding face-first stop, finally flopping onto the sofa like a freshly flattened kitten.

“Ehh, why can’t I get out…?” The cockpit door opened, and Luo Ci wriggled, sticking out one tiny foot. His round cheeks were flushed pink, like a peach-tinged snowball so soft it looked like it could be squeezed into juice. He felt deeply embarrassed about the face-first crash.

“Beep beep—”

A group of Robot Soldiers rushed over, carefully helping the chubby little youngling out of the cockpit. Though plump, he weighed almost nothing in their arms. The Robot Soldiers immediately scanned his physical condition.

The impact against the wall had been strong, but at that instant, the wall seemed to soften inexplicably, as if he’d crashed into a pile of cotton before tumbling onto the sofa. Aside from feeling a bit dizzy, Luo Ci didn’t feel any pain.

After confirming the collision and ensuring the youngling was unharmed, some Robot Soldiers gently carried him away while others hauled the mini mecha off for repairs.

Luo Ci had landed hard on his bottom, his head still spinning, but he hadn’t forgotten that Tristan could access the Robot Soldiers’ records at any time. His lips quivered as he whined, begging them to “forget” what had just happened. But the Robot Soldiers didn’t quite grasp the concept of “forgetting”—after all, each one was born with built-in memory. Once something was seen, it couldn’t be erased. After much pondering, Luo Ci finally managed to articulate his request clearly: delete the memory immediately.

“Is it deleted now?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Yes, little master.”

Luo Ci let out a little sigh of relief.

He was carried back to his bedroom.

To the Robot Soldiers, though the youngling showed no physical injuries, his racing heartbeat indicated he’d been frightened. Therefore, he needed to rest in a comfortable place to calm down.

Though Luo Ci didn’t feel sleepy, the scare had left him drained. Burying his face in the blankets, he grew drowsy and soon drifted off.

……

He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept when a flickering light outside the window roused him.

Frowning, Luo Ci rubbed his eyes, pushed aside the blanket, and climbed out of bed.

The room was filled with soothing, cheerful music—a universally recognized lullaby for relaxation. Since the youngling loved running around barefoot, the floor was covered in plush carpets. Picture books were scattered everywhere, and a snack shelf stood in one corner.

Trotting over to the window, he pulled back the curtains.

The sky outside was dark and gloomy, the desert invisible beneath the blackness. A blinding bolt of lightning suddenly split the sky, as if tearing it apart, followed by a deafening clap of thunder.

Luo Ci had learned about Yixu Star’s seasons in preschool—during seasonal transitions, massive thunderstorms were common, sometimes brief, sometimes prolonged.

But he hadn’t expected the lightning to be so terrifying. Though the castle muffled the thunder, the stark flashes seemed to claw at the sky right above him.

Scampering back to bed on short legs, he burrowed under the covers, pulling them tightly over his head.

Curled into a ball with his knees hugged to his chest.

Tristan entered and immediately spotted the little white bundle on the bed. Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, and the bundle shrank even smaller.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Tristan rested a hand gently on the bundle. The lump curled tighter, unmoving.

He lifted the edge of the blanket.

The youngling clutched his Bunny Rabbit to his chest, knees drawn up, one sock missing, his little face buried against his chest. His eyes were damp.

“Afraid of the thunder?” Tristan cradled the curled-up youngling, softly stroking his back.

“Not afraid,” Luo Ci mumbled with a sniffle.

“It’s just… too bright outside. Can’t sleep.”

Even as he denied being scared, another flash of lightning made him press his lips together and burrow deeper into Tristan’s arms.

“Of course. It’s natural to dislike bright light,” Tristan played along. “I don’t like thunderstorms either.”

In truth, the Mechanical Race had no concept of likes or dislikes—only whitelists and blacklists. But Tristan figured anything the youngling disliked could go straight to the blacklist.

“Really?”

Luo Ci nestled against Tristan’s chest.

His tiny face finally lifted, eyes watery and red, long lashes fluttering.

Like a pampered kitten cradled in loving hands, he had hidden himself away in distress, only to snuggle close for comfort once comforted.

“Yes.”

Luo Ci yawned, pressing his cheek against Tristan’s chest. The warmth and security of his embrace were so soothing that, if not for the absence of a heartbeat, Luo Ci might have mistaken him for human.

“Actually… I’m a little bit scared.”

"Just a little bit," he mumbled under his breath.

He felt the comforting touch of a hand gently stroking his hair, with just the right pressure and rhythm that the youngling loved. Tristan didn't need words—his touch said everything.

The youngling's curled legs gradually relaxed as Tristan’s arms swayed gently, like a cradle. In the quiet atmosphere, the youngling slowly closed his eyes. Occasionally, light flashed outside the window, and Tristan covered the youngling's eyelids with his palm.

Little by little, the youngling's head drooped, his breathing grew longer, and soft sleepy sounds occasionally escaped his lips as he drifted into peaceful slumber in the familiar embrace.

Tristan sat like that, cradling the youngling all night.

…

The next day was the youngling's birthday.

According to the lab’s handwritten records, this was the day the youngling had been born.

The Mechanicals had begun preparations for the birthday surprise long ago; just the brainstorming alone produced over a hundred ideas.

After a vote, they settled on following ancient planetary traditions to throw a birthday party for the youngling. However, most records of those old customs had been lost, so they had to piece together what they could from the database.

Items like party poppers and peach-shaped desserts—they could only find images in the database, and it took quite some time to track down the methods and materials to make them. True to the plan of surprising the youngling, every Mechanical kept the secret, all eagerly awaiting the day they could delight him.

But no one knew whether surprise or disaster would strike first.

The dining hall had been decorated early, with the entire first floor of the floating castle decked out with decorations. Even the Robot Soldiers wore cone-shaped party hats on their heads.

Even the cleaning Robot Soldiers were no exception, constantly sweeping to keep the floors gleaming, occasionally adjusting their hats.

Anyone could tell at a glance that a grand celebration was about to take place here.

Tristan double-checked the party setup and schedule. They'd heard younglings loved praise, so he had even custom-made an award for the youngling—the Cutest Kid Award.

He prepared a trophy and small prizes.

When the time came, he'd hand out the award with a proud smile. Tristan had even practiced smiling in his spare time. It seemed easy, but in reality, it wasn’t—no matter how he adjusted the angle of his lips, it still looked stiff. So, he analyzed reference videos frame by frame, adjusting his expression dynamically, and the effect improved somewhat.

Of course, there was also a special birthday gift.

A Robot Soldier handling external coordination entered and consulted Tristan on a few matters.

Tristan followed it outside.

No.02 stood guard in the dining hall, positioned where the youngling would see him as soon as he came downstairs. Today, he had changed into more festive, casual clothes. After briefly checking his bowtie in the mirror, he held the gift box in his palm and checked the time absently. Usually, the youngling would have woken up by now…

After waiting patiently for a while with no sign of the youngling, No.02 went to the bedroom door and knocked softly.

There was no response. When he opened the door, only the Bunny Rabbit lay quietly on the small bed. No.02 frowned, his wrist trembling with barely restrained force as his grip tightened—the doorknob crumpled like tin foil in his palm.

He issued orders to the Robot Soldiers, who swiftly reported the status of every area. Soon, the information was compiled.

The youngling… was missing!

No.02’s expression turned icy.

He set the gift box aside and commanded the Robot Soldiers to search every possible corner, especially the playroom—there had been instances of the youngling sneaking out early to play there. But unfortunately, even the nooks and crannies yielded nothing.

This was completely unexpected. No.02 deemed it necessary to report to the leader.

Boom—a massive surge of data flooded over Yixu Star’s skies, freezing the planet's systems for two full seconds… It seemed the leader already knew.

Meanwhile, earlier that morning, when Luo Ci first woke up.

Early in the morning.

After the worst of Yixu Star’s weather had passed, a bright and sunny dawn arrived.

Luo Ci scuffed along in his slippers, still in his pajamas, slowly making his way downstairs. He had intended to head to the dining hall for breakfast—Tristan was surely waiting for him there.

But then he remembered the fennec fox in the back garden. With how loud the thunder had been last night, he wondered if the little creature had been frightened.

He decided to greet the small animals first.

Clomping into the kitchen, he asked the chef Robot Soldier for a pouch of treats before darting off to the back garden.

By now, the little creatures had grown familiar with him, like stray animals opening their hearts to him. Still, they remained wary of the Robot Soldiers, so Luo Ci never let them follow when he went to feed the animals.

He immediately spotted the oversized fluffy ears peeking out from the burrow, swaying like tiny flags.

The fennec fox’s hearing was exceptionally sharp—even from a distance, its radar-dish ears caught Luo Ci’s approach, and it emerged from its den.

Now, Luo Ci could watch the little creatures eat up close.

"Come here," he said, opening the snack pack and placing two pieces in his palm. He waggled his pudgy fingers, smiling as he watched the little one. After confirming there were no other threats nearby, the creature hopped over eagerly.

Luo Ci wasn’t entirely sure how fennec foxes hunted, but like him, they had a sweet tooth—especially for honey-dipped chicken legs, their absolute favorite. Even without meat, the little snacks were enough to satisfy them.

"Eat a bit more—don’t save everything for your babies," he coaxed.

From Luo Ci’s observations, this was a mother with her young. She always waited until her babies were full before eating herself, particularly favoring the jam inside the pastries.

He broke open a snack, and the jam spilled out. The little one’s pointed snout dipped in to lick, occasionally brushing against Luo Ci’s palm, tickling him and making him giggle.

He lifted a small hand and patted the creature’s head, especially rubbing behind its ears. Seeming to enjoy it, the little one twitched its ears and shuffled closer, its bushy tail swaying as it rumbled contentedly.

Luo Ci deliberately stopped, and the little one butted his hand demandingly, urging him to continue. The other creatures gathered around, as if lining up for their turn.

Just as he was enjoying the moment, the little one suddenly let out a sharp squeak, its head whipping around before it darted back into the burrow. The others scattered in chaos. Before Luo Ci could react, a strange vortex formed behind him.

He was too small, too light—all he managed was a tiny cry before, in the blink of an eye, he was swept into the vortex.

Outside, calm gradually returned.

Rustling came from the burrow as the little creatures pricked up their ears, cautiously peeking out. Luo Ci was gone without a trace—the vortex had vanished without a trace.

…

The castle hall.

The festively decorated hall stood deathly quiet. Despite being filled with ornaments, the absence of its little master made it feel hollow. At this moment, the entire floating castle was as quiet as a tomb.

Figuring out what had happened was actually quite simple—after all, surveillance was everywhere in the castle.

Even the air was dotted with floating mechanical orbs.

Tristan stood at the center of the hall, eyes lowered, hands clasped behind his back, like a statue carved from ice. Dozens of sensor drones circled him as he desperately scoured surveillance feeds from across Yixu Star.

A rumbling boom came from outside the door—the signature footfalls of No.03.

The heavy steps rumbled closer like distant thunder. No.03 crashed through the castle gates, now bearing none of the clumsiness he presented in front of the youngling. His metallic body resembled a living mountain, with every part of his frame weaponized, like an advancing walking arsenal ready to fire at any moment.

At this moment, No.03 had fully transformed into a true war machine, feared by the Sanole warriors as the "Metal Trampler."

Tristan was already parsing the data streams from the Robot Soldiers, knowing the youngling had gone to the back garden after waking up. That area was dangerously close to No.03’s testing grounds, so perhaps he had detected the presence. "What do you know?" Tristan asked.

No.03 pounded the earth rhythmically, as if power was backing up in his cannon and unable to discharge. The back garden was indeed within the range of his sensors, and he had detected the little master’s presence. But No.03 held himself back, afraid of disturbing him.

He forced all his processing cycles into completing the test. Once finished, he would finally be permitted to enter the sky fortress and stay by the little master’s side. Only two major tasks remained—this was the closest No.03 had ever come to completing the test.

If he passed today, he might even get to celebrate the little master’s birthday with him.

No.03 couldn’t help but envision this precious possibility.

Yet, in that very instant, the little master vanished.

If the Mechanicals could feel rage, it would mirror what he felt now—like an immeasurable energy desperate to vent through his barrels and obliterate everything.

"The little master… was feeding those small creatures… the rift—" His halting, mechanized speech cut off as No.03 overloaded, stomping the ground violently. The Star Pursuit Cannons fired one after another, bombarding the castle walls with enough force to shatter a planet.

Had any interstellar being witnessed this scene, they would have panicked and written their last testament on the spot.

Tristan averted his gaze, deciding further conversation with No.03 was impossible. He ignored him—truthfully, he had anticipated this.

No.03 was designed to crush enemy firepower on the battlefield, devoid of any control or restraint protocols, lacking even a shred of rationality. Precisely because of these incomplete constraints, Tristan had exiled him outside the castle walls.

A datastorm surged relentlessly through the video archives of the planet, so overwhelming that even the tiniest microfauna could sense the terrifying disturbance. It was as if the entire world—both the vast and the minuscule—had been flipped upside down, a silent shockwave raging in silence. Slowly, Tristan clenched his fist. He had found the footage of the youngling’s disappearance.

Then, a hoarse voice echoed from the walls above, from all directions, rasping like grinding gears—as if it hadn’t spoken in ages: "The rift… took… the little master…"

Rifts, also known as wormholes, pockmarked the planet’s surface. The planet was dotted with research testing grounds, where explosions of radioactive materials unleashed energy spikes, creating these irregular fissures.

Most planets within the same star system shared similar compositions, and these rifts served as conduits bridging their materials.

Some floated in the air, others near the surface. They appeared and vanished erratically, unstable and unobservable by nature.

Especially after thunderstorms, widespread lightning strikes often triggered numerous small rifts.

And the destinations of these rifts were always uncertain.

Tristan thought of today’s birthday plans—he was supposed to celebrate with the youngling. He had even promised to tell him a bedtime story. No.02 glanced around at the party preparations he had made, now useless. No.03 had fallen silent at some point. He had eagerly completed his assessment, believing he would finally get to stay by the youngling’s side.

The sky fortress was still as the void.

Tristan stepped across the polished floor, leaving the hall. "Mobilize the fleet. Within three days, comb every cubic light-year of this star system if you must—but find the little master."

No.02 bowed / No.03: "Understood."

The Mechanical Race’s base relocation operations—halted.

The Mechanical Race’s mining operations—halted.

All Mechanical Race operations—indiscriminately suspended.

All tasks were suspended, and new execution orders were issued: deploy all Mechanical forces to the star system-wide search.

Yixu Star opened all its channels.

In an instant, hundreds of millions of scout Robot Soldiers scattered like wasps. The dark gates of every armory swung open, countless mechanical warships lifted into the void, plowing through spacelanes. Each vessel was packed with heavy-armored Robot Soldiers, assault units, utility models…

Storage bays opened, and colossal 70,000-foot-tall cruisers ascended one after another. Trillions of mechanical spheres surged upward, flooding into the dark cosmic pathways.

On the streets of neighboring planets, pedestrians gaped at the sky, their pupils dilating in shock. The sheer number of mechanical warships eclipsed the sun of one unfortunate planet for a full day and a half, plunging it into endless eclipse. Vegetation withered, tides shifted—but this was only the beginning.

The Mechanical Race had launched a grid-pattern sector purge.

Starnet media unanimously reported the event.

At this moment, nearly all citizens logged onto the Starnet from their homes. All flights were grounded; no planet dared to open its borders. Even the Sanole royalty canceled their planned visits to other worlds.

It was unbelievable…

What could possibly drive the Mechanical Race to initiate such a massive search?!

Speculations ran rampant.

But the traffic surge crashed the Starnet.

The public was furious—could the Starnet not handle the pressure at such a critical moment? Was it even up to spec anymore?