Chapter 45

Chapter 45

The sudden roar from the Wild Pigeon leader startled the little one, making his small ears perk up.

The small mechanical beast rolled nonchalantly on the little one’s lap, flipping onto its back in an attempt to catch his attention.

Luo Ci stretched out a chubby little hand and hugged the small mechanical beast, tucking it into his arms.

He wasn’t sure if the mechanical beast’s body was safe—it was so small and looked fragile—so he instinctively wanted to protect it.

“What’s that? What are you hiding in your hands?” The Wild Pigeon leader took a closer look, noticing the small creature squirming in the child’s arms. With a wave of his hand, he approached threateningly, accompanied by over a dozen mechanical orbs.

“Hand it over now!”

With an extremely impatient tone, he pulled the trigger.

A high-temperature thermal shot was fired.

Someone in the room screamed in fright. Tristan swept the child into his arms and extended an arm, which split apart and reassembled into a mechanical shield. The thermal shot was completely deflected, its heat that could easily melt the ship’s hull instantly neutralized.

Thermal guns were products of second-tier civilization technology, and theoretically, only first-tier defensive mechanisms could withstand them. The Wild Pigeon leader stood frozen momentarily, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

“Hand… hand…” Luo Ci, whose face had been pressed into Tristan’s chest, hadn’t seen what happened. When he lifted his small head, he saw that one of Tristan’s arms was missing from the elbow down. His indignant pout instantly turned tearful, his eyes filling with tears.

The small mechanical beast wagged its tail, trying to comfort the child and divert his attention, but this time, it failed.

“Wah… hand gone…” Luo Ci sniffled tearfully, both shocked and heartbroken, his eyelashes glistening with tears.

In truth, Tristan could have easily disassembled and reconfigured other mechanical objects in the cabin to form a temporary shield instead of using his own arm. After all, his body was durable enough to withstand a Star Pursuit Cannon—using it to block a mere thermal shot was excessive.

But Tristan had considered the child’s proximity. If he had used other mechanical materials to form a shield, while it could block the thermal shot, projectile trajectory analysis showed there was still a one-in-ten-thousand chance that fragments might present a danger to the little one.

Even a one-in-ten-thousand risk was unacceptable to Tristan. In his eyes, the child was so delicate, needing gentle care—so fragile that even a thermal shot could harm him. How profoundly endearing!

But he hadn’t expected the child to cry. Luo Ci knew full well that losing limbs meant nothing to the Mechanical Species—even if their bodies were obliterated by artillery fire, they could be reconstructed at a facility. He understood all this, yet seeing Tristan’s arm disappear still made him sad, and the tears came flowing freely.

Realizing the child was upset over his missing arm, Tristan quickly disassembled the shield and reformed it back into his arm. He pinched the little one’s soft, milky cheek with his intact hand. “Don’t cry. I’m fine.”

“One hand gone…” The little one rubbed his eyes with tiny fists, then reached out to tug at Tristan’s arm… Wait, why were both hands there?

“Huh?” His sobs halted abruptly, looking down in confusion, his watery eyes wide with bewilderment.

Sitting in Tristan’s arms, Luo Ci blinked in astonishment. Tristan looked down at the child’s dazed expression. “Touch it. Isn’t it fine?”

Luo Ci carefully felt and examined, then broke into a soft milky smile. “Mhm!”

“Bunny-eyed.” Tristan observed, noting the child’s teary, red-rimmed eyes.

The Wild Pigeon leader, experienced in numerous raids and unexpected situations, knew that staying calm was key in emergencies.

He quickly steadied himself. Though he didn’t understand what had just happened, he didn’t view it as a serious threat.

First, the other party hadn’t reacted when they first boarded the ship, which suggested they weren’t carrying weapons—perhaps only defensive devices. The way he protected the child so meticulously hinted that he might be a noble from some planet traveling with his offspring.

That made things easier. Someone traveling with a child would have greater caution. Besides, the Wild Pigeon Hunt had recently plundered a Sanole warship, acquiring a decent arsenal, so he felt no intimidation whatsoever.

But his apparently thorough analysis had one fatal flaw.

He was thinking purely from a human perspective.

What he faced now was a Mechanical Species.

In truth, Tristan had known the moment they boarded the ship. But in his mind, this trip was an adventure for the child, and a little excitement might make it more enjoyable. As long as the child wasn’t threatened, Tristan wouldn’t interfere with whatever happened during the journey.

The fundamental reason he chose not to intervene was that these hunters posed no genuine danger.

The Wild Pigeon leader, however, remained smugly confident.

Seeing such high-grade defensive equipment, he concluded they weren’t ordinary nobles. What luck—a simple raid had netted them a big fish.

Greedily imagining the spoils, he signaled his deputy to keep collecting valuables from the passengers, who tremblingly emptied their pockets before kneeling in the corner.

He then summoned the mechanical orbs. “I suggest you surrender quietly. The entire ship is under our control now…”

These orbs were part of the loot from Sanole—first-tier weapons capable of surveillance and lethal radiation attacks.

He had calculated that these orbs could obliterate an entire Sanole military unit. Dealing with a mere mechanical shield should be effortless.

Confidently, he directed the orbs to encircle Tristan, unaware he had just been blacklisted. Anything that upset the child and made him cry was an outright trespass into Tristan’s zero-tolerance zone.

“Zzt.”

“Zzzt…”

The orbs suddenly slowed as if rusted, hovering around the leader before slowly turning to face him.

Dozens of mechanical eyes simultaneously snapped open.

“What the—” The leader’s instincts screamed danger, a cold sweat breaking out. The orbs had severed their connection with him and were now targeting him instead.

Before anyone could react, the mechanical eyes flickered with black light, pulsing faster—a warning before firing. The leader’s face drained of color as the beams shot out, his knees buckling beneath him.

Chaos erupted. With their leader down, the hunters panicked. The orbs closed their eyes and floated back behind Tristan, awaiting orders—clearly marking him as their new master.

The hunt group descended into chaos. Without their leader, profits had to be redistributed, and they were torn between continuing the raid or fleeing.

Meanwhile, news of the ship’s disappearance had reached the nearest command post, which dispatched a fully-armed support vessel.

Luo Ci, oblivious to the commotion, remained nestled in Tristan’s arms, happily squeezing his now-restored hand.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I was so worried,” he mumbled.

Tristan found the child’s wide-eyed worry adorable.

Worry was a negative emotion, and he didn’t want the child burdened by it. Yet, seeing him fret brought a peculiar satisfaction—one that surpassed even technological advancements. Still, he didn’t want the little one dwelling on such feelings.

Patting the child’s back, he said, “Support is coming. What would you like to do when we arrive?”

The ship had already traveled some distance from Centaur Fortress. Even if help arrived, they’d likely continue to their destination for inspection.

Luo Ci fiddled with a fuzzy ball on his chest, thinking seriously. “Hmm… I wonder what kind of planet it is. If it’s fun, we’ll stay longer. If not, we’ll go somewhere else.”

Amid the chaos, the deputy hastily barked orders. “I’m taking command. Wild Pigeons, retreat now!”

Tristan glanced over. Those on his blacklist weren’t getting away.

But there was no need to deal with them in front of the child.

With a new leader, the hunters scrambled to obey. They had stormed in swiftly, but their retreat was even faster—abandoning their loot in their frantic escape.

The hunting party members retreated to their battleship, which swiftly departed the suffocating stellar orbit. Before they could even catch their breath, a piercing alarm blared from the main control room.

The long, urgent buzzing signaled the highest level of warning, indicating a severe malfunction in the battleship.

The deputy sent crew scrambling to inspect various sections. While the ship's internal facilities appeared largely intact, the main control system was inexplicably in chaos, with energy flow reversing. The overloaded system made the console roar continuously, and they had no doubt that the battleship would soon explode if this continued.

"Huh?" Luo Ci sat obediently in his seat, gazing curiously at the bright window where ribbons of starry rain fell like trailing cherry blossoms. Unfortunately, they were too far to see clearly. Wiggling his little feet, he asked, "What's that?"

"Is it a shooting star?" He tugged excitedly at Tristan's sleeve. "I want to make a wish!"

"Go ahead."

Having just finished a bag of cheese-flavored oranges, the little one quickly wiped his round cheeks, lowered his head, and clenched his tiny fists tightly against his chest. He wished everyone would stay safe and they’d never run into the hunting party again.