Chapter 78

Chapter 78

The escape pod's power reserves were unusually ample, likely prepared deliberately by the female in charge.

Though this compressed the space for other living resources, it was undeniable that the surplus energy now allowed Philo to continue piloting the escape pod toward the ruins of this planet after a prolonged flight.

Yes, just ruins.

As the AI scans indicated, this planet bore clear signs of past habitation by collective lifeforms, along with traces of their civilization. Unfortunately, all these signs and traces were now relics of the past.

Apart from Philo, there were no other life signals on this planet—not even the faintest buzz of a mosquito or fly.

This planet had long become a true dead world.

Unlike barren planets with harsh environments where life still struggled to survive, this world could no longer sustain any lifeforms beyond the scattered remnants of its ruins.

And such a planet...

The SilverHaired Male Insect, his body numbed by pain, sensed something amiss with his condition. Yet, in the final moments of his life, he didn’t want to remain inside the escape pod. Wrapped in a lightweight smart enviro-suit, he slowly stepped out of the cockpit where he had stayed for so long.

Admittedly, this planet no longer resembled the one in Philo’s memories—or perhaps he couldn’t even be sure if it was the same planet he had once known.

But as he bent down with great effort to pick up familiar shards of ceramics, the male, wracked by pain, moved slowly yet observed intently.

Time had corroded and weathered most objects on this planet. Even so, even if many things could only be identified by their faint traces... when he picked up a nearly eroded microbot and his trembling fingers brushed over the red flag on it, his vision blurred completely. Unable to go on, he collapsed to his knees on the ground, now turned to dust.

In the end... he was but a stranger in a foreign land.

Yes, the more he walked, the more familiar this planet felt. The more he looked at these ruins, the more recognizable they seemed. Yet it was as if a deceptively lifelike veneer had been draped over this world—lifting it revealed things he knew, but... something was off.

These objects might feel familiar, but... the level of technology was wrong, the knowledge was wrong, the era was mismatched.

Yes, the time was wrong.

His consciousness could no longer hold on. In the final moment before his eyes closed for good, the SilverHaired Male Insect curled up tightly, clutching the red flag in his palm.

Never mind. Wrong or not...

Compared to the death he had imagined, being able to glimpse the illusion of the place he had dreamed of returning to, to touch this flag that once belonged to his homeland—it was already more than enough.

But... was he really about to die?

If he died, then...

Then what? His eyes shut completely, and his thoughts ceased.

Countless stellar winds and radiation brushed against his smart enviro-suit. As his life signs dipped below critical thresholds, the suit, once tightly sealed, gradually lost its function.

Vermilion seeped into the now-useless suit, the sticky liquid seeping into the ground. More and more fluid spilled out, staining the sand beneath him crimson.

In the haze, a faint servo-whine echoed through the barren landscape. Accompanied by a voice prompt—unlike any universal cosmic language or any dialect recorded by the insectoid race—a fragmented announcement crackled to life:

"Earth... systems... at your... service."

"Blood... analysis... click... humanoid lifeform... emergency protocol... activated."

As the voice spoke, the stellar winds and radiation seemed to intensify. If left in such conditions, the SilverHaired Male Insect would likely suffer even greater agony before death.

But as the wind swept over the blood-soaked sand, the crimson patches lingered—yet the bleeding male had vanished without a trace.

Amid the swirling dust, the figure of the SilverHaired Male Insect, once painfully trudging forward, was nowhere to be seen. Only the escape pod, parked not far away, bore witness to his presence. The planet seemed to revert to its original desolation.

As time passed, the dried bloodstains faded entirely, and even the escape pod became coated in a layer of pale dust. From a distance, it merged indistinguishably into the planet’s ruins.

Philo’s trail had finally disappeared completely.

The insectoid race reached this conclusion in just two months.

Yet the announcement of this conclusion seemed in permanent limbo.

"Gore."

"I secretly read my mother’s report. That guy is in the Chaos Sector right now. If you have any conscience left, go bring him back. Since his body hasn’t been found, what excuse do you have not to rescue him?"

"Aren’t you an S-class Female Insect? Didn’t you claim to care for him? If even you don’t dare to go there, who else would?"

"Answer me! Are you going or not? Back then, he went out of his way to help you—asking me and my father for favors, even finding excuses to get you into the Male Insect Management Committee for Psychic Soothing. And now you won’t lift a finger to save him? Have you no shame?"

"You female insects are all the same—frauds. You talk big about respecting male insects, but what do you actually do? Besides parasitizing them, what else are you good for? When it’s time to step up, where are you?"

"If you agree to save him—even if you die there—I vow on my honor that I’ll provide full Psychic Soothing for the rest of your Aogutale Family. If that’s not enough, state your terms. I’ll agree to anything."

"Gore, save him! Please, save him!"

"I’m begging you..."

From rationality to chaos, from calm to madness.

In the end, Siluan—who had always carried himself with pride even among male insects—supplicated before a female for the first time.

All he asked was for them to save him.

The three-month window was approaching. All escape pods were designed with supplies lasting only that long. Thus, any insectoid missing for three months was almost certainly deemed beyond salvage.

And Philo’s disappearance was about to reach that very mark.

This past month had been the most chaotic for the Alliance since the last great war with the S-class star beast.

The initial euphoria over the slain S-class star beast had long faded. The hopeful resolve that had once prevailed had given way to unchecked eruptions of emotion. Many female insects resorted to extreme measures to vent their frustrations.

The Alliance’s economy worsened, social stability plummeted, and despite the government’s swift countermeasures, full-scale unrest erupted as the three-month mark loomed closer.

Protests, riots, vandalism, digital witch hunts of search teams, assaults on government offices...

An avalanche of crises unfolded. Though the administration had done its best, Shang Ling—the incident commander—had already issued multiple public concessions and received two disciplinary warnings.

If Philo remained missing after the three-month deadline, the unrest across Alliance planets would likely escalate further. And Shang Ling would undoubtedly face even harsher scrutiny.

Yet the black-haired Female Insect seemed past caring now. In truth, many had stopped caring about the Alliance’s stability or their own interests.

At a medical center on a border planet near the Chaos Sector...

A green-haired female lay in a hospital bed, his shoulders bandaged and his legs fitted with prosthetic braces. Even so, the Geshaluolin Family’s patriarch had stationed numerous guards outside his room.

The guards, having witnessed how this male’s own mother had shattered his legs, dared not ask questions. They merely stood in silent watch.

In truth, many female insects now resembled Li Wei. Though the guards hadn’t seen the others, rumors had spread.

After all, while ordinary female insects remained unaware, nearly every prominent lineage in the capital knew—Philo had most likely breached the Chaos Sector.

Thus, there seem to be an unusually high number of young female Insects in the Capital Star recently restricted from traveling, especially the two young female Insects from the Tulas Family.

Xing Hua and Qian Hua—one privately deserted the military and attempted to pilot a warship from the border regions into the Chaotic Starfield, while the other seized a school escape pod under the guise of an internship and headed straight for the Chaotic Starfield.

It's clear that the two Insects share a blood relation, as their chosen times for action coincidentally aligned, only three days apart.

Unfortunately, the closer the timing, the easier it was for the military to capture them.

Originally, according to military and school regulations, such behavior from the two young female Insects would have warranted nothing more than a reprimand and a few days of confinement.

However, upon receiving the news, General Zhou Sha, who arrived swiftly, showed no mercy—directly breaking both Insects' legs before confining them to the medical center.

"This is my stance. Even if Philo's fall into the Chaotic Starfield is merely a hypothesis, even if it were true, Philo is already dead! Since he is dead, I absolutely will not allow anyone to waste their lives trying to save him—not even my own offspring!"

General Zhou Sha made no effort to hide his words. As a result, not only did the female Insects who heard him firsthand learn of his position, but even those in the distant Capital Star understood his meaning.

It must be said that Zhou Sha successfully deterred many young female Insects who had initially acted on impulse. However, while his words were heard by many female Insects, they were also heard by many male Insects in the Capital Star—including the young Siluan, Ya Jin, and Qi Limei, as well as the older Du Dafei, Wenfeide... and Yi Jia Fa.

Yi Jia Fa was gone.

Selfish and vain as he was, even if Philo had been found, his joy would have stemmed mostly from having a son to boast about and flaunt—yet, he still left.

Male Insects are now under strict surveillance, and even Yi Jia Fa could not leave the Capital Star. Yet, he no longer stayed in the Tulas mansion.

As a male Insect, aside from his female spouse's property, he also had his own private assets.

Yi Jia Fa now resides in his private residence. Zhou Sha visited three times in an attempt to bring him back, but the male Insect did not even show his face.

The vast Tulas mansion—now with its master living outside, two female offspring still in the hospital, and the male offspring... missing.

Late at night, sitting alone in the empty hall, the elderly female Insect, who had just finished sorting through the task logs on the military intranet, would tremble slightly at the deafening silence of the space when she turned her head.

Yet, even so—even so.

Lowering her gaze, the female Insect's aged eyes were weary and dull, but the determination and resolve in their depths remained unchanged.

It must be said that compared to Xing Hua and Qian Hua, perhaps Gore and this veteran general are more alike.

After reviewing the messages Siluan had sent via communicator, the blue-haired female Insect removed the device and once again piloted a combat vessel alone toward the Star Beast territory.

Since his last discharge from the hospital, Gore had always fought on the front lines.

As if impervious to exhaustion or injury, the S-class female Insect once again lived up to his rank and the Alliance's trust. In just a few months, the blue-haired female Insect had took down two S-class Star Beasts and pushed the Alliance's border planets outward by several light-years.

Such a female Insect—such a young Lieutenant General.

Watching his combat prowess and achievements, the cheers from the military Insects nearly echoed across the cosmos.

But—

Inside the combat vessel, the blue-haired female Insect, having just slain the Star Beasts in this region, paused for a moment before pressing the incineration button, as if noticing something.

Then, the female Insect emerged from the vessel and stood upon the planet now littered with Star Beast corpses.

Unlike the sandy border planet he had previously occupied, the area revealed after clearing the Star Beasts this time, though still mostly sandy, was dotted with scattered crystals.

Such crystals are not uncommon on border planets, formed primarily from the fusion of energy blasts and the unique carbon structures in the local sand under high temperatures.

Thus, while these crystals differ from ordinary sand, they hold little real value—yet—

Bending down to pick up a purple crystal, the female Insect's blue eyes remained steady.

Most of the time, crystals formed on border planets are only grayish-white or yellowish-brown due to the composition of the sand. But in rare cases, if the energy blast is hot enough and the sand structure denser than usual, crystals of other colors may form—most commonly blue or cyan. As for purple...

Picking up the strikingly purple stone amidst the gray-white ones, feeling the lingering heat from the blast on its surface, the blue-haired female Insect carefully wiped away the Star Beast's blood staining the stone.

The blood seeped into the purple, like a bruise of violet-red.

Seemingly finding this bruise ugly, the female Insect clenched the stone and meticulously wiped away every trace of blood.

But...

Gazing at the now-clean purple—a shade somewhat faint and murky—the blue-haired female Insect's vision seemed to blur and moisten for a moment.

Finally, tightening his grip, the female Insect looked up at the starry sky ahead.

Unlike the dark void above, the military insignia on his shoulder shone as brilliantly as ever. Yet, in contrast, the purple crystal in his hand seemed faded and dull.

In the end, this time, the female Insect chose the Alliance.

After all, few things in life allow for perfect outcomes—most require trade-offs.

Between himself and the Alliance—which mattered more?

The blue-haired female Insect, who had always fearlessly defended the border planets, had long given his answer.

But between his love and the Alliance—which mattered more?

Now, the blue-haired female Insect, still holding his ground on the border planets, gave his answer once more.

Yet, Gore—

You, who were reviled, scorned, and mocked as unworthy of his mate’s past kindness—what were you thinking when you gave this answer?

No one knew the answer. Even if some speculate, they are not Gore.

As for Gore himself...

No explanation, no response. This female Insect, who had shouldered the Alliance’s burden for decades, seemed to think of nothing at this moment.

He only acted, fought, and edged closer step by step toward the brink of death.

Perhaps on the day he truly dies, he will share his truth with them all.

Even if that answer may no longer mattered to anyone—or if the one who had the right to care is already gone.

It has been four months since Philo's disappearance.

Three months—the cutoff for all missing female Insects.

After three months, all missing but unfound female Insects are declared lost in action, and search teams no longer dispatch dedicated personnel to look for them. All their information is sealed away, only to be reopened upon recovery.

This rule is well-known among the Alliance's Insects. Even those unaware gradually learned as discussions about the three-month mark spread across the star-net.

But—despite the outpouring of grief among the Insects, despite even impulsive military Insects joining the search—they could not find him.

Nearly all Star Pirates have vanished recently, too afraid to emerge in the Alliance's starfield. Search parties and ships are everywhere—yet, he remained lost.

They exhausted every possible means but still couldn't find him.

They could only watch helplessly as time passed day by day, as the military's specialized search unit was ordered to withdraw from the border star systems, as they futilely repeated protests and prayers—but ultimately, they still couldn’t find him.

Where did Philo go?

Why was there no trace of him at all?

Was there still a chance Philo was alive?

Could Philo possibly be waiting for them somewhere, hoping they would find him?

Each question weighed on countless insects, yet even as every inquiry was submitted to the intelligence networks of the Administrative and Military Departments, there was, unfortunately, no response.

Just as they couldn’t find Philo, the Alliance went silent after the three-month mark.

What did this silence mean?

Some took it as silent consent, while others claimed it meant they simply didn’t know.

But regardless of what it represented, Philo… had truly vanished.

Alliance Border Star, No. 3 Outpost of the Chaotic Starfield Inspectorate.

In the past, the entrances and exits of the Chaotic Starfield had always been left unmanned—since no insect had a death wish. But after Philo’s incident, whether to prevent similar accidents in the future or to stop other insects from recklessly rushing in to search for him, the Alliance had decided to set up patrol outposts.

However, with Philo’s disappearance now dragging on for four months, few insects still tried to attempt entering the Chaotic Starfield. Those who could had long been restrained by their families or the Alliance, while those without likely lacked the courage.

Thus, the female insect officers temporarily assigned to the Inspectorate, though still patrolling the borders of the Chaotic Starfield daily, hardly ever saw another soul.

Yet, as it turned out, sometimes just being there mattered.

Staring at the alert flashing across the central control system, the duty officer on shift, his eyes wide with disbelief, frantically called over his squad leader, gesturing for him to confirm if he was seeing things.

Because if it wasn’t, how could he possibly be seeing a spacecraft coming out of the Chaotic Starfield and heading straight toward them?

After all, the fact that no living beings existed within the Chaotic Starfield had been proven years ago by the lives of countless adventurous insects.

And while most modern starships were equipped with autopilot systems, those only functioned when biological activity was detected inside. Otherwise, according to current regulations, once a ship’s biological activity dropped to critical levels, it was supposed to perform an emergency landing and seek rescue.

Considering this, the imaginative young female insect almost talked himself into believing he’d stumbled upon some legendary ghost ship.

But unfortunately, that clearly wasn’t the case.

As the squad leader of Outpost No. 3, the middle-aged female insect was far more experienced and knowledgeable. Especially after noting the size of the suddenly appearing vessel, she clenched her fists and snapped,

“Assemble all personnel! Prep for decontamination procedures!”

“And patch me through to the military’s search and rescue team for His Highness Philo! Notify them to prepare for his reception and emergency treatment!”