Zhao Chen looked at the Chitong before him, her mask removed.
On the left side of her forehead was a segment of a red horn; on the right side, in fact, there was one as well — but that was a broken-off segment of horn, looking as though it had been sliced away by some sharp implement. The part of the right cheek the mask had covered was not greatly different from the left cheek; it too had some black stripes upon it. It seemed this mask was precisely to conceal the red horn on Chitong's forehead.
A red horn… black markings upon the cheeks…
A stretch of knowledge he'd once studied at the Northstar Starship Military Academy welled up in Zhao Chen's mind. The Demon Race — innately possessed of very strong combat ability, at one time called the born war-race; their species much like the human race, but with innate horns, and black, irregular markings upon the body.
"You're of the Demon Race?" Zhao Chen said.
Chitong nodded. "Yes. I was originally of the Demon Race, but for certain reasons my parents' branch of the line was hunted, and fled from the Demon Race. Some decades ago, we wandered to this region of the Galactic Alliance."
"Wandered over? By the records I've seen, the Demon Race's interstellar fleet once appeared in the Galactic Alliance's territory too — but for reasons unknown, it never appeared again after that," Zhao Chen asked, curious.
"The place where the Demon Race lives is very far from here. Reckoned by direction, the Mechanical Race lies precisely between the two; to make the voyage even once is exceedingly difficult. Add to that the Demon Race being locked, year in and year out, in war with its own natural enemy — much like the relationship between your Galactic Alliance and the Mechanical Race — and naturally it has no leisure to involve itself in the affairs of some far-off region of the cosmos. That, too, is why my parents chose to flee here. Because here, so long as we disguise our horns, basically no one will recognize us as Demon Race," Chitong said.
So there was a story like this behind Chitong.
"Report — the target starport is now fully under our control. The slaver boss, the Big-Eye King, has been seized by our mecha squad and is being transported over now!" Lilith reported from the side.
"Bring the battle to an end as fast as possible; they must have sent out a distress signal to the master behind them earlier, so we have to hurry to finish the battle and withdraw from here," Zhao Chen ordered.
He looked again to Chitong beside him. "Your affair — we'll talk it over in detail once we've returned. For now, carry on with your work task first."
Chitong looked at the Commander, rather stunned.
"What is it?" Zhao Chen said, a touch surprised at Chitong's astonished expression.
"You… you don't blame me? I… kept it from you… the matter of my being of the Demon Race…" Chitong asked, cautious and careful.
Zhao Chen laughed despite himself. "What problem is there in that? Everyone has secrets of their own. All I need to know is that you, Chitong, work for me dutifully and conscientiously. Whether you're of the Demon Race, whether or not there's a horn on your head — it hasn't the slightest thing to do with it."
"But… here in the Galactic Alliance… they've always been wary of us. Ever since that time long ago, when the Demon interstellar fleet visited and then vanished, we of the Demon Race became one of the star races they keep under close watch and search for," Chitong said with a bitter smile. "That, too, is the reason I have to wear the mask and disguise my identity."
Zhao Chen shrugged. "The Galactic Alliance, out of concern for its own safety, will naturally hold some wariness toward a mysterious existence like the Demon Race — that's beyond reproach. But I trust you. Because you, Chitong, are now my crew."
With that, he rapped a knuckle on Chitong's head and urged her, "All right — off to work with you, quick. I don't care whether you're of some Demon Race or not; if you slack off at your post, I'll be docking your wages." At the last, Zhao Chen didn't forget to toss in a teasing word.
Feeling that Zhao Chen's attitude toward her hadn't changed in the least, Chitong smiled. This was the first time, since she'd donned the mask, that she'd smiled so happily.
So on this stretch of land, there truly was someone who didn't mind their existence at all.
"Yes! Commander," Chitong said in earnest, then returned to her own work post.
The battle was still going on, but by now it had come to its final stretch. Under the ravaging, wave upon wave, of the T3 Blizzards, T2 Snow Mastiffs, and T2 Black Rhinos, and the sky-blotting swarms of fighters and drones, the slaver fleet could hold out no longer. Little by little, they lost even the desire to fight on, and cases of rout and flight began to appear. Today was unlike days past — Zhao Chen had warships enough in hand to hunt down and encircle these routing enemy warships. For where speed was concerned, who could outrun a T3 Blizzard?
"Call on the enemy ships to surrender; tell them that any interstellar warship able to shut off its interstellar engine and surrender, we can spare from destruction," Zhao Chen said to Lilith.
"Yes." Lilith at once relayed this order.
Thereupon, on the public channel of this star-region, the Owl Dragon Fleet's proclamation calling for surrender rang out. And this led a great many warships to begin surrendering — for they couldn't win the fight, nor could they flee, and so they could only meekly surrender, seeking a sliver of a chance to live!
And at this very moment, the three people penned in prison-cages had already been transferred to the shuttle hangar of the T3 Phoenix-class Heavy Carrier Starship.
"Lilith, the matters here I leave to you for now. Gather up as many interstellar transports as you can; once the engagement is over, move all those slaves we've rescued onto the transports," Zhao Chen said to Lilith.
"Yes," Lilith said.
Thereupon Zhao Chen looked to Chitong. "We ought to go and see our three opponents. By my guess, they're probably still wearing a face full of bewilderment over this sudden battle. At the very least — let's let them die knowing the why of it."
Chitong nodded.
Before long, Zhao Chen and Chitong arrived outside the hangar where the three "prisoners" were held. Before they'd even walked in, they could hear a shrill shouting.
"I warn you! Behind us stand the Starlight Empire's Second Prince and Third Prince! If you dare do anything to us — the Second Prince and the Third Prince will not let you off lightly!" Zhao Chen looked over; the one speaking was a scrawny, skin-and-bones man. Zhao Chen had looked over the data — this man was this band of slavers' Number Two, nicknamed Skinny Monkey. To one side of him and the other were, respectively, the Number One, the Big-Eye King, and the Number Three, Scarface.
The appearance of Zhao Chen and Chitong drew the attention of these three as well. Zhao Chen above all — for Zhao Chen was the only male they'd seen since arriving here. But when they saw the Chitong at Zhao Chen's side, their initial bewilderment soon turned to astonishment.
"You're Chitong of the Bloody Mary Mercenary Company!" It was Number Three, Scarface, who first made out the identity of the woman before him. Because Chitong just now wasn't wearing her mask — and though at the first moment they hadn't recognized Chitong's identity, when they saw the sword at her waist, so laden with symbolic meaning, only then did they recognize her as Chitong.
"Never thought we'd meet here, did you? When you gave the order to slaughter my Bloody Mary Mercenary Company's home base, you never thought you'd have this day, did you!" Chitong gripped her sword-hilt, her eyes brimming with fury.