"What mess?" Han Feng asked, momentarily stunned.
"What do you think?"
Chen Beixuan pointed toward the Celestial Craft Group headquarters. "Those pilots from the Ghost Squadron have been desperately waiting for you to get back.
If you don't get them those Blood Refining Helmets soon, those guys are probably going to eat Zhao Tianlan alive."
Han Feng slapped his forehead.
'I was so busy bombing fish and killing people at Dragon's Fang Port that I completely forgot about this.'
Those pilots were still using standard helmets, which couldn't unleash the true potential of the X-02 Fighter.
"Alright, I'll head over now." Han Feng didn't waste any time. "Besides, I need to get myself back in the right state of mind anyway."
...
As he pushed open the door to Lab Three, the familiar scent of machine oil and ozone hit him.
Zhao Yu, who was tuning a servo motor, looked up and saw Han Feng. He immediately dropped his wrench in excitement and ran over.
