At that very moment.
A new line of information popped up on the system.
Friend or Foe Identification: Federation Fleet
Basis for Judgment: Gravitational Wave Signature matches Federal Sequence Fleet Engine Parameters
Confidence Level: 97.3%
Qin Beiwang's gaze fell upon that line of text.
A Federation Fleet, 80,000 ships.
Coming from the direction of the Elvira Star System.
The corner of his mouth lifted into an extremely faint curve.
That curve was so small, it was almost imperceptible.
But he was indeed smiling.
Qin Beiwang murmured softly.
His words were quiet, but everyone on the bridge heard them.
"The people coming to pick us up... have arrived."
Zhuang Zhixuan was momentarily stunned.
"Someone is coming to pick us up?"
The few staff officers who had been bent over operating their equipment simultaneously looked up.
One of them opened their mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.
Another instinctively stood up, then sat back down.
Yet another stared at Qin Beiwang's back, something flickering in their eyes.
The bridge fell silent for a few seconds.
Then, that silence was broken by a low, barely suppressed stir.
"The Federation sent someone to pick us up..."
A staff officer muttered, as if confirming whether they had heard correctly.
"Are they launching a counteroffensive? Is that why they're coming to get us!"
"A counteroffensive is good! I've been waiting for this day!"
...
Qin Beiwang paid no attention to the hushed whispers.
He spoke calmly.
"Transmit directional quantum communication toward the Elvira Star System."
The communications officer's fingers were already hovering over the control console, ready to execute the command at any moment.
Qin Beiwang paused briefly before continuing.
"This is Qin Beiwang, Commander of the Pluto Fleet."
"We now request our allied forces..."
His gaze fell upon the star chart only he could see, upon those densely packed red dots, upon the positions of the four warp points: L-7, N-12, Z-78, and S-22.
"...to strike hard at the enemy forces near the L-7 and N-12 Warp Points."
He paused again, then added.
"Once the enemy forces near the Z-78 and S-22 Warp Points move to reinforce L-7 and N-12..."
His voice rose slightly.
"...our fleet will set up an ambush near the Z-78 and S-22 Warp Points."
"To annihilate in one fell swoop..."
He halted for half a second.
"...the Imperial Fleet attempting to warp away from the front line."
The bridge fell silent for an instant.
Everyone was digesting this order.
Strike two points, lure enemy reinforcements, then set an ambush at the other two points.
This wasn't a simple request for rescue.
This was tactical coordination.
It was their Commander, on his way home, planning to casually add another achievement to his record.
The communications officer's fingers hovered over the control console, awaiting final confirmation.
The bridge was quiet.
But this quiet was completely different from the earlier cautious silence, the kind that feared alerting the enemy.
This was a quiet filled with eager anticipation.
Looking at the expressions of those around her, Zhuang Zhixuan couldn't help but feel like laughing inwardly.
The same people who had just been sighing with relief about finally going home now had a gleam in their eyes.
A gleam she knew all too well.
It was the gleam in a wolf's eyes when it spots its prey.
A staff officer muttered under their breath.
"Setting an ambush..."
He paused, unable to suppress the upward curve of his lips.
"Waiting for the rabbit to come..."
"This kind of job, I love it."
Another person beside him chimed in, his voice kept low, but the excitement in it was unmistakable.
"Exactly."
"We've been sneaking around behind enemy lines for so long, hiding from them every day. It's been suffocating."
"Now it's good..."
He clenched his fist.
"It's their turn to be unlucky."
Listening to these hushed discussions, Zhuang Zhixuan's lips also curled slightly.
No one would ever complain about having too much military merit.
Especially for a job like this—lying in wait in the shadows, watching the enemy walk right into the trap.
It felt too satisfying, too relieving.
After confirming the final set of instructions, the communications officer looked up at Qin Bei Wang.
Qin Bei Wang nodded.
The communications officer pressed the send button.
An encrypted quantum communication signal shot out from the communication array of the Kunlun Mountain - Modified, piercing through the void of the Savannah Star System and racing toward the direction of the Elvira Star System.
At the front line of the Ten Stone Starfield, on the outskirts of the Cangqiong Fleet Fortress Group.
The two hundred thousand warships of the Canglong Sequence Fleet and the Fuyao Sequence Fleet were fiercely attacking the rearguard Pandora and Ares Fleets.
One warship after another was pierced by beams, torn apart by missiles, or had its engines penetrated by railgun projectiles.
The flames of sympathetic detonation connected into a sea in the void, illuminating the crumbling Imperial fleet group.
On the flagship bridge of the Pandora Fleet, General Evan Thatcher's face was frighteningly pale.
He stared at the tactical screen, watching the red dots rapidly extinguishing, his lips trembling slightly.
"Ammunition..."
His voice was hoarse.
"How much is left?"
The adjutant's voice was equally hoarse.
"The main cannons of the capital ships can still support... about a hundred more volleys."
"Secondary cannon ammunition is below forty percent."
Thatcher closed his eyes.
He suddenly remembered the time when the Stargate was still operational.
Back then, a steady stream of supplies came through the Stargate.
Energy modules, missiles, shells, spare parts.
Whatever they needed, they had.
They could fight freely, expend resources without worry, because behind them was the entire industrial system of the Empire supporting them.
And now?
The Stargate was gone.
The supply route was severed.
Although there were still some reserves on the occupied Federation planets, how long could those reserves last?
They weren't here for mining.
The energy and ammunition on those planets had long been depleted.
To replenish them in a short time?
Impossible.
The communication screen lit up, revealing Slate's face.
His face was equally pale, equally weary.
But there was still a glimmer in his eyes.
A glimmer... of unwillingness.
"Thatcher."
His voice was hoarse.
"Hold on a little longer."
"Over at Erebus, they've almost secured the warp point."
"As long as they hold the passage, we can retreat."
Thatcher gave a bitter smile.
Given the current frenzied, desperate tactics of the two opposing fleets, he seriously doubted they would make it back.
He simply nodded.
"...Understood."
Slate's communication ended.
Thatcher stared at the screen, at the approaching Federation warships, at the extinguishing lights of their allied forces.
He suddenly remembered the scene from a few months ago, when they had first entered the Ten Stone Starfield.
Back then, they were full of confidence.
Back then, they thought victory was within their grasp.
Little did they expect the situation to deteriorate so rapidly.
The Starfighter Pilot Lounge aboard the Sparta-class Interstellar Carrier of the Ares Fleet.
In a corner, a young Starfighter Pilot sat alone.
His name was Nero Aquila.
Aquila wore his pressure suit, his helmet resting on the seat beside him.
His blond hair was somewhat disheveled. He reached up, running his hand through it forcefully, trying to make himself appear more alert.
But it was no use.
The face in the mirror had sunken eyes, prominent cheekbones, and lips so dry they were peeling.
There was no light in his Eyes, only an indescribable, hollow exhaustion.
He looked like a walking corpse.