Bring that newcomer to me.

Bai Ling walked for a while after coming out before realizing that the little room wasn’t actually at the foot of the Palace.

It was far from the Palace Tower, almost near the city center. A literal case of being hidden in plain sight.

Bai Ling guessed that the underground passage they used today might have been one of the escape routes established during the Izsu Paraiso era. As for why it had never been used, that remained a mystery.

Bai Ling checked his terminal again.

Twenty minutes ago, Anna had sent an emergency message telling him that Rattlesnake had been in a mecha accident. It had collided with another unit, and the other party was being unreasonable, demanding 60 million in compensation right off the bat. Bai Ling’s heart had tightened at the time.

It’s no wonder Anna was anxious.

The Empire’s AI had to follow the Three Laws: do not lie, do not harbor malice, and do not betray humanity.

Violating any of these would result in the system being purged to ensure human safety.

However, wiping out an AI that had already developed a bond of loyalty with its pilot was no different from strangling the soul of the mecha.

Regardless of the truth, Bai Ling could already guess that the other party came with ill intentions.

Anna let out a sigh of relief and put down her terminal.

She suddenly realized she had been nervously clutching her chest; she laughed at herself and shook her head. She had actually been comforted by a fledgling.

It seems I’ve spent too much time training newcomers in the association and lost my edge regarding the outside world.

She wasn’t even as calm as the kid and almost lost her head.

Anna steadied her nerves, the sharp clack of her high heels hitting the marble floor echoed as she returned to the association lobby. Her sharp gaze met the pilot who had come to cause trouble—

Bird of Paradise – Ji Le.

“Is Mr. Ji not tired of standing? Sit down and have some tea.” Anna’s tone was moderate—polite but distant.

“Hmph. If your mecha was hit and left with such a huge wound, would you still be in the mood for tea? How arrogant.”

Ji Le crossed his arms and his shoe unhappily tapped the floor.

A flicker of displeasure crossed Anna’s face. This Ji Le was of the Bird of Paradise lineage, famous for their flashy feathers. Although he was an alpha, his talent lay in exaggerated and varied courtship displays. His movements were incredibly expressive, making him a highly ornamental fighter in the arena. After every livestreamed match, his tips alone were ten times higher than those of other contestants. From a purely economic standpoint, he was naturally an asset that every major association fought over.

Anna knew he was an interstellar mecha influencer with a fan base of at least thirty million. He was a man who valued face and appearance, often caught by the media in “out of the cockpit” photos where every strand of hair was perfect and his radiance overflowed.

But Anna simply did not like this type of pilot.

She preferred the steady, sincere, strength-above-all types, like the little white bird.

“Then Mr. Ji can wait right here. We, the “Eloquent Crows and Sparrows’, are a five-star association and we’re very busy. I have more important matters to attend to first. See you later.” Anna gave him a cool glance and then left him behind, her heels clicking with mature elegance.

“You!” Ji Le was fuming. A “five-star association”? She was clearly saying his business wasn’t “important” enough.

Ji Le wouldn’t allow them to bully him with their status.

While he was limited by his actual combat power and couldn’t openly threaten a five-star association…

His sugar daddy could!

Ji Le sneered. These days, which pilot in the circle didn’t have some power backing them?

Anna, a mere mentor, dared to look down on him? He only had to move a finger to make his benefactor withdraw their investment.

Ji Le searched the web and indeed found his benefactor’s power and energy company listed as a shareholder on the association’s official website.

He grinned and immediately sent a message .

A person nearby holding a drink leaned over to peek, teasing, “Oh? Who is our Power King chatting with? So mushy.”

Just as Pavo was about to speak, the man sitting at the bar gave them a cold, sinister look, his words carrying a hint of a reprimand: “You can’t even stay quiet for one night out drinking? If you don’t want to be here, get lost and go back home.”

Pavo shrunk his neck and quickly put on a fawning smile. “Haha, Major General Gram, I just found a new toy to play with for a few days. Are you interested, Major General? I can introduce you to a couple of sensible ones?”

Someone nearby chimed in, “You don’t understand our Major General Gram. He likes it rough.”

Pavo chuckled. “Rough? That’s perfect. There are plenty of prickly thorns in the mecha pilot circle; their skills and their flesh are both top-notch.”

Gram took a large gulp of brandy. His sinister eyes were bloodshot as he said dismissively, “I don’t play with second-hand goods.”

The others fell silent. They knew Gram was extremely strict about his bed partners; they had to have a good body, a beautiful face, and a clean aura.

For that “cleanliness,” Gram only liked those who had just differentiated and had never been in contact with an alpha. He wouldn’t even accept someone who had dated in middle or high school.

Such requirements could only be met by scouring isolated military camps where training is arduous.

The others muttered to themselves, “Gram is really thriving as a major general. He’s satisfied with both his personal and public needs. It’s just a pity he messed up last time…”

Even though his suggestion was rejected, Pavo still shamelessly tried to make up for it in front of Gram:

“It’s just for fun, and there are clean ones in the mecha circle. For instance, my little pet mentioned a newcomer recently. I asked him for the battle videos and it caught the newcomer’s profile. When I saw it he’s actually a very clear, pretty little white-haired thing. Want to see?”

With that, Pavo showed a heavily blurred, enlarged screenshot.

The others crowded around for a look, then waved it away. “You can’t see anything. Stop trying to fool the Major General with this trash. Go on, get lost.”

Gram was also irritated; he loathed people defying his orders repeatedly. He turned his eyes gloomily, but as his gaze flickered over the screenshot on the terminal screen, his expression suddenly shifted.

This face…

The screenshot was blurry, only showing the faint, exquisite outline of a side profile. That clear beauty and cold temperament looked exactly like the Peregrine Falcon he used to play with.

But it couldn’t be that damned female falcon. He was certain he had ordered his execution and the body was tossed into a mass grave, swarming with flies.

Perhaps it was the brandy, but a fire ignited in Gram’s chest, a mix of urgent desire for conquest and a rage that wanted to tear things apart.

CRACK!

Gram crushed his glass and stood up to leave, but the moment he took a step, a violent headache struck. He collapsed directly onto the floor.

“Major General! Major General, are you alright?” The others rushed to help him up.

Gram cursed under his breath. Ever since that Hunt in the palace, a group of alphas had fallen unconscious and been rushed to the hospital with diagnoses of severe brain trauma.

His nerve damage was the worst; the doctor once even said he might never be able to pilot a neural-link mecha again.

It was His Majesty who pulled strings to get a neurosurgical android to perform a perilous craniotomy, replacing his burnt nerves one by one.

Even that android doctor was shocked, saying:

“I’ve never seen a mental attack of this intensity. The force was controlled with such precision, so perfect that it caused minor headaches without severe symptoms. This makes the lesion easy to overlook. By the time it’s noticed years later, it’s too late and the patient can only irreversibly deteriorate into a vegetative state.”

A chill ran down Gram’s spine. But the palace investigation claimed their blackout was just a mental collision caused by alphas getting overexcited during combat; self-inflicted, with no external factors.

Gram didn’t believe a word of it. He had a strong premonition that the Secretary, Heinz, was behind it.

But His Majesty trusted implicitly Heinz; to take him down, Gram needed evidence. The most important lead was that Eagle-Owl Duke’s son Heinz served…

Another splitting headache hit him. Gram held his forehead, brow furrowed, and suddenly said:

“Pavo, bring that newcomer pilot to me. I don’t care how much it costs. Have him serve me for one night.”