“An old acquaintance?” Jiang Lijin had no time to dwell on the deeper meaning behind those two words.
The battle ahead left no room for distraction.
“Xiao Yi, open fire,” she said in a steady tone.
The command was given. The receiver on the metal mecha casing activated, and the silver disruption grenade crafted by Seth shot out of the barrel, precisely embedding itself into the massive, mutated insect general.
There was no deafening explosion, only a high-frequency energy wave that radiated silently outward.
The insect general’s hard carapace instantly flickered with an eerie green light. It reared back, letting out a piercing shriek.
The excruciating pain of its gene chain collapsing drove it into a frenzy. Its scythe-like forelimbs swung wildly, directly cleaving several low-ranking insectoids beside it in half.
The insect swarm’s formation fell into complete chaos.
“Push forward,” Jiang Lijin said, tapping her fingers twice on the armrest of her chair.
Tianyan commanded the rescue fleet, coordinating with the remnants of the Federation garrison. The overlapping firepower formed a deadly kill zone.
Once the high-level insect general lost its command ability, the remaining low-ranking insectoids were nothing but loose sand. The main cannon of the dreadnought finished charging, and a blinding beam of light pierced through the densest cluster of the swarm, instantly clearing a massive void.
The tide of battle had turned in less than twenty minutes.
When Baal was brought to Jiang Lijin’s main ship’s medical bay, his military uniform was already soaked through with blood. The wound on his abdomen was deep enough to reveal bone, its edges corroded by the insect swarm’s acidic fluids—a gruesome sight.
Jiang Lijin stood by the medical pod, watching the mechanical arms clean and suture the wound, her brows tightly furrowed.
“I won’t die,” Baal said, half-lidded, sweat beading on his forehead. “I’m a 3S-class. This is nothing.”
“Shut up. Save your strength. If you’d come ten minutes later, you’d be nothing but a breeding ground for the bugs.”
Baal grunted in response and didn’t argue, but a small black snake slithered out from him, winding its way up over Jiang Lijin’s hand.
Jiang Lijin didn’t resist. Instead, she reached out with her other hand and gently stroked the snake’s head.
Baal could clearly sense Jiang Lijin’s mental energy flowing through his spirit form. That unique, soothing force of hers gradually calmed his turbulent, near-collapsing mental sea.
He turned his head, his gaze sliding past her neatly tied high ponytail to land on the pale nape of her neck.
And there, on that delicate skin, was a clearly imprinted dark red bite mark.
It was a mark left by Tianyan the night before.
Baal’s golden pupils constricted sharply. His breathing grew heavier, a mix of anger and bitterness surging through his chest.
Just then, a piercing static crackle erupted across the ship’s entire communication channel.
Following that, a female voice dripping with venom and resentment forcibly hijacked the broadcast without authorization.
“Jiang Li... what gives you the right... to have everything...”
The words were in precise, standard Blue Star language, spoken through gritted teeth.
Jiang Lijin stopped dead in her tracks. That tone was all too familiar—and she called her Jiang Li... Who was it?
She searched her memory for a long moment before finally matching the voice to a name.
Su Wanwan.
It was that green-tea, white-lotus female lead from the previous novel-transmigration world, the one who had used her as a stepping stone and drained her of all worth.
“Xiao Yi,” Jiang Lijin said, her eyes cooling as her voice turned sharp. “Connect me to Main Brain.”
Xiao Yi’s indicator light flickered wildly as it bypassed the firewall and forcibly connected to the Main Brain.
On the central console of the bridge, light and shadow intertwined as the Main Brain’s holographic image slowly coalesced into form. It had no specific features—just a faintly glowing stream of data.
Jiang Lijin stepped forward and placed both hands on the console. “Explain.”
“Xiao Er did it,” Main Brain said in its flat, emotionless electronic voice.
Main Brain’s data stream flickered a few times before pulling up a sealed archival record.
“To get revenge for you, Xiao Er forcibly extracted the male and female leads’ souls from that world after you died. That was why it became an enemy of the main system at the time. After spending a thousand years seizing power and paving the way for you, it crammed their souls into the lowest lifeforms in this universe.”
Main Brain paused, projecting an image of the insect swarm’s breeding grounds onto the screen.
“Su Wanwan became the insect swarm’s mother queen. And Gu Chenyuan—that scumbag—was turned into a low-level male drone, used solely for breeding and release by the mother queen. They retain their complete memories as humans, and every day, they are fully conscious as they face their own slimy, hideous shells.”
Jiang Lijin stood frozen in place.
She had imagined countless methods of revenge, but she never expected Xiao Er to go this far.
To cast two people who had considered themselves the center of the world into the filthiest mire—and force them to rot with full awareness.
After a brief moment of shock, Jiang Lijin let out a very soft laugh.
It wasn’t the satisfaction of a great revenge, but a kind of relieved warmth.
Xiao Er had protected her to the very end, using all its power to smooth over every lingering grievance.
As for Su Wanwan and Gu Chenyuan—they deserved everything they got.
“When did she awaken?” Jiang Lijin asked.
“She arrived here tens of thousands of years ago. But a human consciousness couldn’t withstand the insectoid instincts—she remained in a half-mad state, hiding deep within the contaminated zone, refusing to show herself. It wasn’t until you unleashed your mental energy on a large scale in the battle at Sirius that she became aware of your presence,” Main Brain replied. “Finally, jealousy overwhelmed her reason.”
No sooner had the words been spoken than the ship’s entire alarm system triggered at once. Red lights flashed intermittently, and piercing sirens echoed through every corner.
On the star map, the red dots representing the insect swarm began aggregating at a frantic pace. They abandoned all defensive lines, surging like a tidal wave toward the dreadnought.
“She’s lost it,” Tianyan said as he walked briskly onto the bridge, casually twirling an energy gun in his hand. His green eyes, beneath his black hair, gleamed dangerously. “Boss, with this kind of show, she’s trying to take us down with her.”
Tianque followed silently behind him, his red eyes cold, his hand already resting on his blade.
The door to the medical bay slammed open. Baal hadn’t even dressed properly, his abdomen wrapped in thick bandages.
“I’m not dead yet—do a bunch of bugs think they can run wild?” He walked to Jiang Lijin’s side, blocking her with his tall frame at half a step behind.
Three 3S-class males formed an absolute protective stance around her.
“No need to get worked up,” Jiang Lijin said, patting Baal’s tense arm, then turning to the console. “Main Brain, switch the feed over.”
“As you wish,” Main Brain responded.
The star map on the main screen disappeared, replaced by an image from the insect swarm’s side.
The insect swarm had no network, but relying on Main Brain’s immense power as a ‘creator,’ something like a water mirror formed in midair.
This was a unilateral live broadcast.
At the center of the image was a mother queen, bloated like a mountain of flesh.
Its carapace was a sickly dark red. Its abdomen bulged high, and countless tentacles writhed aimlessly in the air.
Beside it crouched a battered, broken male drone. Most of its shell had fallen away, revealing a body oozing yellowish fluid.
The mother queen’s tentacles lashed violently across the male drone’s back, tearing off strips of slime.
“Why does she get to be the queen? Why!” The mother worm let out a piercing shriek, her voice translated into interstellar language through the water mirror. “Go and tear her to pieces for me!”
The male worm, turned by Gu Chenyuan, let out a painful moan but could only submit to the bloodline pressure of the mother worm, dragging his broken body outward.
The bridge fell silent.
Tianyan frowned in disgust. “So this is the mother worm? Utterly nauseating.”
Baal snorted coldly. “Ugly in a uniquely repulsive way.”
Jiang Lijin stared at the hysterical monster on the screen. The betrayals and suppression that had once tormented her to the point of agony now seemed nothing but absurd and ridiculous.
Su Wanwan’s once-prized beauty, cunning, and luck—all of it vanished in this universe.
The reason the millennia-long war between the insectoids and the star-faring humans could never truly end was that the mother worm always hid deep within the polluted zone, draining interstellar combat strength through endless reproduction.
And now, driven by jealousy and hatred for her, this mother worm had voluntarily exposed her coordinates and stepped out of the polluted zone.
“She’s walking to her death,” Tianque observed calmly.
“Indeed, walking to her death.” Jiang Lijin turned her head and looked at Baal. Her eyes were bright, radiating a long-lost sharpness and ambition, making her tone light and brisk as well.
“Baal,” Jiang Lijin said, her voice relaxed. “The insectoids and the star-faring races have been fighting for years, but we’ve never been able to find the mother worm’s lair, right?”
Baal looked down at her, his golden pupils reflecting her figure. For no clear reason, his temper faded by more than half.
“Now, she’s delivered herself right to us.” Jiang Lijin pointed at the monster on the screen, still frantically beating the male worm. “Get ready. We’re about to make history.”
Baal paused for a moment, then grinned, revealing a fiercely wild smile.
“As you command.”
