Give me a bit more than eighty, Grandpa loves watching this. [Double chapter release—please subscribe!]

After leaving Mistsea Star, the Dawn Route became even more turbulent.

Even with his external plug-ins, Lu Chen found it increasingly difficult to locate routes suitable for long-distance jumps. Sometimes, the ship couldn’t even maintain full speed. The climate grew more unpredictable, with storms and high-energy particle activity occurring frequently, and the local star pirates became bolder—Lu Chen had already evaded danger several times along the way.

He even witnessed an interstellar shuttlebus operated by the Crownless Nation fly past, inviting the Leonin to hitch a ride. This was a container-style interstellar cruise ship, equipped with a seventy-level warp engine, encased in a massive transparent shield, and constructed internally like a build from “Minecraft.” Each container could securely house a spaceship; as long as you purchased a ticket, you and your ship could travel together to any planet along the Dawn Route. The ship offered games, entertainment, and gambling—safe, swift, and with premium service throughout, but the price was steep: the base fare was five hundred spirit stones, making it an option mostly for the wealthy or for emergencies.

Lu Chen declined nonetheless. His journey was an adventure in search of treasure; only by passing close to locations in person would the treasure map show its clues. His life was never meant for shortcuts.

Yet, the treasures along the way didn’t seem to increase in number. Perhaps the treasure map now considered his improved strength, so anything worth less than a thousand spirit stones no longer appeared as a target.

Thus, he left the routine navigation to the ship’s autopilot AI. Occasionally, when the AI encountered a situation it couldn’t assess, he let Aili and Golia make the call. Only when an avoidance alert sounded would he step in to override the flight.

Aili seemed to enjoy piloting, downloading paid tutorials from the internet and applying them with earnest practice, steadily becoming a pentagonal warrior.

When it was Golia’s turn to fly, she always sat cross-legged at the helm, drinking, and piloted the ship by voice command. Inevitably, she’d end up drunk, sprawled across the console—a sight that reminded Lu Chen of their first encounter: her head buried in the controls and her rear in the air.

Perhaps it was the most elegant backside he’d ever seen, but he still regretted having addressed it so respectfully at the time:

“Senior.”

Given another chance, he would have called it:

“Fat pig.”

Or perhaps, “fat cat.”

Even so, Golia, seeing his dazzling treasure-hunting armor, surely wouldn’t have minded and would still have wanted to recruit him as a partner to make a fortune together.

Now, the ship, dodging storm after storm, had veered so far off course it was nearly flying back the way they came.

Smack!

Lu Chen, exasperated, slapped her ample rear.

“Are you trying to crash the ship? Look at how far off course we are!”

Golia seemed used to his hand by now, no longer as reactive as before. Dazed, she sat up, instinctively took a swig to sober up, rubbed her eyes, and muttered,

“You only set a vague heading. How is that my fault? Do you know how wide the Dawn Route is? If you flew sideways for a month, you’d barely reach the edge, you know? As captain and helmsman, you should set a specific destination. The ship’s AI—no, cough, cough, I—would then fly straight and true.”

Lu Chen thought it over and agreed.

A destination was needed!

Based on the Leonin’s current needs, their next stop had to meet three criteria:

First, it had to be a commercial planet, where they could sell spoils, upgrade the ship and armor, and restock supplies.

Second, a tourist planet—after the ordeal on Mistsea Star, Lu Chen felt drained and wanted some rest, preferably in a way that would let him use his nuclear-powered fishing rod.

Third, ideally, it should be a vassal of the Crownless Nation, so he could also earn an Idealist’s Medal. Selling goods and resupplying as an Idealist might have benefits.

Lu Chen scoured the map for a long time before finally finding a suitable destination:

The Thousand-Isle Sea.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a planet, but an artificial interstellar outpost along the busy route.

“All right, our destination is the Thousand-Isle Sea. If I’m piloting, we’ll get there in two days. You two have three days—if you’re late, don’t blame me for doling out punishment.”

Golia, annoyed by Lu Chen’s old-official demeanor despite his youth, slapped him on the butt in return.

“Fine, three days it is. If we’re late, I’ll be asking you why you always aim so high!”

…

Lu Chen returned to the lounge, poured himself a glass of iced tea, and continued tinkering with his fly drone.

The drone’s memory held the last three months of the Minotaur’s ship logs.

The logs were highly encrypted, but once unlocked, proved rather dull.

They were simply text records. Where they went each day, what they did, what they gained—nothing more.

Lu Chen read on, but found nothing remarkable, and no mention of the day the Minotaur’s adventure points skyrocketed.

In fact, the Minotaur never recorded adventure points at all—their stated aim was always to join the Guernica Beastmaster Corps, seeking a high-level beastship in the Pangu Corridor.

Though Entier was registered as a beastmaster with the Adventurers’ Guild and the logs showed intensive beast training, his talent and strength were impressive.

Yet, based on his fighting style in the life-and-death battle, Lu Chen saw he was a genius spiritual warrior, adept with the spear!

Surrounded by four level-forty battle armors, he managed—through sheer flesh and blood—to take down two.

Why would such a bull-headed martial artist want to join the Guernica Beastmaster Corps? Just because he was a humanoid?

Lu Chen suspected he might actually be an imperial spy.

“Something’s off…”

Even stranger, when Lu Chen checked the Minotaur team’s adventure points on the official guild site, he found:

They had received 25,000 points in one go—half a month ago. Yet the guild’s records listed no explanation for such a large award!

Lu Chen pushed the timeline back a week.

According to their logs, the Minotaur had been resupplying and sightseeing in the Southern Rainbow sector—no mention of any notable events.

“Weird.”

Lu Chen noticed that their route basically followed the Pisces, and the logs admitted as much—the whole crew’s goal was to join the Guernica Beastmaster Corps.

But before that, the Minotaur needed one big score to get noticed.

Lu Chen scrutinized their route, compared it to the week before their big point award, and searched the news in the Southern Rainbow sector.

Nothing stood out.

However, in the comments section of a news article, someone mentioned that trouble had broken out in the neighboring Zuan planet belt.

Lu Chen sought out the relevant Zuan system news from that time.

One inconspicuous article caught his eye.

It reported a major breakout of star beasts at the Shanhaijing Behemoth Park in the Zuan planet belt.

At the time, the park’s management had posted hefty bounties for the runaway beasts on the Adventurers’ Guild board.

Lu Chen checked the bounty section—people had indeed claimed rewards for retrieving some of the beasts.

But several still remained missing—including some celebrity star beasts.

For example, the park’s knockoff Four Sacred Beasts: the Celestial Azure Dragon, Andromeda White Tiger, Guli Vermilion Bird, and Turtle City Black Tortoise… Of these, the Azure Dragon and Vermilion Bird were still missing.

“Could it be the Minotaur went star beast hunting? After all, they needed a real beastship to have any shot at joining the Guernica Beastmaster Corps.”

Lu Chen suddenly felt an urge to hunt star beasts himself.

This was no ordinary interstellar “find the cat” quest.

Star beasts were no joke.

Fully named “interstellar fierce beasts,” they were generally giant spirit beasts of level thirty and above, capable of flying in vacuum, often spanning thousands of meters, and known to lurk in planetary jungles, canyons, or under the sea—bursting into the sky without warning to attack passing ships.

In humanity’s early days of spacefaring, star beasts frequently destroyed warships, leaving only wreckage and loss of life.

In ancient times, star beasts were sometimes as large as planets themselves, posing the greatest threat to humankind.

However, the Zuan system was still far ahead—at least half a month’s journey away.

Lu Chen figured he’d wait until the Leonin was nearby before hunting star beasts.

“Captain, our adventure on Mistsea Star made the guild news again!” Aili’s excited cry interrupted Lu Chen’s thoughts.

He was not surprised. In fact, while searching for news on the Zuan planet belt earlier, he had already seen the latest headline in the “Dawn Route” section of Imperial Entertainment Weekly.

“The Mistsea Star Fishing Festival Farce: An Adventurers’ Guild Star-Making Campaign!”

Even the headline dripped with sarcasm.

The article, with “detailed” evidence, claimed the guild had fabricated hype around three star teams—

First, the Guernica Beastmaster Corps, focusing on the rivalry between the Pisces and the Minotaur’s Supernova Team, which ended in the Minotaur’s total defeat: “the Minotaur team, pursuing freedom, was like a moth to the flame—shattered but heroic.”

Second, the Dragonseekers: a massive ship, a legendary team name, and a talent-scouting live-streamed adventure style.

Third, the Primal Star Vaulters: dramatic first place in the flight exam, participants in several trending incidents, always escaping unscathed—skilled and, apparently, lucky.

So, Lu Chen was now number three.

“Skilled and, apparently, lucky”—not even the trolls bothered to single him out!

He sensed the Empire didn’t want to promote him as a hero, but couldn’t ignore him either, so they reluctantly mentioned him in passing.

Even the Minotaur got more coverage than he did, and his solo fight with the Minotaur was attributed to the Pisces, as evidence of that team’s cruelty—even to their own fan teams.

“No surprise from Entertainment Weekly!”

Curious, Lu Chen wondered if “Federation Free Stars” had reported on the events.

He opened the “Federation Free Stars” website.

Dawn Route section, front page: a photo spread of Yujiezi.

Though Lu Chen wasn’t fond of that arrogant woman, he had to admit—the photos were quite alluring.

The adventure stories were mere embellishments; the real news was the humanoid star photo spreads.

More of these, please! This is what readers want!

The article recounted the Pisces’ rise, their repeated exploits, and their eventual acceptance into the Guernica Beastmaster Corps.

There was also a biography of the defeated Entier, though it questioned his humanoid sympathies.

At the end, it specially mentioned the Primal Star Vaulters’ beastmaster: the wolf-girl Aili.

Many of Lu Chen’s achievements were credited to Aili, accompanied by numerous photos.

These images were either from guild news releases or screengrabs from livestreams; the most striking were the ones from Little Larkel, showing her swinging: one hand gripping a trailing vine, flipping through clouds, her delicate face like porcelain, her ice-blue eyes shining with determination, and her signature sharp silver ears of the Sirius folk.

Ah, I’m dead…

Lu Chen suddenly understood Aili’s secret.

There were even photos of Golia’s out-of-control somersault, and Lu Chen himself clinging stiffly to a vine—both captured in silhouette.

Amusing.

Overall, compared with the Empire’s pure smear campaign, the Federation’s magazine, while not always accurate, at least presented events from the humanoid perspective and published content the public enjoyed.

Especially after this article, Aili, despite being a supporting character, gained a huge following—almost outshining the main acts.

The “Federation Free Stars” readership, although mostly men, extended far beyond the Federation’s humanoids, reaching across the universe—men of all races and factions found common ground here!

Golia came over for a look at Lu Chen’s wristband.

“Wow, Aili was so cool that day! So many fans, it’s almost a mass grave of admirers. Where am I… Huh? Why is my photo upside down? What kind of look is that? How could a picture like this ever be popular!”

Lu Chen thought Golia, head down and feet in the air, looked even more statuesque.

Her white thighs, exposed by her shorts, pointed straight up!

And, thanks to Larkel’s heavy gravity, her generous bosom drooped the other way, nearly burying her lovely face.

In a word—superb!

Maybe that explained her odd expression.

After admiring the picture, Lu Chen teased her:

“That’s what you get for wearing shorts that day. If you’d worn a skirt, maybe you’d have gone viral.”

Golia froze for a moment.

She thought, If I’d worn a skirt, I’d have flashed everyone! Would a galactic beauty like me need to show skin to become famous? Was he calling me an airhead?

Golia wasn’t one to back down. She pointed at Lu Chen’s own ridiculous photo and retorted,

“Good thing you wore pants, too. If you’d worn a skirt, the whole universe would have seen a waterfall that puts all others to shame.”

Lu Chen paused, feeling something was off, before finally realizing—

“Idiot! You think I don’t wear underwear like you?”

Aili, meanwhile, stifled her laughter and quickly reminded him,

“Captain, check out the Adventurers’ Guild’s top story—you look amazing!”

Lu Chen almost forgot his real business.

He quickly opened the Adventurers’ Guild website. In the “Pangu Sailing Log” Dawn Route section, he was greeted by a half-page close-up of himself.

In the blackness of the storm.

Bathed in bright searchlights.

White-whiskered whales swarmed around the ship, devouring the endless stream of humans thrown overboard.

At the center of it all—

A headless suit of armor stood atop the Minotaur’s hull, a crimson lightsaber clutched in its hand, slashing down at the Minotaur’s head—then suddenly turning, locking eyes with the camera.

(The End of This Chapter)