“System, take control of the station’s fire control. Vaporize any debris that dares to approach.”
[Command confirmed. Charging defense array. Commander’s adrenaline spike detected; heart rate increased by 15% due to excitement.]
“Cut the crap. This is a man’s first night… no, first battle.”
Yao Qian strode into the boarding hatch of the *Yabo*.
This “frigate,” heavily modified in secret by Marshal Layton, was currently resting like a steel behemoth waking from the deep sea, quietly lurking in its dark berth.
It featured matte-black, high-strength armor all over, completely devoid of any flashy, streamlined designs.
Instead, there were only rugged rivets, exposed hydraulic lines, and an asymmetrical cooling grate that would drive someone with OCD absolutely insane.
But to Yao Qian, it looked ten thousand times better than those Earth Union ships that looked like toilet seats or seafood.
This was industrial aesthetics.
This was more rivets, more steam, more steel.
Pressure equalized, and the hatches locked.
Yao Qian sank his body into his heavy anti-G suit, sliding his fingertips across the cold console.
As the battleship-grade power core let out a low roar, the entire warship seemed to come alive.
The surging vibration traveled up his seat, sending a jolt straight to his skull.
“Release locks. Engine output at 30%.”
The *Yabo*’s stern spewed two blinding streams of deep-blue ion fire, brutally tearing through the darkness.
His field of vision suddenly opened up.
Twenty thousand kilometers away, that sickening, uninvited guest was already right in front of him.
It was a “filthy thing” in every sense of the word.
Its dark-red, fleshy hull was covered in barnacle-like parasites, with countless tentacles twitching and waving aimlessly in the vacuum.
The massive hole at the bow looked like some festering biological wound, constantly spewing green pus.
“So damn disgusting.”
Yao Qian’s stomach churned.
This was the visceral, physiological rejection of aliens hardwired into the DNA of a Pureblood Human.
“The mere existence of something like this in the universe is an insult.”
[Warning: High-energy reaction detected! Target has locked onto this ship.]
The distance closed to five thousand kilometers.
The pustules on the biological warship’s surface suddenly ruptured like popped pimples.
A dozen blobs of dark-green acidic plasma, mixed with highly corrosive biological toxins, sprayed toward the *Yabo* in a fan shape.
“Is that it?”
Yao Qian sneered as he looked at the few sparse, crooked trajectory prediction lines on the tactical display.
“Get close. I want to see what kind of shit is inside this thing’s gut.”
The *Yabo* didn’t slow down at all.
Instead, it pulled a violently sharp Z-maneuver in space, slicing into the enemy’s blind spot like a scalpel.
As the distance closed, the biological warship looked increasingly like a paper tiger.
Aside from that decent initial volley, its subsequent counterattacks looked like they were being operated by a Parkinson’s patient.
Some of the pustule turrets jammed halfway through their rotation, spewing black smoke before dying and falling off.
It was like a scary-looking zombie that had actually lost its legs long ago.
“Target’s structural collapse exceeds 60%. Its core biological brain is in a state of deep shock. No high-threat biological weapons detected.”
Yao Qian narrowed his eyes at the red cross-section on the screen.
So it was just a low-health target.
“Since it came all this way to deliver a freebie, I won’t stand on ceremony. It’s the perfect dungeon for my players to farm.”
The *Yabo* pulled off a beautiful 180-degree drift-turn in the void, its bow locking onto the massive, bleeding gash on the biological warship’s flank.
“Charge the main cannon.”
[380mm Railgun is ready. Tungsten alloy armor-piercing round loaded.]
Following the command, the *Yabo*’s smooth spine split open, and an obscenely thick metal barrel, twenty meters long, slowly rose.
Layers of electromagnetic coils lit up one by one, blue electrical arcs leaping wildly in the vacuum.
Terrifying energy surged through the narrow track, slightly warping the surrounding space.
In this bizarre universe full of tentacles and magic, nothing spoke louder than large-caliber kinetic weapons.
If one wasn’t enough, just make the caliber bigger.
“In your next life, try to look a bit more human.”
Yao Qian slammed his thumb onto the red firing button.
There was no sound in the vacuum, but the instantaneous recoil rattled the entire frigate, like a heavy blow from a sledgehammer to the back of the head.
A tungsten alloy projectile, accelerated to its absolute limit, turned into a streak of light invisible to the naked eye.
Ignoring distance and armor, it pierced through thousands of kilometers of void.
Truth only lies within the weapon’s range!
The biological warship was snapped in half as if by an invisible divine hand.
The terrifying kinetic shockwave shattered its fragile spinal skeletal structure.
Its front half spun completely out of control, tumbling toward the grey-brown planet below like a kicked, rotten watermelon.
Meanwhile, its rear half—its power core shattered—shuddered violently before exploding into a brilliant, disgusting firework of flesh and blood.
[Target neutralized.]
[Retrieving wreckage samples… Analyzing.]
Yao Qian watched the massive chunks of flesh floating outside, in no rush to leave.
The *Yabo* extended its mechanical arm and grabbed a still-twitching limb.
“Analyze composition.”
[Sample confirmed to be biological tissue similar to the ‘Zergan’ swarm. Judging by the wreckage, this should be a colonization ship. Undeveloped genetic seeds have been detected.]
“A colonization ship?” Yao Qian’s eyes lit up.
“Does that mean it’s packed with resources?”
The heavy weight on his chest lifted.
Fortunately, the escorts of this colonization ship were nowhere to be found.
Such a massive hunk crashing down would keep those players busy for months!
“System, immediately start preparations to distribute the second round of closed beta invites.”
Yao Qian waved his hand, bursting with grand ambitions.
“Let’s take a bigger step this time! Recruit another 500—actually, let’s make it 50, just to be safe.”
He was just worried that too many players would eat the ship clean, leaving not even a crumb.
…
Blue Star, late at night.
Although it was already two in the morning, the official forum of *Stars Online* was only growing hotter, absolutely exploding with activity.
And for good reason: the sudden, unannounced server-wide forced logout had induced severe withdrawal symptoms in these players who had just gotten a taste of the action.
A pinned post had racked up tens of thousands of replies, its title practically screaming:
“URGENT URGENT URGENT! I’M DYING OF ANXIETY! Can some big brain analyze what that new update image means?!”
The poster was none other than *Stars Online*’s number-one diehard fan, “Hardcore Lao Wang.”
“Brothers! I can’t sleep! I literally can’t sleep! Ever since I got logged out, I feel like ants are crawling all over me! The official site just updated its background image. I analyzed it frame-by-frame on my 4K monitor. Something huge is definitely going down!”
The post included his hardcore breakdown of the new background image:
“Image 1: This is a low-angle concept shot. Look closely at that falling fireball—that is definitely not a meteor! Zooming in, doesn’t the silhouette look like a ship? And a ship snapped in half at that!”
“Image 3: Look at the texture of the wreckage. It’s not metal, it’s flesh! It’s fucking flesh! Combined with the Zerglings we killed today, I have reason to suspect that an alien nest has been shot down!”
“Conclusion: Version 1.1 is definitely a massive update! New map! New monsters! Maybe even new faction PvP!”
The comment section below was filled with wails and howls.
“Lao Wang, stop analyzing. The more you talk, the more I crave it. I was literally wheelbarrowing in my dreams just now.”
“Right? I’m looking at my dog right now and finding him surprisingly handsome. I want to hit him with a pickaxe to see if he drops biomass.”
“Upstairs, I suggest you book a doctor’s appointment and hand over your beta invite to me while you’re at it.”
Just as everyone was scratching their heads in frustration at being unable to log in…
The homepage of *Stars Online* suddenly flickered.
Below the background image of the blazing wreckage, a line of blood-red countdown text slowly materialized:
[Version 1.1 Expansion: Calamity Falls]
[New Area: Biological Warship Crash Site — Unlocked]
[New Faction: Heretic Zergan — Implemented]
[Second Beta Reservations: Open (New slots: 50)]
These few short lines were like a massive boulder thrown into a pool full of piranhas.
The backseat gamers who were pretending to be calm moments ago instantly lost their minds.
Replies refreshed at a rate of dozens per second.
“Holy shit! An actual major update?!”
“Father! I’m your long-lost son! Please give me an activation code! I can carry bricks! I’m strong! I can cheer you on!”
“Stop crowding! Whoever steals my reservation, I’ll track down your IP and crawl through your internet cables to cut you! This game is my life!”
Watching the application data explode in the backend, Yao Qian, who was sitting in the control room sipping synthetic nutrient solution, showed the classic, gratified smile of a capitalist.
What is top-tier marketing?
This is top-tier marketing.
These weren’t players.
These were clearly cyber-slaves who brought their own food, worked for free, and even helped you count the money they gave you.
“Since you’re all so enthusiastic, I won’t charge you an entry fee for this crashed half of a ship.”
“Go loot, go kill. Turn those disgusting aliens into fuel for the rise of my fleet!”