The Commander-in-Chief had actually agreed so readily.
To let the Marshal's son carry out this insane, nearly suicidal plan?
Everyone knew that this situation was completely different from the previous infiltration of the Bushman Star System.
Last time, they had taken advantage of meteorites, and the Empire's forces were inadequately prepared, with the majority of their troops pinned down in the Shang Yu Star System.
This time, they had to traverse at least two star systems, penetrate deep into the Empire's most vital hinterland, and deploy a Stargate right under the enemy's nose.
The difficulty was no less than placing the Federation's respawn point directly in the Empire's lair.
The slightest misstep would mean total annihilation, with not even a shred of a route of retreat!
At that moment, Qin Bei Wang raised his hand and gave a standard, upright military salute.
His tone was resolute and powerful, without the slightest hesitation.
"Yes, Commander!
I guarantee the completion of the mission!"
Wen Tingtao nodded slowly, not uttering another word.
If others didn't understand Qin Bei Wang, didn't he?
After being tempered through these several campaigns, Wen Tingtao had long been thoroughly convinced by this man who always managed to create miracles.
He knew all too well that Qin Bei Wang never fought a battle unprepared.
If the other party dared to propose such an all-or-nothing, risky decision,
it meant he had at least a ninety percent certainty of completing the mission.
Rather than sticking to convention and letting the Federation Fleet crash headlong into the Empire's meticulously woven defensive web,
ultimately suffering losses and falling into a desperate situation,
it was better to place all their bets on Qin Bei Wang, this lucky general who had repeatedly created battlefield miracles.
If the gamble paid off, not only could they turn the tide of the war at once and capture the Opal Star Sector,
he might even be able to lay down the heavy burden of frontline Commander-in-Chief, retire with his achievements,
and settle down peacefully in the Joint Staff Department, thus not failing the Federation's trust.
The meeting continued to progress.
Everyone engaged in meticulous discussions around details such as the intensity of the frontal feint attack, the force deployment of each fleet, the planning of logistics supply routes, and contingency support plans.
They deliberated for a full day.
It wasn't until the next morning
that Qin Bei Wang, accompanied by Zhuang Zhixuan, returned to the Pluto Fleet's flagship, Mount Tai, aboard a shuttle.
On the bridge of Mount Tai, the lights were bright, and a holographic tactical screen floated at the center.
Qin Bei Wang walked slowly to the command console, sweeping his gaze over the tactical screen before him, taking in all the details of the course.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the thoughts in his heart, and lightly touched the communicator with his fingertip.
Addressing the fleet-wide communication channel,
he slowly issued the order.
"Attention all units of the Pluto Fleet, this is the flagship Mount Tai, I am Qin Bei Wang."
"Navigation orders are now issued. All fleets, prepare to set sail."
"Target star system: Machu Picchu System.
Course: detour via the Tyrol Galaxy."
"All ships, engines at full power, full speed ahead, no delays whatsoever!"
"All fleets maintain an Arrowhead Formation, keep standard spacing between ships, and be prepared for combat at any moment."
He paused slightly, adding a crucial instruction.
"Reconnaissance Ships, advance immediately. Divide into six squadrons and deploy in six different directions around the fleet to establish a comprehensive scouting network."
"Reconnaissance squadrons are to maintain a safe distance of 1.48 billion kilometers from the main fleet. Keep the Passive Detection Array activated throughout the entire journey."
"Strictly prohibit activating active scans to avoid exposing our position."
"Once the fleet exits the Tyrol Galaxy, reconnaissance ships will simultaneously activate Quantum Cloaking Fields to conceal our flight trajectory."
"Upon entering the Machu Picchu System, deploy passive detection buoys in all directions within a radius of 5 billion kilometers centered on the fleet, monitoring all surrounding movements."
As the orders concluded, the communication channel instantly erupted with overlapping responses.
"Yes, Commander!"
"Acknowledged, Commander!"
"Understood, Tianji Star Fleet receiving orders, advancing immediately for deployment!"
The moment the commands were issued, the entire Pluto Fleet instantly entered First-level Combat Readiness.
Countless reconnaissance ships accelerated rapidly from the main fleet's formation.
Their engines spewed pale blue flames, like arrows released from a bow.
With a piercing momentum, they streaked toward six different directions from the fleet.
In mere moments, those small and swift ship silhouettes gradually vanished into the deep, boundless starry expanse.
Like the most loyal scouts, they silently sped toward their respective posts, vigilantly monitoring every subtle movement in the surroundings.
Establishing the first line of security for the main fleet's covert advance.
On the bridge, Qin Bei Wang remained standing before the command console, his gaze fixed on the vast starscape beyond the viewport.
This deep infiltration behind enemy lines was destined to be perilous, but he would never retreat.
Meanwhile, at the Opal Starfield Theater Command, in the commander's office.
Raphael's tall, straight figure stood before the holographic star chart, his brow furrowed into a deep crease.
The atmosphere around him was oppressively heavy, shrouded in an unmistakable gravity and restraint.
Behind him, on the genuine leather chair that should have belonged to the Theater Commander-in-Chief—symbolizing authority and power—
now sprawled a man with a large head and thick ears.
The man's face was piled with layers of coarse, overlapping fat that nearly obscured his features.
The sagging flesh under his chin hung heavily, and his neck was as thick as a barrel.
One could likely render two pounds of rich lard from a single slice of his face.
His appearance was so greasy it was nauseating.
Unlike the Federation, which valued efficiency and pursued neat external appearances,
most nobles of the Empire, even after using top-tier gene optimizers, chose to retain their original looks.
They constantly boasted about embracing natural selection, putting on an air of refined elegance.
At this moment, the man paid no heed to the solemn atmosphere of the command headquarters.
He brazenly propped his foul-smelling feet on the office desk, the soles of his shoes stained with grime from who-knows-where.
His posture was both lazy and arrogant, as if he were not in the Theater Commander's office but in his own private pleasure room.
Beside the desk stood a beautiful female officer with golden hair and blue eyes.
Her voluminous, wavy curls cascaded to her shoulders, complementing her voluptuous and graceful figure.
She wore an Empire-issue military uniform one size too small, with a lieutenant's rank insignia prominently pinned on her shoulder.
The uniform, meant to symbolize solemnity, authority, and iron discipline,
was stretched taut by her curvaceous body, outlining a strikingly provocative silhouette.
"Don't be nervous, little beauty, and don't be afraid."
The man's mouth was stuffed with fruit, his tone muffled yet brimming with frivolity and arrogance.
"Serving a noble scion of the Bourbon Family is a blessing that lowly commoners couldn't attain in a thousand years. You should be secretly delighted."
Before the words had even finished, his thick, greasy hand reached without hesitation beneath the female officer's skirt.
The female officer stiffened all over, a flicker of fear and humiliation flashing in her eyes.
Her body instinctively wanted to dodge.
But in the end, she forced herself to endure it.
She was just a lowly lieutenant, utterly incapable of offending this noble son of the Bourbon Family before her.
All she could do was grit her teeth and bear the humiliation.
In no time at all, the office was filled with suppressed, tearful moans.
Unbearably grating.
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