Ruan Shu was thrown to the ground by a massive impact. The bracelet on her wrist emitted a brief flash of light, forming a barrier that blocked the falling debris from above.
Stunned with fear, Ruan Shu propped herself up, her hands cut by shards of broken glass and jagged stones on the ground.
It hurt, but now was not the time to cry.
Amidst the sounds of screaming, insectoid creatures were closing in.
“Miss, run!”
With that, her secretary transformed instantly into a massive lynx, letting out a roar as he charged forward, colliding with the Zergs heading their way.
Ruan Shu struggled to her feet, paying no mind to her injuries. Biting her lip, she looked back at her secretary with reddened eyes, considering sending her small vines for help.
“Roar!”
More and more people shifted into star beasts, joining the battle to fend off the Zergs.
“Little one, leave here, quickly!”
Even unfamiliar star beasts were urging her to get to safety.
Gritting her teeth, Ruan Shu took the small vine and ran.
She had no idea how long she’d been running, but compared to the others, she was far too weak. She didn’t even dare shift into her star beast form to run, as her cat form was small and vulnerable, making her easy to trample in the chaos.
Just as she was nearly struck by falling debris again, the mutated vine wrapped around her waist, with another segment anchoring itself to a higher building, swinging her out of harm’s way.
The moment she left the ground, the structure she had been standing on came crashing down with a thunderous roar.
Ruan Shu’s face was pale as she was flung into the air by the mutated blackberry vine. Just as it was weaving a web to catch her, she fell into a pair of strong arms.
It wasn’t a familiar presence. She looked up, eyes wide, only able to see the chiseled jaw of the man holding her.
“First, second, and third squads, support the main starship fleet. Fourth and fifth squads, clear the ground-level Zergs. Sixth squad, focus on rescue.”
A young man with white hair and dark skin, his face marked by resolute determination, calmly issued combat orders. Then, Ruan Shu watched as he held her in one arm, lifting an energy cannon with the other, flying toward the advanced Zergs. Without hesitation, he hoisted the cannon onto his shoulder and fired a few precise blasts.
Each hit struck the insectoid’s weak spots with pinpoint accuracy.
The creature’s shrill cries left Ruan Shu dizzy. Not wanting to burden him further, she bit her lip and transformed into her cat form, quickly slipping into the pocket of his military uniform.
Indeed, he was a soldier.
The young man glanced down at the small creature barely visible in his pocket, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, before resuming his relentless assault on the Zergs with the cannon.
A few minutes later, the advanced insectoid let out a final wail and perished. But it wasn’t over—there were still two more.
After several more intense minutes, he led his troops to eliminate the remaining two advanced Zergs with unwavering composure.
Without the direction of the advanced Zergs, the lesser Zergs descended into chaos, attempting to flee.
But in the end, they were all cleaned up.
As for the star pirates, they too were swiftly dealt with.
The sound of gunfire finally subsided, and many buildings across the main star were left in ruins after the battle.
Ruan Shu peeked her little fluffy head out of the uniform pocket, her fur still puffed up. As she surveyed the devastated cityscape, a sense of dread filled her. She worried deeply about her grandfather and brother.
“Commander, what’s that thing in your pocket?”
The moment she poked her little cat head out, she was noticed. A calloused hand promptly reached in and lifted her by the scruff.
The tiny cat, held by the nape of her neck, curled her paws and tail inward. Injuries had left patches of her white fur stained red, and her eyes glistened with tears—partly from pain, partly from fear and worry.
“A young one. Take good care of her,” the young commander instructed, tossing the furry little creature to one of his subordinates.
“No way, Commander Ruan! This little one is so tiny—I’m afraid I can’t handle it.” The soldier held the soft, surprisingly tiny creature in his hands with utmost caution. He hadn’t so much as flinched when facing Zergs, but now his hands trembled, worried that one wrong move might hurt the fragile life in his grip.
Upon hearing the name “Ruan,” Ruan Shu turned her head to look over.
“I still have matters to attend to…” Before he could finish speaking, the little cat transformed into a human girl, her body covered in wounds, nose red, and tears glistening in her eyes.
“I want to find my brother and grandpa,” she choked out, tears streaming down her face. For someone as timid as her, holding back tears this long was already quite a feat.
“My personal terminal is missing,” she said with a shaky voice.
The soldier holding her scratched his head, looking flustered. “But… we don’t even know how to contact your family.”
Commander Ruan Linzhan glanced down, picking up a small object that had fallen from the little girl. Though it looked like a miniature, chibi-style trinket, he recognized that silly-looking star beast figure all too well.
His gaze shifted to the anxious little girl, and at almost the same moment, he heard her soft, pitiful voice.
“It’s okay. My father… My father is Ruan Xiao. My big brother and grandpa are still in the city.”
“Marshal Ruan Xiao?!”
The soldier’s face lit up with shock. Seeing the girl nod, he looked toward Commander Ruan Linzhan standing behind her.
Commander Ruan hadn’t left, and he’d clearly heard her words too.
Ruan Shu turned and looked up at him, her gaze landing on the small felted doll in his hand.
She curled her fingers, wanting to say it was hers, but too nervous to speak up.
“Is this yours?” Ruan Linzhan asked, holding the little trinket up.
She nodded quickly.
“Hand her over to me.”
The soldier immediately passed the little girl into the commander’s arms, though he couldn’t hide his curiosity. What a twist! Commander Ruan had ended up rescuing one of his own kin—an incredible coincidence indeed.
But had they been stationed in the outer star systems so long that they missed the news of Commander Ruan having a daughter? Judging by the commander’s own expression, he seemed just as surprised.
Back in the young man’s embrace, Ruan Shu felt a slight sense of dependence on him, more than she had on anyone else. It wasn’t only because he had saved her but also because he shared the surname Ruan.
Ruan Linzhan looked down at the small, fragile figure he was holding. She was so delicate.
He opened his communicator, searching for his uncle’s contact to make a call, but was interrupted by a sudden commotion ahead.
“What the heck? Why is there a mutated plant here?”
“Where did this mutated plant come from? Someone grab it!”
Ruan Shu’s grip tightened on Ruan Linzhan’s clothes as she saw the purple vine thrashing wildly nearby.
He glanced over, then looked down at her, his tone calm yet probing. “You know it?”
Ruan Shu’s face tensed. “I… it’s mine.”
Ruan Linzhan’s expression turned slightly peculiar. Hers?
His memory was sharp; he recalled that when he’d first rescued her, there had indeed been a mutated plant nearby, though he hadn’t given it much thought at the time. Looking back, it seemed the plant had likely been trying to protect her.
Without further comment, he carried Ruan Shu over toward the vine.