Chapter 55: I Figure This Is No Problem

Outside Oumia's main Nest City.

On the ground, continuous trenches appeared, with massive heavy firepower spread throughout, and a large number of soldiers moving back and forth among them.

And beyond the trenches were over a thousand large‑caliber cannons.

At this moment, all this heavy firepower raised their barrels, aiming at the Nest City that had already re‑hoisted the Empire flag.

A few soldiers stood beside the cannons, gnawing compressed starch vigorously, while their eyes stared at the Nest City, curious how the Nest City fell so quickly despite there being no Empire fleet.

But as soldiers, they didn't even know the meaning of the Chaos Eight-Point Star they wore on their heads, let alone the details of the Nest City's fall.

Only at the rear of the front line, in the middle of a camp, a few officers still wearing defense force uniforms looked at the distant Nest City with a teasing expression.

"You all say, will the Governor die this time?"

An officer spoke with an indifferent expression, and the surrounding officers also wore indifferent faces, with a faint hint of expectation in their eyes.

It's not that they still wanted to remain loyal to the Empire; rather, with the Governor dead, they, who wield the army, could continue to climb for more power.

Yet the officers were relaxed with each other, while the middle‑aged officer at the front furrowed his brow as he looked at the Nest City.

Seeing the middle‑aged officer give no reply, the people behind finally fell a little silent.

At the same time, following his gaze, they curiously examined the Nest City again, not knowing what was wrong.

Apart from the flag change, the whole Nest City remained as busy as before.

The only difference was that beyond the Nest City, one could vaguely see the crashed warship on the other side, surrounded by a dense construction site.

Finally, after looking for a while, the middle‑aged officer frowned:

"What are they doing?"

"Repairing the warship?"

With obvious insecurity, the middle‑aged officer whispered his question, and the other officers behind exchanged glances, their eyes showing doubt.

After all, they all came from Oumia No. 3 and lived around warships; they might be illiterate, but their common knowledge of warships was clear.

Because anyone knows that such a warship could never lift off from the ground against gravity!

No one knew how to answer; only the middle‑aged officer, after looking for a while, finally withdrew his gaze.

"Have our men prepare; once the Governor's death is confirmed, we will attack."

"As for the warship…"

"We have no need to waste effort on a bunch of fools."

After the middle‑aged officer finished speaking and turned away, the officers behind hurriedly saluted, while looking at the distant Nest City running at full production, casting a mocking glance at the word "fools."

Meanwhile, while they cared little for the Nest City, Xisi inside the Nest City paid no attention to the outside rebel forces numbering only a few hundred thousand.

He was now inspecting the production line, determined to find a way to leave before the Tairen or Green Skin arrived.

The massive Nest City factory, everywhere filled with the hissing "sizzle" of steam, and the sealed depths lacking ventilation, made Xisi feel the surrounding humidity and heat just by walking through; his body sweated continuously, and his soaked clothes clung tightly to him.

Around him, crowds ran up and down, slightly crowded, and in a direction Xisi glanced at, many workers still bore the immature half‑grown appearance.

Moreover, in this chaotic environment, the humidity intolerable to Xisi was mitigated in many corners where some workers kept small devices made of various materials, constantly collecting the steam and condensing it into "clean" water.

Then, during brief pauses, these workers would look accustomed, even taking a sip of the portable "comfort" of dirty water, then storing the clean water, planning to go home after work to make more starch entirely produced from chemical waste.

Because even this chemically‑derived starch that shortens life is still far insufficient for the workers, let alone their starving children at home.

Xisi scanned the surroundings, feeling his breath mixed with dense sweat odor and the pungent sting of various strange chemical gases, finally gaining a slight understanding of the Empire workers' daily environment.

And this working environment, surprisingly, was not the harsher Lower Nest but Zhongchao!

Boom!

A massive iron hammer pounded a thick armor plate.

Sparks scattered around, and his own uniform melted a hole from the high‑temperature sparks, yet the surrounding workers, scarred and crippled, were completely indifferent; Xisi finally exhaled and stepped purposefully toward the top of the factory.

The same humid heat, but perhaps the ventilation system here was better and without the crowd below, so the air oddly returned to being odorless.

Even before the vent, one could barely feel a hint of coolness from outside.

At Xisi's destination, Youwa, the scrap‑noble unworthy of being taken by the Empire, stood before a massive warship blueprint, staring dumbfounded at Ana's design.

"Sir… are you sure?"

"It's a space warship; you only need to weld the armor plates, right?"

Youwa's eyes widened, filled with the numbness of his common sense being shocked.

Opposite, Ana's complexion was also strange, and faced with Xisi's requirements and deadline, Ana didn't know how to answer.

Only Xisi behind them spoke directly:

"Yes, welding."

"As long as you ensure it's sealed."

Xisi suddenly appeared, and Youwa and Ana hurriedly looked over.

Ana gave a slight salute, while Youwa performed a grand salute.

Xisi waved his hand, indicating the two didn't need to, and walked directly to the blueprint, looking at the gradually forming Sword‑class Escort Ship.

Ana also introduced beside him:

"Fortunately, the hull was hit by close‑range small‑caliber fire; although the damage looks severe, the core body remains undamaged."

"We only need to repair the breach and replace the engine's outer components, then we can barely get the warship's entire system operational."

"However, protection, power, and even firepower are only at 40% to 60% of full capacity."

Xisi, while inspecting and listening to Ana, waited until Youwa behind confirmed welding and gave the order, then, in the pause after Ana finished, hurriedly interjected:

"Sir, if it's just welding, then you can set out now and prepare to board."

Xisi, somewhat surprised, turned back, and saw that Youwa's face was not joking, and the brow that had been furrowed for a long time finally eased a little.

Then he looked at the still‑busy crowded factory beneath his feet, mocking the Empire's inefficient production methods and exaggerated output.

And a few hours later, a massive convoy carrying various supplies, ammunition, and personnel marched toward the warship.

And when the crew members who had been directly transferred from the repair workers stood before the battleship, waiting for its new captain.

Looking at this tattered, patch‑covered vessel, with many of its side windows welded shut—a leftover warship— not only Youwa, but also Ana, Bunoke beside them, and even Daiweiluo turned to give Xisi a doubtful stare.

"Are you sure this thing can fly?"

Facing the questioning looks of everyone, Xisi felt slightly embarrassed, lowered his gaze, and could only answer in his heart:

"My Thought......"

"This should be fine......"