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Chapter 73 - Chapter 73: Chaos on the Junk Satellite, the Incompetent Junk Guild

Amidst the howling winds and swirling dust came a barrage of debris, falling like meteors that crashed onto the ground with thunderous impacts.

Some of the wreckage struck the upright steel pillars, sending tremors through them as shattered fragments rained down on Zhou Tianming.

Fortunately, his small stature allowed the steel pillar to shield him from direct hits. Though the smaller pieces stung when they struck, the accumulating debris eventually anchored his body against the raging winds.

His eyes, caked with dust, remained tightly shut as the roaring gales assaulted his ears. He could only take shallow breaths—any deeper inhalation would fill his mouth and nose with grit.

The ordeal didn't last long. Soon, the wind's fury began to wane.

Moments later, when silence finally returned, Zhou Tianming cracked his eyes open slightly, only for the thick dust caked on his lashes to fall in, forcing him to shut them again in discomfort.

Brushing the dirt from his face, he shielded his eyes with one hand and cautiously reopened them. The surroundings were dim.

A two-meter-high wall of debris had formed around him, trapping him within.

Zhou Tianming attempted to climb out, but the pile was unstable. The slightest pressure from his hands sent the entire structure trembling, causing dust to trickle down from the gaps and shower his head.

After considerable effort, he finally crawled free—only for the debris beneath his feet to collapse the moment he stood. He hastily leaped aside.

Surveying the area, he saw that only the heavy steel pillars of the factory building had accumulated large piles of wreckage. The rest of the space was eerily empty, the ground crisscrossed with deep scars.

Dust hung thick in the air, reducing visibility to barely ten meters.

Each breath carried the acrid taste of dirt, irritating his nose. Switching to breathing through his mouth only filled it with grit, forcing him to cover his face with a hand and take shallow, measured breaths.

Glancing toward where he remembered the city center to be, Zhou Tianming hesitated, then dismissed the thought.

It was likely even worse inside.

Instead, he turned toward the outskirts, intending to circle around to the Black Tortoise's location and see if Wei Jun had survived.

After walking for over ten minutes, rain began to fall from the sky.

Realization struck—this was the satellite's fire suppression system at work.

But it was anything but helpful. Within minutes, he was drenched, with nowhere to take shelter in the barren landscape.

The rain, mixed with dust, left him covered in grimy black streaks, staining his clothes and the bandages wrapped around his wounds.

Splashing through the muddy water, Zhou Tianming broke into a run.

After another ten minutes, he finally found shelter beneath a tilted metal structure.

It was a worker's dormitory, its interior strewn with belongings coated in dust—but most remained intact.

Zhou Tianming found a clean gray work uniform from the pile, rolled up the sleeves and pant legs to put it on, then used some discarded wires and ropes to tighten the loose-fitting clothes around his body.

After the rain stopped, Zhou Tianming continued on his way.

A few hours later, a helicopter flew straight toward the crashed warship in the sky.

Zhou Tianming remained highly vigilant toward the people on the Junk Guild satellite, so he hid and didn't reveal himself.

His goodwill toward the Junk Guild had also plummeted—they bore responsibility for how things had turned out. Their organization was chaotic and lacked discipline, worse than a slapdash operation.

On his way to the Black Tortoise, Zhou Tianming also began reconsidering his future plans.

His initial goodwill toward the Junk Dealers had stemmed from the portrayal of the protagonist Lowe Guele in the side stories—free, neutral, and untouchable by any faction.

But reality was summed up in one word—chaos.

When a spaceship had intruded into their own satellite, only a handful of people had resisted. Now that the ship had crashed, there was still no sign of rescue efforts. Utter incompetence.

Whatever. It didn't matter anymore.

Zhou Tianming mentally reviewed the information relevant to him.

There was Siegel's connection in PLANT.

His mother and grandfather were from East Asia. If he gathered some future intelligence and passed it to them to establish ties with government agencies, that could count as another connection.

Then, if he acquired a spaceship and built a Gundam, he'd have both power and backing. Why would he still need a Junk Dealer identity?

Sighing, Zhou Tianming had to admit his miscalculation—some things had been far simpler in his imagination.

Slapping his cheeks to refocus, he quickened his pace.

First, he needed to find Wei Jun and confirm his condition. If he had died, Zhou Tianming would at least retrieve his body.

A day later.

By now, over a dozen small spaceships hovered high above the area outside the city, while numerous transport aircraft busily ascended and descended.

Unfortunately, there was no sign of rescue efforts—only the relentless hauling of materials. The behavior was very much in line with the Junk Dealers' identity, at least.

Some even tried to abduct Zhou Tianming, seeing him as a small, easy target.

His handsome features and tender age of five stirred greed, yet his small frame also made people drop their guard.

In an already foul mood, Zhou Tianming didn't hesitate to kill them all, leaving his clothes stained with blood and grime.

Finally, he reached the location of the Black Tortoise.

From a distance, he spotted a red flag fluttering atop a small mountain of wreckage.

Though the emblem on the flag had changed, the sight of that vibrant red instantly told Zhou Tianming everything—this was the flag of East Asia.

He hurried over, climbing the debris pile until he stood beside the flag. Scanning the area, he soon noticed another mound of wreckage nearby.

The outline of that pile faintly resembled the shape of the fallen Black Tortoise.

When Zhou Tianming climbed what he presumed to be the wreckage of the Black Tortoise, he found himself facing a massive sunken crater.

Looking down, he saw a tall figure wrapped in bandages, one arm in a sling, sitting by a campfire and eating.

The aroma wafted up, and Zhou Tianming licked his lips, his expression darkening.

He had rushed here for an entire day without even a sip of water, and now there was someone below… eating?

And so leisurely at that…

He crouched down, scanning left and right through the debris for a suitable 'weapon.'

Wei Jun, alerted by the noise, looked up and spotted a small, grimy figure rummaging through the wreckage.

Pity flashed across his face as he raised a hand and opened his mouth to call out.

At that moment, Zhou Tianming pulled out a one-meter-long, slightly bent iron rod from the pile of debris and looked up.

Their eyes met.

Wei Jun smiled.

Zhou Tianming smiled too.

"Tian Ming! I knew you were too damn cunning to die!"

Wei Jun shouted joyfully.

Zhou Tianming's smile was a bit stiff, but his tone was oddly sweet: "Uncle Wei, come here."

Wei Jun walked toward Zhou Tianming until he noticed the iron rod hidden behind his back.

Then he took in his disheveled appearance, covered in dried, dark bloodstains.

His smile faltered.

Zhou Tianming could tell from Wei Jun's expression that he had guessed his intentions. Dropping the act, he raised the iron rod and charged: "I ran all the way here to save you, and you've been sitting around comfortably this whole time!"

"Tian Ming! Let me explain!" Wei Jun turned and bolted, "I stayed because I was afraid we'd miss each other! Believe me! Please believe me!"

A short while later, Zhou Tianming sat by the campfire, eating canned food and glaring at Wei Jun as he pulled the remaining cans closer to himself.

"All yours, no one's taking them," Wei Jun said sheepishly.

After a pause, he smiled lightly and added, "Once you're done, we'll go get Li Chi. Now that this is over, we need to get him treated as soon as possible."

Zhou Tianming froze, slowly setting down the can. His voice was hoarse: "No need."

The smile vanished from Wei Jun's face. His lips trembled: "He... Li Chi…?"

Zhou Tianming nodded.

Clenching his teeth, Wei Jun remained silent for a long moment before asking sorrowfully, "How did he go? Was it peaceful?"

Without a word, Zhou Tianming stood up and climbed to a higher spot, pointing ahead.

Wei Jun followed his gaze.

In the distance, the culprit—the warship—lay motionless on the ground.

There was no grief in Zhou Tianming's voice, only pride: "He took it down!"

Wei Jun froze, tears streaming down his face: "Good! That's good! Damn good!

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