Chapter 72: Trial

Merchants had long suffered at the hands of Star Pirates.

Someone glanced at the clusters of Delphi Army soldiers around them, fury rising from their heart: “What Wave Walkers? Total bullshit!”

No sooner had he finished cursing than several people nearby chimed in, their voices growing louder.

“Sounds nice and all—Freemen, border wanderers—but at the end of the day, aren’t they just a bunch of jobless vagrants living off robbing others?!”

“People like that deserve to be executed!”

The words grew harsher with each shout, and many in the deep space walkway nodded in agreement. After all, in this stretch of starry sea, far more had been robbed than had done the robbing.

Qin Yi, standing at the front of the Wave Walkers, tilted her head slightly. Arm looped through her husband’s, she smiled at the Delphi soldiers. “We want to buy the fruits, and we’ve brought sufficient sincerity—”

Before she could finish, another wave of arrivals flooded the scene.

Ships of all shapes and sizes swarmed in, hulls painted in every color—merchant convoys, Federation conglomerates, even a few research institute vessels flying lab flags. They came aggressively, sealing off the entire area airtight.

When they spotted the docked Liberty, the atmosphere exploded.

“What right do they have to buy the fruits?”

“These vile Star Pirates deserve it?!”

Some commercial ships equipped with light firepower systems even began charging their weapons, aiming squarely at Liberty’s main hatch—a blatant threat.

The crowd grew restless, factions shouting over each other, shoving, cursing, accusing in a chaotic tangle.

Meanwhile, the Delphi soldiers tasked with maintaining order visibly grew irritated.

Delphians weren’t great at dealing with outsiders at the best of times, let alone in this madhouse. Even they started rubbing their ears and foreheads in frustration.

“Enough—” A female soldier barked, about to activate her weapon for suppression, when she spotted something—her eyes lit up.

“Your Highness!” As she bowed, every Delphi soldier bent at the waist toward one spot.

A starship emblazoned with goofy graffiti descended. Silver Wing hesitated a moment at the sight of the tense standoff outside, but seeing the blissfully oblivious kitten still staring at the shop door’s logo, it finally powered down.

“Is that Li Ao?” the kitten asked, eyes wide and watery.

“Li Ao!” the little monster agreed firmly.

Times had changed—he was no longer some unwanted stray cat. He had to watch his image now. The robot slipped off his silly little shoes and groomed his fur before opening the hatch.

The docking bay connected automatically. Li Ao poked his head out cautiously, spotted a familiar face, then grinned and scampered toward his destination.

“Sugar Sis.”

The stone-faced female soldier’s cheeks flushed crimson. “Y-Your Highness, just call me Tang Qi.” Oh god, how could His Highness call me… sis-sister?!

Tang Qi’s mom was the auntie selling shaved ice. On days off, she’d beg her mother to let her cover the shift, and over time, Li Ao got to know this sister who always loaded him up with extra syrup.

Silver Wing thought the cat was dim-witted—in fact, he was quite reliable. Seeing everyone kneeling, it stepped forward, chin raised, imitating Isiris: “Rise.”

No matter what the outsiders thought deep down, on the surface, they still showed respect to the cat.

“Noble Highness Leo.” A merchant speaking Interstellar Common actually tried reasoning with a cat: “Your generosity is truly moving, but shouldn’t there be some restrictions? Compared to you, those Star Pirates are utterly despicable—they hardly deserve your fruits.”

He figured his words were clever—flatter the cat first, then contrast to trash the others. But he forgot: Li Ao was just a little illiterate kitten.

Sure, the cat was a good cat; by human standards, the little guy wasn’t dumb. But he was barely in nursery—don’t expect him to understand a foreign language or grasp nuance like that.

People might not know, but Machine did. Silver Wing immediately thought: Gotta add more language lessons for the short-legged cat, and rewrite today’s checklist it had scratched off earlier. But before it finished noting, someone said: “His Highness only speaks Ancient Chinese. If you can’t, step back.”

Right—a prince of a nation, why accommodate others? The robot scrapped the checklist again.

Li Ao actually carried himself with real poise. He didn’t babble nonsense he didn’t understand—instead, he followed the merchant’s gesture and looked over.

The Star Pirates were still cordoned in the docking area, nearly a hundred strong on the cosmic bridge, looking nothing like ordinary folk—straight out of Dong Xixi’s pirate comics.

“What happened to them? Here for tomatoes too?” Li Ao asked the female soldier.

Tang Qi dropped to one knee, bowing respectfully: “They’re Star Pirates. They live by robbing others’ cargo.” This was the tame version—in truth, as the merchants said, Star Pirates burned, killed, looted, spared no evil. They partnered with regimes across regions for human trafficking, filthy porn trades, you name it.

“Bad guys?” Li Ao’s tone held no fear or disgust; instead, he tilted his head, then padded right over.

“Your Highness—” Tang Qi hurried after, turning to wave at her subordinates to hold order. Somehow, a dagger had appeared in her hand—she gripped it, guarding behind the kitten.

The hundred-odd Star Pirates lounged sloppily, no discipline. Men and women mixed, faces rugged and wild, expressions tinged with faint disdain.

They looked down to see the stubby-legged kitten waddling over earnestly, plump and round, slow but inspecting left and right.

His gaze held none of the merchants’ scheming or revulsion—just pure innocence.

But very bright.

He held his head high, inspecting each of these desperate souls one by one.

These weren’t ordinary folk—each a ruthless survivor who’d carved through the starry seas. They’d braved storms, steeled their hearts, feared no regime or military might. Yet under this fluffy kitten’s stare… they inexplicably felt… guilty.

Someone straightened unconsciously, another averted their eyes awkwardly, a third furtively tugged at their days-unwashed tank top and sniffed: “No smell…”

No sooner said than the kitten recoiled as if hit by a stench, sneezing with a head shake: “Stinky.” The little cat’s face turned serious, and he slammed his paw down: “Uncle, gotta stay clean! Machine says bath every day!”

The child’s innocent words sparked laughter among the Star Pirates. They shoved the guy, ribbing him for reeking— no wonder the little Highness turned up his nose.

The man’s face burned beet-red; he scratched his head and chuckled sheepishly.

Human hearts were too complex—Li Ao peered closely but couldn’t tell them apart. He reached the lead woman and looked up: “Are you bad guys?”

Qin Yi’s eyes curved in a smile, right hand on left wrist, red nails tapping skin, watching him: “They all say we are.”

Li Ao blinked blankly: “Have you hurt others?”

“Naturally.” The woman narrowed her eyes in a grin: “So, it’s normal if you won’t let us buy tomatoes.”

“They admitted it themselves! Can’t sell to them!” The crowd surged hotter, fresh arrivals piling on the exclusion.

Qin Yi ignored the kitten, gently tucking a stray lock behind her ear, gaze indifferent.

How laughable, this lot.

Had they hurt others? More than that. No Wave Walker was without blood on their hands.

But those hollering “They’re the villains,” “They’re scum”—were they really so pure?

Did they dare swear they’d never harmed a soul? Never squeezed someone’s last breath? Never climbed over corpses?

The rich got richer, the poor poorer. Politicians and merchants clutching resources and power clinked glasses over money while waving justice flags to judge them. Never admitting it was their squeeze on the little guy’s space that birthed today’s Wave Walkers.

Qin Yi felt an indescribable stuffiness in her chest—not an emotion that belonged to her. She was strong, had carved a sky for her brothers, become a terror to others. Arriving here, she’d even thought: If Delphi won’t sell, we’ll rob. Worst case, die—what’s to fear?

But seeing this kitten, all that fight just… fizzled. This shitty world! These shitty people! Fucking pointless!

She shrugged off her husband’s arm, about to say retreat—no buy—when the kitten spoke: “One coin each. No robbing, line up.”

“…What?” She froze, looking down into those blue eyes: “Didn’t you hear? We’re bad guys. We’ve killed lots.”

Li Ao had heard, but he said: “No malice on you.” Sensing good and evil seemed innate to him; he’d gone one by one and felt not a trace from them.

He knew nothing of their pasts, nor what to do, nor human ethics, medical principles, humanitarianism.

But truly, he sensed no malice from them. Not one.

Qin Yi didn’t know why she was trembling. She could hear her own teeth chattering lightly as she watched him like that, listening to him say, “You and everyone else are the same—you need treatment. I’m too small right now; I can’t tell the difference yet. But when I grow up, if I find out you hurt good people, then I, then I…”

Over a hundred Star Pirates put away their smirks and listened to his halting words: “Good people and bad people are both people. If they’re sick, they need treatment. If you’re really bad, then my, my dad will catch you!”

The skeptical voices never stopped. The Star Pirates’ cheers mixed with others’ objections into a chaotic din, which soon turned into curses.

“How can we sell to these people?”

“What’s the difference from aiding a tyrant?”

“How can we let a kid handle the fruit sales? This is absurd!”

Li Ao looked at the crowd in panic, starting to doubt if he’d done the wrong thing.

“Li Ao.” The robot’s voice rang out from behind him. “Come here. We’re going home.”

The little cat’s ears shot straight up. He stood on his hind legs and rushed toward the approaching robot. “Machine, Xun…”

He wasn’t sure if his decision had been right. He was scared that he’d saved truly bad people. At that moment, he pounced into the little dog’s arms. The robot scooped them both up, and he burst into sobs.

He didn’t know why he was crying, but he just felt so scared.

Anger churned in Silver Wing’s programming. It blamed itself for bringing the little cat here on the very first day. It was furious that these people had forced such an ignorant child to bear the crushing weight of a judge.

His tomatoes could save people, and he wanted to save them. He hadn’t thought about good or bad—he just wanted to help others.

How dare they? How dare they make such a tiny child shoulder this heavy responsibility?

The humans’ arguments showed no sign of stopping. After all, humans were that kind of creature—human nature drove them to endlessly exclude outsiders.

Delphi’s soldiers’ faces darkened, their force devices primed to activate and detain everyone—when the crowd abruptly fell silent.

Everyone in the area except the Delphi personnel stared in terror at the robot’s back.

A dark blue behemoth slowly raised its head. Violent energy roiled in its throat. Humans could clearly hear the suppressed roars and hisses rumbling there.

When facing other humans, the power gap might force compromise and fear. But that fear was utterly different from facing a Xenoid.

This was a natural predator. This was the most primal sense of death.

They couldn’t utter a word, throats choked tight as if by an iron grip, legs rigid like lead-filled stone. Some were already shuddering violently, beads of sweat trickling down their spines.

The behemoth’s massive form fully emerged. From the top of its head, something rustled—another Xenoid crawled out. Pitch-black and featureless, it stared silently at the humans before suddenly speaking in human tongue:

“You dare make Li Ao cry.”