254: I will return like lightning.

"Engines destroyed!"

"We have been captured by the planet's gravity!"

"This is Ship 878! Our gravity interference system has failed! The hull is unbalanced! We are crashing!"

"Mayday! Mayday! We are falling!"

It was not just the "H-50" (flagship) where Wodegir was that had fallen into chaos;

the Saint Blade Group fleet, already dispersed in low orbit, had all descended into a complete mess—

The fleet communication channels were filled with a large number of chaotic reports, the vast majority of which were calls for help and declarations to withdraw from the battlefield,

and on the central console in front of Wodegir, the green icons representing friendly units turned red one after another, and then simply extinguished—that was the sign of being destroyed.

"What is going on!" Wodegir was completely stunned—

What did it mean that the enemy had appeared from behind?

Or rather, why were there still enemies?

Wait...

When he came, what he heard was indeed "a rebellion caused by the interference of certain ill-intentioned forces," so, were the ones attacking them now those very ill-intentioned forces?

This wasn't right!!!

In his estimation, since those "unknown forces" were even resorting to using slaves on a planet to rebel, it meant either their own strength was insufficient, or they didn't want to make a big deal out of it!!!

Or rather, a rebellion of this level should have just been a warning from some external forces!

How could such a strong enemy appear?

That wasn't how it worked in the conventions!

Wodegir, who had only fought pacification wars for years, had long been accustomed to the "take-it-for-granted" way of thinking in every operation, so much so that when the current situation deviated from his ideas, Wodegir was completely unable to think normally.

"Report, sir! A large number of small combat units have appeared behind us! They appear to be a hybrid of fighters and Boarding Craft!"

"They are unleashing a barrage of fire on us!"

The Radar Operator on the side immediately answered loudly, but due to excessive nervousness, even their voice was trembling and somewhat unclear.

Wodegir grabbed that person and questioned loudly:

"Why didn't you detect them just now!"

"Report... report, sir!" The Radar Operator shook even harder, "It was you who just said... that we only needed to focus on the Planet Three orbit..."

"You listen to whatever I say... fine," halfway through, Wodegir suddenly felt something was wrong. It seemed he really did say that?

Forget it, forget it. Let's not worry about this for now.

"Forget it—" He reluctantly reined in his emotions, looked at the Chief of Staff beside him, and asked:

"What is the status of our fleet now? Is there any counterattack capability left?"

"Report! Commander Shige Diao! Our fleet was just executing your orders, dispersing and entering low orbit!"

"As for... counterattack capability..."

Halfway through, the Chief of Staff swallowed hard and said with difficulty:

"The engines of the vast majority of our Warship have been destroyed. Let alone counterattack capability, even the ability to move has been lost,"

"As of now... they should be making forced landings on the planet's surface."

Hearing this news, Wodegir shuddered violently.

Targeting the engines specifically?

"How could they be so insidious..."

"Sir! Watch out!"

Suddenly, a cry of alarm sounded from behind, but before he could react, a deafening explosion reached his ears—immediately, along with everything on the Bridge, Wodegir was engulfed in a mass of frantically expanding, searing flames.

And switching the perspective to outside the Warship, one could see:

On the Bridge of that H-50 destroyers, several huge orange-red fireballs were expanding frantically from the inside out, and molten metal was spraying out in all directions—

That's right, what was paralyzed was not just the Bridge, but also the ship-borne main weapon systems and power systems.

And just behind it, a light fighter formation composed of two mistrals was like two streaks of light, tracing a graceful arc in mid-air, flicking their tails lightly, and flying off in another direction—

The Pilot of one of them glanced at the image on the airborne camera, pressed their communication system, and said extremely flatly:

"Enemy ship command system, confirmed paralyzed."

The Pilot of the other one linked to the nearest Vitas A021 formation communication and notified:

"Position (2229, 2678, 9896), one large frigates,"

"We've already taken off its legs; you guys come over and blow it up."

"Static... understood."

Throughout the low orbit of Planet Three, similar things were constantly happening,

a large number of small black aircraft were constantly soaring and shuttling in low orbit. One by one, the Saint Blade Group Warship were stripped of all ability to resist by artillery shells and missiles that rained down like pouring water, even before they discovered where the enemy was—

However, even if they discovered them, it was useless.

Those cumbersome Warship, when facing the high-speed attack aircraft groups, were like blind cow nuns facing some Western fantasy green-skinned dwarf; let alone organizing a decent resistance, even escaping was a luxury:

First, the mistral rushed over to take off their legs, then the Vitas A021 following behind immediately rushed over to deliver the finishing blow, and then it was the relaxed and joyful fireworks show segment.

So, where did these fighters come from?

Let us cast our gaze towards the direction of the Planet Four orbit—

A small fleet composed of more than twenty Warships of various sizes had just ended warp travel and arrived at a position thirty gimi away from Planet Three.

A slender southern cross Marshal-class aircraft carrier was guarded in the center. From time to time, a few Vitas A021 formations that had run out of ammunition would return briefly to replenish their ammo and then quickly begin their next sortie.

At this moment, on the Bridge of that southern cross Marshal-class aircraft carrier, several officers standing in front of the central console looked at the screen, which was already a sea of flames, all with black lines on their faces—especially the captain of this support squad, Captain Li Jinyang.

At this time, a staff officer walked over, holding a data pad, handed it to Li Jinyang, and whispered:

"159 enemy ship signals, including 129 escort boat level, 30 frigates level,"

"All confirmed destroyed."

"It's just the people on the ground..."

"That's enough," Li Jinyang interrupted him, "How things are on the ground, you don't need to tell me—I will go see for myself."

Watching the footage transmitted back by a certain fighter, Li Jinyang felt as if his heart had been ruthlessly gouged by a knife.

The workers of this star system had actually succeeded in their uprising—and it was precisely because they had not arrived in time that these workers had suffered such a severe blow.

"Deploy the landing pods—" Thinking this, Li Jinyang sighed heavily and said softly: "I hope we aren't too late."

"Yes!"