139: Chapter 139 Sudden Disappearance

The extraction ship pierced through layers of thick clouds, slowly decelerating as the roar of its reverse thrusters echoed.

The view suddenly opened up, revealing a desolate, isolated island beneath the gray sky.

Unlike those islands that appeared while active, this was a primordial sky island.

Its location was remote, with almost no high-value resource spawn points nearby, but precisely because of this, it avoided the gaze of most raiders and became an excellent natural haven for the Winged Tribe.

Scattered across the uneven landing pads and cliff edges of the island were about a hundred warships.

Although the scale no longer reflected the glory of the Winged Tribe's peak, in this apocalyptic world, this surviving fleet still retained a trace of resilient vitality.

The extraction ship landed smoothly.

The hatch opened, and as their feet touched this familiar, hard ground once again, the immense joy of returning home instantly washed away the survivors' recent resentment and anger toward Sheila.

Everyone hugged each other, and some even knelt on the ground to kiss the rough rocks, weeping with joy.

Ivy, as the older sister, walked at the back of the crowd. Watching this warm and noisy scene before her, she couldn't shake the image of her younger sister Sheila's resolute and lonely back from her mind. She clenched her clothes tightly, her eyes filled with bitterness, and didn't say a word.

"Captain Ivy, welcome back safely."

A fully armed Winged Tribe guard walked up quickly, saluted respectfully, and then quickly instructed: "Please have the other surviving comrades go to the medical department immediately for a comprehensive contamination screening and treatment. Also, the Grand Elder is already waiting for you in the main ship's conference room; please go there immediately to report the situation."

Ivy took a deep breath, suppressed the sadness in her eyes, and nodded: "Understood, I will go right away."

Passing through the busy camp, Ivy headed straight toward the behemoth moored in the very center of the island.

That was the last foundation of the Winged Tribe guild, and their only LV6 super-warship—the "wind chaser."

Unlike the oppressive steel fortress of [Cloud Top Fortress], the design of the "wind chaser" was distinctively Winged Tribe.

Its entire body was a bright, quicksand-like silver, with a long, streamlined hull where almost no unnecessary protrusions or sharp angles could be found.

The thrusters at the rear emitted a faint cyan halo while on standby.

Just from this gorgeous, almost extravagant appearance, one could tell that this was a warship that had maxed out its mobility and extreme speed.

Ivy passed the identity verification and boarded the main ship.

Compared to the bleakness of the barren island outside, the interior decoration of the main ship was luxurious.

Soft cold lighting, corridors covered with plush carpets, and comfortable, climate-controlled air made one feel as if they had instantly returned from the apocalypse to a hotel from peaceful times.

Ivy followed the corridor all the way to the highest-level conference room located behind the bridge.

As the heavy sensor doors slid open silently to the sides, the spacious and bright conference room appeared somewhat empty.

There were none of the arguing high-level guild officials she had imagined; at this moment, there were only three people in the room.

Two high-ranking Winged Tribe guards with imposing auras stood solemnly on either side of the door like emotionless sculptures.

And at the head of the huge circular conference table sat the Grand Elder of the Winged Tribe.

He looked to be in his thirties or forties, with an extremely handsome face. Time had not left too many traces of wear on him; instead, it had settled into a temperament that was both scholarly and dignified.

Behind him, a pair of flawless, wide white wings were quietly folded against the back of his chair.

In this warship filled with machinery and steel, the Grand Elder wore a silver-white robe adorned with ancient wind patterns. Every gesture exuded a sense of classical, mysterious, and inviolable nobility.

Hearing the sound of the door opening, the Grand Elder put down the holographic briefing in his hand, looked up, and his golden eyes landed gently on Ivy.

The atmosphere in the conference room was somewhat oppressive.

Cormac spoke, breaking the silence.

"Sit down, Ivy. No need to be restrained."

Cormac's voice was deep and magnetic.

"Tell me the specific situation. How many people in your squad survived this attack?"

Ivy did not sit down but stood straight, though her originally tense shoulders slumped slightly. She lowered her eyes, her voice dry: "Including me, I only brought back seventeen."

Cormac's eyes darkened imperceptibly, and he continued to ask: "What about the vehicles?"

"Wiped out."

Ivy bit her lip and reported truthfully.

"All the frigates and my capital ship were completely destroyed in the attack. The cores... not a single one could be salvaged."

Upon hearing this result, Cormac did not speak immediately.

He frowned slightly, his slender fingers rhythmically tapping on the metal tabletop.

"Tap, tap, tap..."

The crisp tapping echoed in the spacious conference room, each sound feeling like a strike on Ivy's tense nerves.

Before long, the side door of the conference room slid open, and a Winged Tribe assistant walked in quickly. He handed an encrypted report to Cormac and whispered a few words in his ear.

Cormac took the report and scanned it. He looked at it for a long time; his already slightly furrowed brows locked even deeper, and his fingers tapping the table stopped.

After waving for the assistant to withdraw, Cormac looked up again, his gaze toward Ivy now holding a hint of business-like coldness.

"Ivy, you have always been one of the best commanders in the guild. I am deeply pained by your encounter."

Cormac sighed, but his tone suddenly shifted.

"But you should know the guild's rules. In this world, without a vehicle core, it is equivalent to losing command authority."

Ivy took a deep breath, looked up, and stared directly at the Grand Elder: "I understand. I am willing to accept any arrangement."

"Very well."

Cormac nodded, his tone unquestionable.

"Starting today, you are relieved of your duties as squad commander and demoted to front-line combat personnel. For the upcoming large-scale land reclamation and defensive battles, you need to be assigned to the assault battalion and charge at the very front."

"Yes, Grand Elder. Ivy has no objections."

"There is one more thing."

"I looked at the logistics bill; to maintain the consumption of these hundred or so warships, the guild's public resources have bottomed out. When you were exploring independently before, you must have accumulated hundreds of thousands of units of basic supplies in your private accounts, right?"

Ivy suddenly looked up, her pupils contracting slightly, but in the end, she bit her lip tightly.

"Hand them over and transfer them to the guild's general logistics warehouse," Cormac said expressionlessly.

"This is a difficult time for the survival of the tribe; every bit of resource must be allocated uniformly. Charging at the front lines won't require so many supplies."

"...Yes."

Ivy brought up her personal interface and transferred all their savings, which they had risked their lives to accumulate little by little, to the guild account without reservation.

"Go down and rest, and adjust your state as soon as possible."

Cormac waved his hand and picked up the report on the table again.

Ivy turned and walked out of the conference room. As the heavy sensor door behind her slowly closed, she felt as if all her strength had been drained, and she leaned against the cold metal wall, panting a few times.

But she cannot collapse.

Ivy took a deep breath and rubbed her somewhat stiff cheeks vigorously.

The wild wind howled on the barren island, and the camp was in ruins waiting to be rebuilt. Everywhere were sparks from repairing warships and tribesmen transporting supplies.

Ivy did not go to the lounge but headed straight to the medical area built with simple tarpaulins. Many comrades who had escaped death with her were lying there.

"Big Sister Ivy!"

As soon as she entered, a young Winged Tribe girl with a bandage around her head struggled to sit up, her eyes full of respect.

Ivy hurried over and gently pressed her shoulder: "Don't move around, just focus on getting checked."

"Big Sister Ivy, thank you..."

More wounded looked at her, their eyes filled with gratitude.

Looking at these vivid faces, Ivy felt a surge of bitterness in her heart.

"Don't say anything more; it's good to be home."

Ivy forced a gentle smile, though her voice carried a hoarseness that was hard for ordinary people to detect: "As long as we are alive... there is hope. Everyone, rest assured and recover; leave the rest to me."

...

Night fell, and the wild wind on the barren island, mixed with cold drizzle, made the entire camp appear exceptionally desolate.

In the public cafeteria, Ivy sat at a simple metal table, looking at the food on her tray—two synthetic nutrient blocks as hard as stone, and a bowl of murky soup with a few unknown vegetable leaves floating in it.

She picked up the spoon and forced herself to take a sip; the low-quality, astringent taste spread in her mouth. Ivy couldn't help but think of the times at [Cloud Top Fortress], the Moon-Glitter Grade spirit wheat that exuded a rich life force, and the sweet, juicy mutant fruits. They were simply two different worlds.

She sighed, took a few careless bites, and then carefully wrapped the remaining nutrient blocks in oil paper and put them into an iron box. Afterward, avoiding the gaze of others, she used a little bit of her private savings that the Grand Elder hadn't confiscated to exchange for a few portions of high-grade military rations that contained a little bit of minced meat at the logistics department at a high price.

"They need to eat something better to recover."

Ivy held the lunch box tightly in her arms, used her coat to block the wind and rain, and walked quickly toward the medical area.

However, when she lifted the heavy waterproof curtain of the medical area, she froze.

The tent, which had been crowded with wounded during the day, now appeared empty. Except for the logistics personnel in the corner, the seventeen seriously injured subordinates she had brought back were nowhere to be found!

"What is going on?"

Ivy's heart tightened, and she quickly stopped the accompanying doctor who was organizing instruments: "Doctor, where are the wounded from my squad? The one with the severe head injury from earlier today, and the one with the broken leg, where did they go?"

The doctor adjusted his glasses, his eyes darting away. While organizing the medicine bottles in his hand, he answered casually: "Oh, them. Their conditions have stabilized, so I let them go back to rest first. You also know that the guild's medical resources are tight right now, so there's no need to keep occupying the beds."

"Went back to rest?"

Ivy was stunned for a moment; although she felt it was a bit sudden, she still nodded.

"Okay, I understand. Thank you for your hard work."

After saying this, Ivy held the lunch box and turned to leave the medical tent.

Once the cold wind outside blew, Ivy's footsteps suddenly stopped.

Something was wrong.

Her brows furrowed tighter and tighter. Their capital ship and frigates were all destroyed, not even the cores remained.

The Grand Elder hadn't even reallocated living quarters for this batch of defeated soldiers.

On this barren island where there was nothing but rocks, where could those seventeen disabled and wounded people, who couldn't even walk steadily, go to rest?!

Ivy turned abruptly, yanked the curtain open, and rushed back into the medical tent.

"Doctor!"

Ivy stared fixedly at the figure with his back to her, her voice having turned completely cold.

"You're lying! They don't even have a place to stay, where could you have let them go to rest?!"

The doctor was startled, and the medicine bottle in his hand fell into the tray with a "clang." He turned around, feigning composure, and scolded: "Ivy! This is the medical area! It's the guild's unified arrangement; how would I know where they went? Maybe they were taken to a temporary shelter by the logistics department! Get out!"

"Temporary shelter? With a group of disabled people?"

Ivy's eyes changed completely. From the Grand Elder's cold attitude toward confiscating supplies during the day to the doctor's loophole-ridden lies at this moment, a terrible suspicion spread wildly in her mind.

"Bang!"

The lunch box in her hand slammed heavily onto the ground, and the carefully prepared food spilled all over, with soup splashing everywhere.

"Boom—!"

The next second, a terrifying aura belonging to a Tier 5 powerhouse, like a tangible gale, erupted from Ivy as the center! The medical instruments throughout the tent were shaken violently, and glass bottles shattered one after another!

The doctor's face turned deathly pale. Under the pressure of this absolute power, his legs went weak, and he fell directly to the ground, screaming in terror: "Guards! Someone come! Guards!! Ivy has gone mad!"

Hearing the commotion, four fully armed Winged Tribe guards rushed in from outside the tent.

But when they raised their weapons and saw the woman standing in the center of the tent, wreathed in a Tier 5 violent aura, everyone froze. They didn't dare to take a step forward. In the entire guild, Tier 5 powerhouses were few and far between; for these Tier 3 guards to rush up would be suicide!

"Cap—Captain Ivy!"

The leading guard bit the bullet, raised his gun, and warned with a trembling voice: "Please calm down! This is a restricted area of the guild; please withdraw your aura immediately, otherwise we will..."

"Get out!!!"

Ignoring them, she strode forward, grabbed the doctor by the collar, and lifted him off the ground as if he were a chick.

Ivy stared fixedly into the doctor's eyes, roaring word by word:

"I will ask you one last time! Where exactly are my people?!"