In stark contrast, the Storm Fleet comprised just over a hundred T5 starships, facing off against a fleet five times their size. Yet Feng Mo chose not to engage in a hit-and-run strategy; instead, he opted for a direct confrontation.
"Prepare the T5 interstellar missiles on the five T5 Pegasus-class ships, deploy all unmanned drones for intercept maneuvers, and charge the T5 cluster star destroyer cannon and primary and secondary batteries!"
With a series of commands, the Storm Fleet moved swiftly. The Xuanling Fleet, led by its seasoned commander Han Cheng, was momentarily caught off-guard by the sudden attack.
But Han Cheng was no novice—his fiery temper matched his resolve. His fleet had just finished clashing with the Yunshan Fleet, leaving their primary weapons in cooldown. Realizing that waiting would mean more devastating strikes from the Storm Fleet, he gritted his teeth and issued an unyielding order:
"Xuanling Fleet, full speed ahead! Activate close-combat weapons!"
With Han Cheng's command, the Xuanling Fleet surged forward like a single entity, charging straight at the Storm Fleet.
Witnessing this, Commander Gu Jun quickly advised, "Xiao Mo, be careful. The Xuanling Fleet is highly skilled in close-quarters combat, and each ship is armed with specialized close-combat weapons."
"Don't worry, Uncle Gu. If it's close combat they want, the Storm Fleet won't shy away," Feng Mo replied confidently. "But if they're charging right at us, it'd be a waste not to soften them up. Storm Fleet, fire!"
Feng Mo's voice rang out, commanding the five T5 Pegasus-class ships to launch a volley of ten thousand T5 missiles. Thirty T5 Sword Dragon ships in the vanguard simultaneously launched nine hundred T3 missiles.
A swarm of unmanned drones launched from the Orca, intercepting the Xuanling Fleet mid-charge with a dense barrage of firepower. The T5 missiles rained down, with the Xuanling Fleet's intercepting systems managing to neutralize only about 60% of them. Over four thousand T5 missiles found their marks, shattering many of the fleet's shields and reducing several quasi-T5 ships to fiery fragments.
"Warning! The Xuanling Fleet is locked by multiple energy signatures and interstellar missiles. Awaiting instructions!" came the alert from the Xuanling Fleet's flagship control room.
Han Cheng, resolute, ordered, "Ignore the warnings! Disable engine restraints and enter full-speed mode! If we break into their formation, we've already won!"
His experience and quick thinking had saved him before, but his luck wouldn't hold against Feng Mo. As four thousand T5 missiles struck, the Xuanling Fleet suffered significant losses, with shields shattered and ships blown apart.
Despite this, Han Cheng steeled himself. To him, taking a round of fire was the price to pay for breaking into the enemy formation for close combat—a cost he had anticipated. Yet the strength of the Storm Fleet's firepower exceeded his expectations, costing the Xuanling Fleet an astonishing one hundred seventy ships.
Though his heart bled at the sight of his fallen fleet, Han Cheng pressed forward. Better to fall fighting, he thought, than to die waiting. The old guard had to show the younger generation that they too possessed valor.
With the initial barrage of missiles complete, the Storm Fleet's cluster star destroyers and primary batteries opened fire, casting a deadly web of beams that engulfed the remaining Xuanling ships.
Seeing the enemy fleet reduced to around two hundred battered ships, Feng Mo's lips curled into a smile. It was time for the final blow.
The ten T5 Mystic Bird stealth bombers, which had withheld some of their ammunition, now emptied their reserves. Over seven hundred neutron missiles streaked toward the Xuanling Fleet, their destination marked.
Watching the missiles approach, Han Cheng's face tightened with a look of despair. Before they could even close the distance for a close-quarters assault, half of the Xuanling Fleet had already been decimated.
A grim realization struck him: why would Feng Mo bother with close combat when he could obliterate them from afar?
As the neutron missiles detonated, nearly a hundred fireballs erupted across space, leaving only about seventy surviving Xuanling ships, each scarred and battered.
Seeing the battered remnants, Feng Mo made a decision: "Very well, let's engage in close combat. Sword Dragon squadron, arm your blades, disable engine restraints, and accelerate—prepare for close-quarters combat!"
With his command, the T5 Sword Dragons deployed massive, gleaming blades and hammers from their hulls. Feng Mo's fleet had built its reputation on close combat, and he didn't fear a brawl. While he knew it could damage his own ships, his pride wouldn't let him back down now.
Watching the Sword Dragons' weaponry, Han Cheng froze. The enemy was equipped for close combat too—a detail missing from the intelligence they'd gathered on Feng Mo.
"Cunning little fox," Han Cheng muttered, resigned to his fate. "Xuanling Fleet, charge!"
As he gave his final command, Han Cheng knew what awaited him. He didn't fear death; his only regret was the political betrayal that had led him here. Feng Mo, he realized, was exactly the kind of talent that could have been a unifying force, guiding the Federation forward into new heights of technological progress.
With awe and respect for Feng Mo's genius and the flawless construction of his Storm Fleet, Han Cheng accepted his fate. Even now, though, he wasn't one to yield without a fight.
A final clash ensued, as thirty Sword Dragons met the sixty-seven surviving Xuanling ships head-on. Though shieldless, Han Cheng believed his fleet would at least make an impression. This would be his last lesson: the old guard may have grown wise, but their courage still burned bright.
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