Chapter 684: Tentacle Tree

Chapter 684: Tentacle Tree

In the depths of the endless chaotic void, over a thousand warships glided silently through the gaps in elemental turbulence like a school of silver-gray deep-sea fish. Inside the command cabin of the flagship “Deep Root,” warm yellow bioluminescence seeped from within the bulkheads, dyeing the entire space in hues reminiscent of a twilight forest.

At the center of the cabin floated a three-dimensional star map projection dozens of meters in diameter. Hundreds of tentacles of varying thickness deftly operated the dense array of control nodes along the edges of the projection.

The owners of these tentacles were the main race of this fleet.

Their appearance resembled trees forcibly uprooted from the soil by some great power. Their slender trunks were covered in dark brown textures similar to tree bark. Faint pale green pulsing light seeped through the gaps in the textures—the nutrient fluid circulating within their bodies.

At the top of each “tree” grew a dense cluster of branch-and-leaf-like organs. These branches were as flexible as vines and, at first glance, looked more like tentacles capable of freely bending and curling.

Each tree had anywhere from a dozen to over a hundred tentacles, all busy with their respective tasks.

A ring of sensory organs was distributed at the junction between the branches and the trunk: eight soybean-sized crystalline lenses embedded evenly beneath the bark, emitting a faint golden glow.

This species had no sense of smell or vocal organs, but they were extremely sensitive to various vibrations.

For them, low-frequency vibrations produced by tapping their tentacles against their trunks constituted “speech.” Rhythmic “tap tap” sounds rose and fell throughout the cabin.

The fleet’s supreme commander stood directly beneath the star map.

His body was a full section taller than those of his kin. The crown of his tree held over two hundred tentacles, each ending in a seasoned silver-gray.

This was a mark of having weathered countless storms—a proof of survival through multiple dangerous decisions.

At this moment, his eight crystalline eyes were focused intently on the sulfur-colored target world glowing on the star map. Assessment gleamed in his pale golden pupils.

“Still no feedback from the deep scan?” he tapped out the query.

“None, Your Excellency,” the operator in charge of the detection system replied, waving dozens of tentacles to rapidly adjust the control nodes. “No protective shield echoes received across any active detection band. Only natural environmental noise exists on the electromagnetic spectrum in the target area. Not even a single lowest-grade artificial satellite was detected. It appears this world is completely silent.”

One of the commander’s tentacles slowly curled up, paused in mid-air, then suddenly unfurled.

This gesture was equivalent to a human raising an eyebrow among their race, expressing surprise and delight.

“To encounter such a target on our first expedition?” Another tentacle tree beside him tapped on its trunk, excitement barely contained in its crystalline eyes. “Aren’t we just too lucky?”

“It’s not luck. It’s inevitability,” the commander corrected. His tentacles swept across the star map, enlarging the details of the sulfur-colored world. “Civilizations in the void are inherently isolated. The fact that we encountered one on our very first expedition indicates that the density of civilizations in this region of the void is higher than theoretical models predicted. Record this—it holds guiding significance for future route planning.”

“Understood.” The adjutant’s tentacles danced as it saved the record into the database. “However, based on the detection results, this world’s level of civilization doesn’t seem particularly high. No orbital defense installations, no energy shields, not even basic spatial detection arrays deployed. From the looks of it, this world’s civilization should still be in the stage of fighting among themselves on their own planet.”

The commander remained silent for a few moments, letting all eight crystalline eyes focus simultaneously on the target image.

The planet’s surface was covered in vast sulfur-colored wastelands interspersed with dark patches of varying shades. The outlines of some orderly building clusters could be vaguely discerned.

There were traces of civilized activity, but the scale was not large and the distribution was relatively scattered.

More importantly, many of the building outlines appeared to lack practical purpose and looked more like objects used for rituals.

“Do not underestimate the enemy,” the commander finally tapped out the instruction. His tentacle movements slowed slightly but remained composed. “Even a backward world has value. Untamed native species, undeveloped resources, a plane system without external vigilance… What does the civilization classification manual call this kind of target?”

“Primitive level. Suitable for conquest,” the operator answered immediately, the tips of his tentacles trembling slightly with excitement. “Your Excellency, I have conducted a preliminary assessment of this world. The atmospheric oxygen content is very high. We cannot breathe it directly, but face masks will suffice. There are numerous energy reaction points, which should indicate cities inhabited by intelligent beings.”

“The only pity is that nearly half of this world’s surface shows extremely high temperatures and is unsuitable for habitation. However, the remaining usable area is still considerable. If we can fully occupy and assimilate it into our colony, those people in the Court Council will probably have your name carved into the Main Trunk Hall.”

The commander’s crown swayed gently, and his tentacles produced soft tapping sounds.

This was their race’s form of quiet laughter.

“Prepare to enter low orbit. All warships enter secondary combat readiness,” he issued the order while extending his longest tentacles toward the top of the star map and pulling the image of the target world to maximum size. “We must achieve suppression before the other side can react. Remember the standard procedure: first destroy any existing defensive facilities, then deploy landing troops. Annihilate any resistance on the spot. Capture non-combatants first and classify them for processing later.”

The orders were swiftly transmitted throughout the entire fleet.

The formation of over a thousand warships began adjusting in an orderly manner. Three sixth-level main ships closed in from the flanks toward the center, while auxiliary vessels spread out into an encircling formation along predetermined orbits. Everything proceeded with perfect order.

Although this was the fleet’s first expedition, training and drills had already engraved the standard procedures into every crew member’s nerves.

“Shield status?”

“Joint shields synchronized. Attenuation coefficient within acceptable range. Fleet cluster resonance stable.”

“Main cannon charge?”

“All main ships’ primary cannons have completed pre-charging and are standing by.”

The commander nodded in satisfaction at the response speed of his subordinates.

He turned his gaze back to the sulfur-colored world, its increasingly large silhouette reflected in all eight of his crystalline eyes.

What a beautiful color, he thought.

After occupying it, recording the scenery here and sending it to the Court Council on the home planet should get those old fogeys to allocate him a few more resources for the next expedition.

“Your Excellency!” A sharp, urgent tapping sound shattered the pre-battle calm. “Unknown objects detected ahead. Their numbers are increasing rapidly and are approaching us from within the target world!”

The commander’s crystalline eyes trembled violently. Several tentacles quickly tapped across the star map, enlarging the image of the unidentified objects to full screen. In the footage, a group of pitch-black figures surged out from within the atmosphere of the sulfur-colored world.

They trailed long dark shadows, ignoring the transitional zone between the atmosphere and the void as they charged directly into open space.

“Switch to high-precision optical capture,” the commander ordered.

The image immediately zoomed in.

The outlines of the black figures became clear: a group of massive ape-like creatures, entirely pitch black.

A vertical maw split open across each of their chests, revealing obsidian-like sharp teeth within.

Elemental turbulence rolling through the void struck their bodies, causing ripples across the black liquid metal covering their surfaces, yet their flight posture remained completely unaffected.

Some took the lead in carving a path ahead, jointly raising an energy barrier to block the elemental turbulence, while those behind followed closely and advanced.

The commander quickly counted—there were only about forty or so.

“Just this many?” The operator’s tentacles paused in mid-air, his crystalline eyes filled with confusion. “And these guys don’t even have warships? They’re charging into the void with their bare bodies?”

The commander did not answer.

His tentacles slowly curled at the edge of the star map, as if pondering something.

A moment later, his crown swayed gently.

“So that’s how it is,” he tapped out a low vibration. “It seems this world is not completely without civilization. It’s just that their civilization has taken the path of individual strengthening rather than technological development. They probably believe they can confront warships with physical bodies alone.”

“A primitive notion,” the adjutant agreed, producing a series of light mocking taps. “But this kind of civilization is actually good news for us. Individually powerful creatures usually don’t have very high intelligence and are easier to tame and recruit. Once we occupy this world, these black giant apes can be transformed into biological weapons to supplement our ground forces.”

The commander did not respond.

His crystalline eyes remained fixed on the approaching black figures in the image, feeling that something was off.

These creatures displayed a high degree of uniformity in appearance, and their movements were coordinated with excessive precision.

The cooperation between those holding up the energy barrier in front and those preparing to strike from behind required no communication at all. It was even smoother than the coordination of their own trained fleet.

They did not seem like wild primitive beings, but rather well-trained legion soldiers.

The thought flashed through his mind for only an instant.

Even if they were soldiers, so what? Their numbers were simply too few. He had a thousand warships on his side.

“Forward interceptors, engage. Probe with thirty percent firepower,” he issued the concise order, his tentacle movements regaining decisiveness. “Do not prolong the fight. The main goal is to collect data.”

At the periphery of the Infernal Sulfur plane, the black giant team leader stabilized his stance in the void. Behind him, forty-odd black giants from the same batch spread out in a loose formation.

These probe black giants were not high in rank. Most hovered around fourth level, with only the leading few having reached fifth level.

“Target parameters confirmed. Enemy fleet total: nine hundred and eighty-three vessels. Three main ships possess independent sixth-level energy signatures. Auxiliary fleet maintains joint shield through cluster resonance. Overall formation speed stable. Array is currently deploying.” His chest’s vertical maw opened slightly as he communicated rapidly with his companions using spiritual power.

The deputy beside him tilted his head. “What did the priest say about how to fight?”

“The priest didn’t specify,” the team leader said, his gaze directed toward the fleet ahead that was spreading into a standard combat formation. “He said to act according to the situation. Master wants live captives and their home address. So our mission is to collect sufficient enemy combat data… while trying not to scare them away.”

“So we have to fight like we mean it?” The deputy was clearly quick-witted.

“And fight like wild beasts.”

After saying this, he let out meaningless syllables from his mouth—“Aoo aoo”—and took the lead in charging forward.

Several fifth-level black giants accelerated simultaneously, roaring as they streaked dark trails through the void.