That evening, the expedition fleet's soldiers were finally on leave. They reported to the space base outside Silver Moon City, and An Yang brought plenty of gifts to visit them.
During their last expedition to the Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons world, the fleet had won great distinction—there was no question about that. At the same time, thirteen of its fifty warships had been lost in the final battle, more than a quarter of the fleet. This was a major loss for the Empire, and a grim reminder of just how brutal that battlefield had been.
Although each warship had only one Heavenly Soldier aboard, with activated Transformers filling all the other roles, those machines had gained life once activated. Their deaths in battle were just as tragic—and even more so—than the soldiers'.
The Transformers had barely had time to see the shape of the land or the splendor of the starry river. They had never experienced what it meant to live as a living being, yet they were confined to their warships and lost their lives within three days, sleeping forever. When An Yang thought back on their short lives, his heart ached.
He had come to visit the Heavenly Soldiers and Transformers who had made it back, feeling both admiration and guilt. But when he arrived, he learned that the soldiers, too, were burdened by guilt.
They believed that being chosen for the expedition fleet was itself a sign of trust and approval. His Majesty had personally taught them how to operate the warships, placing great expectations on them. Then he had entrusted them with the Empire's most powerful and precious vessels. They should have helped His Majesty conquer all before them in another world—but that was not what had happened.
Their force had been defeated,