Clayton: I Was Only Joking

Clayton was unimpressed:

"Is there a problem? I'm just telling the truth."

Jayce's brow furrowed slightly, the veins on his arm bulging as he coldly reprimanded:

"Without Sparta's help and mine, you'd have died just like Luke by now."

"The only reason you're still standing here isn't because you're strong, but because your comrades exist."

"Now your comrade Luke is dead, and you're hiding in the back mocking him like a coward?"

When they were surrounded and attacked by the alien warriors earlier, Clayton was beaten until stars danced in his vision and he lost his bearings.

If he and Sparta hadn't stepped up to help, the other man would have been riding a cloaked motorcycle in space just like Luke.

He didn't expect Clayton to thank him, but he asked him not to rub salt in the wound and mock fallen comrades.

Clayton's expression turned ugly as Jayce's words pierced deep into his heart like sharp thorns.

He had clearly stated earlier that he didn't need anyone else's help, yet now he had to admit that Sparta had helped him.

Driven by wounded pride, Clayton uttered words that infuriated Jayce:

"I don't need anyone's help!"

"Even without you and Sparta! I can survive just the same!"

Before the words faded, Jayce blazed with anger, instantly grabbing Clayton by the jaw and shoving him against a meteorite.

"Do you think I have a good temper?"

Jayce's voice was frighteningly low, his fingers tightening gradually as he grabbed Clayton's jaw.

"You ungrateful wretch, I'll kill you right now!"

"Trust me, if an ordinary Viltrumite warrior dies, the Empire won't even launch an investigation."

"Because you died at the hands of the Anti-Viltrum Alliance, not me!"

Meteorite chips fell as the back of Clayton's head struck the rock wall, creating a web-like crack.

He tried to struggle, but the harder he struggled, the greater the strength in the hand on his jaw.

Looking at the killing intent and gritted-teeth expression in the other's eyes, Clayton suddenly realized that Jayce would actually kill him.

"Sir, I... I'm sorry."

Hearing the voice ring out in his mind, Jayce sneered repeatedly, gripping the jaw and smashing it hard.

The meteorite shattered to pieces, and Jayce let go of his hand to warn Clayton:

"I hope this is the last time."

Not far away, Sparta took in every detail of the series of events, shouting in his heart that it was deeply satisfying.

Actually, there were many times he wanted to step in and teach Clayton a lesson, but Jayce always stopped him in time.

Bound by the fact that Jayce was his superior, he usually gave face under normal circumstances.

Now, seeing Clayton finally receive punishment for his arrogance, the corners of Sparta's mouth curved slightly upward.

Seeing Jayce fly back, Sparta went up to greet him and asked:

"Sir, what is our mission next?"

Jayce flicked his wrists, the lingering hostility in his eyes not yet dissipated, but his tone had returned to calm:

"Still thinking about carrying out missions?"

"Even if the wounds on your body don't hurt, my wounds still hurt."

The corner of his twitching slightly, he wondered if this guy was made of iron. Having just survived a life-or-death battle, he was already in a rush for the next mission.

Sparta looked at his own unhealed wounds, then turned to look at the remaining comrades:

"Then now... we rest?"

At present, everyone was in a low-health state, and resting was the right choice.

Given the current situation, running into Alliance people next would easily lead to the annihilation of their entire troop.

You can't throw when low on health, and you shouldn't play a losing match.

"That's right, we need to find a civilization that has already submitted to the Empire and go there to rest for a bit and heal our injuries."

As he spoke, Jayce opened the holographic star map and searched it for a planet suitable for their brief rest.

Sparta stood right beside him, peering over and adding as he watched:

"It has to be a colony with fully equipped medical facilities, and it must have completely submitted to the Empire."

"There's no guarantee those aliens won't suddenly launch an attack after seeing the injuries on us."

To live longer in this universe, caution and carefulness were necessary.

He couldn't guarantee that those civilizations on the surface submissive to the Empire wouldn't suddenly go mad and launch a sneak attack on their group of wounded soldiers.

Jayce didn't reply, his fingers simply moving rapidly across the holographic projection to search for a trustworthy colonial planet.

After a long while, his finger stopped on a planet.

"Found it. This is the closest and most trustworthy civilization to us."

"They surrendered to the Empire two hundred years ago, and in these two hundred years, there hasn't been a single act of resistance or riot."

Hearing this, Sparta nodded to indicate there was no problem.

"You call the shots."

Jayce put away the star map and gave an order to the remaining recruits:

"Everyone follow me, wait until our injuries are fully recovered, and then continue the mission."

In barely 10 minutes, Sparta and his group arrived at the target planet.

Thousands of satellites and several giant orbital platforms floated and orbited in the planet's outer space.

"Are these space-based weapons?"

Sparta circled the orbital platform a few times. Although he didn't understand it or grasp the operating principle, he was deeply shaken.

This was the alien civilization with the highest level of technology he had ever seen.

While everyone else was still using guns, this civilization was already using orbital cannons.

Just as Sparta was acting like a curious baby, tapping on the outer shell of the orbital platform with his hand, several silver aircraft flew out of the atmosphere.

"Relax, I didn't break them."

Sparta looked at the aircraft before him, pointing a hand at the floating orbital platform beside him.

A few large characters appeared on the aircraft's display screen.

"Follow me."

Seeing this, the group followed the silver aircraft into the atmosphere and safely landed in front of a sci-fi building.

Standing in front of the door was a group of four-armed aliens wearing silver robes.

Each palm on every one of their arms had ten fingers, their eyes were of a compound eye structure, and they had no hair and no beards.

The leading alien bowed slightly, speaking in the universal language of the entire universe:

"Respected Viltrumite lords, the medical pods are ready. Please allow us to treat you all."

Sparta slowly nodded his head and followed the other party into the building...

After a period of time, the white mist spewing from the medical pods gradually dissipated, the pod doors slid open automatically, and Sparta opened his eyes and stepped out of the medical pod.

He lowered his head to look at his chest; the ferocious wounds from before had already healed by sixty percent.

Although not completely healed, at least it wouldn't affect combat operations.

"Not bad, not bad."

Sparta placed his left hand on his right shoulder, swinging his arm without any discomfort.

Immediately afterward, several jet sounds rang out, and Jayce and the rest all walked out from the medical pods.

Jayce shook his neck, producing "crack, crack" sounds.

"Everyone recovered well."

"With our physiques, this remaining fraction of injuries is enough to fully recover within an hour."

"Now... let those four-armed aliens take us to the cafeteria."