On the deck of the void warship, Zhan Wushuang stood there scratching his head.

His already sparse buzz cut shed crimson hair as he raked his fingers through it, leaving his head almost bald.

"Boss, you should eat something," Zhan Wuxin, who managed the third squad, approached him. "This specially prepared blood food is necessary; otherwise, the burden on your body is too great."

"Our situation is unique, and we must maintain our best condition."