Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ye Chong tightened the fiber rope around his body. Though only five millimeters in diameter, it could withstand tens of tons of force. Suspended with nowhere to brace himself, he could only keep tapping his toes against the wall, advancing in a zigzag pattern. His footsteps made not a whisper against the surface, as silent and agile as a nocturnal cat.

At the end of the passage, the security door stood open, sparing him the trouble of dealing with it. Beyond it was a gangway. Ye Chong knew nothing of spaceships, and had no idea where he was or which direction he faced, so he was more cautious than ever. Gripping the gangway, he descended carefully.

Suddenly, a few metallic clangs reached his ears. His heart tensed, and he switched off the laser light strapped to his hand without hesitation. He never had the habit of exposing himself; that was the quickest way to get killed. Squinting, he forced his eyes to adapt to the darkness, pressing his ear to the metal wall to listen intently.

Footsteps—yes, unmistakably footsteps. He was certain of it. Determining the general direction, Ye Chong hunched low, gliding downward, silent as a shadow.

To grope one's way through pitch darkness is a true test of willpower. Unfamiliar with his surroundings, and with little hope of finding the intruder without sheer luck, Ye Chong drifted aimlessly. He no longer expected to run into anyone; since leaving the gangway, he quickly realized how disoriented he was. Without daring to turn on the laser light, he was forced to rely on instinct, but the complexity of the environment far surpassed his expectations.

Thankfully, he was still tethered by the fiber rope; otherwise, he doubted he could ever find his way back. Suddenly, the sounds seemed to draw nearer, pressing in from the distance. Ye Chong scarcely dared to breathe, ears pressed to the floor, straining for any clue. But as soon as his ear touched the metal, all sounds abruptly ceased, as though the faint noises had been nothing but an illusion.

A chill ran down his spine, goosebumps prickling his skin. He shivered involuntarily. At times like this, doing nothing was the wisest course—so he told himself.

He waited a long time, but nothing happened. Had he simply been too tense, imagining things? Time was running short in the life pod, and every second was precious. To find the survival equipment even a moment sooner could mean the difference between life and death.

Gritting his teeth, he decided that finding the survival gear was now his most urgent goal. If he kept hiding like this, even if there was someone here—and even if they were the enemy—he would likely suffocate before they could kill him.

Having made up his mind, Ye Chong prepared to embark on his quest to survive. To hell with it—even if he became a target, his life took priority.

He was just about to turn on the laser light on his wrist when, suddenly, disaster struck. His weightless body was jerked downward as if someone below had yanked him with all their might. Highly alert, Ye Chong reacted instantly, whipping out his dagger in a flash. Even in the inky darkness, the cold gleam of steel cut through the blackness.

Such a swift attack—he was sure it would hit. But it struck nothing but air. Momentarily stunned, he didn't have time to recover before his massive frame crashed to the ground. Hardy as he was, the impact left him reeling and dazed.

At that very instant, a blinding white light exploded before his eyes. Half-blind with shock, he rolled to the side, ducking beneath a large cabinet that had been floating nearby.

But poor Ye Chong’s luck had truly run out. That instinctive move to protect himself became a disaster.

With a thunderous crash, the three-hundred-pound metal cabinet landed squarely on him. The sudden brightness had left him temporarily blinded, and before he could recover, the force of the blow—enough to rival a mecha's attack—left his mind in a fog.

Falling from a height of three meters, the cabinet struck him hard. He tasted blood, coughed up a mouthful, and slipped into unconsciousness.

All the lights in the room blazed on. Debris that had been floating in the air now crashed to the floor as gravity returned, instantly making the room feel less oppressive. The entrance to the gangway snapped shut, and oxygen began to flow from vents in the ceiling.

Ye Chong, of course, knew nothing of this. He lay sprawled beneath the heavy cabinet, only his hands and feet visible.

Suddenly, the door opened, and in walked a delicate-looking youth accompanied by someone clad from head to toe in armor.

The youth exclaimed, as if discovering a new world, "Number Two, there’s someone here!"

The armored figure replied, "Young master, let's have a look, though the chances of survival are slim."

The youth, seeing Ye Chong’s miserable state, could hardly bring himself to look. “This is just tragic—he’s been crushed into mincemeat!”

Number Two strode over, gripped both sides of the cabinet, and, without the slightest effort, lifted the three-hundred-pound hulk and set it aside—handling it as if it were made of foam.

He turned Ye Chong over and examined him, surprised. “He’s still alive!”

The youth was incredulous. “Impossible—can this guy even be human?”

Number Two was just as shocked. “He doesn’t look like someone so tough.” Ye Chong’s slender frame utterly belied the strength packed within, deceptive even to those familiar with him. Even Mu, used to his ever-growing power, was baffled by how his weight never seemed to increase.

Suddenly, Number Two frowned. “This person is a stranger—I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before.”

The youth agreed. “Yeah, I don’t recognize him either.”

“His clothes—both the material and the style—are unusual. We definitely don’t have anything like this on our ship,” Number Two said after a quick glance, making his assessment.

The youth was astonished. “Then he’s not from our ship? How did he get aboard?”

Unable to figure it out, Number Two’s gaze happened to fall on the dagger in Ye Chong’s hand. His pupils contracted sharply. Seasoned as he was, he recognized at once that this was a combat knife, its chilling aura boasting of a lethal history.

Without hesitation, Number Two reached swiftly for the blade. With a stranger lying unconscious before his young master, clutching a deadly weapon, he could not allow any risk—even if the man was gravely wounded. Vigilance was his duty; protecting the young master, his responsibility.

By coincidence, Ye Chong began to regain consciousness at that very moment. The first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was a metallic hand lunging straight for him.

His hair stood on end. His eyes shot wide open in shock.