Chapter Thirty-Three

Ye Chong and his companions had already been waiting for five days.

Unlike planets inhabited by humans, space was utterly silent—an emptiness so profound it tested the limits of human endurance. Many people simply could not bear such silence and avoided space travel because of it. Prolonged exposure to this overwhelming quiet could easily lead to mental collapse. The vastness of the universe only intensified the psychological pressure of that silence. As a result, although the technical requirements for solo space travel had long since been met, no one had ever attempted it.

But for Ye Chong, this was hardly a challenge at all. He had lived alone for many years on the Garbage Planet and was more than accustomed to a solitary existence. In fact, it was noisy, crowded places that truly unsettled him. Deep down, his feelings about the life ahead were mixed: curiosity, fear, anxiety, longing…

For Gu Shaoze and Number Two, however, this silence was a real ordeal. Ye Chong sat with his eyes closed, resting, though only in a half-sleep, half-awake state, maintaining a high level of vigilance. Seeing Ye Chong apparently asleep, Gu Shaoze had no choice but to strike up a conversation with Number Two, as if hoping the sound of their voices would dispel the oppressive silence.

Suddenly, a strange sound rang out.

Ye Chong’s eyes snapped open and he sprang up from the floor; Gu Shaoze and Number Two also stopped abruptly, turning as one to face the pulse console.

On the holographic screen, a massive fleet of starships had appeared.

Gu Shaoze and Number Two both gasped in astonishment, then broke out in joy. Gu Shaoze, unable to contain his excitement, scooped up Number Two in his arms. Beneath her golden hair, her delicate face flushed instantly, a rosy blush creeping up the back of her snow-white neck.

Ye Chong, however, remained calm, studying the fleet carefully. Unfortunately, he knew nothing about starships and couldn’t make out their specifications or models, but the sight of the mecha pilots launching from the side bays made it clear—the newcomers had already noticed them.

Gu Shaoze set Number Two down and grinned at Ye Chong. “This alarm is terrible. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered with it!” The laser radar had been severely damaged—unbelievably, it was an internal malfunction—but with Gu Shaoze’s genius, he had managed to patch it up. The alarm was broken too, so he’d swapped in a speaker from elsewhere as a makeshift alert. The resulting noise was truly awful, hence his complaint. Perfectionism was in his nature!

Number Two rushed to the control panel and flicked on the laser beacon, quickly sending out a flashing distress signal.

On seeing the signal, the opposing mecha pilots immediately picked up speed. Even so, their formation remained perfectly intact—a clear sign of a highly trained force.

Ye Chong asked in a low voice, “Do we have any weapons?” This was his habit: to ensure he was always in an active, not passive, position.

Gu Shaoze and Number Two both froze.

Ye Chong added, “If there’s a mecha, that would be best!”

Number Two shook her head. “We don’t have an unbound suit, and the mecha belonging to those who perished here are all custom-made for their families—they can only be used again after being returned and specially re-registered!” Unbound suits were blank mecha not yet linked to any individual’s identity.

Ye Chong couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

Suddenly Gu Shaoze remembered something and hurried to rummage through a corner. A moment later, he trotted back. “This dagger is something I made for fun—it’s usually just a tool!” By giving Ye Chong something he’d made himself, Gu Shaoze was treating him as a friend.

Ye Chong took the dagger. Its body was jet-black, the blade—laser-sharpened—extremely keen, with an anti-slip grip and a superb feel, its toughness and stability excellent.

Ye Chong nodded. “The flexibility is decent, but the curve design is really poor!” With that, he pinched the tip and hilt with each hand, gently bending the dagger into a bow. Releasing one hand, it snapped back with a hum, perfectly straight, without the slightest deformation.

Gu Shaoze’s mouth dropped open in amazement. Hearing Ye Chong criticize the curve, he could only reply sheepishly, “You’re really strong! I only made this knife out of boredom—didn’t think about the details!”

Number Two, on the other hand, wasn’t surprised at all—she’d experienced Ye Chong’s strength firsthand. This “monster” was terrifyingly inhuman.

Number Two was about to put on a compact mecha suit when Gu Shaoze stopped her. “That suit’s too conspicuous. It’s fine at home, but outside it’s really inappropriate. Besides, wearing it feels like you’re trapped in a shell—so uncomfortable. And you’re so beautiful, it’s a waste to hide you away!”

Number Two lowered her head, her heart fluttering sweetly.

Jing Mo watched the trio before him.

A young master, a maid, and a bodyguard.

Jing Mo’s attention was mostly on Gu Shaoze, whose bearing as a scion of a noble family was unmistakable—courteous, dignified, and impeccably mannered. Yet there wasn’t a trace of arrogance about him. Such heirs usually hailed from families of long and distinguished lineage. Only these ancient houses, tempered by generations, learned not to behave like brash upstarts.

These noble clans had seen rise and fall over the ages, but they endured to the present day. Many illustrious families of the past had long since vanished without a trace. Wide-reaching connections, generation after generation of talented successors—these ensured the survival of the great families. Their modesty, not ostentation, won them acceptance.

But a house could not declare itself noble; it had to be recognized by all. Today, the number of such families could be counted on one hand.

To be connected to one of them meant a future of limitless wealth and prospects. Jing Mo’s eyes shone ever brighter at the possibility.

He enthusiastically struck up conversation with Gu Shaoze. Though they had little in common, Gu Shaoze responded with equal politeness. Number Two’s stunning beauty drew the secret gaze of everyone aboard, with hushed whispers trailing in her wake; soon, some even found excuses to linger by the main control room for a glimpse.

Having never faced such attention, Number Two was thoroughly embarrassed.

Among the three, Ye Chong was the least conspicuous—plain of feature, lacking Gu Shaoze’s poise, to say nothing of Number Two’s breathtaking looks. When Gu Shaoze introduced him as a bodyguard, Jing Mo eyed him skeptically. How could someone so slight be a bodyguard?

In truth, Ye Chong was anything but frail—“well-proportioned” was the apt description. But compared to the bulging muscles and massive limbs typical of other bodyguards, it was no wonder Jing Mo found him unimpressive.

Only the commander of the mecha unit gave Ye Chong a few thoughtful glances, a contemplative look on his face.

Jing Mo was adept at setting the right tone. Noticing Number Two’s discomfort, he berated his men and sent them away, then resumed a lively conversation with Gu Shaoze. Jing Mo knew well what fascinated young people, spinning wild tales of his own youthful exploits, the customs of distant worlds. All three were utterly engrossed, even Ye Chong.

Laughter and warmth filled the control room; the atmosphere was lively and relaxed.

None of them could have imagined the danger that awaited them just ahead!