Chapter Fifty-Nine: I Am Not an Undocumented Citizen

Ye Chong was terrified and hurriedly altered the engine’s direction. The F-58 plummeted sharply—hiss—a streak of white light grazed the F-58’s forehead and struck the ground, leaving a pit of unfathomable depth, wisps of smoke curling from its edge.

The tremendous force forced the F-58 to brace itself like a wild beast, all four limbs on the ground to absorb the pressure of the sudden change in direction. Not daring to slacken, the F-58 crouched low like a black panther and shot forward, heading straight for the densest crowd.

Ye Chong was intimately familiar with the running posture of beasts; he quickly mastered the technique, each movement growing more fluid, a unique rhythm emerging in his stride. Thankfully, the F-58’s hydraulic system was advanced—otherwise, the jostling alone would have left Ye Chong dizzy and barely able to fight. If any strength remained, it would be scant.

The white mecha showed obvious restraint, not firing again but trailing Ye Chong from a distance.

Ye Chong had adjusted his posture, flying close to the ground, legs bent in a strange position. It was his only option—the F-58 had no long-range weapons, so his only hope was for the opponent to fly lower. If it came to close combat, Ye Chong still had a chance. Otherwise, all that remained was escape. Yet he couldn’t understand why the opponent hesitated to shoot. What was holding him back? Fear of collateral damage? Ye Chong knew he would never let such concerns cost him an opportunity. The survival rules etched into his mind after more than ten years on the Garbage Star were raw, direct, and ruthless—from mutated creatures fighting for their lives. Yesterday’s events had shown him those rules might not fit this society, but it was clear Ye Chong still had much to learn. When lost, people always choose the method they trust most. For Ye Chong to truly change, it would take time.

Though his posture looked odd, Ye Chong could shift direction at any moment by leveraging his legs against the ground, evading any sudden attacks.

With so many obstacles around him, he dared not attempt any wild, random jumps—that would be suicide.

He kept changing direction as much as possible, using the abundant cover to shield himself and disrupt the enemy’s sight.

The white mecha had no better strategy, merely following Ye Chong from above. Ye Chong flew lower and lower, heading for clusters of buildings. The white mecha grew increasingly frustrated—Ye Chong slipped through its grasp, his figure flickering in and out of sight. If it drew closer, it might lose him altogether.

Suddenly, the black mecha vanished while the white mecha was momentarily distracted!

Ye Chong spotted a towering building ahead—a high-rise with dark blue glass and metallic structure, exuding modern technological style. Every three floors there was a platform for mechas and small flyers to dock.

Ye Chong darted along the base of the building, hugging the wall. Once out of the white mecha’s line of sight, he leapt from the F-58 at lightning speed, retracting the machine into subspace before he even touched the ground. Amid startled glances from passersby, Ye Chong melted into the crowd, vanishing in an instant.

Ye Chong moved with the flow of people, casting a glance at the white mecha hovering dumbly above. Mu remarked, “It seems you’ve made great progress!”

Ye Chong replied dismissively, “It was the best method I could think of.”

Mu said, “The identity card office is in the central building five hundred meters ahead.”

The central building towered with three hundred floors, its blue-black glass, metallic frame, and cold, robust skeleton radiating the aura of advanced technology. Every three floors featured platforms for mechas and small flyers.

Strolling inside, the silver-gray walls glowed steady under soft lights. Countless transparent and semi-transparent organic glass partitions divided the hall into small spaces. In the center, several holographic display units played detailed procedures for various services. Nearby, numerous terminals stood ready for visitor queries.

Ye Chong approached a self-service machine. After a series of palm and iris scans, followed by bone pattern verification and finally dual-proton analysis, his identity was confirmed beyond doubt.

“Your identity card has been successfully reissued. Please keep it safe! In case of loss, please report it again!” chimed the pleasant synthetic female voice from the machine, as a pale green card, slightly smaller than his wrist, slid out.

Ye Chong examined the card curiously. Mu explained, “Ye, this is your identity card. You’re no longer an unregistered citizen. It cost me a lot of time—the population information center’s defenses are really tight. I spent a lot of effort hacking in and almost got caught! Good thing I escaped quickly!” Mu laughed with satisfaction.

The pale green card listed Ye Chong’s name and details, along with the special emblem of the Faer Star System. The card could be broken via fingerprint recognition, revealing the internal chip—the card’s core. The chip could be inserted into a dedicated reader to access more information, though only special departments used that function.

Ye Chong carefully stowed the card away.

Leaving the central building, Ye Chong hurried toward the shop—his first batch of customers would arrive soon, and he needed to get back quickly! But he dared not summon the F-58 again—the white mecha might still be lurking nearby, and if it spotted him again, escaping would be far harder.

Why did the white mecha want to kill him? Ye Chong was utterly baffled.

As for Mu, Ye Chong didn’t even bother to consider it—unless absolutely necessary, Mu would never let him ride along. Sigh, he’d have to rely on his own legs. Ye Chong broke into a sprint toward the shop.

Pedestrians stared in shock as Ye Chong ran with wild abandon—he was impossibly fast! That thought echoed in every mind.

Ye Chong raced back, urgent and anxious. The number of customers had surged these days, most of them returning patrons.

He made it back just before the first wave of guests arrived.

The customers were considerate—Grandpa Qian’s shop had only thirty-two seats, so space was limited. Each patron left promptly after eating, making room for newcomers. As a result, Ye Chong had no time to rest at all. Normally he didn’t notice, but his stamina was depleted after the morning’s exertion, and for the first time, he showed signs of fatigue.

Grandpa Qian worriedly asked if he was feeling unwell, but Ye Chong brushed it off with a calm response.

Finally, when the last customer left, Ye Chong and Grandpa Qian sat down to eat.

As they ate, someone suddenly pushed the door open.