At the Federation Military's National Security Oversight Division, a grim atmosphere hung heavy. Homan, recently returned to duty, sat in an interrogation chair, his face shadowed with frustration.
He'd been roused from sleep and swiftly detained. A peculiar sedative, designed to relax muscles and disrupt mental strength, had been administered—he recognized it instantly. As a seasoned investigator with the Military Procuratorate, he knew the playbook. By the time his senses fully returned, he was in a sterile interrogation room, its silver-gray metal walls gleaming coldly.
He flexed his arms, only to find black electronic shackles binding his wrists and ankles.
"What's this nonsense?" Homan raised his wrists, his eyes smoldering like embers of an unquenched fire. His lips, pressed into a thin line, betrayed a fury barely contained. "I'm Elex Homan, investigator with the Procuratorate's Second Division. Eight years undercover on a frontier star for a mission with no clear end, only recently returning to the Federation's embrace with the truth. I served loyally, and this is my reward?"
"The universe is full of coincidences, Lieutenant Homan," the officer behind the glass replied, his gaze icy. "Sometimes, a man's achievements hinge not on his choices, but on his luck."
Homan's anger twisted into a bitter laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," the interrogator said, "that your eight years on the frontier, beyond running an orphanage, accomplished little of strategic value. Your success on Lanslo Star owed more to catching Kangheng LifeTech's internal collapse at the right moment. Otherwise, you might've waited another decade to see Capital Star again."
The officer's arrogance, sharp as a blade, seemed intent on stripping Homan's honor bare.
But instead of erupting, Homan grew calm. "You might be right," he said evenly. "But that's irrelevant. Kangheng couldn't have regrouped overnight to come after me. So you've got another reason for this… You're trying to provoke me. What's your game?"
The interrogator faltered, his stern facade softening with a sigh. "As expected from a Procuratorate investigator. You know interrogation tactics inside out."
He pressed a button, and the transparent glass parted like a curtain, revealing two figures in white coats—Military psychological analysts, experts in dissecting the minds of notorious criminals. They preferred to lurk unseen, using instruments to probe personality and psychological traits from the smallest tells.
Homan's brow furrowed.
"Forgive us," the interrogator said. "We needed to confirm whether that incident eight years ago left you with any… extreme sentiments toward the Military or the Federation."
In other words, they were checking for signs of an antisocial personality.
The officer's earlier jab—dismissing Homan's rise as "luck"—had elicited a measured "perhaps" instead of defensive pride. Homan wasn't the oversensitive, grudge-holding type they'd anticipated. If he harbored betrayal, his sorest point would be the "middling treatment" after eight years of sacrifice: still an investigator, but with a hollow rank, no real authority, and no critical assignments—a glorified "honorary idler." Most would crack under such a slight, let alone someone antisocial.
Yet Homan faced it with equanimity, proving his psychological stability.
Cleared as "stable," Homan hissed in irritation. "What's this midnight circus about?"
The interrogator fixed him with a steady gaze, his expression formal. "We have questions, and we need you to answer fully and honestly. Our analysts will monitor this conversation."
"Get to it," Homan snapped.
"Where did you meet your adopted daughter, Baisha?"
"Lanslo Star, in an abandoned minefield," Homan replied. "She was about seven or eight, collapsed amid aerospace scrap. I saved her, brought her to the orphanage, and raised her since."
The interrogator glanced at the analysts, exchanging silent opinions in a brief pause before continuing. "With so many children in the orphanage, why choose her as your daughter and bring her to Capital Star?"
"I didn't bring just her," Homan said, sensing something off, his tone guarded. "Baisha, Jingyi, Yaning—their potential stood out. I took them as disciples and brought them to Capital Star for better education. What's the issue?"
"They're indeed exceptional," the interrogator said, his voice heavy with implication. "Did you suspect their mental strength was S-grade or higher?"
Homan, brimming with questions, took a deep breath. "I'm super-A-grade myself. Not quite S-grade, but I could sense Yaning and Jingyi's mental strength was extraordinary. Baisha was different—her mental strength felt elusive, hard to pin down. I knew it wasn't weak, but I couldn't gauge it until her Federation test."
A double S-grade's depth was beyond an A-grade's grasp.
The interrogator nodded.
Another five-second pause.
"Next question: while raising Baisha, did you ever notice anything unusual or inexplicable about her?"
Homan scoffed. "Double S-grade? She'd be strange if she was normal."
The interrogator faltered, rephrasing. "I mean her psychological state or moral character—any anomalies?"
"She's a genius, mature beyond her years," Homan said, his face hardening. "No abnormalities otherwise."
The questions all circled Baisha. A fool could see their focus.
"What happened to Baisha?" Homan demanded, his voice firm. "As her guardian, I deserve the truth."
The interrogator hesitated, his profile sharp and cold under the white light. "Your adopted daughter, Baisha, has been arrested by the Military on charges of espionage."
Homan stared as if the man had lost his mind.
Ignoring Homan's blistering gaze, the interrogator met his eyes, each word deliberate: "You didn't know that the girl you raised for years is, in fact, an Imperial citizen."
Homan's expression twisted, a flicker of shock.
He laughed, incredulous. "That's impossible!"
"You and I both know," the interrogator said, "an Imperial citizen living undetected in the Federation for years, even enrolling in Central Military Academy, poised to become a future star, perhaps a regional commander…" He wasn't speculating idly—many double S-grades in Federation history had risen to such heights. "Yet we saw no signs until her gene test exposed her. What are the odds of that?"
"…Yet it happened."
Homan sat rigid, like a statue cast in concrete.
"Baisha, an Imperial?"
"Undeniably so. The Military ran countless tests, all confirming it."
Homan's brows knitted tightly. "But she didn't know she was Imperial. Why else would she come to Capital Star, take the academy exams, and submit to gene testing? She's no spy!"
"Whether she's a spy is for the Federation Military Committee to decide, not us," the interrogator said coldly. "Your role is to cooperate, to detail everything you know about her past, to clear yourself of suspicion for harboring a spy."
Homan fell silent, stunned.
The Military Committee? The Federation's highest military authority?
Meanwhile, at the Ning residence in Capital Star, Ning Hongxue received an urgent summons from the Military Committee for a meeting at Central Tower.
Before a full-length mirror, he smoothed his pristine white shirt, erasing every trace of a wrinkle. He lifted his military jacket from the rack, its three silver snow-star insignias—marks of a regional commander—glinting faintly. Ning dressed methodically, donning spotless white gloves, his striking, luminous eyes catching a glassy sheen in the reflection.
Hurried footsteps approached.
It was Zhou Yue, his fair face marred by fresh scrapes, his breathing labored but his eyes urgent. Before he could speak, Ning's sharp rebuke cut through.
"Yue," Ning said, turning with a stern frown, "I pleaded your case to the Zhou family to spare you punishment, restricting you to Capital Star. Yet you breach Military defenses at midnight to barge into a regional commander's home? Have you no decorum? Are you trying to shame me?"
"…Uncle," Zhou Yue said, studying Ning's profile intently. "Baisha's in trouble. Did you know?"
"I know. Half the Military Committee knows by now," Ning said, glancing at a wall clock. "The National Security Division arrested an Imperial who lived incognito in the Federation for years, even entering our academy trials, nearly becoming a Central cadet. It's seismic news."
A sleeper agent from the Ares Empire.
Given the vast divide between the Federation and the Empire, the Military rarely caught Imperial spies among civilians. The "espionage" charge was a pretext, concocted without hard evidence to trigger the Military's highest security protocols, sealing all data on "Baisha" and convening top brass to dissect this Imperial enigma.
"Baisha didn't know she wasn't Federation," Zhou Yue said, each word clipped. "She has no reason to harm us."
"You know her, but the Federation doesn't," Ning said lightly. "Her genes don't lie. The Federation was blind to her presence, so we must uncover what secrets she hides."
Zhou Yue pressed, "You're the frontier region's commander. You've dealt with Imperials. How could you not recognize her?"
"Is that so strange?" Ning replied, unruffled. "All Imperials manifest a mental entity soon after birth. Baisha shows no trace of one. I simply didn't identify her in time. What's odd about that?"
Zhou Yue felt a crushing weight on his spine.
"You should've known she was Imperial," he challenged. "Why let her come to Capital Star?"
"What do you plan to do with her? Where is she?"
"Yue," Ning said, turning sharply, his cloak's edge catching the light like a cold blade, his tone carrying a faint, razor-sharp warning. "This time, stay out of her affairs. Or it won't just be you who suffers."
Zhou Yue's eyes trembled.
Ning brushed past him without hesitation, stepping through the door into the deep, shadowed night.
Baisha had been in the Military's secret interrogation room for at least three hours.
Clad in a white restraint suit, laden with mental strength suppressors, she sat encircled by thick, milky walls—likely designed to block mental energy. The interrogators, armored, sat over ten meters away, flanked by two armed guards poised to fire stun rounds at any sign of resistance.
"We'll ask again," the lead interrogator said, each word deliberate. "How did you infiltrate the Federation?"
She'd answered this question countless times in the past three hours, her responses shifting from "What are you talking about?" and "I don't know" to "I came through a random portal" and "I took APTX-4869, shrank into a kid, and slipped into the orphanage."
Baisha flashed a wan smile, leaning into absurdity. "I'm not sure—maybe a time machine? But I mean the H.G. Wells kind you sit in, not some grade-schooler's desk drawer spitting out robot cats."
The interrogators, initially skeptical, now saw her as a brazen liar. Her cryptic references baffled them, twitching their eyes with frustration.
Suppressing his anger, the lead interrogator moved on. "What was your purpose in infiltrating the Federation?"
Baisha paused, then said gravely, "It's time I told the truth."
The interrogators leaned in, expecting a breakthrough.
She smirked. "I come from a civilization one dimension above yours. Soon, I'll unleash the two-dimensional foil, wiping out you cosmic parasites."
The room erupted in shock. The interrogators frantically called the Military, claiming they'd uncovered an Imperial doomsday weapon.
The operator paused. "You're sure she's serious?"
The interrogators fell silent.
Baisha slumped back, her eyes glinting with mischievous delight, as if watching a farce unfold.
Furious, the interrogators cut the call. "Do you even grasp your situation?"
"I get it," Baisha said. "You Federation folks are prejudiced, barring an Imperial from your precious Central Academy."
The interrogators nearly choked. "This is about Central Academy? You, an Imperial, ignored your own academies to wreak havoc here?"
"I told you, until today, I was certain I was human," Baisha said. Her dream of Central shattered, she teetered between despair and defiance. "I know less about the Empire than you do! You just won't believe me."
A suffocating silence fell.
After conferring with analysts and superiors, the interrogators accepted her story.
She was an Imperial adrift in Federation space.
Meaning even the Empire was unaware of her.
At her age, lacking a mental entity, and raised in the Federation, something might have suppressed its formation—a prospect more thrilling than her being a spy.
"Preliminary interrogation concluded," the Military Committee ordered. "Transfer her to Black Reef Star's 'Dark Prison.'"
Black Reef Star, a world wreathed in perpetual stardust storms.
The "Dark Prison," the Federation's clandestine facility for high-value detainees.
Relieved to hand Baisha off, the interrogators reported dutifully, "Imperials are tough nuts. Her mental strength seems intangible, but under extreme suppression, it fiercely protects her. We can't touch her without lethal force."
Her unscathed state, save for pallor, stemmed from her mental strength's surging resilience.
The report reached the Military Committee, where senior officers, their shoulder insignias gleaming, sat in silence, their expressions varied.
A white-haired officer at the head severed the call. "This situation calls for activating 'The Hub,'" he said, his voice a low thunder, aged but commanding. "Only The Hub can crack an Imperial's mind."
"Too extreme," a younger officer countered, shifting uncomfortably. "She's barely an adult, raised in the Federation, even took our exams to serve as a soldier. Her exposure proves she meant no harm."
"That was before," another officer scoffed. "Now she knows her origins and faces our scrutiny. She's no longer a Federation asset."
"But The Hub could ruin her brain, cripple her mental strength…"
"She's Imperial. Neutralizing a future threat—isn't that wise?"
"Have you forgotten the Imperial Foreign Minister's visit tomorrow? If they learn of Baisha, what then?"
"That's why we charged her with espionage and are moving her to Dark Prison," the scoffing officer said. "The Imperials' every move in Capital Star is under our watch. They won't know what they shouldn't."
"Let's vote," the head officer said. "Should we activate The Hub for her interrogation?"
A pause.
"Nine for, four abstain, six against."
"I declare the Military Committee's order: activate The Hub. To avoid suspicion from the Imperial Minister, a single agent will handle this. General Ning, your expertise with Imperials makes you ideal."
At 5 a.m., Zhou Ying, bleary from a late night sketching mech designs, was jolted awake by a call. Planning to sleep past noon, he groaned, rubbing his tangled hair, but the caller ID—Zhou Yue—snapped him alert.
With a flicker of anticipation, he answered, only to see Zhou Yue's pale, anxious face. "Ying, I need your help. Baisha—"
Zhou Ying hung up, cursing under his breath, dismissing it as a nightmare and diving back to sleep.
A minute later, another call. He hung up without looking.
Another. Hung up.
On the fourth, ready to berate Zhou Yue, he froze—Ning Hongxue's smiling face filled the screen, chilling him awake.
"…Uncle," Zhou Ying said, wary. "Sorry, I was up late sketching, too tired to—"
"It's fine. A few dropped calls, nothing more," Ning said gently, his tone like a chilling breeze. "Ying, I need you. Get to Capital Star's 3211 Spaceport now."
Zhou Ying straightened. "What's the matter?"
"I need you," Ning repeated.
Zhou Ying's heart leapt. His uncle had never been so direct!
Was it a mech design for a Military VIP? A problem needing his aid? Whatever it was, Ning's urgency sparked a quiet joy. Zhou Ying vowed to impress.
At the spaceport, Ning yanked him onto a military starship bound for storm-shrouded Black Reef Star.
Unable to resist, Zhou Ying probed their purpose. Ning was escorting him to Dark Prison to interrogate a prisoner.
Uncle, you're killing me.
Suppressing an eye-roll, Zhou Ying sulked, gazing at the starship's view of the cosmos.
A vast, dark universe unfolded. A massive gray stardust storm spun at the system's core, its eye cradling a tiny, metallic-black planet—Black Reef Star, the Federation's "Demon Land."
Decades ago, the Federation braved the storm to build a spacetime jump point, granting military ships free access.
The starship plunged into a torrent-like field, scenery blurring into white light. After a brief lurch, they emerged in Black Reef's airspace.
Zhou Ying steadied himself, peering at a barren, lightless world. Storms and thunder wove a desolate, apocalyptic tapestry across the distant sky.
Black Reef's lone "fortress," a towering structure, was the Dark Prison, home to the Federation's most critical captives.
The starship landed.
Uneasy, Zhou Ying clung to Ning's side.
Two uniformed officers greeted them. "General Ning, we came as ordered."
"Good," Ning said, gesturing to Zhou Ying. "My nephew, Zhou Ying, double S-grade. He'll aid in activating The Hub."
The officers' eyes lit with admiration. "You're too modest, General. If a double S-grade is just 'aiding,' what are we S-grades and super-S-grades but fodder?"
The Hub?
A term Zhou Ying didn't know.
Ning glanced at him, signaling to follow the officers.
Led by soldiers, they entered the fortress. A soldier swiped a card to unlock an underground elevator. As they descended, the officers' murmured conversation reached Zhou Ying's ears:
"An Imperial, of all things…"
"No mental entity, no threat."
"No threat? Then why activate The Hub?"
"Last time we used it was…"
The cryptic words, mixed with the elevator's hollow hum, furrowed Zhou Ying's brow.
They reached the tenth sublevel.
The elevator opened to a series of sealed metal hatches.
The soldier unlocked the first three. Deeper in, Ning took over, opening each successive lock.
The final hatch was unique—dull gray, etched with ancient patterns, unlike the gleaming metal of the others. It used an old-fashioned code lock.
Ning stepped forward, entered the code, and turned the mechanism.
Click, click.
The hatch swung open.
Zhou Ying's eyes widened.
A dazzling, translucent glow greeted him. A web of transparent, interwoven tubes, jellyfish-like in texture, pulsed with colors like soap-bubble iridescence, their light fluctuating.
He realized the tubes' pattern mimicked a brain's neural pathways.
"This is part of The Hub," Ning explained softly. "An artificial cognitive node. It merges individual consciousness into collective thought, pooling mental strength to break a single target."
Zhou Ying felt a chill.
Imperials were known for formidable mental strength, but interrogating one required multiple S-grades and double S-grades combining forces?
Ning cautioned, "Your mind will link to The Hub. Follow its directives—don't resist. Your mental strength will merge with others, like a stream into the sea, but it must return to you. Withdraw when the time comes to avoid damage."
Zhou Ying swallowed, nodding.
Before the interrogation, they reviewed the target.
Ning shared a classified file detailing the "criminal's" life as known to the Federation.
Zhou Ying's brow creased in shock at the name and photo.
Baisha?
How was Baisha an Imperial, shipped to Black Reef?
He exhaled, scanning further.
Her registration date, enrollment, prep course grades…
Her bond with Yan Jingyi and Yaning Kelly… crafting specialty armor for underground fighters…
Mentored by a Lanslo mechanic, skilled in low-grade mech repair and design…
His eyes lingered on her old account IDs.
"I'm Poor I Hate," "Open Door Meet Wealth God," "Earning's an Attitude"… and her earliest: "Bai Shao," "Zhang Get-Rich."
Zhou Ying fell into a long silence, struck by fate's absurdity.
Seconds later, he laughed involuntarily.
"What's funny?" an officer asked.
Zhou Ying shrugged. "These IDs—she's obsessed with money, huh?"
The officer glanced at the file, then went quiet.
Baisha's record screamed grassroots genius with extraordinary talent.
Yet because she was Imperial, they'd unleash The Hub to plunder her mind's secrets, risking her sanity.
They fell silent, poring over the file.
At 6 a.m., Zhou Yue, avoiding the Zhou family, received an encrypted message.
It was a full report on Baisha, including her gene test results. The Federation couldn't decode Imperial genes despite years of tries; they could only confirm Aresian markers.
The report forced Zhou Yue to accept: Baisha was Aresian.
A delayed addendum, sent from a weak signal, loaded ten seconds later.
Zhou Ying: Find a way to get this file to the Imperial Foreign Minister visiting Capital Star.
Zhou Yue understood instantly.
Only the Empire could save Baisha now.