Information Gathering

Kor Port Prison was a medium-sized men's prison converted from a kilometer-class multipurpose transport ship.

It had permanent simulated gravity, with hundreds of cells spread across six levels and facilities such as recreation rooms, audiovisual rooms, lounges, a library, and a gym.

As it belonged to the Interstellar Court, the prison occasionally housed political exiles. The spacious single rooms on the uppermost levels were reserved for them.

Local criminals from Kor Port were housed on the two middle levels, usually in cells for two or three inmates. Each cell had its own bathroom.

The lowest three levels were crowded and chaotic, holding vicious criminals exiled from across the stars. The prison was already severely overcrowded.

It wasn't unusual to find Star Pirates who had committed countless crimes, serial killers kept on the very bottom level in shackles at all times, or nonhuman yet humanoid alien lifeforms. Those that weren't humanoid weren't admitted here.

For the guards on the Lower Three Levels, working at Kor Port Prison was no easy job.

And the kind of trouble they dreaded most was just like what was happening now:

An uproar suddenly erupted on the prison's fifth level. The inmates, full of pent-up energy with no outlet, wildly shook their cell bars, let out strange cries, and stuffed into their mouths fingers that had just been who knew where, whistling through them.

The armed guards quickly gathered and ran toward the direction the inmates were facing.

The shrill alarms rang out across every corner of the fifth level.

Guards carrying stun batons poured in from all directions, shouting at the inmates to quiet down. But when they reached the scene, even they couldn't stay calm.

Before long, the guards had called for the Deputy Warden, Chief Guard of the Lower Three Levels, Gulipa.

Gulipa was an old gentleman dressed in a tailcoat and carrying a walking stick. His hairline had receded to the top of his head, and his gray-white hair was a little disheveled. Yet when he appeared, limping, the inmates throughout the area quickly fell silent, their earlier frenzy completely gone.

"Chief Guard, it's here."

Gulipa adjusted his monocle and frowned at the cell ahead.

Behind thirty-two alloy bars spaced twelve centimeters apart, six burly men lay in the dim light.

They had been arranged in an oval. All twelve of their arms were dislocated, and each man's mouth was stuffed with the toes of the man in front of him. Linked together head to toe, they resembled some bizarre, self-devouring serpent.

"Don't move them around," Gulipa said with a frown. "Go get a professional orthopedic surgeon."

Several guards hurried off.

Gulipa looked at the unfamiliar young man quietly reading in the corner, his brow furrowing tightly.

The young man looked like a typical Sherman: a broad forehead, smooth cheekbones, a straight nose, and slightly sunken eye sockets. These were all distinctive Sherman features.

"Did you do this?" Gulipa asked in a low voice.

Yang Ming put down his book. "They said they wanted to put on a new kind of wrestling match for me, since I was new. Apparently, it's a local custom. And then this happened."

"Is that so?"

Gulipa glanced at the six burly men sprawled on the floor, then turned to the guards who had brought Yang Ming in.

One of the guards stepped forward and murmured something in Gulipa's ear.

A hint of amusement entered Gulipa's eyes. "How did you do it, Imperial Soldier?"

"I received the strictest combat training."

Yang Ming knew he hadn't revealed any strength beyond what an ordinary person could manage. He had taken down the six men using technique.

The real cheat was his reaction speed, which made time seem to slow down.

"I'll have to put you in a Solitary Cell temporarily," Gulipa said. "Those are the rules here."

"Can I bring these books with me?"

"Of course. Our prison offers the most humane treatment," Gulipa said with a smile. "If you can still read in that kind of confined space, that's quite a talent."

Yang Ming stood. A large number of guards raised their Laser Guns at once, but he calmly walked to the corner and picked up the dusty books about Kor Port's local customs and the Interstellar Court's legal principles.

As he passed the six burly men, the men, unable to move at all, trembled all over. Their eyes were filled with terror, and they kept making muffled noises.

Yang Ming smiled amiably, handed the books to a guard, and held out his hands. Under the watchful aim of a dozen Laser Guns, he was fitted with handcuffs and shackles.

Suddenly, a guard beside him swung a baton at Yang Ming's neck.

Yang Ming frowned slightly. His body reacted almost on reflex: he ducked, tilted his head, rolled his shoulder, and stepped back... The baton grazed his shoulder, while Yang Ming's hands were already thrust toward the guard's neck.

Yang Ming didn't actually strike him. His fingers stopped two or three centimeters from the guard's throat, but the man didn't dare move. Even breathing had become difficult.

A few seconds later, the sound of Laser Guns being readied rang out around them.

"Everyone, stop!"

Gulipa frowned and scolded them. "You want to embarrass yourselves even more? You little punks! I tell you to train harder, and you just go through the motions!"

Before lowering his hand, Yang Ming patted the guard on the throat and smiled. "I'm an active-duty officer of the Sherman Empire. You can target me personally, but don't challenge the Empire's dignity."

"Y-yes, sir," the guard replied quietly.

Yang Ming said nothing more. It was best to make a point and leave it at that.

The guards around him now looked at him with a trace of fear.

Gulipa's gaze shifted back and forth. He said evenly, "Take him to Cell Block 3 for seventy-two hours. Also... provide his meals and fresh water as usual."

Yang Ming narrowed his eyes and smiled.

The title of Strongest Empire in the Galaxy sure came in handy.

The Solitary Cell was a cramped, six-square-meter room, but its conditions weren't as bad as Yang Ming had expected.

The hardest part was getting through seventy-two hours without food, but Chief Guard Gulipa had made an exception for him, which made things much more comfortable.

A Modified human needed more nutrients.

The six metal walls gave off a milky-white glow. Apart from them, there was nothing else in the room.

Yang Ming made a simple cushion out of his uniform pants and jacket. Wearing only a tank top and boxer shorts, he opened the Travel Book about Kor Port's local customs.

He soon found several local maps of Kor Port and committed the information to memory.

Yang Ming didn't know whether Hanton had always been this smart, or whether the Valkyrie Gene Fluid was strengthening his brain. He seemed to have developed Photographic Memory.

That was a good thing, at least. It certainly wasn't bad.

A few hours later.

After finishing a simple lunch, Yang Ming used the books he'd finished reading to make a little pillow. He lay down comfortably and began thinking about what to do next.

He hadn't had any chance to think about it aboard the Research Ship.

Yang Ming hated grand questions, like saving the world or saving Earth.

Those weren't things one person could accomplish.

Still, Yang Ming felt that if he had the ability, he should save his own family. His parents had worked hard for most of their lives and hadn't yet had a chance to enjoy themselves. Then there was his high school sister, whose personality was awful, who always stole his snacks and used his toothbrush to scrub her shoes...

"Big bro, how much will you have to spend on a bride price to marry a sister-in-law as pretty as me? Oh ho ho!"

Memories of the dead suddenly attacked his brain, and Yang Ming felt awful.

Whether to save her or not could wait.

Yang Ming briefly summarized all the problems, then came up with three questions for himself:

① Why had he come to this world, and who had sent him here?

② What was the purpose of his coming here? Or, what could he do?

③ What benefits could he gain from the information he knew?

Based on the information currently available, Yang Ming couldn't answer the first question at all.

It seemed completely unrelated to science and closer to the supernatural, yet in reality it was still a scientific question.

Yang Ming could answer half of the second question for now.

If Earth's players appeared all at once thirty years from now, no matter how they appeared, he would have to find a way to tell them that Abyss wasn't just a game, and that humans were a common species in the Milky Way Galaxy.

It was very likely an exam set for Earth's civilization by a higher civilization. If humanity failed, the Ninth Cataclysm army would destroy Earth.

There were still far too many mysteries;

but based on the information he had and what he had experienced, Yang Ming had no choice but to link the "Ninth Cataclysm" storyline, which would occur five years after Abyss launched, to Earth's destruction.

That's right. Yang Ming felt that the first thing he could do was survive for thirty galactic years and warn his civilization.

[Minx Port].

The name of this place suddenly came to mind.

From the players' perspective, guided by an alien civilization, humans on Earth would develop technology in cutscenes and fill in their tech tree through character dialogue, rapidly stepping into interstellar civilization.

Minx Port would be the players' first stop after leaving Earth thirty years later.

The players would choose their faction at Minx Port, determine their path of development, and take tests for things like a spaceship pilot's license and professional equipment operator certification.

Yang Ming felt that if he could find Minx Port, he might be able to discover Earth ahead of time.

"Ding-dong," Yang Ming murmured to himself. "Main Quest One unlocked: Find Minx Port."

Damn this sense of ceremony.

The third question was much more complicated.

Yang Ming carefully recalled the game events that had left the deepest impression on him, along with Abyss's extraordinarily rich historical background.

To be honest, he had rarely paid attention to the game's plot while playing, so his memories of many major events were vague.

Besides, this was still thirty galactic years before the game launched.

"Hm?"

Yang Ming suddenly remembered something that had a lot of potential.

Mech Twilight.

Two or three years ago, in the third year after the game Abyss launched, Yang Ming had watched an interview with a player who had become a billionaire through gaming.

That player had discovered a hidden planet in Abyss, gained actual control of a city called Mech Twilight, and made a fortune by selling control of it to the group behind a major military faction.

In that interview, the player had revealed a lot of detailed information—how he had accidentally flown a mining ship into the Dust Belt, how he had entered a vortex, and how he had found the Control Key.

The Chosen One had even provided first-person footage, returning to that star system in the game Abyss to reenact his exploration.

Yang Ming had been incredibly envious of that player.

But now...

"Sorry, Chosen One."

Yang Ming smiled guiltily, then shamelessly forgave himself.

Oh, right. There was one more important thing.

He needed enough Gene Stabilizing Potion, or Gene Suppression Liquid.

In Abyss, the main reason modified soldiers had to spend money was to keep buying Gene Stabilizer or Gene Suppression Liquid. Otherwise, they would lose their combat ability, and their bodies would grow hair all over while their muscles swelled up...

Those were just punishment mechanics in the game. The consequences of players' genes going out of control were negligible.

But now, if Yang Ming went too long without taking gene-stabilizing medication, he could end up like Brother Ji from Lost Voice—losing his sanity, turning into a mass of tumors, and becoming the next Ancient God Lifeform.

With that, Yang Ming made a quick summary.

His most urgent task was to find a reliable source of gene-stabilizing medication. Before the Gene Stabilizer in his body wore off, he had to get more.

His next stage goals were to find Minsk Port and Mech Twilight.

To achieve these two goals, the most important thing Yang Ming needed was...

A spaceship capable of faster-than-light travel. Note: preferably one with autopilot.

That wouldn't be easy.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

Yang Ming ate and slept, slept and ate, and felt as if he'd even put on a lot of weight.

Several fully armed guards took Yang Ming to a clean room for four. It held a fat man and an old man, both of whom seemed fairly easygoing.

Yang Ming briefly introduced himself and shook hands with each of them, then closed his eyes and pretended to nap on a hard bed covered with a simple mattress.

His two roommates were both tactful and nervous.

They had naturally heard about the "passionate" story involving the new Sherman Imperial Soldier and six burly men. So they moved their beds to the corners, keeping a safe distance from Yang Ming and leaving him plenty of space.

Yang Ming had originally wanted to ask them about the prison's basic situation and how to escape, but it seemed they would need some time to get used to each other.

A simple bookshelf in the corner also held a few books, so Yang Ming started reading with interest.

They were written in Galactic Common, which was very similar to the language of the Sherman Empire. Yang Ming struggled a little at first.

Tap, tap, tap.

The sound of soft leather shoes striking the metal floor repeatedly broke Yang Ming's concentration.

"No. 0639, Hanton."

Just before lunchtime, Chief Guard Gulipa appeared at the cell door, holding a square piece of glass. In an elegant tone, he said:

"Meeting Room No. 12. Your superior is waiting for you."