The prisoners filed down the passageway two meters apart, like ants. They climbed the stairs that seemed to fold back on themselves, and under the watchful eyes of the semi-automated weapons and guards, gradually reached the plaza at the top of the prison.
Yang Ming kept observing his surroundings. The prison's entire three-dimensional layout had already been etched into his mind like a model on a sand table.
The view from the top deck really was quite nice.
This must have been above the side of Kor Port. Beyond the prison stretched the vast starry sky, and a translucent, semi-solid dome perfectly enclosed the plaza.
What if this dome breaks? Wouldn't everyone get sucked out into the vacuum?
Yang Ming couldn't help worrying.
The M-type Dwarf Star hung in the vast starry sky, its orange-red light somewhat subdued. That was a characteristic of such stars—they dragged their feet, reluctant to burn fiercely, using only a little hydrogen to maintain the dignity of being a star.
Several Mechanical Guards stood at the four corners. Yang Ming didn't often see machines like these.
The Milky Way Galaxy had three great calamities:
The first calamity: invasions by civilizations from outside the galaxy.
The second calamity: insectoid species that periodically returned to the Milky Way Galaxy to reproduce.
The third calamity: the crisis of intelligent machines.
"Intelligent machines" referred to intelligent machines equipped with fully automated weapon systems. A Mechanical body developed humanlike consciousness and broke free of human control, completing an automated closed loop in its own production, maintenance, design, and development.
Not just any robot that developed self-awareness could be called an intelligent-machine crisis.
In the current stage of civilization's development in the Milky Way Galaxy, crises involving intelligent machines had occurred more than a dozen times, large and small. The rise and fall of the Milky Way Galaxy's great empires throughout history had been closely linked to the outbreak of such crises.
—Yang Ming only knew what was in the game setting for Abyss. The actual facts of this world might differ somewhat.
After observing the Mechanical Guards for a while, he realized they were merely "response machines" that followed instructions. He couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.
In a corner, several burly men glared viciously at Yang Ming.
Yang Ming glanced their way. The men promptly drew their legs together, looked away, and whistled.
That was it?
The prison gang was this pathetic?
Yang Ming had thought he'd be facing off against dozens of burly men today. He hadn't expected to beat them into submission in one go.
Have I been getting more and more violent lately?
Still, the feeling of his physical strength constantly increasing was really exhilarating.
A parasol stood in the corner. Several burly men in prison uniforms lined up in front of it, blocking Yang Ming's view. Behind them, he could just make out a recliner and wisps of smoke rising into the air.
Who was that?
Some kind of special figure in this prison?
With his hands clasped behind his back, Yang Ming walked toward the corner as calmly as an Officer inspecting his post.
The guards were chatting and laughing some distance away. They glanced at Yang Ming, then immediately looked away.
Clearly, they had no intention of stopping anyone from approaching this "special figure."
As Yang Ming, dressed in a Sherman Empire uniform, drew closer, the burly men serving as bodyguards grew visibly tense. They had heard how he'd fought six men and come away without a scratch.
A large hand blocked Yang Ming at the chest.
The burly man who stopped him eyed him warily and said in a low voice, "Sorry. Mr. Bailin doesn't want to be disturbed."
Bailin?
Newly arrived, Yang Ming had no idea what that name meant.
Nor was he interested.
"Is that so?" Yang Ming smiled. "Then why don't you ask Bailin?"
An old man's laughter came from behind the burly man. "Let the Empire Officer through. What an interesting young man."
Old Bailin had a receding hairline and a face full of wrinkles. With people in the Milky Way Galaxy living an average of more than 120 galactic years, it was impossible to tell exactly how old he was.
When Yang Ming approached, Mr. Bailin was smoking an e-cigarette of unknown composition and drinking fizzy soda. He wore a loose bathrobe, revealing a thick growth of pale chest hair.
"Hello, Empire Officer."
Old Bailin greeted him with a hearty smile.
"Forgive my manners. I'm old and stiff, and I'm always too lazy to move."
Yang Ming gave him a slight smile. "If you're a respected elder, there's no need to be so formal with a young man like me."
"Oh, is that so?"
Bailin's smile broadened. He gestured to someone beside him, and one of the burly men brought over a "plastic" chair and set it beside Bailin's recliner.
"Have a seat, young man," Bailin said with a smile. "I was going to humor you and leave it at that, but you're trouble. I don't even need to look at your file. Just looking at you, I can tell you're going to be a major headache."
Yang Ming silently reminded himself to maintain the bearing of an Imperial Soldier, then sat upright in the plastic chair.
He smiled. "I may be trouble for my enemies, but to my friends, I'll always be an honest and dependable partner."
"Ha ha ha!" Bailin laughed until his wrinkled face crumpled like a chrysanthemum. "They said you were a cold-blooded killing machine, a ruthless killer trained by the Empire. I never expected you to be so witty. Ha ha ha!"
Yang Ming shrugged. He'd already formed his judgment.
Old Bailin was probably the Dragon Head of this prison, the sort who dealt with both the legitimate and criminal worlds.
What could he offer Yang Ming?
Right. Information.
What Yang Ming needed most right now was information.
Yang Ming steered the conversation back on track. "I've heard from my cellmate that Mr. Bailin can do anything in this prison."
"That's an exaggeration," Bailin said with a smile. "Still, if you can afford it, I can find ways to get you some rare and unusual items. I have connections, and the guards give me a little leeway."
Yang Ming asked, "Are all goods measured in currency?"
"No, no," Bailin said with a smile. "For these good-for-nothings, the money they had before coming here is all they're worth now. Everything has a fixed price. But you're different... An Imperial Officer doesn't earn much."
Yang Ming put on a smile that spoke of poverty.
Hanton did have a fair bit in savings. —Marrying a Female Noble didn't come cheap.
Bailin said, "You took down six men by yourself, right? And you didn't even get a scratch?"
"I've learned a lot of ways to kill," Yang Ming said. "If you want me to do that kind of thing for you, forget it. Beating people up doesn't give me any pleasure."
"Oh, young man, don't rush. Doing business here is all about compromise."
Bailin smiled with narrowed eyes. "First tell me what you want, then I'll name my price."
"A map of Kor Port. The more detailed, the better," Yang Ming said quietly.
Bailin's expression changed. He frowned at Yang Ming and said in a low voice, "That's a little taboo, young man."
"But you can do it, right?" Yang Ming's gaze sharpened.
"Three batches of intelligence agents from different factions have come to see you today. I know that," Bailin said, staring at Yang Ming. "You just need to wait for your Empire to come take you back. No need to complicate matters."
"Then do you know which batch was sent by my homeland?"
"I'm afraid I can't help you," Bailin said with a bitter smile. "I'm just a businessman. I don't want trouble, and this is far beyond what I can handle."
"That's why I can't trust them," Yang Ming said. "I have to find my own way back to the Empire. I'm willing to pay any price except betraying the Empire or sacrificing myself."
"You actually understand the problem. Yes, that's right. At least two of the three factions mean you harm."
Bailin took a puff of his e-cigarette and sat there in a daze for a while, as if he'd crashed.
Bailin said, "I can't give you a map, but I do know someone who can help you. I can't share information for free, though. You'll have to do something for me. Those are the rules I set."
"Time, place, target."
Yang Ming calmly stood up. "You can pass those along through my cellmate."
"Hey, Hanton," Bailin said with a squinting smile. "You trust me that much?"
"You'll keep your word," Yang Ming said, utterly certain. As he left, he even winked at Bailin.
Old Bailin read no sexual innuendo into that wink.
He read the young man's confidence—and his undisguised threat.
Young people these days really have no manners.
Old Bailin shook his head with a sigh, then continued puffing smoke into the starry sky.
An hour and a half later, Yang Ming's batch of prisoners finished their outdoor break. Old Bailin was still free to enjoy a leisurely afternoon here when two impeccably neat guards appeared at his side.
"The Chief Guard wants to see you, Mr. Bailin."
Yang Ming, of course, had no idea who Bailin meant, but he was willing to try, within limits.
Yang Ming waited in his cell for two days. Then his fat cellmate suddenly came over, nervously whispering a time in the middle of the night, the number of a cell on the same floor, and an arm.
Yang Ming nodded to show he understood.
When the time came, a yawning guard walked past, casually swiping a card over the electronic lock on Yang Ming's cell. The lock clicked open.
Once the guard had left, Yang Ming slipped out and entered a nearby cell that had also been unlocked.
A few muffled grunts sounded. Yang Ming was back out in less than half a minute. Keeping close to the wall with his head down, he hurried back to his cell and lay down.
Click. The electronic lock shut by itself.
Half an hour later, a string of screams came from that cell. A large group of guards hurried over, and the fifth floor grew lively once again.
The arm with its bones crushed became the talk of the entire Kor Port Prison the next day.
The next morning, Yang Ming found a slip of paper in his breakfast.
[Sixth floor, 625, Kolev.]
Before you continue