A Bunch of Big Liars [Bonus Chapter Thanking Everyone]

The prisoners, spaced two meters apart, filed like ants through the corridor, climbed the endlessly 'folding' stairs, and under the watch of semi-automated weapons and guards, gradually arrived at the plaza atop the prison.

Yang Ming kept observing every spot; the prison's three-dimensional structure had already been etched into his mind like a sand table.

The view from the top deck was indeed quite nice.

This should be above the side of Kor Port; beyond the prison stretched the deep starry sky, with a semi-solidified transparent dome perfectly enclosing the top plaza.

'What if this dome breaks? Wouldn't people get sucked out into the vacuum?'

Yang Ming couldn't help but think with some concern.

That M-type Dwarf Star hung in the deep starry void, its orange-red light somewhat subdued—a trait of such stars: dawdling, reluctant to burn fiercely, barely using a bit of hydrogen to maintain its dignity as a star.

A few mechanical guards stood at the four corners, a rare sight for Yang Ming.

The Milky Way Galaxy had three great calamities:

First Calamity: Heavenly Disaster, extragalactic invading civilizations;

Second Calamity: Heavenly Disaster, the insect race that periodically returned to the Milky Way to reproduce;

Third Calamity: Heavenly Disaster, the mechanical intelligence crisis.

Mechanical intelligence referred to intelligent machines with fully automated weapon systems, mechanical bodies that developed human-like consciousness and broke free from human society's control, completing an automated closed loop in their own production, maintenance, design, and development.

Not just any random self-aware robot could be called a mechanical intelligence crisis.

In the current development of civilizations in the Milky Way, mechanical intelligence crises had occurred over a dozen times, large and small, and the rise and fall of several empires in galactic history were closely tied to the outbreak of such crises.

—What Yang Ming knew was only the background of the Abyss game, which might differ somewhat from the actual information in this world.

He carefully observed these mechanical guards for a while, found they were just 'responders' following programmed commands, and felt a bit disappointed.

In the corner, several burly men glared fiercely at Yang Ming.

Yang Ming's gaze swept over them, and these burly men, as if by unspoken agreement, pressed their legs together, averted their eyes, and whistled a few times.

That's it?

Prison gang, that's it?

Yang Ming had thought there might be a big fight today between him and dozens of burly men, but they were already cowed after one round.

'Have I been getting more violent lately?'

Still, the feeling of his physical strength constantly growing was really satisfying.

In the corner was a sun umbrella, with several burly men in prison uniforms lined up, blocking Yang Ming's view; behind them, a recliner was faintly visible, along with curling smoke.

What's that?

A special presence in this prison?

Yang Ming clasped his hands behind his back, strolling calmly toward that corner like an officer on inspection.

The guards nearby chatted and laughed, only glancing at Yang Ming before quickly looking away.

Clearly, the guards wouldn't stop anyone from approaching this 'special presence.'

As Yang Ming, wearing the uniform of the Sherman Empire, drew closer, the burly men acting as bodyguards grew visibly tense; they had heard of Yang Ming's feat of taking on six men alone without a scratch.

A large hand stopped Yang Ming at the chest.

The burly man blocking him had eyes full of wariness 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 said with a smile. "Then why don't you ask Bailin?"

From behind the burly man came an aged laugh: "Let the Imperial officer come over. What an interesting young man."

This Old Bailin had a Mediterranean hairstyle and a face full of wrinkles; in the galactic era where the average human lifespan was over 120 galactic years, it was hard to tell exactly how old Bailin was.

As Yang Ming approached, Mr. Bailin was puffing on an e-cigarette of unknown composition, drinking fizzy soda, wearing a loose bathrobe that revealed a thick patch of light chest hair.

"Hello, Imperial officer."

Old Bailin greeted him cheerfully:

"Forgive my rudeness; these old bones of mine are too lazy to move."

Yang Ming offered a slight smile: "If you're a respected elder, there's no need to be so polite to a young man like me."

"Oh, is that so?"

Bailin's smile grew more pronounced, and he gestured to the side; a burly man brought over a 'plastic' chair and placed it next to Bailin's recliner.

"Please, sit, young man," Bailin said with a grin. "I was planning to just brush you off. You're trouble—I don't need to read your file, just looking at you tells me you're a big problem."

Yang Ming reminded himself internally to maintain the bearing of an Imperial soldier, sitting upright in the plastic chair.

He said with a smile, "I might be trouble for my enemies, but for my friends, I'm undoubtedly an honest and reliable partner."

"Hahaha," Bailin's wrinkled face crinkled into a chrysanthemum of laughter. "They said you were a cold, merciless killing machine, a ruthless assassin trained by the Empire. I never expected you to be so witty, hahahaha."

Yang Ming shrugged, already forming a judgment in his mind.

This Old Bailin was likely the 'Dragon Head' of the prison, the kind who played both sides of the law.

What could he offer him?

Right, information.

What Yang Ming needed most right now was information.

Yang Ming steered the conversation toward the main topic: "I heard from my cellmate that Mr. Bailin can do just about anything in this prison?"

"That's definitely an exaggeration," Bailin said with a smile. "Of course, if you can afford the price, I can find ways to get you some oddities. I have the connections for that, and the guards give me a bit of face."

Yang Ming asked, "Is everything measured in currency?"

"No, no, no," Bailin chuckled. "For those mediocre types, the money they had before coming in is all the value they have now—everything has a clear price tag. But you're different... an Imperial officer's salary isn't much."

Yang Ming flashed a smile that screamed poverty.

In truth, Hanton still had a decent amount saved up—marrying a Female Noble wasn't cheap.

Bailin said, "You took down six by yourself, didn't you? And came out unscathed?"

"I've learned a lot of killing techniques," Yang Ming replied. "If you're thinking of having me do that kind of thing for you, forget it. Beating others doesn't bring me any pleasure."

"Oh, young man, don't be hasty. Doing business here is all about mutual compromise."

Bailin squinted as he smiled. "First, tell me what you want, and then I'll name my price."

"A map of Kor Port, as detailed as possible," Yang Ming said quietly.

Bailin's expression shifted slightly. He frowned at Yang Ming and said in a low voice, "That's a bit taboo, young man."

"But you can do it, can't you?" Yang Ming's gaze sharpened.

"I know that three different intelligence agencies have already come looking for you today," Bailin said, staring at Yang Ming. "You just need to wait for your Empire to take you back. Don't stir up unnecessary trouble."

"Then does Mr. Bailin know which one is from my homeland?"

"I'm afraid I can't help you there," Bailin said with a bitter smile. "I'm just a merchant. I don't want trouble. This is far beyond my ability."

"So 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've actually realized that. Yes, that's right—at least two of those three parties mean you no good."

Bailin took a drag from his e-cigarette, his whole body seeming to freeze as he sat there blankly for a while.

Bailin said, "I can't give you the map, but I do know someone who can definitely help you. However, I won't share that information for free—you'll have to do something for me. That's my rule."

"Time, place, target."

Yang Ming stood up calmly. "You can pass that on through my cellmate."

"Hey, Hanton," Bailin said with a squint. "Do you really trust me that much?"

"You'll keep your word," Yang Ming said with absolute certainty, giving Bailin a wink with his right eye before leaving.

Old Bailin didn't read any sexual innuendo into that wink.

What he read was the young man's confidence and his thinly veiled threat.

'Kids these days have no manners.'

Old Bailin shook his head with a sigh and continued blowing smoke rings at the starry sky.

An hour and a half later, Yang Ming's batch of prisoners finished their yard time. Old Bailin stayed behind to enjoy the lazy afternoon until two meticulous guards appeared at his side.

"The Chief Guard wants to see you, Mr. Bailin."

Yang Ming, of course, had no idea who Bailin was referring to, but he was willing to give it a limited try.

He waited two days in his cell. Then his obese cellmate suddenly sidled up and nervously whispered a time late at night, a cell number on the same floor, and one arm.

Yang Ming nodded to show he understood.

When the time came, a yawning guard passed by, casually swiping a card over the electronic lock on Yang Ming's cell. The lock clicked open.

Once the guard left, Yang Ming slipped out and entered another cell nearby that was also unlocked.

A few muffled grunts sounded. Yang Ming was in and out in less than half a minute, hugging the wall as he walked quickly back to his own cell, where he found a spot and lay down.

Click. The electronic lock shut on its own.

Half an hour later, continuous screams erupted from that other cell. A swarm of guards rushed over, and the fifth floor buzzed with activity for a while.

That arm with its shattered bones became the talk of Kor Port Prison the next day.

The following morning, Yang Ming found a note in his breakfast.

[Sixth floor, 625, Kolev.]