The Imperial Marshal’s Darling at the Tip of His Heart - Chapter 10

Darkness.

Yun Shu stumbled as he rushed into the core area of the abandoned reactor. Every step felt as though he were treading on cotton. The burning pain in his lungs and the grinding sensation of the crystals were nearly tearing his consciousness apart.

Behind him, that invisible, cold scanning pulse followed him like a shadow, tightly locked onto his weak, flickering flame of life.

He knew he could not run anymore.

Ling Yao’s net had completely closed, precisely marking every one of his possible hiding spots. This so-called reactor core was nothing more than a larger, more complex cage.

But he did not stop.

The instinct for survival, combined with a sense of responsibility for the billions of people in Xilan that was rooted in his very marrow, drove his broken body forward. Even if he could live just one more second or gain one more piece of information, there was still a sliver of hope.

The main reactor, long since dormant, stood in the center of the zone like a silent black mountain. Radiation warning signs were everywhere. Although most of the energy had been exhausted, the residual readings were still high enough to harm an average person. For Yun Shu’s current condition, it was adding insult to injury.

He ducked into a narrow crevice where pipes interlaced, leaning against the bone-chilling metal wall as he gasped and coughed violently. He fumbled in his pocket for his last vial of high-concentration analgesic. His hand shook so badly he could barely hold it, but he managed to inject it into the side of his neck.

The brief numbness brought by the drug allowed him a moment of respite from the agony, but the blurring of his consciousness and the underlying physical weakness were irreversible.

He opened his palm. The chip he had risked everything for lay there silently. The fragments of information within it pieced together the full picture of his current plight and pointed toward an even grander, more dangerous mystery.

Tartarus. What exactly was the Empire hiding there? What did that “passage” mean? Was it related to the “Initial Gene Sequence” he was searching for?

His thoughts were a tangled mess, and his body was rapidly collapsing. He felt his body temperature dropping. His limbs began to grow cold and numb. Dark halos bloomed at the edges of his vision, and the ringing in his ears grew louder. The terminal symptoms of Crystal Erosion Disease were devouring him at an unprecedented speed.

Just as his consciousness hovered on the brink of fading, a faint yet exceptionally clear footstep broke the deathly silence of the reactor core.

The steps were unhurried, steady, and full of power. They crunched rhythmically against the metal-shrapnel-covered floor. There were no shouts, no chaotic sounds of a search, only this singular, approaching sound carrying the calm and pressure of someone in total control.

Yun Shu’s heart tightened. He bit his lower lip hard, using the sharp pain to force a final spark of clarity. He moved his body with great difficulty, looking out through the gap in the pipes.

In the dim light, a tall, upright figure walked forward at a leisurely pace.

Ling Yao.

He still wore his black tactical gear. His shoulders were broad, his legs long, and his stride steady. He wore no heavy helmet. His handsome but cold face was exposed to the radioactive dust in the air, seemingly indifferent to it. He carried no weapon, his hands simply hanging at his sides.

But that posture alone was more threatening than any weapon.

His gaze acted like a physical searchlight, slowly sweeping across the intricate pipes and steel structures, appearing to see through every disguise. Eventually, that cold, sharp vision locked onto the exact crevice where Yun Shu was hidden.

Their eyes met.

Across the dim light and the interwoven metal pipes, Yun Shu saw no surprise in Ling Yao’s bottomless eyes. There was only a near-indifferent realization and a trace of something extremely faint, an inscrutable curiosity.

Yun Shu’s heart sank to the bottom. He really had known all along.

Ling Yao stopped about ten meters from the entrance of the crevice. This distance ensured the target could not make a sudden, desperate attack, yet was close enough for a clear conversation.

“Chief Yun Shu,” Ling Yao spoke. His voice was not loud, but it echoed clearly in the dead space. It carried a cold, metallic quality and a hint of subtle mockery. “Or should I call you the Ghost?”

His voice betrayed neither joy nor anger, as if he were simply stating a fact.

Yun Shu leaned against the pipe wall and did not respond. He merely struggled to regulate his breathing, trying to suppress the bloody froth rising in his throat. He knew any excuse or denial would be futile.

“Weak life signs, excessive radiation exposure, and an acute onset of terminal Crystal Erosion symptoms.” Ling Yao’s gaze swept over him like a precision scanner, making an instant diagnosis. “Truly, your wretched state is quite remarkable.”

His words remained biting, yet he strangely did not order an immediate arrest.

“Is it worth it? Reducing yourself to this state for a vague Initial Gene Sequence?” Ling Yao asked. It was unclear if his tone was one of pure curiosity or something else. “Is Xilan so desperate that they need their national treasure to come here and die?”

Yun Shu finally caught his breath and looked up, staring at his powerful enemy through the gap. His face was as pale as snow and cold sweat soaked his hair, but even in such a desperate situation, his eyes remained clear and sharp, carrying an unyielding glimmer.

“Marshal Ling,” he spoke, his voice incredibly raspy, yet he fought to keep it steady. “Standing at the peak of the Empire, you naturally cannot understand the craving for a sliver of light felt by those in the mud.”

He had to gasp for air after every few words, but his logic remained sharp. “As for whether it is worth it, the lives of billions of Xilan citizens are not something an Imperial Marshal can measure.”

Ling Yao’s eyes flickered slightly. He seemingly had not expected Yun Shu to be able to counter so calmly in this condition. He fell silent for a moment, his gaze once again sweeping over Yun Shu’s body, which was curled in pain, and the chip he clutched tightly in his palm.

“It seems you managed to snag something interesting from the Snatchers’ communication lines,” Ling Yao said, suddenly changing the subject with an unpredictable tone. “Tartarus. Do you know what kind of place that is?”

Yun Shu felt a chill. His fingers tightened around the chip.

“One of the Empire’s deepest secrets,” he answered breathlessly, trying to read Ling Yao’s expression. “It is closely linked to the Turbid Core, is it not?”

The corner of Ling Yao’s mouth curled almost imperceptibly, somewhere between a cold sneer and something else.

“Knowing too much sometimes leads to a faster death.” He took a step forward, the pressure in the room suddenly intensifying. “Hand over what is in your hand, along with everything you saw in the Imperial database. I can make your death a little more comfortable.”

As he approached, Yun Shu could see the cold, ruthless foundation of the man’s gaze even more clearly.

The Marshal of the Empire was, after all, the Empire’s sharpest weapon.

Yet Yun Shu showed no fear. Instead, a faint smile flickered across his lips. On his pale face, that smile held a broken, tragically beautiful aesthetic, yet it was steeped in an indomitable pride.

“Marshal Ling,” he began, “coming here in person just to ensure a dying man stays silent?”

He coughed violently, blood once again spilling from the corners of his mouth, but he seemed not to care.

He continued with difficulty: “Or perhaps you also want to know what exactly is hidden in the depths of Tartarus? Perhaps that is where the true answer to the Turbid Core—and even Crystal Erosion Disease—lies?”

He was gambling.

He was betting on Ling Yao’s obsession with the Turbid Core; betting that the Empire’s internal structure was not as monolithic as it appeared; and betting on the depths of this powerful man’s heart. He bet that beneath the cold obedience to orders, there lived a personal curiosity and perhaps a sliver of desire for the truth.

Ling Yao’s footsteps halted.

He gazed at Yun Shu. Within those deep eyes, a storm seemed to be gathering, yet at the same time, they revealed nothing at all. The surrounding air seemed to freeze, leaving only the sound of Yun Shu’s irrepressible, broken gasps.

The seconds ticked by.

Suddenly, without warning, Ling Yao took a large stride forward, instantly closing in on the crevice between the pipes. His movement was as fast as a ghost, carrying an overwhelming pressure.

Yun Shu’s pupils shrank. He instinctively tried to shrink back, but he struck the cold pipes hard. This triggered a fit of agonizing coughing that caused his vision to go black.

However, Ling Yao did not reach out to seize him.

He simply stopped at the entrance of the gap. His tall frame blocked out almost all of the faint light from outside, enveloping Yun Shu in his shadow. He leaned down slightly, his cold, scrutinizing gaze falling on Yun Shu’s face like a scalpel. He observed carefully, almost greedily, capturing every trace of pain and every labored breath.

“You are interesting, Yun Shu,” Ling Yao said, his voice dropping into a strange and dangerous tone. “And very bold. A dying prey actually dares to try and negotiate terms with the hunter.”

His gaze finally landed on the blood steadily leaking from the corner of Yun Shu’s mouth, and his eyes darkened slightly.

“But you are right about one thing,” he said, straightening up and regaining his cold indifference. “Your life is still of some use to me. Not as a Xilan architect, but as a key that might open certain puzzles.”

He raised his hand toward the miniature communicator on his wrist.

“Target located,” he ordered coldly. “Life signs are extremely unstable. Medical team, move in immediately. Prepare highest-grade life support. I want him alive and conscious.”

The moment the order was issued, rapid yet orderly footsteps echoed from the distance. Imperial medics and more Obsidian soldiers were rushing toward their location.

Yun Shu leaned against the pipes and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

Had he lost the gamble?

It seemed he had not lost entirely.

Had he won?

He had fallen into a deeper, unknown type of control.

Ultimately, he had failed to escape. But it did not feel like utter despair. Ling Yao’s words hinted at a turning point—a highly dangerous one.

Ling Yao gave him one last look, his expression complex and unreadable. There was scrutiny, curiosity, cold calculation, and perhaps a fleeting touch of something else, something he quickly masked: an instinctual response to seeing something so tenacious and beautiful on the verge of shattering.

He turned away, no longer looking at Yun Shu, as if he had lost interest in the important item he had just secured. He coldly dropped a final command to his subordinates:

“Take him.”

Two words declared the end of this long pursuit.

The Imperial soldiers carefully lifted the nearly immobile Yun Shu from the crevice. Their movements were professional and swift as they hooked him up to portable life-support equipment. Cold fluid was injected into his veins, temporarily sustaining the flickering flame of his life.

The last thing Yun Shu saw before slipping into unconsciousness was the tall silhouette of Ling Yao’s back as he walked toward the armored vehicle, and the massive, oppressive abandoned shipyard that felt like a metallic tomb.