The Imperial Marshal’s Darling at the Tip of His Heart - Chapter 12

The soft click of the sliding door closing isolated Yun Shu completely within that pure white, cold space. The ticking of the monitor was the only scale of time, measuring the remaining sands of his life with precision and indifference.

Ling Yao’s final words echoed in his mind: “Think about your value. Think about Xilan, and think about what ‘Tartarus’ actually means.”

Value? His greatest value lay in the research data regarding Xilan within his mind, his understanding of Crystal-Erosion Disease, and the intelligence regarding Imperial secrets he had risked everything to steal. Ling Yao wanted these. As for “Tartarus,” the name was like a venomous snake, entwined with the unknown and the dangerous. Ling Yao seemed certain it held special significance for him.

He could not easily surrender everything. To do so would be to hand over Xilan’s hidden cards and his own life entirely to the enemy. Yet, a total refusal that enraged Ling Yao might result in immediate death or a fate worse than death. He needed to maneuver. In this state of extreme disadvantage, he had to find a sliver of hope, perhaps even an opportunity to turn the tables.

The weakness of his body and the continuous encroachment of Crystal-Erosion Disease made thinking exceptionally difficult. Every attempt to focus was like digging for surviving sparks from a burning ruin. Forcing himself to ignore the discomfort in his lungs and the aches in his body, he began to carefully observe the cell.

The walls, ceiling, and floor were made of a special material that seemed to absorb energy fluctuations and sound, isolating the interior from the world outside. The ventilation duct was extremely narrow, ensuring only basic air circulation. The door had no visible control panel; its method of opening was unknown. The monitor was connected to sensors on his body, continuously transmitting his physiological data. He was like a specimen placed in a transparent petri dish, with no privacy whatsoever.

Time passed, though he could not tell how much. It might have been several hours or longer. During that interval, the sliding door opened silently again. An expressionless technician wearing an Imperial military doctor’s uniform entered, holding a tray with a new nutrient solution and a bottle of transparent medicine that emitted a faint chill.

The technician did not speak. They skillfully replaced the intravenous bag beside the bed and then, via an infusion pump, slowly injected the cold medicine into Yun Shu’s vein.

The moment the medicine entered, a powerful chill capable of freezing blood instantly swept through his entire body. Yun Shu’s body tensed violently. His teeth chattered uncontrollably and his breathing suddenly became difficult. This sensation was not for pain relief; it felt more like an inhibition, suppressing his neural activity and crushing any residual capacity for resistance, whether physical or mental.

The Empire’s methods were indeed precise and cold. The technician indifferently recorded the changes in the data on the monitor, remaining oblivious to Yun Shu’s pain, and left immediately after finishing the task.

The chill lasted for nearly ten minutes before slowly receding, leaving behind a deeper sense of exhaustion and powerlessness. His thoughts were veiled in a thin layer of ice, making his mind sluggish. Ling Yao was using this method to remind him who held absolute control and to weaken his bargaining chips. Yun Shu closed his eyes, husbanding what little strength he had left. He could not let himself be worn down to death here.

After a long while, the sliding door opened for the third time. This time, it was not a military doctor but two soldiers dressed in the black combat suits of the “Obsidian Guard.” They nimbly unfastened the flexible restraints on Yun Shu’s wrists and ankles but did not remove the sensors from his body.

“Get up. The Marshal wants to see you,” the soldier’s voice was hard and devoid of emotion.

Yun Shu tried to move, but the intense weakness and muscle soreness made it nearly impossible for him to sit up. The soldiers seemed to have expected this. They braced his arms from both sides and practically dragged him off the medical bed. His feet stepped weakly onto the cold floor; he was entirely dependent on their support to stand.

They half-carried, half-dragged him out of the cell. Outside was a narrow corridor, equally white with soft lighting. The walls were smooth and seamless, extending into unknown depths. The air carried a highly filtered scent of metal and ozone, and he could faintly feel a low-frequency vibration that seemed to seep into his blood.

He was inside a large starship—a high-level Imperial vessel currently in transit. Ling Yao had already taken him away from Star-Fragment City.

They passed through several more seamless automatic sliding doors before finally entering a relatively spacious room. The furnishings were still simple and cold, but there were more traces of life here than in the cell. There was a metal desk, several chairs, and a large observation window currently in a one-way shielded state. Outside should have been the vast starry sky, but for now, it only reflected the scene inside the room.

Ling Yao sat behind the office desk, still in his dark black service uniform, looking down at the data flowing across the light screen in front of him. Hearing the movement, he looked up. His gaze landed on Yun Shu, who was being supported by the soldiers and was so weak he could barely stand. His eyes were sharp as usual, filled with scrutiny and evaluation, as if trying to judge how much value could still be squeezed out of this wretched state.

The soldiers placed Yun Shu into a chair opposite the desk and then retreated silently to the door, standing like two silent statues. Yun Shu leaned against the back of the chair, breathing shallowly and struggling to maintain his posture so as not to appear too pathetic. He knew that any sign of weakness could be magnified by the other man and used as a bargaining chip.

Ling Yao did not speak immediately. He simply tapped the tabletop rhythmically with his finger. His gaze slid from Yun Shu’s pale face to his fingers, which were trembling slightly from weakness, and finally met his eyes again.

“Have you considered it, Chief Yun Shu?” he finally asked. His voice was steady, revealing no emotion. “Will you choose to cooperate and live a few more days with dignity, or will you continue to resist and force me to use unpleasant means to dig what I need out of your broken body?”

His way of speaking was direct and cruel, without any circumlocution.

Yun Shu took a deep breath, suppressing the itch in his throat. His voice was weak, but he kept it as steady as possible. “Marshal Ling must speak more clearly about what he wants. I am merely a sick man and cannot guess the thoughts of an Imperial Marshal.”

“I want everything you saw in the Imperial database, especially the complete information regarding ‘Tartarus’ and the ‘Primal Gene Sequence’.” Ling Yao leaned forward, and the pressure followed. “And the determination behind your willingness to die just to infiltrate the Empire; what other Xilan plans are hidden behind that?”

“The things I saw were fragmented. Does the Marshal not already know them?” Yun Shu spoke slowly, his gaze not wavering. “As for Xilan’s plan, it is simple: to survive. Like a drowning person who will desperately grab even a piece of straw.”

“A straw?” Ling Yao sneered. “You think the Empire’s highest secrets are a straw? Chief Yun Shu, excessive modesty is merely hypocrisy.” His gaze turned cold. “Your intrusion path and decryption methods do not look like those of a drowning man who only knows how to grab at straws. Tell me, how did you discover the underlying algorithmic flaws in the ‘Stardust’ encryption? And that unique consciousness-dive technique, who taught you?”

He was probing. He was testing Xilan’s technical foundations and the boundaries of Yun Shu’s abilities. Yun Shu’s heart sank slightly. Ling Yao was indeed sharp; he was not just looking at the results but analyzing the process. He could not expose all the secret research cards Xilan’s laboratory had held over the years.

“Desperate situations can always force out methods one would not normally think of.” Yun Shu avoided the main point and coughed a few times. “As for the technique, a person who races against death every day will always know better than others how to squeeze their own limits. Is that not so, Marshal?”

He tossed the question lightly back to Ling Yao, implying his actions were merely an extreme individual performance under the threat of death rather than representing a collective technological breakthrough for Xilan.

Ling Yao stared at him, seemingly trying to find a flaw beneath his calm expression. The room fell into a brief silence, broken only by Yun Shu’s suppressed breathing and the low hum of the instruments.

“Very well.” After a moment, Ling Yao suddenly leaned back in his chair. The corner of his mouth curved into a cold arc. “Since you insist this was merely your personal deathbed struggle, I will change my line of questioning.”

He raised his hand and tapped several times on the light screen, pulling up a document.

“According to the preliminary detection report from the Imperial Medical Department, your Crystal-Erosion Disease has entered its terminal stage. Your organs show varying degrees of crystallization, and the neural erosion rate exceeds forty percent. According to conventional medical judgment, you have at most two months to live, and the final month will be extremely painful.” His words were a cold statement of fact, like reading an attrition report for a piece of equipment.

“However,” his tone shifted as his gaze locked onto Yun Shu again. “In the field of Imperial biotechnology, there are some cutting-edge technologies that have not yet been made public. They may not be able to cure Crystal-Erosion Disease, but delaying the rate of crystallization, alleviating pain, or even extending your life by several months is not entirely impossible.”

Yun Shu’s breathing hitched almost imperceptibly. Extending his life? Alleviating the pain? To him, this was undoubtedly the most tempting bait in the darkness. Even knowing it might be poison, he could not help but feel a flicker of longing.

Ling Yao keenly captured this moment of hesitation.

“Of course, the prerequisite for all of this is,” Ling Yao’s voice carried a hint of the laziness of one in total control, “that you prove your ‘value’ is worth the Empire consuming these precious resources for you.”

“What kind of proof does the Marshal want?” Yun Shu’s voice was dry.

“It is simple.” Ling Yao’s finger swiped across the light screen. “I need you to assist in decrypting a piece of encrypted information. This information is related to the ‘Turbid Core’ pollution source we are currently tracking. The encryption method is very ancient and unique; the Empire’s existing decryption algorithms are inefficient. And you…” He looked at Yun Shu meaningfully. “You seem very good at dealing with these ‘antiques’.”

Yun Shu understood immediately. Ling Yao did not just want the intelligence in his head; he wanted to fully utilize his technical abilities to make him work for the Empire. Decrypting information related to the “Turbid Core”? This actually overlapped to some extent with his own original intention of finding a cure. But the purpose was for the Empire.

This was a dangerous trap. Once he started, it would be a tacit agreement to cooperate, pulling him step by step into the Empire’s camp. But refusing might mean losing this faint hope of survival immediately.

Just as Yun Shu was rapidly weighing the pros and cons in his mind, the ship’s hull suddenly underwent a violent vibration! It was accompanied by a piercing alarm!

“Warning! Unknown energy impact encountered! Shield energy dropped by fifteen percent!” “High-speed moving object detected approaching! Identification signal matches an ‘Extractor’ modified attack ship!”

Ling Yao’s face instantly darkened, and he stood up abruptly. “Those lingering rats! They actually dare to pursue an Imperial starship!”

He immediately issued a series of orders into the communicator: “All units to battle stations! Activate the defense matrix! Escort fleet, intercept the attack! Lock onto that attack ship and tear it apart!”

The orders were barely given when another, more violent impact hit! The ship tilted and the lights flickered. Yun Shu was already weak and nearly slid from his chair; he only avoided falling to the floor by bracing himself against the desk in time.

Ling Yao glanced at him and ordered the soldiers at the door: “Watch him!”

With that, he strode out toward the bridge, clearly intending to command the battle personally. Yun Shu leaned against the desk, gasping for air, listening to the faint sounds of explosions and the whistle of energy weapons passing by outside.

The “Extractors”… they were crazy enough to directly attack the starship of an Imperial Marshal? Was it for him? Or for something else?

Chaos might be an opportunity. He looked at the two soldiers standing guard at the door, then looked around. Ling Yao had left in a hurry; perhaps he had left behind some opening? For instance, that light computer he hadn’t had time to turn off?

His gaze landed on the light screen of Ling Yao’s desk, which was still lit. His heart rate accelerated slightly.