The Imperial Marshal’s Darling at the Tip of His Heart - Chapter 14

Pure white, silent, and cold.

Returning to this absolutely sealed medical cell felt entirely different from before. The pain of being roughly dragged still lingered deep in his body, and the area on his arm grazed by the sedative dart felt faintly numb. However, these physical sensations were eclipsed by a profound mental exhaustion and a strange, flickering sense of excitement.

Yun Shu lay on the medical bed. The flexible restraints once again secured his wrists and ankles, tighter than before. The cables of the life-sign monitor were reattached, translating his weakness and agony into cold, indisputable digits. An Imperial military doctor entered in silence, treated the graze on his arm, injected a fresh dose of nutrients along with a mild sedative, and departed without a word.

Throughout the process, Yun Shu kept his eyes closed as if he had resigned himself to his fate. Yet, beneath the artificial calm brought by the drugs, his mind was racing.

He had succeeded. Amidst that extreme chaos and peril, he had successfully accessed Ling Yao’s authorization and executed his operation. Though he could not be certain exactly how much information he had harvested, that one desperate strike was like plucking a thorned flower from the edge of a precipice. The cost was immense, but the nectar it contained might be vital.

Ling Yao’s fury had been real, but his final commands—to keep him alive and increase security—revealed an unusual nuance. The Marshal had not chosen immediate execution or brutal interrogation. This meant Yun Shu still held value, a value that had become more complex due to the “Extractor” attack and the “Old Noble Factions” that likely stood behind it.

He was no longer just a prisoner or a thief; he had become a bargaining chip, a pawn capable of stirring the internal powers of the Empire. It was a dangerous position, but it offered an opening. He needed time, he needed to recover a sliver of strength, and most importantly, he needed a chance to decode the fragments of information he had risked his life to obtain.

After an unknown amount of time, the sliding door opened again. This time, Ling Yao entered alone. He had changed into a dark, more practical shipboard service uniform. His expression had returned to its habitual coldness and indifference, as if the brief explosion of rage from earlier had never happened. He carried no data pad. He walked to the bedside empty-handed, his gaze once again scrutinizing Yun Shu like a scalpel.

“It seems the Empire’s sedatives and medical technology can still keep this ruined body of yours together for a while longer,” he said, maintaining his unpleasant, caustic style. However, the immediate killing intent had lessened, replaced by a deeper calculation.

Yun Shu opened his eyes slowly to meet the Marshal’s gaze. His voice, affected by weakness and the medication, sounded somewhat distant. “Thanks to the Marshal… I haven’t… fallen apart just yet.”

Ling Yao seemed indifferent to the response. “The Extractor attack has allowed you to live a little longer,” he said flatly, “and it has caused me to change my mind slightly.”

Yun Shu did not reply, waiting quietly for what was to follow.

“Prying your head open directly or letting you rot to death here seems too merciful, and quite a waste,” Ling Yao paced a step, his eyes sweeping over the steady but low data on the monitor. “Furthermore, it seems others are quite interested in your life as well. That makes me curious.”

He stopped and looked back at Yun Shu. “Therefore, I have decided to give you an opportunity. A chance for a true ‘cooperation’.”

Yun Shu’s heart tightened slightly. He knew that Ling Yao’s so-called “cooperation” was anything but an equal exchange.

“I can provide the Empire’s top medical resources to delay the progression of your Crystal-Erosion Disease, alleviate your pain, and let you live a bit more… like a human being,” Ling Yao’s tone was casual, as if discussing a trivial transaction. “I may even allow you access to some non-core, public Imperial research data regarding the ‘Turbid Core’ and gene sequences, once you have proven sufficient value.”

The conditions were unbelievably generous, yet they were riddled with traps. Delaying was not curing; his life would remain entirely in the other man’s hands. Non-core data could be a sugar-coated shell or utterly worthless scraps.

“And the price?” Yun Shu asked directly, his voice weak but clear.

“The price?” A cold arc curved at the corner of Ling Yao’s mouth. “Your knowledge, your technology, and your absolute obedience. I need you to assist in decrypting certain information and analyzing data regarding the ‘Turbid Core’ and some… ancient things.”

He stepped closer, looming over Yun Shu. “Do not try any more tricks. Everything about you, including your breathing rate, is under my surveillance. My patience is limited, and this is your final chance. Be of use to me and live a few days longer. Or else…”

He did not finish, but the cold killing intent filled the room.

Yun Shu remained silent. He knew this was not a choice, but an ultimatum. Refusal meant immediate death. Acceptance meant becoming an Imperial tool, lingering on in humiliation and manipulation, potentially harming Xilan’s interests.

But did he have a choice? Survival bought time and a chance to find a way out. Death ended everything. He took a shallow breath; his lungs still felt tight and painful.

“I… need to see the Marshal’s ‘sincerity’ first,” he said, his eyes calm and steady. “For instance, medication that allows me to sit up and breathe smoothly. Not inhibitors that turn a person into a walking corpse.”

He was testing Ling Yao’s boundaries and fighting for a basic quality of life. This was the prerequisite for any cognitive or technical work. Ling Yao stared at him for several seconds before suddenly letting out a short, mocking laugh.

“You certainly know how to haggle.”

He straightened up and issued a simple command into his wrist communicator: “Medical team, adjust the medication protocol for Ward XA-734. Cease the use of neural inhibitor SN-08. Switch to mild analgesic PG-55, dosage standardized for Level III disability personnel. Increase the supply of pulmonary crystal deposit relief spray.”

The order was concise. Soon, a military doctor entered again, silently changed the intravenous bag, and placed a new inhaler on the nightstand. Not long after the new medication began to circulate, Yun Shu felt the thin layer of ice that had clouded his mind begin to melt. Though his body was still weak and wracked with pain, his mind regained most of its clarity, and his breathing eased slightly.

Ling Yao’s “sincerity” had been delivered, however basic it was.

“Now, it is your turn,” Ling Yao’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “My time is valuable. Show me your value. Now.”

He provided no equipment, merely watching Yun Shu, clearly expecting a verbal report or some form of purely mental work. Yun Shu closed his eyes and thought for a moment. He could not surrender all his cards at once, but he had to offer something real to stabilize Ling Yao.

“The ‘Turbid Core’ pollution source the Marshal is tracking…” he began slowly, his voice raspy but his logic clear. “Its energy signature is not… a single, stable entity. I noticed in Xilan’s monitoring data that there exists a… periodic… frequency fluctuation.”

What he spoke of was a finding from years of research at the Xilan Academy of Sciences that had not been fully verified. it was classified, but not part of the absolute core. Ling Yao’s eyes shifted slightly, clearly interested.

“Frequency fluctuation? Specific parameters?”

“The fluctuation cycle… is approximately 11.3 standard interstellar years. The amplitude is extremely minute; it can only be captured under a specific energy-filtering model,” Yun Shu continued, providing a general direction while withholding the critical algorithmic details of the filtering model. “This fluctuation… might be related to the ‘Turbid Core’s’ activity cycle, or its resonance with some… deep cosmic rhythm. Tracking it might be… more effective than simply following static energy signals.”

This was a valuable lead, enough to keep the Empire’s research departments busy for a while, and it indirectly proved Yun Shu’s capability. Ling Yao said nothing, his gaze deep as he judged the truth and value of the statement.

Silence fell over the room once more. After several minutes, Ling Yao spoke again. “An 11.3-year cycle… interesting.” He neither confirmed nor denied its importance, but pivoted instead. “What else do you know about ‘Tartarus’?”

The core question had arrived. Yun Shu’s heart tightened, but he remained outwardly composed. “I only know… the name. And that… the Empire is extremely secretive about it. The rest… consists of scattered whispers from ‘Extractor’ communications… difficult to distinguish… truth from lies.”

He skillfully shifted the source of the information to the “Extractors,” hiding the fact that he had eavesdropped on the Imperial database. Ling Yao scrutinized him, searching for signs of deception. Yun Shu maintained his calm, even intentionally making his breathing slightly rapid to display exhaustion.

Ultimately, Ling Yao appeared to accept this explanation for the time being. Or perhaps he simply did not believe Yun Shu could know more.

“‘Tartarus’ is not something you should concern yourself with right now,” Ling Yao said coldly. “Focus on what you are supposed to do.”

He turned to the door. Just before the sliding door opened, he stopped and spoke without looking back.

“By this time tomorrow, I want to see the preliminary derivation formulas for that energy fluctuation filtering model. Do not disappoint me, Chief Yun Shu.”

The sliding door closed.

Yun Shu lay alone in his cell. He slowly relaxed his clenched fists; his palms were slick with cold sweat. The first hurdle was cleared. He had won a brief reprieve and a slightly improved situation, but he had also taken on a heavier set of shackles and a daunting task.

He closed his eyes, ignoring the pain in his body, and submerged his entire consciousness into his mind. He began to feverishly recall and reconstruct the data fragments he might have captured during that one, desperate moment.