The Imperial Marshal’s Darling at the Tip of His Heart - Chapter 21

Ling Yao’s command was like an icy chain tightening once more.

“Landing on Wuyin Star in person?”

Given Yun Shu’s current physical condition, stepping into that perilous wasteland, where even fully armed elite soldiers had nearly lost their lives, was no different from walking straight to his death.

Yun Shu instinctively wanted to refuse, but before the words could leave his mouth, they dissolved into a fit of even more violent coughing. He curled his body over, covering his mouth tightly with his hand. His thin shoulders shook so hard it seemed he might fall apart at any second.

This time, what he coughed up were no longer scattered crystalline flecks, but startling, vivid red blood clots mixed with blue shards.

The monitor emitted a piercing alarm, and red lights flashed frantically, indicating that his vital signs were deteriorating rapidly.

Ling Yao’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. A flash of extreme impatience crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, calculated weighing of the situation.

He spoke coldly into the communicator: “Medical team, get in here immediately. Use the highest-grade cardiac stimulants and pulmonary crystal suppressants.”

Soon, medical officers rushed in with equipment, skillfully performing emergency treatment.

The icy, potent drugs were injected into his veins, bringing a brief, near-suffocating sensation of contraction before finally managing to suppress the fatal coughing. However, what followed was an even deeper sense of exhaustion and numbness.

Yun Shu lay limp on the bed, his vision darkening and his ears ringing incessantly. Every breath sounded like a broken bellows being pulled. What little strength he had left seemed entirely depleted. In this state, let alone landing on a planet, he could barely manage to walk out of this prison cell.

Ling Yao stood by the bedside, watching the medical officers work with cold indifference. Only when Yun Shu’s breathing steadied slightly did he speak.

His tone brooked no argument: “I am giving you two hours to recover. In two hours, have your protective gear on and stand by at Airlock Bay 3.”

He seemed not to care at all whether Yun Shu died on the way. He only cared if the man could provide enough value before he expired.

“Marshal,” Yun Shu’s voice was so faint it was nearly inaudible, tinged with the scent of blood and resentment. “In my current state, going down there is just being a burden. I cannot perform any effective work.”

“As long as your brain can still function, that is enough,” Ling Yao interrupted him, his gaze sweeping over the isolated data pad that had just performed so well. “I need you on-site to directly perceive those energy etchings. Any instrument transmission involves loss and delay. As for your body,” he paused, his voice carrying a trace of cruel apathy, “the Empire’s best medical resources will keep you alive as much as possible. As long as your brain has not stopped thinking, you must work.”

Having said his piece, he gave Yun Shu no further chance to protest. He turned and left to deploy the details for the upcoming landing.

Yun Shu lay on the bed, staring at the pure white ceiling, his heart filled with icy despair. Ling Yao viewed him entirely as a tool: an object to be squeezed of its last bit of value and then discarded. And yet, he was powerless to resist.

The medical officers injected him with more life-sustaining and mental-stimulating drugs, then changed him into a specially made, lighter internal life-support suit. Worn against the skin, it allowed for real-time monitoring and provided basic life support. The heavy, standard protective suit would then be layered over it.

Two hours slipped away quickly amidst the drug-induced haze and the torment of consciousness.

When the soldiers returned to help him up from the medical bed, he felt like a puppet held up by strings. His limbs were heavy and weak, and his vision remained somewhat blurred. Supported on both sides, he was led out of the prison cell toward the equipment zone on the lower deck of the starship.

Outside Airlock Bay 3, a new landing party had already assembled: twelve people in total, including Ling Yao and himself. All were clad in heavy, Imperial-standard heavy protective suits. Their helmet visors reflected the cold lights like steel giants.

Ling Yao’s protective suit was also black, though his shoulder insignia and specific details indicated his higher rank and authority.

As Yun Shu was escorted over, most of the gazes behind the visors were cold or filled with a trace of subtle contempt. To them, it was absurd and risky for the Marshal to personally lead a sickly, dying foreigner, a prisoner no less, and have him take up a valuable spot on the landing team.

Ling Yao ignored his subordinates’ looks and pointed to a nearby protective suit that was clearly a size smaller but equally heavy: “Put it on him.”

Two soldiers stepped forward. Their movements were not exactly rough, but they certainly were not gentle as they began to fit Yun Shu into the heavy gear. The suit’s lining attempted to adapt to his frame, but it still felt hollow, making him look even more frail and withered.

The moment the helmet snapped into place, the internal oxygen supply and communication systems activated. The respiratory mask sealed over his face, providing pure but metallic-tasting air. It slightly eased his difficulty breathing but brought an intense sense of isolation and oppression. The weight of the suit nearly buckled his waist. He relied entirely on the soldiers to stay upright.

Ling Yao walked up to him, his tall, black silhouette casting a massive sense of pressure. He checked the readings on Yun Shu’s life-support suit and the external data ports, confirming the connection to the team network was stable.

“Stay close to me.”

Ling Yao’s voice came through the internal comms channel, cold, direct, and devoid of emotion. “Once we land, you have only two tasks. First, stay alive. Second, perceive and analyze all abnormal energy signals, especially those related to the etchings. Do not make any unnecessary moves without my command. Understood?”

Through his visor, Yun Shu looked into Ling Yao’s cold, heartless eyes and nodded with difficulty.

His raspy, weak response crackled through the communicator: “Understood.”

“Move out.”

The internal door of the airlock slid shut, and the outer door opened. Instantly, the suffocating environment of Wuyin Star rushed in through the opening.

Even through the thick protective suit, one could feel the heavy pressure of the atmosphere, thick with radiation and the scent of decay. The grey-green fog rolled like a living thing, and visibility was extremely low.

The landing craft was ready. Everyone boarded the cramped cabin in sequence. Yun Shu was placed in the seat next to Ling Yao. The safety harness clicked shut automatically, securing him in place and preventing him from collapsing due to weakness.

The landing craft detached from the starship, falling like a stone into the mists below.

A violent jolting and a sense of g-force hit them. Yun Shu gritted his teeth, fighting back the urge to vomit, his face turning paper-white inside the helmet. He could feel Ling Yao’s scrutinizing gaze from the side, as if the Marshal were evaluating whether this tool would break during the first impact.

The landing craft struggled through the mist and energy turbulence, finally touching down in a relatively flat area covered in crystal clusters and fissures, kicking up a cloud of crystalline dust.

The hatch opened.

“Maintain alertness. Advance in the designated formation.”

Ling Yao was the first to stand, walking out of the craft with agile movements. The soldiers followed closely, forming a tactical perimeter. Yun Shu was unbuckled by a soldier and assisted down the ramp.

His feet landed on the soil of Wuyin Star. It was soft and viscous, as if he were stepping on rotting crystals. All around was a boundless thick fog, with distorted shadows flitting through it. A low humming sounded in the distance, as if the planet itself were breathing.

The gravity seemed slightly higher than standard, making every step an immense struggle. The suit’s life-support system worked hard to offset the environmental damage, but he could still feel the stinging sensation brought by the omnipresent radiation and energy erosion. The crystals of the Crystal-Erosion Disease inside his body seemed to become more active because of this, sending waves of familiar, grinding pain through him.

“This way.”

Ling Yao’s voice rang in the channel. Guided by the previously scanned maps and the energy model Yun Shu had provided, he led the way toward the ruins.

The squad moved slowly through the dense fog. Yun Shu was positioned in the middle of the group, with soldiers protecting him from both front and back. He fought to concentrate, moving his feet with difficulty while expanding his perception to the limit. Through the suit’s built-in sensors and his own unique energy sensitivity, he captured the subtle changes in the surroundings.

“Thirty meters to the front-left. Energy turbulence, medium intensity. Suggest detour.”

His raspy voice echoed in the squad channel.

Ling Yao did not hesitate for a second, immediately ordering a change in direction. Yun Shu’s warning was accurate once again. It was only after they bypassed the area that the soldiers’ scanners detected the hidden energy vortex.

After several such instances, the contemptuous looks from the squad members gradually vanished, replaced by a silent astonishment. This sick prisoner seemed to actually have some uncanny abilities.

Ling Yao made no comment, merely adjusting their route based on Yun Shu’s guidance. Their efficiency was more than double that of the first scout team.

Finally, the silhouette of the ancient ruins emerged again through the fog. The massive, tilted stone structures were covered in thick, shimmering crystalline growths, exuding an ancient and eerie aura. The marker lights left by the scout team flickered in the mist like faint ghost fires.

Approaching the cleared wall near the ruin’s entrance, the deep purple, complex, and grotesque etchings became even more vivid under the close-range searchlights. They seemed to possess a life of their own, with faint energy flowing slowly through the patterns.

“This is it,” Ling Yao stopped, his eyes burning as he stared at the etchings. “Yun Shu, step forward and analyze. Everyone else, maximum alert.”

The soldiers immediately fanned out, taking up advantageous positions and aiming their weapons at the surrounding fog as if facing a great enemy.

Supported by a soldier, Yun Shu walked up to the etched wall. At such close range, the strange energy fluctuations became even clearer. It was cold, ancient, and carried an indescribable sense of erosion and sorrow.

He reached out, his gloved fingers hovering over the lines of the etchings. He closed his eyes and focused his perception entirely.

In an instant, a massive, chaotic, and shattered flood of information surged into his mind through his senses, like a dam bursting.

Agonized roars, the collapse of stars, desperate whispers, incomprehensible geometric patterns, and violent energy flows: countless images and sensations clashed and intertwined, nearly tearing his consciousness apart.

“Ugh!” Yun Shu let out a pained groan. His body lurched, and he nearly fell, saved only by the soldier beside him who caught him in time.

“What is happening?” Ling Yao’s cold voice demanded.

“The information is too much and too chaotic,” Yun Shu panted heavily, trying to catch useful fragments from the torrent of data. “It is like the echoes of countless dying consciousnesses branded here.”

Enduring a splitting headache, he struggled to discern the meaning: “Regarding the Turbid Core, it is not a simple disaster. It is more like a twisted life form or a cage?”

His words were fragmented, filled with uncertainty and pain.

Ling Yao’s brow furrowed deeply: “Be clear! What do you mean by cage?”

“I do not know, the feeling is very blurred,” Yun Shu’s voice grew weaker. “But these etchings seem to be recording a seal or some kind of attempt.”

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He looked at a specific node in the etching pattern: “Here, this frequency resonates with the signals from the Calante and the abnormal readings from Tartarus!”

He seemed to have grasped a key point, but in the next second, an even larger wave of information struck. Amidst it was a perception that was extremely dark, cold, and filled with malice.

Yun Shu’s expression changed drastically. He took a sharp step back, blurting out: “No! Something has been disturbed! It has noticed our probe!”

Almost the moment the words left his lips, a low hum, powerful enough to pierce the soul, suddenly erupted from deep within the ruins.

Immediately following, the ground began to shake violently. It was even more intense than the previous energy eruption.

“Warning! High-energy reaction detected! Coming from directly beneath the ruins! Intensity is skyrocketing!” a soldier’s panicked voice screamed over the channel.

“Prepare for combat! Retreat!”

Ling Yao acted instantly, grabbing Yun Shu’s arm with startling force and dragging him backward in an attempt to retreat.

But it was too late.

The thick crystalline dust covering the entrance of the ruins exploded outward. A pillar of light, indescribable in color, distorted, and composed of pure malice and decaying energy, burst forth. Mixed with countless sharp crystal shards, it was as if the gates of hell had swung open, sweeping toward them with savage fury.

The aura of death instantly enveloped everyone.