The Imperial Marshal’s Darling at the Tip of His Heart - Chapter 27

The starship concluded its jump and returned to its regular cruising state.

Yun Shu leaned against the headboard, his gaze falling upon his own blurred and pale reflection on the smooth opposite wall. His fingertips moved unconsciously, tracing light patterns on the cold bedsheet as he repeatedly mentally outlined the energy frequency parameters discovered in “Fragments of the Fallen Star Era-07” that might suppress Crystal-Erosion Disease.

The sliding door opened soundlessly. Ling Yao walked in.

He still wore his ink-black uniform, but his brow was clouded by a lingering haze, suggesting that the impact of the urgent message he had received earlier had not yet dissipated. In his hand, he held a data storage box that was heavier in appearance and clearly possessed a higher security rating. The Imperial eagle emblem and the surrounding skull warning symbols on it radiated an unmistakable aura of danger.

“This is the raw data stream of the most recent energy anomaly intercepted from the peripheral sensors of Tartarus,” Ling Yao said. He connected the storage box to the dedicated interface by the bed. His voice was cold and hard, devoid of any unnecessary pleasantries.

“The encryption level is Omega, featuring seventeen layers of dynamic keys and anti-intrusion traps. Three groups of experts from the Imperial Research Institute attempted to crack it. All failed, and it even triggered two cases of mild neural feedback damage.”

His gaze fell on Yun Shu, carrying a sense of scrutiny and a nearly cruel expectation. “Your ancient knowledge and methods are now the only option. I want to know exactly what is recorded inside, especially any information related to the constraint field weakening and the Sector VII instability mentioned in the Wuyin Star control core logs.”

The pressure weighed down like a mountain. This was not just a test of ability, but a gamble with his life. Failure could mean his brain being completely incinerated by the Empire’s highest-level data defenses. Success, however, might allow him to touch the Empire’s darkest core secrets and exchange them for a sliver of hope for survival.

Yun Shu did not respond immediately. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the air, which carried the cloying sweetness of medication. He struggled to ignore the discomfort in his lungs and the protests of his body, focusing every bit of his mental energy. When he opened his eyes again, his pupils, which had been slightly dilated due to weakness, refocused with a sharp, concentrated light like a tempered star.

“I need the highest level of neural interface clearance and computing power support,” he said. His voice was raspy but exceptionally clear. “The defense mechanism of the data stream will violently reject conventional software cracking. I must perceive it directly with my consciousness to find the rhythm of the keys.”

This was an extremely ancient and dangerous technique originating from the ancestors of Xilan and their way of interacting with early energy networks. It emphasized intuition and perception rather than pure brute-force computing. To modern Imperial technology, this seemed almost primitive and superstitious.

Ling Yao’s brow furrowed as he evaluated the risks. A top-level neural interface meant that Yun Shu’s consciousness would be directly exposed to the impact of the data stream. If he lost control, the consequences would be unthinkable. However, the failure of the Empire’s conventional methods left him with no choice.

“Very well,” he finally nodded, issuing a series of commands into his communicator. “Authorize the opening of a Gamma-level neural interface channel. Connect it to the computing pool of my private server. Medical team, prepare high-intensity consciousness stabilizers and neural protection barriers.”

Soon, more complex interface electrodes were attached to Yun Shu’s temples and the back of his neck. The cool gel brought a slight sting. A powerful consciousness stabilizer was injected, bringing a strange sensation of detachment, as if his soul were leaving his body, while also temporarily numbing most of his physical pain.

“Begin,” Ling Yao’s voice came through the interface cabin’s built-in comms, sounding cold and distant.

Yun Shu took one last look at his discouraging data on the monitor and then slowly closed his eyes.

His consciousness submerged. It was no longer the cold, hard wall-like sensation he felt when touching the Imperial network before. Instead, he was instantly hurled into a violent, chaotic, and bizarre energy storm. The data stream of Tartarus was like the chaos at the dawn of the universe, filled with incomprehensible screams, distorted geometric shapes, violent energy pulses, and bone-chilling malice.

The seventeen dynamic keys were like seventeen frantically dancing venomous snakes, each transformation carrying destructive power. The anti-intrusion traps were like black holes hidden in the shadows, ready to swallow any approaching consciousness at any moment. Sharp pain instantly swept through Yun Shu’s perception, as if his entire brain had been thrown into a meat grinder.

He let out a muffled groan, and his body convulsed violently on the medical bed. The monitor instantly triggered an alarm.

“Steady,” Ling Yao’s cold voice came through, devoid of emotion, as if he were merely evaluating the operating status of an instrument.

Yun Shu gritted his teeth, using all his willpower to resist the impact that was enough to drive a person insane. He no longer tried to understand it with logic but pushed his unique perception to the limit. Like a small boat, he stopped resisting the storm and instead rose and fell with the rhythm of the energy, searching for the base frequency of the Tartarus energy signature within those seventeen frantically changing patterns. It was like listening for the sound of a needle hitting the ground in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Time lost its meaning. Every second felt like an ordeal in hell. His consciousness was torn apart repeatedly and forced back together by the powerful computing power and medication. Sweat soaked him and blood began to seep from the corner of his mouth again, but he was entirely unaware.

Ling Yao stood outside, watching the curve representing Yun Shu’s consciousness stability on the main screen. it flickered frantically like an EKG in a hurricane. He watched the data stream defense system trigger piercing alarms again and again, his expression terrifyingly dark. Through his high-level clearance, he could even vaguely see that tiny speck of light representing Yun Shu’s consciousness within the data storm, flickering like a candle in a gale, nearly extinguished yet stubbornly persisting.

This pure, near-masochistic tenacity touched a tiny, subtle part of his heart once again. This touch was unrelated to emotion; it was more like an acknowledgement of an extreme quality.

Suddenly, the frantically dancing key symbols on the main screen froze. At the most critical moment, Yun Shu’s consciousness, like the most skillful fingers, captured the fleeting, tiny rhythmic gap that was the only commonality between the seventeen changing keys.

“Now!” Yun Shu’s voice came through the interface comms, weak but filled with absolute determination. “Focus the computing power! Inject the key seed! Fast!”

Ling Yao did not hesitate for a second and issued the order instantly. A massive amount of computing power surged in like a tsunami along the tiny gap guided by Yun Shu’s consciousness, fiercely injecting a key seed derived from the base frequency.

The data storm subsided abruptly. The seventeen frantically dancing keys seemed to have been hit by a pause button, then rapidly dissipated and disintegrated like a receding tide. The violent and chaotic data stream instantly became clear and orderly, like a tamed flood, slowly revealing its true face: massive energy readings, complex structural models, and a large number of fragmented text and audio logs.

It was a success.

Yun Shu’s consciousness instantly detached from its state of extreme tension. A massive backlash hit him. He snapped his eyes open, coughed up a large mouthful of blood, and slumped down as if all the bones had been removed from his body. His vision went completely black, and he lost consciousness instantly.

The monitor emitted a shrill, continuous alarm.

“Medical team! Emergency resuscitation!” Ling Yao’s voice carried a hint of imperceptible urgency for the first time. He even instinctively took a step forward, his gaze locked onto Yun Shu’s bloodless face and blood-stained lips.

Medical officers and droids rushed in immediately. Emergency measures followed: cardiac stimulants, defibrillation, high-concentration oxygen. Ling Yao did not leave. He stood there watching the medical officers work, watching the heartbeat that had nearly become a flat line struggle to beat again under the shocks, and watching Yun Shu’s vital signs being forcibly pulled back from the brink of extinction.

His face remained cold and hard, but his tightly pressed lips and unconsciously clenched fists betrayed that unusual spark of concern.

A few minutes later, Yun Shu’s condition finally stabilized temporarily. Although it was worse than before, he was at least alive. Ling Yao’s gaze then turned to the Tartarus data that had been cracked and was now flowing slowly across the screen.

The contents of the logs were bone-chilling.

• • Sector VII constraint field intensity has dropped below the historic low.

• • The energy infiltration of the Wailing Corridor has intensified.

• • Warning: A stable Side Door channel may have formed.

• • Detected an unknown high-frequency signal attempting to establish a connection with the Side Door. Signal feature match: No record. Suspected non-Imperial technology.

• • Garrison fleet report: The patrol boat Prism has gone missing at the edge of Sector VII. The last transmitted signal was heavily interfered with. Fragment analysis revealed non-human language. Repeated vocabulary: Origin.

• • The Emperor’s Decree: Block all news. Raise the Tartarus alert level to Ragnarok. Anyone approaching Sector VII without authorization is to be executed on sight.

• • The Council’s Secret Resolution: Initiate feasibility study for the Purifying Fire contingency plan. Target: Sector VII and all areas that may have been contaminated.

The amount of information was massive and terrifying upon deeper reflection. Not only was there a problem with Tartarus, but a “Side Door” to an unknown place might have appeared, and external forces were even trying to connect to it. The Imperial high command’s reaction was absolute suppression and a potentially cold-blooded “purification.”

Ling Yao’s expression became incredibly grim. His previous investigation had only touched the tip of the iceberg; the truth was far darker and more dangerous than he had imagined. The Empire was not a monolithic entity; it seemed the Emperor and the Council were also at odds.

Just then, a segment of additional information that had been encrypted multiple times and hidden deeply within the cracked data stream caught Ling Yao’s attention. Its encryption method bore a degree of similarity to the one he used in his private investigation and the pattern of that mysterious private node. He immediately mobilized computing power to crack it.

The message was very short, but it struck his heart like a cold dagger.

“Shadowfang report: The target (Ling Yao) has obtained critical Tartarus data. His actions have alerted the Council. The Cleanup Procedure has entered the preparatory stage. Suggestion: If necessary, discard the pawn to preserve the overall situation. Source: Private Node Gamma.”

Ling Yao’s pupils contracted sharply. Shadowfang was the code name of an extremely hidden mole he had planted within the Council’s forces. This message was a highest-level warning sent by his mole at the risk of their life. The Council not only knew he was investigating but was already prepared to “clean” him.

“Discard the pawn.” They made it sound so easy. A cold rage and a massive sense of crisis instantly swept over him.

He looked up sharply, his gaze once again falling on the dying Xilan prisoner on the medical bed, who had nearly paid with his life to crack the data. If even he, the Marshal, faced the risk of being “cleaned” for his achievements and for touching the forbidden, what would happen to this tool from an enemy nation who was learning more and more? Once his value was gone, or to “preserve the overall situation,” what would his end be?

The answer was obvious.

At that moment, Yun Shu’s eyelashes fluttered. With great difficulty, he slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurred and unfocused, filled with extreme exhaustion and pain, as if he had just crawled back from the deepest pits of hell. The first thing he saw was Ling Yao standing by the bed, staring at him with a gaze that was incredibly complex, bone-chilling, and swirling with unknown emotions.

That look made Yun Shu instinctively feel a chill. He weakly moved his lips, but no sound came out.

Ling Yao suddenly leaned down, bringing his face close to Yun Shu’s. The distance between them was instantly reduced to an extremely dangerous and ambiguous degree. Yun Shu could even feel the faint breath of the other man and the cold aura radiating from him. Ling Yao’s hand reached out—not to touch him, but to reach over him and pick up the special analgesic injection pen by the bed.

His movement seemed to pause for a second, and then, with great skill, he injected the medication into Yun Shu’s vein. The cool liquid brought brief relief.

After finishing this, he did not leave immediately. He maintained that oppressive leaning posture, his gaze sharp as a blade looking into Yun Shu’s weak and confused eyes. In a low, cold volume that only the two of them could hear, he spoke:

“The Council already knows that the Tartarus data you just saw is in my hands.”

His sentence struck Yun Shu’s weak consciousness like a thunderclap.

“We are now,” Ling Yao’s voice dropped even lower, carrying a nearly cruel calmness, “truly in the same boat. If you don’t want to be ‘cleaned’ together, then bring out your full value and stay alive.”

Having said that, he stood up, no longer looking at Yun Shu’s suddenly shocked and pale face. He turned and strode away, his silhouette looking resolute and cold.

The sliding door closed soundlessly. Inside the cell, only Yun Shu’s frantic heartbeat and the monotonous ticking of the monitor remained.