Seventh Space Station.

The Tigers craned their necks toward the docking gate.

“Boss, why aren’t they here yet?” one lackey asked.

Meng Dahu’s heart was racing. “They’ll be here any moment.”

This was a ten‑billion deal! And with Extreme Shadow no less!

Once it went through, the Tiger Gang’s name would ring across the pirate underworld.

Half an hour later, the hatch slid open.

Instantly, the Tigers straightened with excitement.

Meng Dahu tugged nervously at his fur coat and hurried forward in welcome.

“Boss Chi, at last you’ve arrived.”

Chi Yao gave him one indifferent glance. “You’re Meng Dahu?”

Meng Dahu nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, I’m the Tiger leader. We just met yesterday.”

Chi Yao said nothing, waving Fang Liang forward with the contract details.

Fang Liang produced it. “This is the procurement agreement. Look it over. The list is attached—our men will need to go verify the goods.”

Meng Dahu scanned the papers, barely registering the clauses—only one column mattered.

Ten billion. So many zeroes!

“No problem!” he exclaimed in delight. “We can start verification immediately.”

Fang Liang looked to Chi Yao, who allowed it, and departed with one of the Tigers to check stock.

As soon as they were gone, Meng Dahu leaned forward with a grin, eager to flatter. “As expected of Boss Chi—only you sign a deal worth ten billion offhand.”

Chi Yao lounged on the sofa, long legs crossed, lazily flipping through the so‑called procurement list.

Scraps and junk littered the page: S82 mech arms, D38 cockpit wreckage, B88 shotgun barrels…

Broken trash of every kind.

“Ten billion enough?” Chi Yao asked lazily.

“Enough, enough!” Meng Dahu nodded wildly. More than double the black‑market price—way more than enough!

Sensing maybe he’d overplayed his hand, he quickly amended, “On the black market those goods would fetch higher, of course. But since it’s Extreme Shadow, of course we give Boss Chi face.”

Chi Yao nodded idly. “Yes… fine things indeed.”

Meng Dahu beamed. “Only the best from Tiger Gang.”

Then Chi Yao spoke, tone mild, “So many treasures for just ten billion… sounds cheap. If word gets out, people might think I—Extreme Shadow—took advantage. Better I raise it to one hundred billion.”

“One hundred billion?!”

Meng Dahu’s mind went blank. Was this real?

The entire hall froze into dumb silence.

That much money—their gang would be rich for life!

Chi Yao tossed the contract back onto the table, gaze sharpening. “How about it? One hundred billion good enough?”

Meng Dahu jolted awake, happiness spilling out—until he met Chi Yao’s eyes.

Expressionless, yet it felt like Death itself staring him down.

Cold sweat soaked his back. Trap.

—Click.

The sound of a rifle cocking.

From behind Chi Yao, Li Yuan twirled it idly in his hands.

Meng Dahu nearly jumped out of his skin. His scalp tingled, as if his crown would fly off.

“O‑of course not, of course not. I’d never dare let you overspend like that.”

But Chi Yao’s expression didn’t change. Li Yuan still rolled the rifle in his grip.

Panic choked the Tiger leader. He regretted everything. Money blinded him into this pit—for nothing. Didn’t he know Extreme Shadow saw through swindlers like glass? Everyone who’d tried to fleece Chi Yao… their graves had long overgrown.

Grimacing, he muttered, “We’ll give Boss Chi on eighty‑percent discount.”

Chi Yao’s eyes stayed flat.

“Seventy,” Meng Dahu stammered.

Unblinking silence.

“Fifty—”

“Thirty—”

His lip trembled, eyes watering.

“I‑it’s really all junk. If you truly want it, then just take it. Free. No need to talk about money…” Two sobs slipped out despite himself.

Chi Yao lifted a brow. “How could I possibly accept?”

“It’s only right,” Meng Dahu whimpered.

Moments later Fang Liang returned. “Quantities check out.”

He slid the papers forward. “If there are no concerns, just sign here—payment complete, goods cleared.”

Payment? It had been cleared—without a single credit moving.

The Tiger leader glimpsed Chi Yao’s bored gaze drifting his way and immediately scribbled his name. Money, pride—worthless compared to his life.

Fang Liang whisked the contract back to Chi Yao, standing quietly like a shadow.

Chi Yao gestured toward the Tiger crew. “Escort them out.”

But the thuggish underlings balked at the sight of Extreme Shadow soldiers—hard faces, shaved heads, all carved from stone.

“N‑no need, we can see ourselves out!”

And they bolted.

Once they were gone, Li Yuan burst out laughing. “Those idiots tried to fleece you, Boss!”

Fang Liang carefully stored the contract—another new method of profit.

The art of daylight robbery—without even lifting a blade.

Chi Yao merely snorted and stood. “Let’s go.”

Back on their own ship, the Tigers collapsed in despair.

Forget luxury. They’d be choking on wind the rest of the year.

“Boss… what do we do?” a lackey whimpered.

Meng Dahu broke into sobbing growls. “How the hell should I know?!”

Meanwhile, Jing Xi awoke at home, lying on his sofa.

YaoYao cat flicked its tail from the backrest, licking its paw. Beside him, on the carpet—a children’s picture book.

He was back.

He quietly picked it up, carefully tucking it away.

The terminal buzzed—it was Jiang Feng.

“What is it?”

Face tight, the adjutant rushed out, “Sir, have you seen the bulletin?”

“Bulletin?” Jing Xi pulled up the military’s internal network. His name was at the top of the postings.

Opening it, he quickly read through. Enough to piece together most of what Chi Yao had done.

“How’s that major?” Jing Xi asked flatly.

Jiang Feng hesitated. “Ribs shattered, right arm and leg fractured… he’ll be in a med‑pod for some time.”

“And—it was General Zhao who wanted to press charges against you. General Pei fought to defuse it. That’s why the punishment ended in a compromise.”

“Mn.” Jing Xi climbed the stairs, book in hand.

“Since you broke with General Chen, Pei Zhenyue’s been protecting you. He clearly wants to pull you under his wing.”

“Mn.”

“This time, without him, Cetus Sector would already be held back by Li Bo again.”

“…Cetus?”

Jiang Feng blinked. “Yes, sir. The transfer order’s already in my inbox. General Pei probably informed you too.”

Jing Xi checked. Two unread mails: one demoting Colonel Zhu Dachang for delayed rescue. Another—an official posting.

Commander of Cetus Garrison. Pending the end of his investigation, he would assume command.

Li Bo’s greatest resource—handed to him.

Done by Chi Yao? Why?

He didn’t believe Chi Yao generous enough to help. More likely he’d orchestrated the brawl just to get him punished.

“Also—the intel came in. A young alpha in Cetus might be the candidate you mentioned. File’s sent.”

Jing Xi opened it: name Chen Yao, age twenty‑five, 185cm, pheromone level 2. Working at a gambling hall in N9, Cetus. Lost parents in childhood, raised there by guardians.

It fit. But his face? Too ordinary. Not the one in memory.

Probability low.

Jiang Feng added, “You told me to keep monitoring Cetus. So far, nothing unusual.”

“I told you?” Jing Xi’s eyes narrowed.

“…Yes. You ordered it.”

Was he… mixing up their identities again?

Jing Xi recalled Chi Yao’s conversation that night with Gold Mask.

Something was hidden in Cetus.

“I’ll go confirm in person,” he said coldly.

“You’ll… go yourself?” Jiang Feng stammered.

“The Flying Dragon has no tasks now. I have time.”

In truth, endless time. Suspended pending investigation.

“…You haven’t rested in over a year. Maybe… taking a short trip isn’t bad.”

Jing Xi: “…”

Resting? He’d been doing little else.

Later, back at Extreme Shadow, Chi Yao’s first order was to have everyone’s hair dyed back to their original color.

Li Yuan scratched his buzzcut. “I kinda like it like this. Dyeing’s a pain.”

Chi Yao: “You all look identical. How am I supposed to tell you apart?”

“…So you always recognized us by hair color?”

Fang Liang asked, “What about the recovered stockpiles?”

Chi Yao drummed his fingers, then ordered, “Put the big pieces on the A‑zone hangars. Rest in storehouse for later.”

So—not for sale?

Fang Liang frowned. “Need engineers? Most of our men don’t know repairs.”

Trash like Tiger’s haul were mostly wrecks or near‑scrap. Without top mechanics, they were useless.

Chi Yao’s smile curved. “No need.”

For what engineer rivaled Jing Xi, designer of the Flying Dragon mech itself? Letting him waste Chi Yao’s money—this was the price.

That evening, Chi Yao passed Tie Xiong’s room. As the door was ajar, he peeked inside.

Inside sat a new child’s desk and chair. The boy chanted as he scribbled sums.

“One times one is one… one times two is two… three plus five is seven—”

Chi Yao: “…”

Of course. Jing Xi’s influence.

Scooping the kid up by the scruff, he said, “Forget homework. Come kill with me.”

“Boss?” Tie Xiong clutched his pencil blankly. “I can’t… haven’t finished my assignment.”

Unbelievably obedient.

Chi Yao pressed. “Ignoring my orders now?”

“But you said kids don’t fight. My mission is to study and do homework.”

“…” Chi Yao ground his teeth.

“You’re my little gun‑bearer, aren’t you?”

The boy wavered—then burst into tears. “But I wanna do homework, wuuahhh—”

“…”

As he flailed, Chun Qin came in with a file. “Boss, good, you’re here. The list you asked for.”

Chi Yao plopped the boy back down. “What list?”

“The roster of everyone in Extreme Shadow with ‘Yao’ in their name, past to present.” She sent the file.

Scrolling through, Chi Yao thought grimly. Jing Xi looking for a Yao‑named person?

“Pull the full dossiers for all of them. I’ll review when I return.”

“Return from…?” she asked.

“Cetus,” he said.

A civilian starliner bound for Cetus transited Aquarius at the 5th Station.

In one cabin, Jing Xi pulled up screens, digesting data. Only Jiang Feng knew of his trip. To conceal himself, he wore cosmetic film on his face.

One children’s bulletin caught his eye. He thought of Tie Xiong, feverish the other day. He’d soothed him, but guilt lingered.

He’d meant to finish that mech model as a gift—but left it half‑done.

Maybe no chance now.

Still, he typed a message to Chi Yao:

[The model parts on the desk are ready. Assemble them and give it to Tie Xiong.]

At the boarding gate, Chi Yao—wearing a baseball cap, loose coat—blended in with passengers.

His terminal passed the AI scan: Chi Taoyao, Beta.

Fake credentials flawless, he sauntered inside.

The terminal chimed. He opened it casually—it was Jing Xi.

[You cost me a fortune, and now you want favors?]

In the cabin, Jing Xi frowned at the reply. Just as the door opened, a tall figure entered.

The luxury section held two private rooms and a small lounge. The newcomer didn’t retreat behind a cabin door—he slouched across from Jing Xi, tossing a black backpack on the table.

Jing Xi’s glance flickered over him once, then back to his messages.

[What do you want?] he typed.

Almost at once, the man’s terminal chimed. And from across the cabin came Chi Yao’s laughing voice:

“Isn’t it whatever I want, Major General?”