Chapter Ninety-Six

In the psychic suppression chamber, Hu Jin held the Chaos Longsword, conducting a psychological intervention for the demon trapped within the blade, a process he called "nuclear evil uranium inhibition."

Outside the chamber, Wang Ming had witnessed more than once how the sword would struggle fiercely to leap from Hu Jin’s grasp, only to be picked up again amidst its frantic trembling, as Hu Jin continued the psychological counseling.

“Boss, do you think it’s gone into a sort of withdrawal?” Hu Jin said, brandishing the now motionless Chaos Longsword. As he spoke, he swung the blade a few times, its passage through the air slicing out sharp, piercing sounds—almost like the anguished wails of the demon imprisoned within.

“What’s wrong?” Wang Ming, who had been dozing off idly by the observation window, sat bolt upright at Hu Jin’s sudden remark, curiosity piqued.

“It’s ignoring me. It’s muttering to itself inside the sword,” Hu Jin explained, laying the longsword horizontally before him and flicking it with his finger, producing a series of crisp, ringing notes.

“What is it muttering about?” Wang Ming asked, eyeing the sword in Hu Jin’s hands with interest.

“It says it’s trash. That it’s too ashamed to be a demon,” Hu Jin recounted quietly, conveying the demon’s whispered self-loathing from within the blade.

“Damn,” Wang Ming muttered, silently mourning for the demon trapped in the longsword.

The demon within the Chaos Longsword had been completely broken by Hu Jin’s relentless psychological assault, his thorough negation of its existence driving it to believe it was utterly meaningless.

After the experiment concluded, the longsword housing the withdrawn demon was placed in a small display case equipped with a dozen miniature speakers, which played the "Imperial Edict" on loop twenty-four hours a day, in an effort to purify its chaotic soul. (One might wonder if this counts as the Emperor’s own corruption.)

In the dormitory of the starship Imperial Truth, the travelers were tending to their weapons. Though these arms automatically repaired themselves upon revival, the travelers maintained a habit of manual upkeep. This was not merely about weapon maintenance but a ritualistic reminder to themselves that they had been traversing this damned universe for quite some time.

As the travelers cared for their weapons, a crisp whistle suddenly blared over the dormitory’s broadcast system. Hearing the signal, the travelers collectively set down their tools, grabbed their lunchboxes—each as large as a basin—and headed for the mess hall.

Yet among them, three men did not pick up their lunchboxes. Instead, they snatched their weapons and sprang from their beds, scanning the room as if hunting for an enemy.

These three unfortunate souls—Wang Ben, Bai Qi, and Zhang Liangjie—had been so thoroughly drilled during their time on Krieg that the whistle instinctively triggered combat readiness. They looked left and right, finally realizing they were in the clean quarters of the Imperial Truth, not the mud-filled trenches.

Wang Lei, their dorm mate, holding his lunchbox, tapped it against metal, producing a sharp clink that caught their attention. Seeing their weapons, he sighed and waved his lunchbox before them, signaling, “That’s the dinner bell, not the charge call. Put the weapons down and grab your food.”

Embarrassed, the three reluctantly lowered their weapons, took their lunchboxes, and followed Wang Lei toward the mess hall.

The bustling mess hall was filled with orderly lines of travelers and mortal crew members alike, now under the watchful care of Minerva, the ship’s “maternal guardian.” Thanks to her oversight, the travelers no longer had to prepare their own meals. Automated systems swiftly cooked and delivered food to the waiting line—a relief from the hours of preparation once needed to feed the entire ship.

Wang Ming sat eating his meal, facing Edwina, who was enthusiastically gnawing on a massive Groloth leg. For days now, she had stuck close to Wang Ming, knowing only two people on this ship—him and Wang Lei. Whenever she saw Wang Lei, a dull ache lingered at the back of her head, a psychological scar from his adamantine hammer assault.

“Edwina, can’t you eat a little slower?” Wang Ming teased, watching the immortal who had lived over thirty thousand years devour the enormous leg with both hands, her face slick with grease. She displayed none of the dignified composure expected of an immortal, instead resembling a lower-caste girl freshly entering the upper-tier dining hall.

Edwina paused mid-bite, gazing at Wang Ming. After swallowing the meat in her mouth, she awkwardly scratched her grease-covered cheek and apologized.

“I’m terribly sorry. It’s just a habit.”

Her eating manner had been forged through ten thousand years of fleeing the zealots of the Inquisition, who relentlessly hunted her as an illegal psychic and as a Starborn. For a millennium, Edwina had lived in constant hiding, moving from the garbage heaps of the lower tiers to the governor’s mansion in the upper tiers. Time and again, the inquisitors’ agents caught her. She never knew how they found her, but over ten thousand years of evasion, she developed a voracious eating habit—devouring whatever food she could find in case the next meal never came.

Wang Ming listened quietly, refraining from further comment, but inwardly began to ponder why the Emperor had entrusted her to him.

“What level is your psychic power?” Wang Ming suddenly asked.

He had just recalled how often he had been outmatched by psychics and wondered if the Emperor had, in fact, entrusted him with a powerful mage.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been tested, but it’s probably not low,” Edwina replied after a moment’s thought. She had never undergone an official assessment but had compared her psychic displays with others and concluded her power was considerable.

“Approaching exit from the Mandeville Point, soon to reach the Batko system. All personnel, prepare accordingly,” the ship’s broadcast announced, signaling their imminent arrival.

Brothers, tomorrow I’ll resume with another 4,000 words. I feel like I’m almost recovered.