As Zhong Yun had anticipated, that person’s identity was indeed extraordinary. His name was T7, the biological brother of the Supreme Ruler of the Beast Nation, the Beast’s wife, and the chairman of the Beast Nation’s largest mining corporation.
He was out this time for a routine inspection, never expecting to be targeted, abducted, and imprisoned by the ill-intentioned Chu Tiange and his group.
As the Beast’s brother-in-law and chairman of the nation’s largest mining company, Chang Dong was also one of the core members of the Beast Nation. He knew many things ordinary people did not.
This region of space was known as the Star Sea. No one knew how vast the Star Sea truly was, nor how many nations resided within it. Even less did anyone know what lay beyond the Star Sea.
Within the Star Sea, the Beast Nation was merely an utterly insignificant small country. In reality, it was backed by a powerful state: the Ayer Nation. The Beast’s success in establishing a nation was entirely due to the Ayer Nation’s support.
The Ayer Nation was the most powerful state in the surrounding region. All nations within its sphere of influence had to obey its commands and remit enormous quantities of ore to it annually. Their relationship was akin to that of a suzerain state and its vassal states.
Of course, one could choose not to pay tribute; the consequence would be the complete annihilation of one’s nation by the following year.
The largest nation Chang Dong knew of was the Ayer Nation. As for whether there were stronger nations further away, he had no idea, as he had never traveled that far.
Whether in the Beast Nation, the Ayer Nation, or any other state, what prevailed here was the absolute law of nature. There were only valuable people and valueless people.
Valuable individuals were respected wherever they went, while valueless ones were left to languish and survive precariously at the bottom of society.
Although this was the case everywhere, a civilized society like the Omi Star System would never be as utterly brutal as this place.
There was no concept of humanitarianism here. People deemed worthless were destined only to be abandoned, receiving no pity whatsoever.
Only when he could extract no further information did Wang Xiaoer finally conclude the interrogation.
He returned to the lounge, which had been renamed the conference hall. Everyone was already waiting there.
Seeing Zhong Yun enter, everyone instinctively stood up. Zhong Yun nodded. Only after he sat down did they follow suit. Unconsciously, he had already established a position of leadership among them.
Zhong Yun looked toward Ming Yunyu and asked, “Miss Ming, how has the pacification work been progressing?”
Ming Yunyu rose with perfect grace. “Captain Zhorji and I have been going room by room to inform them. They may need some time to digest this news.”
“No unexpected incidents, I trust?” Zhong Yun inquired.
Ming Yunyu shook her head.
“That’s good,” Zhong Yun said, surveying the group. “If anyone encounters any issues, please bring them to me. I will do my best to resolve whatever I can.”
“I do have a question,” Ming Yunyu suddenly stated.
Zhong Yun nodded, signaling her to speak.
“We are short-staffed. Managing the current situation is proving extremely difficult. Could the Captain allocate some personnel from the crew to assist us?” Ming Yunyu posed the issue.
“That’s right. Including you, there are only nine of us. We have to manage over eight thousand passengers and also undertake external combat missions. We simply can’t keep up,” Zhorji concurred.
Zhong Yun looked at Chu Tiange and the others. Chu Tiange added, “More help is always welcome, given the unusual circumstances.” The others nodded in agreement.
Zhong Yun brought his palms together, touching his index fingers. He shook his head. “There is no one.”
“No one?” Ming Yunyu’s delicate eyebrows knitted together. “There should be several hundred crew members on the starship. Taking a few people out shouldn’t compromise the ship’s operation.”
Zhong Yun gave a wry smile. “You misunderstand. It’s not that we can’t spare anyone; it’s that there is no one.”
“No one?” Everyone was stunned, unable to grasp the meaning.
“No one means… no one,” Zhong Yun explained, realizing his explanation was no explanation at all.
“No one?” Ming Yunyu repeated, her pupils widening sharply. For a few seconds, her face was slack with shock, and her breathing grew rapid. “You… you mean, there isn’t a single crew member on this starship?”
She still found it incredible even as she asked.
The others’ mouths hung open to their limits, staring blankly at Zhong Yun.
Zhong Yun thought these people were truly slow to catch on. He nodded. “To be precise, I am the only one controlling the Mercury.”
Hearing the affirmative answer, the eight people felt a sense of unreality, especially Zhorji, the legitimate captain, who felt a dizzying spin, as if all his previous understanding had been overturned.
“Impossible—” Zhorji sprang to his feet, his face turning extremely grim, fire blazing in his eyes. “That is absolutely impossible.”
Twenty-One, seated next to him, quickly pulled him back; he looked ready to devour someone.
Twenty-One feared Zhorji might act rashly and do something foolish.
“You’re lying. A starship of this massive scale absolutely cannot be controlled by one person. Impossible,” Zhorji’s chest heaved violently; he had cast everything else aside at that moment.
He could not tolerate someone telling such a lie; it was an insult to his professional competence as a captain.
Chu Tiange glanced at Zhong Yun worriedly, surprised to see no trace of displeasure or even a slight change on his face.
When Zhorji finished speaking, Zhong Yun opened his mouth. “In my hometown, there is a story about a frog in a well, used to describe someone with shallow insight…”
He did not look at Zhorji at all, his gaze piercing through the crowd to fix upon the portrait on the wall. “For this world, everyone should hold a sense of awe. Because, no matter how much time you are given, you can never comprehend everything about this world.”
He withdrew his gaze and settled it on Zhorji’s still furious face. “Therefore, never so easily utter the word ‘impossible.’ Because in this world, nothing is impossible.”
Zhorji took several deep, hard breaths, broke free from Twenty-One’s grip, and straightened his uniform. “Words are cheap. If you want me to believe you, you must provide evidence.”
Zhong Yun stared intently at him. “I can give you evidence. But I have one condition.”
“What condition?”
“If I prove my words are true, you must never again question any of my decisions. Even if I tell you to die, you must do so without hesitation,” Zhong Yun’s eyes flashed with a cold, sharp light, like a blade’s edge.
“I agree,” Zhorji responded without thinking. “And if you cannot prove it?”
“Then, the captain of this ship is you,” Zhong Yun stated the wager without hesitation.
The others watched the two of them, knowing persuasion was futile, and remained silent.
“Follow me.” Zhong Yun stood up and walked directly toward the main control room. Zhorji trailed closely behind, and the others followed.
Upon seeing the vast main control room entirely empty, everyone froze.
Zhong Yun did not look at them but walked to the command console. “You should know what this place is.”
“Judging by the layout, this must be the main control room,” Ming Yunyu was the most widely traveled. Although a colossal wave of shock was churning within her, perhaps she alone understood the significance this starship represented. Yet, she was the first to regain composure.
Zhorji’s expression grew solemn as he walked a circuit of the main control room. The Mercury’s main control room differed slightly from other starships; its control station was vastly simplified.
A starship of the Mercury’s class would typically require at least two hundred active operators to manage it.
A spaceship is arguably the most precise machine, composed of hundreds of systems of extreme complexity. If any single area is neglected, major problems will arise.
And no matter how intelligent an AI core might be, it cannot compare to the human brain. Although its logic is infinitely superior to a human brain, applying it entirely to a starship often leads to inexplicable errors and malfunctions—a result verified countless times.
The technology of the Yanbind Empire was already approaching the advanced civilization level, yet they could not manufacture a starship controlled entirely by an AI core. Even the Three Great Advanced Civilizations, Zhorji had never heard of such a vessel existing.
These few nations were nearly at the pinnacle of cosmic advancement; if they couldn't build it, what nation could?
It wasn't Zhorji’s fault for thinking this way; the farthest he had ever traveled was within the Omi Star System. How could he possibly know the immensity of this universe?
The Mercury’s control console had only fifteen stations, and even if this starship wasn't controlled by Zhong Yun alone, its level of intelligent automation was astonishingly high.
Zhong Yun looked down at them. “You can stay here for a few days to verify whether my words are true.”
The gazes of Chu Tiange and the others turned toward Zhorji. He stood there, utterly dejected, his face seemingly aged ten years in an instant.
“No need,” he suddenly raised his head, a resolute strength appearing on his face. “I concede. From this moment on, I will not question any of your orders.”
Zhong Yun regarded him for a long time before withdrawing his gaze and nodding. “Everyone, please sit down. There are other matters we need to discuss.”
Subduing this rigid captain of the Pearl would make controlling the eight thousand passengers much easier. With the cooperation of this highly respected captain, whatever Zhong Yun intended to achieve would proceed far more smoothly.
After they were all seated, Zhong Yun turned to Wang Xiaoer. “Xiao’er, introduce the information obtained from Chang Dong to them first.”
P: Desperately begging for monthly tickets and recommendation tickets. .