In Gray Harbor, a space station city, the transition between day and night was meticulously orchestrated by machinery.

At the start of each cycle, the artificial light source suspended highest and precisely in the center of the city's protective barrier would begin to emit a white glow, and the barrier itself would shift to the color of the sky. This light would intensify over time, reaching its zenith at noon before slowly dimming. As dusk approached, it would transition to a hazy, pale yellow.

When night fell, the artificial light would extinguish, and the barrier would turn perfectly transparent, revealing the star-dusted expanse of the cosmos. The magnificent Milky Way stretched out like a painting, more precious than any ornamentation, more noble than any art—a tapestry of stars that represented the origin of all intelligence and life. Humanity’s creations seemed infinitesimally small, almost negligible, before the vastness of the universe’s own work.

Who knew how many intelligent life forms were gestating within that expanse? Although the precise number remained unknown, with advances in astronomical technology and exchanges with extraterrestrial civilizations, Earth’s scientists could calculate that the Milky Way held certainly more than ten thousand planets capable of naturally spawning life, similar to Earth.

When Yang Ying and Kalia emerged from the Gray Harbor docking sector, flanked by eight Ghost operatives serving as bodyguards, three extended luxury mag-lev limousines were already waiting at the entrance. Onlookers who saw the opulent vehicles cast glances filled with envy and jealousy, guessing which nouveau riche had arrived to make such a spectacle.

As the commander of a considerable mercenary outfit, Yang Ying’s transport could not be shabby. Otherwise, observers would not see it as humility, but rather as weakness inviting contempt.

Humility was not considered a virtue in the asteroid belt; it was, instead, almost synonymous with being weak and easily bullied.

Robin, the director of the Tran Company’s Gray Harbor office and an operative trained by the Ghosts, stood before the lead vehicle. He executed a slight bow toward Yang Ying before opening the door. “Sir, please enter.”

“Thank you for your efforts,” Yang Ying replied, stepping inside. Kalia and Robin followed, while the eight Ghost operatives boarded the two cars trailing behind.

The interior of the limousine was cavernous, featuring two rows of opposing seats upholstered in pure white leather. Between them sat a foldable table. Within easy reach were a temperature-controlled liquor cabinet, a touch-sensitive computer screen, and various other luxury amenities designed for comfort.

Yang Ying occupied one entire row of seating, with Kalia and Robin facing him across the table.

Once the vehicle set in motion, Robin provided an update on the status of the evening reception inside the car.

The Crown Hotel certainly lived up to its seven-star reputation, demonstrating consummate familiarity with hosting banquets and ceremonies. Their integrated, end-to-end service meant there was virtually nothing for the newcomers to manage.

The reception was slated to take place in a grand ballroom spanning over a thousand square meters, expecting four to five hundred attendees—representatives from the city’s various factions, alongside prominent social figures.

Initially, when the upstart Tran Mercenary Group first sent out invitations, responses from the established socialites were sparse. Perhaps they felt that a newly formed organization like the Tran Mercenary Group hardly merited their esteemed presence. Most declined, citing prior engagements.

However, once the news broke that the “Tran Mercenary Group had annihilated a Triceratops-class warship near Kusan,” those same individuals suddenly found their schedules miraculously free. They scrambled to retrieve the invitations they had tossed in the bin, hastily contacted Robin, and retracted every prior refusal.

Among the established local powers, aside from the Goliath Mercenary Group, were several small to mid-sized mercenary outfits operating within Gray Harbor. These groups did not involve themselves in the city’s core governance, preferring to take on routine assignments. Gray Harbor existed as a compromise between mercenaries and pirates—a neutral zone where neither side could establish outright control, consequently barring any single large mercenary group from dominance.

Still, these smaller outfits often enjoyed the backing of larger powers. For instance, the Wildfire Mercenary Group, a mid-sized faction, acted as the direct representative for the Goliath Mercenary Group within Gray Harbor.

Conversely, the pirate element also maintained their own proxies within the city; several major corporations secretly harbored pirate affiliations, employing private forces numbering just as many as the registered mercenary crews.

By the time the three luxury limousines arrived at the hotel, the artificial light had faded to that pale yellow hue of twilight. Yang Ying and his entourage were ushered into a dressing room adjoining the main hall to change into formal wear before entering the reception area.

Although the official festivities had not yet begun, guests were already trickling in. The master of ceremonies, provided by the Crown Hotel, was already presiding over the hall. This emcee was a seasoned veteran among the hotel’s staff, commanding the highest salary—a worthwhile investment, as he maintained the atmosphere of the ballroom with impeccable control.

Upon Yang Ying’s arrival, the emcee introduced him to the crowd with witty, engaging remarks. Yang Ying offered a few words of thanks for their attendance, and with that, the reception officially commenced.

The hall soon buzzed with activity. Gray Harbor was small, with a population hovering near 700,000; many people knew each other through constant proximity, providing immediate conversational hooks.

Many attendees had brought their children. Seeing that Yang Ying was quite young yet commanded a mercenary group of considerable depth, the younger generation began to form various schemes.

Several attractively dressed young women gravitated toward Yang Ying, their sweet voices probing into his private life with veiled questions, punctuating their dialogue with gestures meant to showcase their charms, all hoping to capture his affections.

Yang Ying’s senses were instantly assaulted by a clashing wave of perfumes, some subtle, some heavy. Yet, his expression remained perfectly composed. Under a warm, gentle smile, he deftly deflected all inquiries about his private affairs, engaging in pleasantries before politely excusing himself from their circle.

Simultaneously, he noticed many hostile gazes fixed upon him. The accomplished young men also had their own cliques; they stared at Yang Ying with undisguised jealousy, whispering amongst themselves, clearly plotting something.

The murmuring, however, was soon silenced by the powerful, resonant shout from the exterior welcoming party: “Commander Isaac of the Goliath Mercenary Group has arrived!”

A sudden hush fell over the grand hall.

All eyes turned toward the entrance. A middle-aged man with a commanding presence strode in, dressed in a suit and tie, followed by four hulking bodyguards, all clad in dark suits and sunglasses.

Isaac was of average height, his hair entirely gray. His face was far from handsome—verging on ugly, marred most notably by a scar that ran from his left eyebrow clear back to his left ear. Such a feature was guaranteed to cause unease, if not outright revulsion. Rumor had it the scar was the remnant of a bomb attack; had a bodyguard not thrown himself in the way, sacrificing his life, a piece of shrapnel would have cleaved off half of Isaac’s head. Since that day, he never attended an event without his retinue.

Yang Ying advanced to meet him, extending his hand. “Commander Isaac, it is an honor to finally make your acquaintance.”

Self-introduction was unnecessary; if Isaac had accepted the invitation after such a long delay without knowing the face of his host, the reputation of the Goliath Mercenary Group would truly be suspect.