Warrior City, Worell. The main base for the mercenary factions scattered throughout the asteroid belt. Fifty square kilometers, supporting a population of 1.2 million souls.

Every man and woman in this city was a warrior!

There were no residential districts here, only rows of stark, functional barracks. The city’s defining characteristic was its rigorous mercenary training regimen.

Individuals from all corners of the solar system—civilians, veterans, or those from other walks of life—who wished to join the mercenary ranks could come to Worell. If they successfully passed the trials, they would receive a certificate from the Mercenary Alliance. This credential guaranteed employment with any mercenary corps in the asteroid belt.

The certificates were divided into five tiers, from the lowest rank up to the apex. Obtaining the Tier Five certificate signified that the candidate possessed comprehensive abilities far surpassing the norm, making them highly sought after even by the Super Mercenary Corps.

Mercenaries holding the Worell Tier Five certificate were widely considered to possess capabilities that eclipsed even the elite special forces of the military.

In the very center of Worell stood a snow-white, oval structure whose lines flowed with an almost liquid grace. Sprawling over ten thousand square meters, it resembled a giant, pristine goose egg set upon the ground when viewed from afar.

This was the headquarters of the Mercenary Alliance, where representatives from every major mercenary corps were stationed. Their daily duties included mediating disputes, disseminating vital information, and using weighted voting to approve or reject resolutions pertaining to the mercenary faction as a whole.

Worell sustained a high volume of transient population, resulting in an exceptionally developed port district. While it couldn't rival Gray Port, it was significantly larger than the ports of ordinary industrial cities.

At this moment, an official vessel belonging to the Mercenary Alliance glided into the harbor, docking neatly alongside Pier Number Two.

Anyone with eyes in the port immediately felt a subtle shift, exchanging quick, knowing glances.

Worell City, perhaps more than anywhere else in the entire asteroid belt, valued power above all else. Society here was strictly tiered based on the tangible influence an individual commanded. Different levels of personnel were granted access to different facilities, and the piers were no exception.

Pier Number One was framed with an alloy skeleton, plated inside and out with gold. Its surface was adorned with intricate patterns painstakingly carved by the finest artisans, the delicate lines depicting exquisite scenes, lending it an aura of elegance and opulence.

However, this passageway was reserved exclusively for the supreme leaders of the three Super Mercenary Corps. No one else, not even the rotating Chairman of the Mercenary Alliance, was qualified to use it, resulting in it remaining perpetually vacant.

Pier Number Two ranked second only to the first. Its internal and external ornamentation closely mirrored Pier One, with the main distinction being that Pier Two was silver-plated. To step onto this walkway required status as a high-ranking executive just beneath the top echelon of a Super Mercenary Corps, or the leader of a top-tier large mercenary group. The Alliance Chairman, during their tenure, also utilized this very pier.

Pier Two was used far more frequently than Pier One, yet it still saw use only intermittently, certainly not daily.

Once the official vessel was secured, a gangway extended from the pier, locking precisely onto the vessel’s airlock.

“I wonder which grand figure has arrived to warrant the use of the Silver Path. Let’s get a look!”

The majority of passengers in the port were either active mercenaries or those interested in mercenary work. Many among them understood the established protocol regarding Worell’s piers, and curiosity instantly flared regarding the newcomer. They flocked to vantage points where they could see the exit of Pier Two, eager to glimpse the dignitary gracing Worell with their presence.

But Pier Two led directly into the VIP corridor, which was guarded by the Port Authority. Unable to approach closer, the onlookers could only press against the glass walls, straining for a distant view.

The dignitary arriving by the official vessel was, in fact, Yang Ying. As the ship’s hatch hissed open, he was the first to step out. Brian and the official dispatched by the Mercenary Alliance to greet him followed close behind, succeeded by two Ghost Operatives and the official’s retinue.

Already waiting on the pier were more than a dozen individuals. Leading them was an elder whose white hair and deeply etched wrinkles belied a vibrant spirit; he stood as straight and taut as a javelin.

He extended a hand towards Yang Ying. “Welcome to Worell, honored guest. I am Yusuf, a member of the Alliance Council. I have been delegated by the Council’s rotating Chairman to receive you.”

“Hello, Yang Ying,” he replied, shaking the elder’s hand while simultaneously scanning his surroundings. Noticing the solemnity and meticulous detail of the silver ornamentation, his brow furrowed slightly. He inquired, “I have heard rumors of Worell Port’s Gold Path and Silver Path, but I was unaware before my arrival that the Alliance would arrange for me to use the Silver Path. Is this not overly formal? After all, I am merely the commander of a small mercenary group.”

“Not at all, not at all! Who in the current asteroid belt would dare call your command a small mercenary group?” the elder chuckled. “This is Worell; everything here is decided by strength. Your mercenary group demonstrated power far exceeding that of ordinary large corps during the recent Gray Port battle. And combat results, of course, matter far more than empty titles.”

The elder clearly possessed polished social graces; his words were immensely comforting to hear.

“If that is the case,” Yang Ying said with a smile, “then I shall gratefully accept.”

At that moment, a voice piped up from behind the elder. “Commander Yang Ying is the master of four cities: Gray Port, Rubeuren, Hammer, and Neff. He even annihilated the Blood Skull Pirates and the Shark Pirates entirely—a feat even the Super Pirate Triumvirate commander, Marthe, failed to achieve! To call the Tran Mercenary Group anything less than a Tier Five entity is an understatement. If you were to insist he take the Gold Path, I suspect no one would raise an objection.”

The elder’s brow tightened, deepening the furrows on his aged face.

While this person’s words sounded like flattery on the surface, they were clearly overdone, carrying the distinct scent of intentional provocation and sowing discord. If Yang Ying had taken the bait and demanded the Gold Path, and the elder had agreed, not only would Yang Ying have offended the leadership of the three Super Mercenary Corps, but the elder himself would have faced their retribution.

Conversely, if the elder refused Yang Ying passage on the Gold Path, it might leave a negative impression on Yang Ying. If Yang Ying had been a more volatile man, he might have simply stormed off in anger.

Yang Ying keenly perceived the malice directed simultaneously at him and the elder in the speaker’s tone, recognizing an attempt to drive a wedge between them. He thought to himself, So, the Mercenary Alliance isn't monolithic either. But then again, what power in this world truly is?

Yang Ying held no strong opinion about which path he should take. He glanced at the speaker, noting his plain attire and his position near the rear of the group—clearly a subordinate figure who could be dismissed without consequence. He was the perfect type for stirring needless trouble.

The elder was just beginning to consider offering a gentle word of counsel when Yang Ying spoke first: “The three Super Mercenary Corps have histories stretching back generations. How could I, a newcomer, presume to stand alongside them? Being permitted to use the Silver Path already satisfies me immensely.”

“Nonsense, you—” The little man tried to interject again, but the elder cut him off with an unmistakable tone of finality. “Are the vehicles waiting outside the port entrance ready? Go and see!” The elder pointed at the subordinate and two of his own attendants, giving the attendants a subtle, meaningful glance. The two attendants nodded almost imperceptibly in response.

The subordinate opened his mouth, clearly wanting to argue further, but was quickly ushered aside by the two attendants. One of them stated curtly, “Hurry up, don’t waste time. Let’s go take a look.”

The pair then escorted the subordinate away from the passage.

Seeing them depart, the elder offered an apologetic sigh. “Commander Yang Ying, please forgive this display.”

“No matter,” Yang Ying said, gesturing for the elder to proceed. “Let us go as well.”

“Please, you first.” The elder deferred to Yang Ying, deliberately lagging a small step behind.

However, after taking two steps, Yang Ying felt a slight discomfort. He turned back earnestly. “Mr. Yusuf, you are clearly the elder here. To insist on yielding to me like this makes me quite uncomfortable. Perhaps we could walk side-by-side?”

“Since Commander Yang insists,” the elder replied, sensing that this was not mere empty courtesy, “I thank you.” He nodded, closing the gap slightly until he walked almost perfectly level with Yang Ying.

Stepping out from Pier Number Two, Yang Ying noticed a crowd gathered some distance away, separated by several panes of glass, all looking in their direction.

These were the port’s travelers. As Yang Ying appeared, gasps rippled through the crowd.

“It’s him! Yang Ying of the Tran Mercenary Group! No wonder—”

“Yang Ying? Who is he? What does he do?”

“Boy, have you just arrived in the asteroid belt? You don’t even know him? Let me tell you: his Tran Mercenary Group wiped out five major powers in a single battle—utterly annihilated! Not a single survivor. Think about that—in the vastness of the universe, with every direction to flee, not one person escaped. That demonstrates incredible might.”

“Truly formidable.”

“Many say the Tran Mercenary Group is already on par with the Super Mercenary Corps, at least ranking first beneath them. Now that the main forces of the three Super Corps have accepted war contracts and left the asteroid belt, there is simply no power left in the mercenary faction that can suppress the Tran Mercenary Group.”

“Look, they’re entering the VIP corridor.”

“Hmph. Let’s disperse, disperse. Nothing more to see here.”

Once Yang Ying and the elder entered the VIP corridor, the crowd gradually melted away.

Leaving the port, the elder invited Yang Ying into an extended, luxury magnetic-levitation vehicle. The subordinate who had been dispatched to check the vehicle earlier was conspicuously absent. He had evidently been ‘dealt with’ by the two attendants.

“Mr. Yusuf, who was that man speaking on the Silver Path just now?” Yang Ying asked directly. Rather than guessing, he found it more expedient to inquire.

Yang Ying felt secure in his current position. The Tran Mercenary Group had firmly established itself in the asteroid belt, impervious to minor storms. The Super-level threats capable of challenging him were currently preoccupied: the main bodies of the three Super Mercenary Corps were absent, and the two dominant Super Pirate groups were locked in mutual combat, making it difficult for them to focus on him. Surrounding powers were already fearful of him; they would never dare provoke him when he wasn't actively targeting them.

“That person who spoke,” the elder admitted, his brow furrowing again, “I only met him today as well.”

“Oh? I’d be keen to hear the details,” Yang Ying replied.

“Among those who joined my welcoming party at the last minute before your arrival, several were planted by other council members. The man who spoke just now was one such individual, sent by Council Member Andre.”

The elder finished explaining.

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