Aquatic existence, following the dawning of human intellect, presented one of the most profound mysteries, one that began with "counting cattle." Generations of thoughtful individuals had exhausted themselves pondering the path to immortality.

Some pursued cultivation, others sought the elixir of eternal youth, and still others delved into biotechnology. Yet, even as the twenty-sixth century dawned, the enigma of unending life remained utterly unsolved.

However, for Yang Ying, what lay before him now seemed to be a broad and promising avenue to perpetuity.

After instructing Katerina to continue monitoring the growth of the cloned body, Yang Ying departed the floating continent with Kalia.

According to projections, the completion of this body would require approximately two more days.

At the far end of the Asteroid Belt, deep within an immense expanse of meteoroids, a colossal, pitch-black space city floated silently.

This city bore no official name; outsiders referred to it as the City of Sin, but to the pirates, it was known as Paradise. This space city ranked first among the thirteen cities of the pirate coalition!

Here, so long as one possessed wealth, any desire—no matter how deep-seated or wicked—could be satisfied. The very air was thick with the tang of blood, [censored for literary effect], and narcotics.

Every day, thousands of the wealthy traveled from all corners of the Solar System, drawn by reputation, clutching their fortunes to pursue pleasures unobtainable in the civilized world.

This city of iniquity was notorious, yet its location was impossible for any ordinary wealthy person to uncover. The only known method was to locate a shadowy broker, a figure so secretive even within the darkness that their dealings were whispered about, and purchase passage from them.

There were three types of tickets, priced at one million, ten million, and one hundred million credits. Delivered alongside the ticket was a mask. Depending on the ticket class, the mask material was silver, gold, or gold inlaid with gems. These masks housed the most advanced identification chips, rendering forgery virtually impossible.

Most who entered the city wore their masks, whether to avoid recognition by acquaintances or to thwart image-capturing devices. The mask was a marvel of high technology, feeling almost imperceptible once worn. Furthermore, it blocked all forms of thermal or spectral scanning, safeguarding the wearer’s identity. No matter the depravity committed within, they could return to civilized society as respectable, upstanding members of the elite.

The mask also served as the city’s access key. Paradise was stratified into outer, middle, and inner layers. Those wearing silver masks were restricted to the outer layer. Gold masks granted access to both the outer and middle layers. Those bearing the gold-and-gem masks enjoyed free movement throughout the city. Naturally, they seldom wasted time in the periphery, for the inner layer offered the finest services, capable of delivering thrills so intense—a sense of decadence that even emperors dared not experience—that it kept countless patrons returning.

Of course, the mask was merely passage; all services had to be paid for separately, with costs escalating the closer one approached the city center.

At the heart of the city stood the tallest structure. The ninety-ninth floor, the very top, housed the most expensive presidential suite in all of Paradise—a single suite occupied an entire floor!

Within this presidential suite, a figure cloaked entirely in a black mantle, wearing a gold-and-gem mask, stood by the panoramic window, observing the teeming masses below.

His perception expanded, sweeping across the entire metropolis. In his ears, he registered shrieks, howls, roars, pleas for mercy, moans, the sickening crunch of breaking bone, the wet sound of cleaving flesh, and an endless symphony of sounds saturated with every conceivable human desire. Before his eyes, he saw bloody dueling pits, chambers of illicit congress, tables set for cruel feasts, addicts injecting super-narcotics derived from alien flora, and a sequence of sights utterly unacceptable to any normal human being.

He drew a deep breath of the tainted air and murmured his approval. “Nab’s creation is truly spectacular. He has excavated the darkness of the human psyche so profoundly. His understanding of dark wisdom is not inferior to my own. It is only a pity he is too old and his strength wanes; otherwise, the positions we occupy now might well be reversed.”

The elevator door behind him hissed open, and a grey-haired man, similarly clad, stepped out. He removed his gold-and-gem mask, revealing a face that appeared to be in its early thirties. His right eye glowed red, while his left held a startling blue hue.

The grey-haired man bowed deeply to the shadow and announced, “My Lord.”

The shadow remained with its back turned, its voice a low resonance. “Ulysses, you have returned. How fares our plan?”

The grey-haired man, Ulysses, replied, “The plan proceeds exceptionally well, My Lord. We have successfully brought seven of the ten major pirate fleets under our control. Excluding the Caribbean Pirates, who have gone into deep hiding, and the two pathetic fleets that were annihilated outside Gray Harbor—all other large pirate organizations are now ours.”

“Excellent.”

The shadow slowly turned, reaching up to remove its own mask. What was revealed was a hirsute ape-like face, covered in snow-white fur, etched with deep wrinkles. His eyes, pure black without visible whites, shone with an intensity that created a chilling illusion: to look upon them was to feel oneself instantly plunged into the fiery pits of hell.

“The second phase of the strategy now requires my personal attention,” the ape-man stated calmly. “I wonder how many still recall the name Hras after so many years away from the field.”

“Your prestige remains unmatched, Great One,” Ulysses intoned, “Even after years of stillness, no one would dare forget your name.”

“That may not be entirely true.” Hras stepped before Ulysses, inquiring, “That Master-level expert serving Nab—do you know who he is?”

“No, I have never learned the man’s true identity. I only know that Elder Zuo met with that Master once, and shortly thereafter, you commanded us to cease all interference with the Caribbean Pirates.” Ulysses spoke what he knew, uncertain why Hras had suddenly raised the subject of Nab’s Master, then ventured cautiously, “My Lord, is this Master serving Nab perhaps someone even you—”

“Who that person is, you need not concern yourself with. Manage your own affairs,” Hras commanded with absolute authority. “Ulysses, though you are the first Emissary of the Apes and have held the rank of Quasi-Master for fifteen years, you are still leagues beneath that man. If you ever encounter him, flee immediately. Do not hesitate for even a second!”

“Yes, My Lord!”

Those affected by the brainwashing technique obeyed Hras’s commands without question, and Ulysses bowed his head, accepting the directive instantly.

Hras’s wide mouth curved slightly upward, betraying his satisfaction with Ulysses’s obedience. In truth, he deeply wished Ulysses would never cross paths with that Master, for there was a story hidden between them spanning decades.

In fact, Hras’s primary reason for coming to the City of Sin was to find that very Master near Nab. Since the recent localized skirmishes between Somalia and the Caribbean, the Caribbean Pirates had vanished into the depths of the Asteroid Belt, untraceable by any conventional means. This city was Nab’s base of operations, cultivated for decades, and Hras had hoped to find some clue here, but the result left the leader of the Ape Worship Cult deeply disappointed.

For days, he had relentlessly swept the city with his unfathomable mental energy. Many members of the Caribbean Pirates had been apprehended, yet none possessed any knowledge of the Pirate King’s location or that of the Master. The Master’s trail was so obscure that few even within the Caribbean Pirates organization knew of his existence.

Noticing Ulysses still held his bowed head, Hras inquired, “Has anything significant occurred in the Asteroid Belt recently?”

“Yes!” Ulysses lifted his head. “And it is a major event. Caesar’s Laurel has been defeated—utterly crushed!”

“Tell me the details of the engagement!” Hras immediately focused his attention. He knew intimately the capabilities of a battlecruiser like Caesar’s Laurel; even the most advanced cruisers of the Ancient Legions could not gain an advantage in a one-on-one duel.

“Caesar’s opponent was the Tran Mercenary Group.”

Ulysses briefly recounted the combat sequence he had managed to gather.

“The Tran Mercenary Group. They eliminated two pirate fleets during the Gray Harbor campaign. I did not anticipate them possessing such strength; this truly exceeds my expectations,” Hras mused, pacing back and forth. “The leader of the Tran Mercenary Group is named Yang Ying, and he is a disciple developed by David. This is very advantageous for us. He might be useful in the second phase of the plan. Adding a super-power to our ranks would significantly boost our chances of success—No!”

Hras’s voice abruptly rose, and he stopped pacing.

“Abnormality always signifies trickery. A force capable of challenging Caesar cannot simply materialize out of thin air in the Solar System. There must be something fundamentally wrong. This Yang Ying commands such formidable military might, yet he has failed to report anything to the Ape Worship Cult. This clearly indicates disloyalty in his heart!”

Hras’s suspicion of Yang Ying crystallized instantly.

“Could the brainwashing technique have failed?” Ulysses echoed the doubt after Hras’s assertion.

“We do not know yet, but based on the evidence, Yang Ying is untrustworthy,” Hras calculated, then issued an order to Ulysses. “You will make a trip to Gray Harbor. Ascertain whether Yang Ying is currently under the influence of the conditioning. If he is not, apply the brainwashing technique again.”

“No, I will go. David is an advanced Psionicist, and Ulysses, this Quasi-Master, is not significantly stronger than him. If David fails, Ulysses’s presence would be useless.”

A voice cut in from the adjacent room. The door sprang open with a bang, revealing another ape-like figure.

Ulysses immediately bowed respectfully upon seeing this figure. “Elder Right.”

“Master Gatu,” Hras turned to him, inquiring, “Why are you so interested in this Yang Ying? As far as I know, he only recently awakened his Light of Titan six months ago. He should still only be an Apprentice-level figure. Why must a Master-level operative like yourself intervene?”

“Master Hras,” Gatu approached him. “One of my most beloved disciples was killed. Yang Ying murdered him in Kussen. As his master, it is only natural that I seek vengeance for my pupil.”

“Yang Ying has potential value; he cannot die yet,” Hras stated firmly.

“Rest assured, I understand the larger picture. Conditioning comes first. I will deal with him only when his utility has expired,” Gatu replied, a ferocious grin spreading across his face.