It is said that fate plays cruel jokes; that group of minor higher-ups Yang Ying killed back in Kussen’s port—one of them, Zhang Ran, was a disciple of Jatu, the Right Elder of the Ape Worshipping Cult. Unbeknownst to him, Yang Ying had provoked a master-level expert! Even if he had known then that killing that higher-ranking ape would invite Jatu’s hatred, Yang Ying would not have spared his life.

A month prior, Horace and Jatu arrived in the asteroid belt with ten Emissaries of the Ape. Jatu’s first order of business was locating his disciple. He easily tracked the last known location to Kussen, specifically the port.

Using a glamour spell, he extracted the details of what transpired from the port personnel. He had initially intended to go straight for Yang Ying for revenge, but the news from David arrived just then, reporting that Yang Ying had already been brainwashed into becoming a follower of the Ape Worshipping Cult. This temporarily set aside his personal vendetta, allowing him to focus on the grand plan of the Ancient Legion.

Now, however, Yang Ying was exhibiting inconsistencies, suggesting the brainwashing might not have taken hold, which rekindled Jatu’s desire for vengeance. This led him to proactively suggest tracking down Yang Ying to administer another brainwashing session. Jatu bid farewell to Horace and vanished from the room in a blink.

As the conversation in the room concluded, on the eighty-eighth floor of the building opposite, a window was open. Inside, an antenna-like machine was aimed directly at Horace’s presidential suite. This device was capable of reading the minute vibrations of the window glass to reconstruct the sounds within the room.

At this moment, a spy from a Caribbean pirate syndicate, dressed as a waiter, sat beside the machine, his back to the window, wearing earphones, eavesdropping on Horace and Jatu’s dialogue. A look of growing excitement spread across his face. “I only meant to listen in on what kind of people occupied the ninety-ninth floor, but I never expected to catch three colossal fish!

If I pass this intel up the chain, I’ll surely become famous. Eavesdropping on an Ape Master’s conversation—that’s an unprecedented feat!” “Chameleon, Alva—who cares? I’m taking the top seat in the espionage world from now on.” “Ignorant human.

Do you think that just because you’re not looking at us, we can’t sense you? I felt your attention from kilometers away,” a cold voice echoed from behind him. The spy suddenly felt his brain roaring, all strength draining from his body, as if countless needles were piercing his skull and boring into his mind.

He tried to scream, but no sound came out—it was a pain acting directly upon the soul! A few drops of blood splattered before him, followed by the sensation of blood streaming uncontrollably from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, transitioning from a slow drip to a steady trickle. In less than ten seconds, he collapsed, his face contorted in agony, bleeding from all seven orifices.

“Pathetic, human.” “Trash,” Jatu scornfully uttered, then lunged toward the machine, crushing it with a squeeze. A spray of electrical sparks erupted, and the device instantly crumpled as if subjected to immense hydraulic pressure. After destroying the machine, Jatu’s form flickered, and he disappeared without a trace once more.

Shortly after, the spy’s corpse was discovered by someone passing the doorway. The body was reported to the City Security Force and removed, the entire process mundane, as simple as dispatching a package. A death, no matter how grisly, was a common occurrence in the City of Sin.

People rarely questioned the bizarre ways others perished, as the city frequently hosted individuals who reveled in sadism, dedicating immense effort to devising the most cruel methods of torture. Such incidents were depressingly frequent. Subsequently, the body was transported to the Security Force morgue.

The old man guarding the morgue appeared utterly indifferent to everything, engrossed in reading a magazine. However, as soon as everyone left, he immediately put the magazine down, approached the corpse, and pulled back the white sheet. After a brief inspection, a cold smirk crossed his face.

He then produced a pair of latex gloves, donned them, retrieved a laser cutter, sliced open the calf muscle of the corpse, and extracted a chip. He produced a reader, meticulously cleaned and dried the chip, and inserted it. Several indicator lights flashed in sequence.

He stowed the reader away, tossed the chip onto the floor, crushed it underfoot, and kicked the fragments into the sewer drain. Then, he settled back into his original spot, humming a little tune, and resumed reading his magazine. Far away, deep within an asteroid belt, lay a ten-kilometer-wide asteroid, hollowed out to serve as a clandestine base.

A middle-aged man dressed as a butler approached a large door at the core of the base and gently knocked. “Is that Yangus? Come in.” An ancient, melodious voice replied.

“I’m entering,” Yangus said, gently pushing the door open. The room was not large, but the furnishings were exquisite. In the warm-toned space, an elegant, faint fragrance could be perceived.

Yangus knew this scent originated from a rare extraterrestrial beverage highly beneficial for the well-being of the elderly, nearly impossible to procure within the Solar System. In the center of the room stood a bamboo rocking chair. An elderly man was reclining comfortably, a cup emitting faint steam resting on a small table beside him—evidence of a recent drink.

This seemingly leisurely elder was none other than Nab, the Pirate King, a figure feared throughout the asteroid belt. Yangus stepped forward. “Your Majesty, crucial intelligence has arrived from the Paradise.

The existence of Horace, the Cult Master of the Ape Worshipping Cult, Right Elder Jatu, and Emissary of the Ape Number One, Ulysses, has been confirmed. However, Jatu has already left Paradise and is en route to Grayport. In securing this information, one of our top spies was killed by Jatu.

Fortunately, the hidden chip was successfully decoded. Here are the specifics…” Yangus presented a device that replayed the sights and sounds recorded by the deceased spy in his final moments. After viewing the playback, Pirate King Nab chuckled.

“That little ape master Horace has indeed arrived in the asteroid belt. Only he can wield surprise attack tactics with such breathtaking skill. I suspected this fellow had reached the asteroid belt when the Blood Skull Syndicate was instantly annihilated.” “What countermeasures do you wish us to take?” Yangus asked respectfully.

“No countermeasures are needed. We should not intervene in this matter. Simply transmit the message to Yang Ying and wait to watch the show.

That rising star of the asteroid belt should know what to do,” Nab stated dismissively. “Your Majesty, you trust that Yang Ying can handle a master like Horace?” Yangus asked, surprised. While Yang Ying’s Trance Mercenary Group had earned the reputation of a Super Mercenary Group, armies could not stop masters, and masters could not stop armies.

The conflict between military force and a master was on entirely different planes; Yang Ying might not succeed. “Hahahaha,” Nab laughed and continued, “I’ve reviewed the history of this young man’s ascent. It is incredibly strange, eerily so, as if they materialized from thin air.

It seems nothing can stump them. The combined might of the Five Great Factions attacking Grayport was repelled without sustaining any damage. Caesar’s two Laurel Fleets were defeated without a scratch.

What does ‘without a scratch’ signify, do you know?” “It means they haven't deployed their full strength,” Yangus replied. Nab nodded, smiling. “Precisely.

With almost every battle they fight, their standing rises. First, a Trike, then the Five Great Factions, then the two Laurel Fleets. From an unknown, small mercenary group, to a large one, then ranked number one among large groups, and now a Super Mercenary Group—and still, they haven't reached their peak strength.

This time, let Horace test them again. If they can still wipe out Jatu’s contingent without taking damage, then we might have to gauge their power against the main fleets of the military.” “The main military fleets?” Yangus exclaimed, shocked. “Is that possible?” “I don't know, which is why Horace must test them.” Nab smiled.

“Go, deliver the message to the Trance Mercenary Group. Let’s do them a favor first. It might prove useful later.” “Yes, your subordinate takes his leave.” Yangus bowed and exited the room.

Nab picked up the precious alien beverage, drank it down in one gulp, and let out a soft sigh. “I’m getting old. Just these few words have left my mouth dry.

To battle an Ape Master like Horace—this old body might not hold up.” “Don’t you have an heir?” A peculiar, gentle voice suddenly materialized in the room. “Apollo? That boy has cunning, yes.

But he needs tempering. He has never known the sting of being stabbed in the back, nor has he ever stabbed anyone in the back. How can I entrust this empire to him?

It’s a pity his father was as clever as he is, yet his life was ended by a knife from behind. He lacks that sense of imminent danger; it seems he must be given some stimulation.” “I think the boy is fine. Why must you use your twisted perspective to harm him?” The gentle voice sounded displeased.

“Once one becomes accustomed to it, the pain ceases to matter,” Nab responded. “That’s because the wound scars over, like you—possessing an ugly soul to avoid being hurt.” The gentle voice said. As the voice faded, a figure materialized in the room, entirely concealed by a black cloak.

“You should worry more about Horace’s problem. He’s been looking for you quite diligently,” Nab said coldly. “Horace?

I have no desire to see him, but he won’t allow me to see Ulysses. And yet, I must see Ulysses. So, a confrontation with Horace seems unavoidable,” the voice of the Black Cloaked Master expressed with a trace of vexation.

“I would prefer you not to die, or where else would I find a master-level expert who owes me a favor?” Nab rubbed his temples, saying, “Didn’t I just say? Just wait and watch the show. Perhaps this Yang Ying will solve the Horace problem for us.” “Very well, we shall wait and see.” The Black Cloaked Master spoke, then dissolved into black smoke, instantly vanishing without a trace.