Lun Daofu’s late-night silence suggested he was likely aware of the matters that could not be made public in the Asteroid Belt. Anyone who had spent a few days in the Asteroid Belt knew this. Paradise City was the most corrupt and filthy place in the human world of the Solar System, bar none.

Many years ago, the Pirate King Nab built this city from scratch. Relying on the unique code of silence among those dark travelers, and the boundless protection of the meteors in the Asteroid Belt, he shielded the city from all outside scrutiny. It continuously fed off the darkness within humanity, maintaining an unparalleled prosperity.

If one were to rank the most profitable city in the Asteroid Belt, Paradise City would take the top spot without contest. Without this city, the terrifying G’amubi Pirate Fleet, which had dominated the stellar seas for decades, would not exist.

But during this period since Heras made his move, every small piece of intelligence indicated that this city had already fallen into the hands of the Ape Worship Cult?

Now, the problems faced by the tourists of Paradise City had finally erupted.

After listening to Yang Ying’s account, Kalia pondered for a moment before stating, “There is a mole in the high command of the Intelligence Department, working for Nab.”

Yang Ying hadn’t expected Kalia’s first statement to be this, and his brow twitched. He asked, “What is your basis for that?”

Kalia wore a confident expression. He replied, “Because no matter how powerful the Pirate King is, he is merely the local emperor of the Asteroid Belt. The clientele of the City of Sin come from all over the Solar System; Nab’s reach does not extend that far. He must have powerful allies to mask everything about the City of Sin.”

“As for why I say the Intelligence Department, it’s because the clients of the City of Sin are by no means small figures. They are very wealthy, and conversely, they hold great influence. Their movements cannot be completely kept secret; traces will always be left behind. The mere code of silence among dark travelers is insufficient to guard such a massive secret.”

“Although the Intelligence Department appears full of holes to us, those spies and agents are not fools. It is fundamentally impossible for them to spend years investigating and still know nothing about the City of Sin. Therefore, someone in the upper echelon of the Intelligence Department must be covering for the City of Sin. Of course, to keep a city that large secret, besides managing the Intelligence Department, other vital links must also be secured. I presume Nab, with his foresight, would not leave any weak spots.”

Yang Ying found Kalia’s analysis very sound. It truly wouldn’t be easy for Nab alone to establish Paradise City.

Thinking this, Yang Ying suddenly understood. From Kalia’s analysis, it was clear that behind the massive cake that was Paradise City, there was not just Nab, but an entire collective of vested interests that had allowed Paradise City to remain secret in the dark for so many years.

Seeing Yang Ying look over, Kalia continued, “The City of Sin is like dirty water—whoever touches it gets soiled. Since Heras took control, we don’t know how the interest groups behind it have reacted. Will they welcome outsiders like us interfering?”

Yang Ying nodded. He understood that even though Heras had occupied the City of Sin, it would be naive to assume the interest groups behind Paradise City would willingly abandon their profits there and ignore the city’s exposure just because of that.

However, he didn't care.

In Yang Ying’s view, that interest group was a minor issue. In his mind, his Tran Company was the ultimate ancestor of secrecy. The unknown powers he controlled were enough to keep him invincible.

To guard against all eventualities, he had placed exactly one hundred of his clones in nutrient tanks, hidden and dispersed across the Solar System. Even if his main body were killed, he could immediately resurrect in one of the clones. And the ‘Tian’ on the back of his left hand would travel with the master soul.

He had even dispatched several transport ships to carry his clones out of the Solar System, drifting into deep space.

The reason he could do this was that mental resonance ignores spatial distance, reaching its destination instantly. Therefore, even if a transport ship sailed to the other side of the galaxy, his soul could transfer there in a heartbeat.

Moreover, the expanse of cosmic space was too vast—clear paths lay in every direction. The Ancient Legion could not guard such an immense volume of space flawlessly.

The Ape-men’s defensive lines were mostly composed of high-power detectors. Their usual tactic was to dispatch their own fleet to intercept once a human fleet was detected. Only strategically important locations were defended by patrol fleets, and transport ships would never approach those areas.

Although the transport ships had only been deployed for about ten days and hadn't reached the edge of the Solar System, they had already broken free from the Ancient Legion’s most heavily guarded lines. With the pathfinders clearing the way, they were speeding toward the Solar System unimpeded.

Even in the worst-case scenario where the Tran Mercenary Group lost all foothold in the Solar System, he could recall everyone to the Floating Continent and transfer his soul outside the system to start his life anew.

Becoming a cosmic wanderer sounded rather interesting, didn't it?

So, to tell the truth, Yang Ying wasn’t afraid of death right now. Even if he had to fight Heras one-on-one using the power of a middle-level Psychic—a battle he would surely lose—he had the courage for it.

Yang Ying smiled slightly and said to Kalia, “Investigate, but don't make a spectacle of it, nor be overly cautious. Handle the specifics as you see fit.”

Kalia immediately went to make arrangements, while Yang Ying continued his conversation with Katerina.

However, news regarding the City of Sin arrived faster than Yang Ying had expected.

“Four o’clock. The artificial sun at Greyport has started to flicker again, and the vehicles on the streets are beginning to honk…”

Five hundred meters from the office building, there was a training camp dedicated to external personnel. The sounds of shouting echoed ceaselessly from the camp. On a drill ground spanning a hundred meters square, over a thousand mercenaries were undergoing training.

Two to three hundred mercenaries in the center of the ground were sparring, their shouts emanating from their mouths. Around the edges of the ground, others were running laps.

Since there were no cross-country venues in the space city, running circuits around the drill ground served as a substitute.

Running five kilometers under load, morning and evening, was the simplest and most effective way to train willpower and physical endurance.

Twelve Marines, clad in powered armor and carrying Gauss rifles—they had renamed the heavy gunners to ‘Marines’—stood guard at the main entrance of the ground. Their eyes were sharp, filled with vigilance and killing intent, constantly watching for any anomalies in the surroundings.

Whenever the mercenaries training on the ground glanced at them, they felt infinite admiration well up inside.

In their eyes, these instructors possessed immense individual strength. In every aspect—marksmanship, close combat, demolitions, piloting, tactical command, mechanical knowledge, etc.—they were flawless, far surpassing the trainees. Moreover, their teamwork was seamless, like a single entity, never refusing an order from a superior, abstaining from smoking and drinking. Without any bad habits, they were, from start to finish, perfect fighting machines.

Even in Greyport, a city entirely belonging to the Tran Mercenary Group, the instructors showed no slack while on duty. They seemed to know nothing of fatigue, always dealing with the slightest disturbance with the utmost seriousness. The weaknesses inherent in ordinary men were completely absent in them.

After several weeks of training, the majority of the mercenaries in the training camp had come to regard the instructors as their role models and future goals. Except for a few weak-willed individuals who were eliminated with regret, the rest applied one hundred and twenty percent of their effort, squeezing out every bit of their potential and throwing themselves into the intense drills.

Simultaneously, the image of the powerful Tran Mercenary Group was deeply ingrained in their minds through subtle influence. They now understood that the entire Tran Mercenary Group was composed of individuals exactly like these instructors.

Every instructor was a perfect warrior beyond description, one that even a top-tier mercenary would rarely encounter elsewhere. Yet, the Tran Mercenary Group had thousands of them. The mere thought sent shivers down their spines.

A silver-grey, streamlined magnetic vehicle drove past the drill ground. Several sharp-eyed mercenaries immediately recognized it as Colonel Blade’s car. Their hearts tightened instantly, and they trained even harder, hoping to leave a good impression on the controller of Greyport.

Inside the vehicle, Yang Ying turned his gaze away from the drill ground and instructed the driver, “Back to the office building.”

The training level of these mercenaries was quite satisfactory to him; they had shown considerable improvement since he last visited.

Once they completed their training, they could be dispatched to handle routine tasks. After all, as a super mercenary group, the Tran Mercenary Group received numerous clients posting missions daily, most of which did not require the strength of a super mercenary to complete.

A few minutes after the vehicle left the camp, it returned to the base of the office building.

Yang Ying stepped out of the car and saw another vehicle approaching from the other end of the street. A stout man in a suit and tie was waving at him through the window, calling out, “Colonel Blade, please wait a moment!”

Yang Ying remembered this fat man. He had visited the office building once before, introducing himself as a mere subordinate of the Pirate King Nab, and delivering the information that Gato was coming to kill him.

What was he here for this time?

The fat man’s car stopped beside Yang Ying’s. He opened the door and stepped out, his face folding into layers as he rubbed his hands together, smiling, “Colonel Blade, long time no see. I said last time that we would meet again, and here we are.”

The last meeting had been over a month ago—not too long, but not short either.

Yang Ying nodded and said, “Sir, are you perhaps here to deliver another message?”

The fat man glanced around and chuckled, “Indeed.”

Yang Ying gestured toward the entrance of the office building and said, “Let’s go inside to talk.”

“Good, good.” The fat man shuddered slightly, then strode confidently behind Yang Ying into the office building.

Once seated in the conference room, with proper acknowledgment of seniority, Yang Ying spoke first to express his gratitude. “The data chip you delivered last time was extremely useful. On behalf of our commander, I thank you.”

The fat man beamed, “Colonel Blade, His Majesty also asked me to convey his thanks. Your success in setting a trap to fool the Ape Master Gato, and even killing him, was a small, unexpected joy for His Majesty. Although Master Garcia from the Psychic Temple was the one who struck the fatal blow, I imagine you played a crucial role as well; Garcia couldn't just kill Gato whenever he pleased.”

Yang Ying nodded, concluding the pleasantries, and asked directly, “What news does the Pirate King have for me?”

The fat on the man’s face trembled, and he asked in a low voice, “I wonder, Colonel Blade, are you interested in Paradise City?”

Hearing this, Yang Ying’s brow twitched slightly.

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