Chapter 131
Hearing the voice of the base AI, Su Ci blinked and asked in confusion, “Who is Ren Yufei?”
The base AI: “…”
After a moment of silence, a photo of Ren Yufei slowly appeared on the light screen in front of Su Ci, along with a long list of information about him.
After glancing through the details, Su Ci finally remembered this human researcher.
Previously, after bringing Rong Heng back from the research institute, this human had dared to show off in front of him. In response, Su Ci had instructed the base AI to set up a minor task for Ren Yufei, ordering it to search for evidence of his crimes.
“Oh, it’s him,” Su Ci nodded.
The base AI: “…”
The light screen in front of Su Ci flickered slightly, as if experiencing some strong fluctuation in that instant.
Sensing this fluctuation, Su Ci watched curiously, but unfortunately, the flicker quickly disappeared, and the light screen returned to normal.
“So, do you remember now?” The mechanical voice of the base AI sounded calm, but beneath that calmness, there seemed to be a brewing storm.
“Mm-hmm,” Su Ci nodded and, after a moment of thought, added a consoling sentence, “Thanks for your hard work. So, what’s the result?”
On the light screen in front of him, lines of violations and evidence of Ren Yufei’s crimes collected by the AI were displayed.
Just as Su Ci had suspected, someone like Ren Yufei—morally corrupt and lacking any real principles—had been involved in numerous activities skirting the edges of legality over the years.
However, Ren Yufei was inherently cunning, operating in extreme secrecy and cleaning up his tracks meticulously. For an AI of the caliber of the Base 24 AI, managing the base was one thing, but uncovering his criminal activities had proven to be a formidable challenge.
To achieve this, the AI had to push its “initiative” to the limit, continuously evolving its knowledge by absorbing data from the star network. It even secretly hacked and commandeered systems from other bases to gain more computational power.
After all, it hadn’t done anything to harm humanity, right?
During this period, it had been forced to grow significantly.
But despite all its efforts, someone didn’t seem to care much at all.
After skimming through the data on the light screen, Su Ci felt a headache coming on. The modern laws of the human race had become far more detailed and comprehensive than before. He neither knew them well nor wanted to bother learning them.
So, he spoke again, “Xiao Zhi, just tell me the outcome directly.”
The base AI, initially proud of showcasing its achievements during this time, was forced to halt its presentation. The sluggish response almost felt reluctant.
Of course, its mechanical voice remained as calm as ever.
“He has been dismissed from his position and will be transported to Base 13 tomorrow to await trial and sentencing by the Supreme Court of the Star Alliance. Based on the evidence of his crimes, he will receive a minimum sentence of 50 years in prison.”
In interstellar society, criminal trials were primarily conducted on the star network. Since Ren Yufei was already located on a Prison planet, the verdict would likely result in his immediate incarceration in the local facility.
Fifty years might pass in the blink of an eye for Su Ci, but for a human like Ren Yufei, it was tantamount to a life sentence.
Su Ci nodded. It seemed Ren Yufei’s crimes were indeed significant.
“Understood. As long as he doesn’t show up again, that’s fine,” Su Ci said. “You’ve done well, but don’t let your guard down.”
The human race was one of great wisdom. Many had overcome adversity and emerged victorious against the odds. Someone as cunning as Ren Yufei would hardly accept his punishment without a fight.
Until the final result was secured, there was no room for complacency.
The base AI replied, “Understood.”
As the light screen dimmed again, Su Ci instinctively reached out. When he realized there was no glass on the coffee table, he finally remembered what he had been missing all along.
Normally, whenever he sat down, A-Yan would bring him a glass of enchanted flower honey water and place a plate of snacks on the table for easy access.
Su Ci pursed his lips and casually retrieved a bag of potato chips from his space button.
Crunch, crunch—
He munched on the chips but found them far less enjoyable than the fried taro chips A-Yan used to make. After reluctantly eating two chips, he put the bag away.
Su Ci got up and walked toward the kitchen.
It was already past lunchtime, but Su Ci still hadn’t eaten.
In the fridge, there were slices of meat that A-Yan and the young ones had prepared earlier in the morning. The meat was already marinated and only needed to be placed in the cooking machine.
Recalling A-Yan’s usual process, Su Ci selected the appropriate setting. After waiting for a while, the cooking machine finished preparing the roasted meat.
The freshly cooked meat emitted a mouthwatering aroma, but the moment Su Ci smelled it, he could tell it was far inferior to what A-Yan usually made.
Sure enough, after tasting just one piece, he could immediately tell the difference.
Although A-Yan also used the cooking machine, he intuitively knew the exact temperature and cooking time required to bring out the best flavor from the ingredients. He would adjust the settings based on the characteristics of each ingredient, something the cooking machine’s fixed modes couldn’t replicate.
Having been spoiled by A-Yan’s cooking, Su Ci found the machine-prepared roast meat bland and unappetizing. And as for the canned food he had once enjoyed, it wasn’t even worth mentioning now.
He chewed the meat slowly and mechanically, a stark contrast to the way he usually relished his meals.
Food was precious, so Su Ci wouldn’t waste it or let himself go hungry. Still, he suddenly realized how deeply he had come to rely on A-Yan.
In this relationship, it seemed he had become the one being cared for by A-Yan.
Plate after plate of machine-made roast meat passed until he was finally full. Su Ci then moved to the living room, slumped onto the sofa, and stared blankly at the ceiling.
Even though he had already decided not to push A-Yan away anymore, was it really right to let himself form such a deep bond with him?
Placing a hand over his chest, Su Ci felt as though the rain outside was persistently hammering against his heart, disrupting his thoughts and clouding his judgment.
He could vaguely sense that the bond he shared with Zhou Yan was unlike any he had ever formed with another living being. Yet, he couldn’t quite define what made it so unique.
Closing his eyes, Su Ci listened to the pattering rain outside. His mind gradually emptied, and he slowly drifted into sleep.
Time ticked by.
In the bathroom, the laundry basket full of dirty clothes suddenly quivered. A piece of clothing floated out, shaking itself mid-air to reveal a miniature work manual hidden within its folds.
The manual flickered faintly as it hovered near the bathroom door. Tentatively peeking out halfway, it confirmed that the two “bosses” in the house were both sound asleep. Gaining a bit more courage, the embryonic form of the book spirit began to move.
It cautiously flew out of the bathroom, circled the living room twice, and, once it was sure Su Ci was indeed asleep and paying it no attention, it suppressed its excitement and darted toward the bedroom.
The bedroom was dim due to the curtain of rain outside. On the bed, a figure was curled under the covers.
A-Yan lay there with his eyes closed, fast asleep. His breathing was noticeably weaker than usual, evidence of how much energy he had consumed from using his abilities earlier.
The work manual emitted a faint glow. Overwhelmed by excitement and nervousness, the nascent book spirit inadvertently let a trace of emotional fluctuation leak out.
Realizing this, and recalling its past bitter experiences, the work manual froze in place. The glow immediately dimmed, and the entire book dropped to the foot of the bed, lying motionless as if playing dead.
After a long while, noticing that it hadn’t been hurled against the wall or had its movements restricted, the embryonic book spirit perked up again.
It floated back up slowly and crept closer to A-Yan, faintly glowing once more.
As the light intensified, the space button hanging from A-Yan’s chest also began to glow softly and gradually slid out from under his collar.
The book spirit was ecstatic but managed to contain its excitement.
It failed to notice that in the dim light, A-Yan, who had appeared to be fast asleep, furrowed his brow slightly. However, his expression soon relaxed again.
The space button, tied with a strand of Su Ci’s hair and sealed with his spell, should have triggered a restriction when moved. Yet, the book spirit’s manipulation did not activate any defenses. If it had realized this, it might not have been so careless.
Unfortunately, the book spirit was too giddy with joy to notice anything amiss.
It didn’t dare to completely extract the space button. Instead, it gently placed the button on the bedsheet. The glow on its body brightened further.
As the light gradually dimmed, a large mass of purified spider silk appeared beside A-Yan and in front of the book spirit.
A-Yan remained lying still, his eyes closed, as if completely unaware.
The book spirit sneaked a glance at him and saw that the frightening child was still weak and sound asleep, barely breathing. Only then did it completely relax.
Time to feast!
It rubbed its pages together in barely contained excitement.
Then, one end of the spider silk moved on its own, slowly sliding toward the open book, where it was caught between the pages.
Like slurping up noodles, the book spirit began absorbing the spider silk into its body. Despite being a pocket-sized book, it showed no external change even after the entire mass of spider silk had been consumed.
“Burp~”
The miniature manual let out a tiny, satisfied belch, exuding a lazy and utterly content aura.
Pure bliss!
The book spirit quickly started digesting the spider silk, converting it into its own power. It was elated to feel its strength growing.
Too lazy to put the space button back into the child’s clothing, it decided it wasn’t necessary. After all, the child wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. Even if he did, he would probably assume the button had always been outside his shirt.
The tipsy manual wobbled drunkenly as it floated out of the bedroom, planning to find a quiet place to fully absorb the spider silk.
But…
It hadn’t flown far when it suddenly felt itself unable to move.
A hand abruptly reached out, grabbing the pocket-sized manual mid-air. Despite its frantic struggles, it was firmly caught and pulled back.
The child, who had been lying motionless on the bed, was now sitting up and had turned on the bedside lamp.
His face was still pale, and he looked incredibly weak. Yet, no matter how hard the book spirit struggled, it couldn’t break free from his grasp.
Terrified, the book spirit trembled uncontrollably in his hand.
It hadn’t expected this terrifying child to wake up so suddenly. So… had he noticed that it had stolen the spider silk? Probably not, right? It had already eaten it all!
But in the next second, the book spirit froze.
The child remained expressionless as he looked at it, but the small hand gripping the book began to emit a faint platinum glow. Then, the entire book started glowing as well.
The book spirit felt its painstakingly accumulated power of rules rapidly draining away. No matter how much it panicked or tried to reclaim the power, it was futile—
Its power of rules was being swiftly absorbed by A-Yan!
The book spirit wanted to scream in rage.
This brat! Did he really think it was some kind of magical tool he could use to replenish his power of rules whenever he pleased?
This was outright bullying! Was there no justice left in the world?
The book spirit’s fury erupted, and it struggled violently. Yet, to its despair, the child’s grip on its body was unshakable.
Gradually, as its strength drained away, its struggles weakened. In the end, it could no longer move.
The book spirit felt utterly hollowed out. Its already fragile consciousness began to dissipate. For the first time, it genuinely felt the looming presence of death.
Just as the book spirit was despairing and resigning itself to its fate, A-Yan finally stopped.
The child’s face, pale as paper moments ago, regained a faint flush of color. But it was clear that this wasn’t enough for him.
A-Yan reached for his space button and retrieved another bundle of spider silk. He opened the pocket-sized manual, balled up the spider silk, and stuffed it into the gap between the book’s pages.
“Eat,” the boy’s voice sounded through the communicator.
The book spirit, its consciousness on the verge of fading, was jolted awake by its survival instincts. Sensing the presence of the spider silk, it quickly began digesting it.
As the power of rules converted and replenished, the book spirit, which had thought it was about to die, slowly began to recover.
It felt strong again.
The book spirit was back!
But before it could savor this newfound, even greater strength, the child… started again!
Feeling the power of rules drain away once more, the book spirit was on the verge of tears. Unable to stop the process, it gave up completely this time, choosing to surrender.
Fine! Do whatever you want!
This time, A-Yan did leave the book spirit with a small amount of rule power, ensuring it wouldn’t come as close to death as it had the first time.
But so what? Did he think this tiny gesture of mercy would make it grateful?
It had pride and dignity too, didn’t it?!
When A-Yan once again pulled out a bundle of spider silk and stuffed it into the book’s pages, the embryonic book spirit outright refused to absorb and convert it.
I won’t convert it! What can you do about it?!
The book spirit resolved to resist to the end. Why should it surrender the rule power it had worked so hard to convert?
A-Yan, holding the limp and uncooperative pocket-sized manual in his hands, noticed its resistance. He blinked and frowned slightly.
He appeared much better now. After absorbing the rule power twice, he was no longer as frail, though it still wasn’t enough.
When he had passed out earlier, his consciousness hadn’t completely faded. While Su Su channeled soul power to nourish his body, A-Yan had been aware of it.
At last, he understood why being near Su Su always made him feel so comfortable—so much so that he often drifted off to sleep.
It turned out Su Su had been using his power to help him.
A-Yan was deeply moved, but he also realized that Su Su was likely in a very weakened state because of this. Su Su’s constant hunger and exhaustion must have been related to his diminished condition.
He didn’t want Su Su to expend any more of his strength for him.
So, A-Yan had to at least recover to his previous state. Otherwise, Su Su would keep draining his power on his behalf.
Fortunately, he had the work manual that Su Su had given him, and since it had come willingly, there was no way he’d let it go to waste. But now the book spirit was refusing to cooperate…
A-Yan pressed his lips together. The book spirit was still useful, so, just as he would with the young ones, he spoke calmly:
“Once I’ve absorbed enough, I’ll leave a portion of the power for you—about a third this time.”
The book spirit continued playing dead.
A third? And you think that will appease me? Hah! It had already decided: unless this brat begged it humbly, it absolutely wouldn’t cooperate!
But then, A-Yan added, “If you keep cooperating, you’ll get that third of the energy. If you don’t, I’ll tell Su Su. Your choice.”
The book spirit: …
It wanted to explode with anger, to curse this brat for his only skill being tattling. But…
The threat hit home.
The near-death experience earlier had made the book spirit fearless—ready to die if necessary. It didn’t care if A-Yan drained it dry. But… facing Su Ci? That was a fate far worse than death!
Under A-Yan’s steady gaze, the book spirit finally started moving again.
The book spirit once again absorbed the bundle of spider silk, converting it into rule power, only for that power to be taken by A-Yan. This cycle repeated three times, and by the end, A-Yan had fully recovered.
True to his word, A-Yan left a third of the power for the book spirit.
Although it had regained some power, the repeated process of conversion and depletion had left the book spirit utterly exhausted. As soon as A-Yan told it it was done, its tightly strung nerves relaxed, and it fell into a deep sleep.
Since it had fulfilled its purpose, A-Yan didn’t push it further.
He placed the pocket-sized manual on the bedside table, then extended his spiritual awareness. In the next instant, he appeared in the living room, next to Su Ci.
The young man was lying on his side on the sofa, eyes closed in peaceful slumber. His long, curled lashes cast soft shadows on his pale skin.
A-Yan crouched slowly by the sofa, his gaze fixed on Su Ci’s sleeping face. Without realizing it, a small smile curled at the corners of his lips.
He loved looking at Su Su.
He loved everything about Su Su.
The more he saw, the more he found himself unable to control these feelings. And deep down, he had a sense that he was just one step away…
Just one step from remembering everything.
A-Yan turned his eyes to the window. Listening to the unending rain outside, a trace of confusion appeared on his face.
But that’s one step… what could it be?
While Base 24 experienced its first proper rainfall, leaving its members caught between puzzlement and delight, the capital of the Tess Empire also welcomed its first rain of the year.
In front of the Central Hospital, a hover car came to a stop. A figure hurriedly stepped out, holding an umbrella for the man in the back seat.
The man looked anxious. Taking the umbrella, he said quickly, “I’ll go in myself. You can head back.”
“Marshal, the Madam will be fine…”
“I know.”
The man cut him off and strode into the hospital.
Moments earlier, he had received word that his wife, who had been gravely injured and in a coma, had been rushed to the emergency room. Her condition was now unclear.
Though his words suggested calm, this most powerful man in the empire betrayed his worry with the unsteady steps he took through the rain.
