A cheerful chime sounded at the door. Ye Cheng rubbed her eyes and went to answer it—the early‑education robot had finally arrived.
The little android stood barely to her waist, shaped like a cartoon scholar with a square cap perched on its round metal head. Completely autonomous, it came preloaded with standard preschool software. Ye Cheng set it to the basic educational mode and sat Gingko and Sequoia in front of it.
The robot's voice was pleasant and clear, its lessons bright with colorful images and streaming holograms. Within minutes the twins were transfixed, silver heads tilted up, attention caught like moths in light.
That settled the children—for now. But Sorra?
Ye Cheng frowned at him in thought. Of course, she loved having him nearby; when reading grew dull, glancing at his face was like instant refreshment. Yet with that photographic memory of his, if she kept him beside her, he'd probably memorize entire books in a glance and spoil every mystery novel she ever tried to read.
As she sat there spiraling off into nonsense, Yang Yu's voice cut neatly through her reverie. "Forgive my frankness, Master, but how much of your study schedule have you completed?"
Ye Cheng blinked, dragged back to Earth. "I'm fine," she said defensively. "I've gone through two chapters already, marked the key points—rote memorization works for me. But what about Sorra? Where should he start?"
"Let him continue studying with you," Yang Yu replied.
She tilted her head, wordlessly demanding elaboration.
"You're both at the beginning of mecha theory. He can follow along. And working near a Senlo will enhance your own focus and energy."
"That sounds… wasteful," she murmured uncertainly.
He met her eyes calmly. "What kind of learning isn't wasteful?"
That silenced her.
Of course. What mattered wasn't what they studied, but that they learned at all.
She'd already grasped the basics of how this era worked. With the rise of mecha, natural differences in strength between men and women no longer mattered; the machine was the great equalizer. A woman could mine, build, or fight as hard as any man. Nearly thirty percent of the professional mech‑pilot corps were female.
If she and Yang Yu competed at raw mining by hand, even ten of her wouldn't match him. But inside identical machines? That was another story.
Sorra's body was still recovering, his strength far from trained. Intelligence could soar overnight; physical ability took patience—and time. Until he healed, studying mechanics beside Ye Cheng was the best kind of practice.
"His pace will outstrip yours quickly," Yang Yu warned. "I'll acquire the additional materials he'll need."
Ye Cheng brightened. "Then it's settled! Let's work hard together. Come on, Sorra—the library awaits!"
Obedient as a shadow, he followed. Ye Cheng opened a thick manual; Sorra knelt beside her, turning pages as silently as a lake in moonlight.
Watching them from a distance, Yang Yu felt an unexpected heaviness settle in his chest.
Her dream was beautiful—hopelessly so. At her current speed, even a full year might not close the gap enough for the one‑in‑a‑thousand odds of acceptance into Star‑Realm Academy's pilot program. Her foundation was painfully thin, her practical experience nonexistent. Without hands‑on training, she couldn't hope to surpass applicants who had been building and flying mechs since childhood.
And then there was Sorra—the genuine prodigy. His talent was beyond rare. The boy would outlearn them all, her included, in a fraction of the time.
Still, seeing that her idealism hadn't dimmed, Yang Yu returned quietly to his work. There were other ways he could prepare them.
Night fell. The house was still.
Earlier that evening, Yang Yu had mixed a mild, harmless sedative into Ye Cheng's water, ensuring she slept deeply. When the clock on his Subspace Ring chimed at midnight, he rose, dressed silently, and listened at her door. Hearing even breathing, he turned the handle and slipped inside.
Ye Cheng lay fast asleep. On the floor beside the bed, Sorra had already awoken, sitting upright, waiting exactly as instructed.
Yang Yu lifted the sleeping twins from their cot and tucked them into Ye Cheng's blanket, so that when she woke, they would be the first thing she saw. Then he motioned for Sorra to follow him out.
Back in his own room, Yang Yu opened his Ring's interface and synced with Sorra's. Adjusting several parameters, he set both to "sleep" mode on local sensors and locked their coordinates. With a final tap, a strange device appeared in his palm.
It looked like an ancient urn, roughly thirty centimeters long, bulging at one end where a perfectly cut amethyst‑violet crystal glimmered within its metal bands.
Yang Yu balanced it in his right hand. "Focus," he said softly. "Gather your elemental energy in your palm."
A black sphere of energy formed in his own hand.
Sorra copied him, conjuring an orb of deep brown light.
Yang Yu nodded approvingly. "Now transfer it into the device." He pressed his left hand against the metal surface. The black sphere fused into it and vanished. No reaction. "Your turn."
Sorra did the same. The brown sphere melted into the device—and the crystal within flared alive, projecting a two‑meter‑tall opaque screen of shimmering light before them.
"Good. Keep close."
He stepped through; Sorra followed.
A heartbeat later, both stood beneath a vast night sky—out in the open wilderness.
The familiar ridges and cracked stone told Yang Yu exactly where they were. Four hours away by mag‑rail—the Eastern Ridge District of Yilan Star, untouched, unmonitored.
Above them the constellations blazed like shards of frozen fire. Yang Yu looked up and exhaled softly. "You truly are a genius."
Sorra didn't respond, simply waited.
Scanning the horizon, Yang Yu pointed toward a small hill. "From tonight on, you'll train here."
The land was wild—no roads, no dig sites, not even tire marks. Perfect. He had Sorra do one circuit around the hill to gauge his limits, then set the goal: twenty laps.
An ordinary order, perhaps, but for a body conditioned only for beauty, the exertion was brutal. Still, as a native‑born slave, Sorra would never disobey. By the time he finished, his breathing was rough, limbs trembling, skin slick with sweat—but his discipline held.
Yang Yu handed him a nutrient drink and waited until he recovered. Then he summoned Raizer—a basic training mech, the prototype for all modern element‑powered models.
He climbed in and began a slow demonstration of fundamental maneuvers: starting, balance adjustment, low‑altitude movement, landing. With Sorra's perfect mimicry, no deep explanation was needed. One demonstration per move—that was enough.
Soon Sorra sat in the cockpit, repeating every operation without flaw.
Satisfied, Yang Yu left him refining the drills and walked off behind the next ridge. There he pulled a customized spade from his Ring and began digging.
Two hours later he emerged, covered in dust and sweat, from a newly hollowed tunnel, breathing hard but content. Sorra was just powering down Raizer as he returned.
Yang Yu recalled the machine and handed him the urn device again. "Let's go."
A pulse of elemental energy reopened the violet portal. Within moments, the two reappeared back in Yang Yu's room.
He reset Sorra's Ring to normal and dismissed him. "Get some rest."
Once alone, Yang Yu reactivated the urn. This time he keyed a different coordinate and stepped through.
The air grew damp and foul. When he emerged, it was in a narrow sewer tunnel. He climbed a rusted ladder, pushed open a hatch, and pulled a cloak around his shoulders as he slipped into a dark alley.
C‑District's Sixth Avenue was still alive, thrumming with neon and noise. Changeless shadows filled the corners: mixed‑bloods everywhere, collars gleaming gray or black under the lights.
Yang Yu moved through the crowd as if he belonged, entering a bar whose sign flickered half‑dead in static glow. He took a seat at the counter. "One Absolute Zero," he said.
The bartender eyed his hooded figure, then mixed the drink with practiced hands. Yang Yu downed it in one shot. As he set the glass down, the light caught the black collar at his throat.
"Good batch tonight," the bartender said casually. "Pricey, though."
Yang Yu rolled his sleeve, showing a glint of bright orange within his cuff—a crystal of pure energy.
The bartender's eyes widened slightly. "Didn't peg you for high‑class. You're late. Go find the one in the purple dress—you'll sort it out there."
Yang Yu left a small black crystal as payment and turned toward the stairs. At the base stood a dancer draped in violet silk, her smile as polished as her curves. Without slowing, he caught her by the waist and steered her upward.
She gave a soft gasp that turned quickly into a practiced giggle, pressing closer as the crowd cat‑called from below. Yang Yu ignored them entirely.
At the top, she leaned against the wall and traced a finger along his chest. "So, handsome—what are we filming tonight?"
"Juice," he said flatly. Then, after a beat, "The best bottle you have."
Up close, she noticed the black collar at his neck. Still, she'd met enough mysterious patrons to keep smiling. She opened the door for him with professional elegance and followed inside.
Once past the threshold, Yang Yu walked directly to the far wall and pressed a nearly invisible ridge beneath the wallpaper. A hidden doorway slid open, revealing a dim corridor.
The guards inside tensed when they saw someone who wasn't staff—but relaxed as the dancer behind him came into view. Without a word, they stepped aside.
She remained in the outer room, lounging idly by the wall, hooking one arm around a guard's neck. "Cool guy," she purred, watching Yang Yu disappear down the passage.
He shrugged. "Caught your eye?"
She tossed a strand of hair and blew a kiss toward the retreating figure. "He ignored me."
The guard chuckled. "Most of them do."
She swatted his arm playfully. "Well, then, you handle any newcomers. I'm roasting in here—need a shower."
Inside the bathroom, steam and water hissed against tile. She turned on the faucet full just to mask her voice, then tapped her Subspace Ring to open a private line.
"Boss," she whispered, "a midnight‑grade buyer just came through. Asked for the best 'juice' we've got today… Should you come take a look yourself?"
On the other end, a red‑haired youth leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily. "Yeah," he said. "I'll come."