SZAR Chapter 103

Qu Xia dragged his suitcase off the starship.

He picked a star system neither too close nor too far from the main planet, between the main planet and Pamir, with convenient transport and moderate climate. He negotiated a property with a local agent and moved in that very day.

It was a two-story villa, modest compared to Erwen’s garden estate, but reasonably clean. Qu Xia released his household robot to arrange the furniture, then turned on his light-brain to start looking into the D767 Research Institute.

The message he had overheard in the restroom that day left a bad feeling in him. The mortality rate among female Zerg was high; major universities and research institutes were doing everything to slightly reduce the risk of mental-sea collapse. Yet one institute, D767, was researching how to induce it deliberately.

Even more unsettling, the funder of this research was none other than a Prince of the Empire.

Qu Xia erased any traces of his visit and searched for D767 on public networks, nothing. He then tried using a lab copy account to access official databases, but again, nothing.

Sylph, coming from a noble line and a leading expert in the empire, didn’t even allow him access to D767.

Qu Xia paused slightly, then bypassed the firewall and accessed the royal private channels.

Since arriving on the main planet, Qu Xia had avoided contact with the royal family. Such a massive entity would surely have its own counter-surveillance systems, and he had no intention of causing trouble. Yet D767 was too conspicuous. Qu Xia had an unshakable premonition: if he gave up this investigation, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Just as he was lost in thought, his light-brain beeped twice: the communication channel had connected successfully.

On the surface were nothing but meaningless clutter, details about the banquet preparation, invitations sent, and so on. The domain itself contained nested subdomains, each with a seven-digit unordered code. Logging in and breaking through was tricky. Qu Xia was fretting over how to locate the Prince’s personal subdomain when his fingers brushed against the metal token in his backpack.

This token had accompanied him from junk planet to the main planet, and now to this second-class planet. Qu Xia had long wanted to discard it, but it belonged to the original owner’s attachments, so he had never touched it.

He pulled it out and noticed the numbers on its back:

 [ 0527143 ]

Exactly seven digits.

Qu Xia took a deep breath. The cursor slid, and he navigated to the subdomain corresponding to these numbers.

He entered.

It was an extremely small domain. Most of the space was empty; only a few hundred pictures and some video clips were tucked into tiny storage.

Qu Xia sorted the photos chronologically and paused slightly at the very first image.

It was an egg, resting in a soft nest, covered by a small blanket, surrounded by cotton. Clearly, this egg had been carefully cherished.

Qu Xia pinched the image to zoom in. The egg’s surface was pristine, without a trace of an insect pattern. It was a male egg.

Beneath the photo was a handwritten caption, neatly and delicately written:

⟬ Our Empire’s Little Prince has finally been born! We thought of names all night but couldn’t decide, over twenty were rejected by Glore. Ah well, we’ll name him later!⟭

Qu Xia scrolled further and saw the egg beginning to hatch.

The little male zerg pressed against the eggshell, eyes squinting as he cried, one tiny hand outside the shell, gripping the photographer’s hand tightly.

Caption: ⟬ Glore wanted to touch but didn’t dare, kept reaching to test, and finally got grabbed by the little one. He nearly jumped out of his skin… ⟭

Qu Xia scrolled further. The photos tracked the young zerg’s growth: from toddling around and face-planting on the floor, to walking independently, lunging for hugs, and being placed among a circle of toys while adults tempted him to grab lots.

Caption: ⟬ Originally planned a quiet family gathering, but Glore refused, called all the ministers. Many young unfamiliar faces, probably children of various families. I coaxed the little one to call them ‘brother’; he clung to Aettris’ child without letting go, also holding onto Tylando’s kid, seemed very fond of them. Too bad, if ages matched, a betrothal could have been arranged, maybe even marry two at once.⟭

Qu Xia couldn’t help muttering, marry two as babies? What even… But before the thought fully formed, a realization struck him.

Wait — Aettris and Tylando? Those surnames sound familiar…

Qu Xia fell into thought.

Aettris and Tylando…

Erwen and Sylph!?

The Admiral was born into the Aettris family. Qu Xia had hacked into his household robot and seen the family’s twisted rules. Sylph, meanwhile, was born Tylando; Qu Xia had seen his family crest on his clothing before.

Qu Xia: “…”

What a truly strange twist of fate!

He scrolled further, and there they were.

The Admiral and the Professor as youths, standing behind their respective parents. Sylph’s eyebrows curved gracefully, his smile measured perfectly, already showing signs of his later skill in social finesse, waving a toy that looked like a cat teaser. Erwen, however, remained composed, lips tightly pressed together, holding the little male zerg stiffly, body rigid like a straight wooden stake. The little zerg cried loudly in his arms, even shoving his hair into his mouth.

Qu Xia murmured: “I heard medieval nobles swore loyalty to the crown. Does the Admiral’s old noble family have something like that too?”

If so, with this old connection, then if Erwen asked him to collect trash again, couldn’t he use this as proof, an immunity card of sorts?

Qu Xia skimmed through the photos and stopped on a family portrait of three.

A dignified, graceful female father held the little male zerg, while beside him stood a pale-looking but still strikingly handsome male father. They were on the palace lawn, the grass green as a carpet, the sky washed clean and blue, and they smiled quietly.

A caption below read: ⟬ Wishing the little one grows up quickly, and Glore gets better soon! ⟭

Qu Xia noticed something uncanny, the original owner’s parents bore a six- or seven-point resemblance to his own. Even though his mother and the female father were different in gender, he could see similar eyebrows and eyes in their facial contours.

This was the last photo. Qu Xia exited the private space, returned to the Star Network, and typed in “Glore.”

This time, the search results appeared quickly. Dozens of dense pages popped up, and Qu Xia soon locked onto the key details.

Glore, former Emperor of the Empire, had poor health and died young, succeeded by his brother.

There had been only one female Empress, who also died young.

And a male child, who had died in infancy.

Qu Xia pressed his throbbing temples.

The original owner had been a high-ranking male zerg on the junk planet. Qu Xia had long known the original owner’s identity was complicated, but being reborn as a fleeing, prematurely deceased prince? That was absurd. Moreover, even if he wasn’t skilled in political scheming, he would know that the sequential deaths of a family of three couldn’t be natural. They had to be the result of power struggles.

He continued browsing about Glore. The former emperor’s reputation had been excellent — cultured, reasonable, and measured in all his actions. News reports mourning him were dozens of pages long. Qu Xia skimmed rapidly, and then the cursor suddenly froze.

It read: ⟬ His Majesty Glor died of premature aging caused by mental sea disorder. ⟭

Mental sea disorder again.

Male Zerg could have mental sea issues too, though rarely. Female Zerg with mental sea illness could be cured, but for males, it was like a chronic cancer, slowly killing them.

The Empire’s prestigious former emperor happened to have this one-in-a-million disease. And the current emperor’s child, the Prince, was actively researching drugs to induce mental sea disturbances. Could this really be a coincidence?

Qu Xia took a deep breath, exited the search interface, and returned to the royal private domain.

Using his seven-digit account, Qu Xia decoded several neighboring accounts and gradually discerned the pattern: the first few digits indicated the family line—whether it was a royal direct line or a branch, and the last digits were the personal ID. The former emperor’s child was Qu Xia, and the current prince was the reigning emperor’s child; they were first cousins. With just a two-digit difference, Qu Xia tried them one by one and quickly located the prince’s private domain.

He clicked in and immediately frowned.

The prince was even more cautious than he had imagined. The private domain was full of unstructured data streams, protected with high-precision encryption and alarm triggers. With Qu Xia’s current setup, bypassing the security would be extremely difficult.

Although many joked that hackers could point and click to do anything, the reality was that some codes required specialized hardware and computing power. Slyph’s lab had the needed equipment, but those machines belonged to the university and were directly connected to the royal servers. If Qu Xia triggered an alarm by mistake, he would have no escape.

His fingers tapped the table as he considered a second option.

— The junk planet laboratory.

Even though his place there was run-down and full of scrap equipment, Qu Xia had managed it for half a year. With a bit more scavenging and repair, it would be usable.

More importantly, there was no supervision on junk planet. Even if someone traced him there, Qu Xia could simply leave.

The First Army had already swept through junk planet; no living creatures remained. As long as Qu Xia brought enough food and water, he could quietly operate the piles of broken lab equipment there and investigate everything he wanted to.

Qu Xia took a deep breath, repacked the luggage he had just pulled out, and boarded the starship bound for the junk planet.

………………

Three hours later, Qu Xia landed in the Pamir Star system.

He bought a decommissioned military shuttle that could hop between nearby planets. After several trips, he stocked up enough food to fill several refrigerators and gathered a heap of nutrient solutions. Finally, he took out the key and opened the door.

This planet had been nearly leveled, but because Erwen had been here at the time, the military bombardment had spared this building. Now, the lone two-story house stood as the only structure on junk planet. From outside, the horizon stretched endlessly, a dark teal line meeting the sky.

Qu Xia stood in the living room, watching the dust swirling in the air, feeling as if he had stepped into another world.

The last time he left, the chef had been waving a spatula in the kitchen, cooking meals. Now, Erwen was at the core of the military, a six-army admiral, calmly directing war efforts from his post.

Qu Xia lingered at the door too long. His household robot detected the dust and automatically activated, dashing in with a cloth in hand.

It first swapped its arm for a brush, rolled over Qu Xia’s ragged sofa to clean it, then switched to a hairdryer to dry the damp areas. With a flurry of motion, it rushed into the kitchen to handle the dust there.

Qu Xia ignored it and went straight into the lab.

The electromagnetic scans from the military had destabilized some of the machines. Qu Xia patted the big devices, unscrewed the rusted bolts one by one, replaced them with spares, and discarded parts that were beyond repair. Fortunately, he had replacements. After much tinkering, he finally got the instruments to a usable state.

He returned to the private domain to search for the Prince’s information.

The data streams, wrapped in anti-surveillance measures, were difficult to parse. Qu Xia typed rapidly for a long time, only managing to extract fragmented phrases.

[ Pamir ]

[ Mine ]