Chapter 992: Rising Tide (1)

Chapter 992: The Rising Tide (Part I)

News that the Shining World would open for its fourth phase of exploration swept across the cosmos like a hurricane.

The universe had waited too long for this day; every star sector stirred to life as civilizations and civilian organizations alike raised banners and recruited hands in a frenzy.

Beyond the great factions, countless interstellar citizens stirred, eager to traverse the new frontiers, many hoping to test their luck, seek fortunes, or perhaps find a new home.

Countless troops and resources were mobilized, and though the Empire had only confirmed the date, all these forces and supplies would gather in the Shattered Star Ring before the gates truly opened, ensuring the region would swiftly saturate and burst with life.

Like a great diversion, the birth of a new star sector would siphon population and resources from the entire explored universe, sending ripples through the established order of every region.

A vast migratory tide took shape, surging from all corners toward the Shining World like a new gold rush, as the currents of the era swept countless souls relentlessly forward.

……

The rust-brown surface of the mining planet was pockmarked with excavation shafts, transport vehicles weaving between processing plants while convicts in prison-issued mining armor hewed ore from the veins, and plumes of industrial exhaust rose from the refineries like fingers pointing accusingly at the sky.

A grim, circular prison nestled within a ring of mountains, the deep star river above casting a cold, silvery sheen upon its iron-gray walls.

"Congratulations. You are a free man."

Stepping across the threshold between captivity and liberty, even the smog-choked air seemed sweet and fresh; seeing the usually stern gate guard offer a smile, Evans felt as though a lifetime had passed.

The heavy, stifling, sweat-reeking mining armor was finally gone, replaced by simple civilian clothes and a light suitcase in hand; he could not remember the last time he had felt so unburdened.

A hovercraft waited nearby, the prison shuttle bound for the outer spaceport, and beside it stood a man in military uniform, beaming as he waved.

Though years had passed, Evans recognized him instantly; the soldier waiting for him was his childhood friend.

He could not help but laugh, striding forward to clasp the man in a fierce embrace, their solid chests meeting with a dull thud.

"I came to bring you home. How have you fared inside all these years?"

"Work, eat, sleep. Every day the same."

Reunited after so long, both men were stirred with emotion, words spilling forth without end.

Evans gripped his friend's arm, looking him over with a sigh. "Time flies. Before I went inside, you were just a snotty, scrawny kid trailing after me. I never imagined you'd end up in uniform."

"You've changed plenty yourself. Let's not stand here talking. Get in."

They rode the shuttle to the spaceport, then caught a direct flight to a nearby colony world, the journey filled with decades of catching up and lively chatter.

The prison planet orbited the colony as an industrial satellite, a dumping ground for convicts of all stripes who toiled as forced labor in the mines.

Back in the bustling city, his friend had already reserved a private room at a renowned restaurant, hosting a feast to wash away the dust of Evans's imprisonment.

After years behind bars, Evans had forgotten any taste beyond nutrient paste; he devoured the meal like a storm, clearing eighty percent of the dishes himself until he could eat no more.

Cradling his distended stomach, Evans let out a long, contented sigh.

Then his friend produced a case, set it on the table, and opened it to reveal essentials: an interstellar communicator, a translator, and a neatly folded light exosuit.

"I've prepared all this for you. I also opened an account in your name with fifteen thousand Enars deposited."

"I'll take the gear, but take the money back. I don't need it. Prison labor paid a pittance, but I saved what I could." Evans waved his hand.

"I won't hear of it. You saved my life. Without you, I'd never have this life. Please, accept this as my repayment," his friend insisted loudly.

Gratitude had burned in him for years; back then, Evans had killed a rogue Esper who terrorized them, taking the fall and the prison sentence to protect him.

Power beyond mortal limits often magnified the darkness within; some reveled in Esper privileges yet sought superiority by tormenting ordinary folk, finding sport in abuse, humiliation, and cruelty, shielded by their gifts.

They had crossed paths with such a monster, their lives hanging by a thread, and Evans, a mere mortal, had somehow orchestrated the death of that E-tier villain.

His friend had since risen to non-commissioned officer, tested positive for the Esper gene, and awakened his powers, yet Evans had long been confirmed as gene-negative, destined to remain ordinary—a fact that always filled his friend with quiet regret.

With Evans's capabilities, had he possessed the Esper gift, he would undoubtedly have far surpassed me.

Alas, such is the cruelty of fate.

"Hah, I appreciate the thought, but I won't take your credits. If we're brothers, don't insult me with material repayment." Evans's smile was broad, his tone unyielding.

"If you're willing, you can stay at my place," his friend pressed, unwilling to yield.

"You're a married man now. I won't intrude on your household."

"If you want to enlist, I can pull strings to expunge your record."

"No need. A regular man like me would just be cannon fodder." Evans knew he would never awaken, yet the truth barely troubled him.

He harbored no habit of lamenting unfair fate; in his eyes, time spent sighing was better spent working.

"Then what are your plans?" his friend asked, resigned.

"Well, find a job first. We'll figure out the rest later."

Evans picked up his communicator, tapped into the public network, and scrolled through recent job postings; one glance left him stunned.

The listings were dense as a swarm, and no matter which faction posted them, the primary requirement was identical across the board.

Work Location: The Shining World!

Meet this condition, carry no bounty on your head, and no matter your trade, we will take you!

His friend leaned over, took a look, and shook his head. "The Crimson Empire finally confirmed the opening window recently. Factions everywhere are mass-recruiting for the Shining World. The whole cosmos is in an uproar."

Evans pressed his lips together; in his memory, the Shining World was still a relic of the Crimson Tide era, but years of isolation had left the outside world utterly transformed.

Lowering his gaze to the screen flooded with recruitment notices, Evans slowly nodded.

"The Shining World... I suppose I'll go take a look."

……

"At last, the gates are nearly open."

Among the Star-Pupil Divine Race, Cisco stood before a window, his seven eyes tracing the city's nightscape, his heart surging with restless tides.

Since the Lighthouse Star incident, he had kept a low profile, quietly nursing his strength and biding his time.

Over a decade of careful maneuvering had largely washed away the stigma of being forced by Han Xiao to relinquish the Evolutionary Cube; to most, he remained a venerable leader.

Though geographically close, his ties to the Void Spirit faction forced him to watch Black Star and the Overlord seize the early advantages in the Shining World; envy and impatience gnawed at him, for he had waited years for this opening and craved his own share.

In his eyes, the Shining World was equally a chance for his people; trapped and constrained in the wretched Shattered Star Ring, a situation that would only worsen as Black Star and the Overlord expanded, he had no choice but to carve a new path for the Star-Pupil race.

This would grant the Void Spirit Sect a pretext to intervene, heavily backing him to secure greater profits in the new frontier, while his own clan would reap substantial rewards.

Whenever the past surfaced, Han Xiao's silhouette inevitably drifted through Cisco's mind.

"Black Star... he too has lain dormant for over a decade. It seems that after reaching the peak of Super A-Class, even he has hit a wall..."

——

Ps: Spent today organizing the upcoming outline, so the word count is a bit light.

(Also recommending a spy thriller, Old Alley, by veteran author Yin Wei Zhe. Three hundred thousand words are already published, ready to pull you into the smoke and fire of 1936.)