MHOMASB Chapter 13

TL: Hua

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Ji Xuan snapped his eyes open.

Before him was a curved, transparent light shield. Countless small streams of data flickered automatically across it, the capsule walls glowed with a faint blue light, and the sharp scent of medicinal chemicals filled his nostrils.

He subconsciously tried to lift his hand, only to be pulled back by cold restraints at his wrists. Handcuff-like monitoring devices were holding him firmly in place.

The lingering shadows of the dream seemed to echo in his mind. The Sea of Blood, the palace, and the glazed lamps crashed down scene by scene like shards, making his head throb with pain.

He parted his dry lips, but before he could make a sound, a shadow fell over the light shield.

“Awake?”

Pei Yingye was holding a personal terminal, tapping away at something. He leaned over to scan the data on the shield. Seeing Ji Xuan reaching out to pick at the devices on his wrists, he warned, “The treatment isn’t over. If you don’t want to turn into an idiot, you’d better not move.”

Ji Xuan’s eyes darted around, and his hands went still, but the look he gave Pei Yingye clearly signaled: Why?

“The mecha you tested might be a 5th Gen model, but that guy Lai Zhou added a mental power enhancement device to the interface to test his full-coverage control theory. I don’t know the exact principle, but basically, it gives the pilot a temporary mental power boost while controlling the mecha,” Pei Yingye explained. “Actually, there’s nothing wrong with that setting. Plenty of mechas in the Alliance do it. Some pilots even give themselves a shot on the battlefield to ensure focus. But I suspect…”

“Your mental power grade must be very high,” Pei Yingye said with absolute certainty. “The enhancer isn’t an aid for you; it’s a nuisance. Unfortunately, Lai Zhou was worried about the control grade and cranked up the enhancer’s intensity parameters. And you, having trained at school for so long, don’t even know your own mental threshold… To be honest, I’ve never seen someone looking for trouble like this.”

Ji Xuan narrowed his eyes slightly.

“The medical capsule is repairing your mental network…” Pei Yingye leaned in for a closer look. “There’s another half hour. Just bear with it.”

Ji Xuan thought the man’s eyesight must be failing; otherwise, why would he need to lean so low to see the numbers?

Those misty blue eyes, staring straight into Ji Xuan’s through the transparent shield, were filled with mockery, mischief, and banter. That blue, clear as the ocean, caused Ji Xuan a momentary trance, making him almost unable to distinguish between dream and reality.

“Why are you here?” Ji Xuan asked.

Pei Yingye replied, “If I weren’t here, who did you expect to save you? With your mental power, if any of those Mecha Department folks tried to enter, they’d be taken down one by one.”

He paused, slowed his speech, and said flippantly, “In, Clu, Ding, Shen, Que.”

What did this have to do with Shen Que?

Ji Xuan flicked his eyelids.

Pei Yingye didn’t answer. Instead, he straightened up, took a few steps back, and sat back in his chair with his legs crossed.

Ji Xuan watched the numbers jumping on the shield, then tilted his head to look at Pei Yingye sitting by the medical capsule. The numbers happened to block his handsome face, so Ji Xuan couldn’t see his expression or tell what he was doing with that terminal.

He could only hear the sudden “game over” sound effect after the man’s right hand made a dull movement.

But soon, that game sound was drowned out by the system’s wailing: [Waaaah, Host, you’re finally awake!]

The mental power overload alarm had come too fast. Even though Ji Xuan had touched the system’s physical form, it was only a fleeting contact that didn’t trigger any sense of crisis or suspicion in the entity.

However, its attitude of being completely oblivious to the danger made Ji Xuan feel a bit strange.

[You scared me to death when you suddenly fainted! If I couldn’t contact you any longer, I was going to use all the energy from the previous mission.]

[Thank goodness you’re awake. You scared me.]

Energy from the previous mission?

Ji Xuan sharply caught the keyword.

[Yeah! I get energy after every world is completed. I already used a little while you were unconscious. Did you feel it? Does your mental network feel any better? Backlash from a mecha’s mental network is no joke. If it isn’t treated well, it’s possible to have headaches for the rest of your life…]

The system was like a little sparrow, chirping away in Ji Xuan’s head to educate him.

Ji Xuan listened in silence for two or three minutes before speaking once it finally finished: Do you know that I saw you when I was connected to the mecha?

The system was confused: [Huh?! Really?]

A ball about the size of a palm. The outline was blurred, a bit like feathers or a ball of curled-up mist.

Ji Xuan’s voice was very soft as he described it methodically.

Was that your true form?

Being seen by an entity that didn’t belong to this world’s reality should have been a terrifying thing. Yet, the system seemed to be missing a gear; far from being panicked, it said joyfully: [You’re so amazing! Can mental power really reach this grade of intensity? I’ve never heard of that before.]

After several seconds of silence, Ji Xuan let out a long sigh.

Aren’t you afraid?

[Ah… afraid of what?]

I can see you, so others in this world might be able to as well. Aren’t you afraid they’ll treat you as an alien creature, catch you, lock you in a lab, and slice you up?

Ji Xuan’s tone was now bordering on helplessness.

[They won’t.] The system thought for a few seconds before continuing, [You being able to see me should just be a special case. Others won’t necessarily see me, and even if they do, it should be fine. Um… my data is encrypted, and how do I put this… I’m from a higher dimension than this world. Even if they really caught me, they wouldn’t be able to do anything to me.]

A higher dimension.

Ji Xuan mulled over those words.

Here is the translation of the text, maintaining all sentences and the original flow:

“Just like you cultivators and the Heavenly Dao, though it’s not quite that exaggerated, it’s a similar concept.” The System was still earnestly explaining things to him.

I know what you mean.

After saying this, he fell silent for a long time. Originally, Ji Xuan had planned to find a time to go into Lai Zhou’s mecha and try again, but now it seemed there was no longer any need. The system’s existence was certainly a threat, but its personality, the type to help someone count the money after being sold out, made it so that Ji Xuan couldn’t bring himself to strike, nor was there a need to anymore.

Besides, the price was too high; it wasn’t worth it.

Thank you.

But in the future, don’t just go telling others your secrets.

[Eh?] The system was bewildered.

–

Half an hour later, the treatment finally ended.

Ji Xuan didn’t wait for Pei Yingye’s help; he took off the monitoring equipment on his wrist himself. Seeing the other man’s hand hovering in mid-air as if unsure of what to do, Ji Xuan lifted his eyelids and glanced at him: “Why are you still here?”

Pei Yingye withdrew his hand without a hint of embarrassment and turned sideways toward Lai Zhou, who had just walked in through the door: “You’ll have to ask him that.”

Lai Zhou, hearing his name, rubbed his hair sheepishly and said, “Well, didn’t all my money go toward buying mecha materials? You know how it is for us designers.”

Pei Yingye put his hands in his pockets and turned back to look at Ji Xuan: “Get it? This guy is penniless. The only money he has left is topped up on his cafeteria card. I was the one who paid your medical bills.”

Ji Xuan raised an eyebrow: “So, you’re waiting here for me to wake up to collect the debt?”

Am I really that petty?!

Pei Yingye’s expression froze instantly. He then clicked his teeth and signaled for Lai Zhou to explain to Ji Xuan.

“That’s not what he meant; he’s waiting here for me to treat him to a meal,” Lai Zhou said. “After all, something happened to you while you were helping me with the test, and I have nothing else to compensate you with…”

As he spoke, he pulled up his Mars Military Academy Cafeteria Gold VIP Card on his terminal and held it up for Ji Xuan to see: “So just let me treat the two of you to a meal to show my sincerity.”

Pei Yingye looked away, caught a glimpse of the balance on Lai Zhou’s card, and let out a snort of laughter.

“What are you laughing at? You think everyone is like your Combat Department, getting assigned to a legion by next year? I’m going to be stuck here for another eight or nine years.”

Pei Yingye teased, “Even so, there’s no need to top up enough money to last until then all at once, is there?”

Lai Zhou couldn’t be bothered to argue with this pampered young master who didn’t know the price of rice and oil. He looked at Ji Xuan pleadingly: “Is that okay, friend? Other than this, I really have nothing else to offer.”

Ji Xuan: “…”

–

The three of them ended up going to the cafeteria together.

Since it was Lai Zhou’s treat, Pei Yingye showed no politeness at all, ordering the most expensive dishes available. In the end, the bill came out to be exactly the amount of Ji Xuan’s medical expenses.

Compared to him, Ji Xuan considered his choices much more carefully.

For instance, these braised ribs look dry and tough—no.

This fried meat looks like it’s all flour—no.

This braised eggplant looks incredibly greasy—no.

Pei Yingye watched him stand in front of the window thinking for at least five minutes. Even after he and Lai Zhou had finished getting their food, he didn’t see Ji Xuan move, which made him feel a bit surprised.

Finally, at the sixth minute, Ji Xuan finished his deliberations.

The cafeteria tables mostly seated four. Just as Pei Yingye sat down, the seat opposite him was taken by Lai Zhou. He stared at the other man’s tray for a while, hesitating, wondering if the excuse “I don’t want to eat face-to-face with a Beta” would actually hold water. But before he could speak, Lai Zhou scurried off to pay for Ji Xuan.

So, he could only fix his gaze on Ji Xuan, who was following behind Lai Zhou.

Ji Xuan paused only for a moment at the table. His eyes swept past Pei Yingye, as if it were just a casual glance, and then he sat down directly beside him.

Pei Yingye suddenly felt that sitting face-to-face with a Beta wasn’t so unacceptable after all.

He leaned over to peek at Ji Xuan’s tray. The latter had ordered very heavy flavors; all three dishes were covered in chili peppers, causing Pei Yingye’s hand to tremble involuntarily: “You spent all that time agonizing just to come up with this?”

Ji Xuan glanced at him: “Because the other dishes smelled very strange.”

As he spoke, he took the milk tea delivered by a cafeteria robot, expertly inserted the straw, and took a sip without changing his expression.

—No matter the angle, this image was quite striking.

Especially after the meal, Ji Xuan’s lips were stained bright red by the chili oil, and a few beads of fine sweat broke out on his forehead. His already exquisite face was rendered even more vivid and intense, and a shimmering watery light rose in his calm eyes.

Pei Yingye inconspicuously dialed up the setting on his suppression wristband and let out a long breath.

Ji Xuan ate very slowly, chewing and swallowing each bite carefully. Pei Yingye, who had finished like a whirlwind, had no choice but to wait boredly with his head propped on his hand. His gaze drifted from the stray hairs on Ji Xuan’s forehead to the tip of his small nose, then wandered over his mouth before sliding down to the scorpion braid that swayed against his chest with every movement.

“I thought the Ji family didn’t feed you—but how did you become so picky?” Pei Yingye voiced his question. That waist was so thin it could be circled with one hand, and he felt light as a feather when carried; he had assumed Ji Xuan was usually mistreated and not given enough food.

Ji Xuan swallowed his food and said with a smile, “Because the Ji family’s food is terrible.”

Pei Yingye didn’t know if there was a hidden meaning behind those words.

A few minutes later, Ji Xuan finished his meal.

Pei Yingye’s ordeal was finally over.

The cafeteria robot came to clear away their remains. As they were about to leave, Ji Xuan suddenly thought of something and intended to turn back.

“Did you leave something behind?” Lai Zhou asked.

“I have a snake,” Ji Xuan said, “but it won’t eat. I’m going to go ask the kitchen for some chicken.”

Ji Xuan’s experience with keeping snakes all came from Que Yue. Que Yue wasn’t picky at all—chicken, duck, fish, rabbit, it would eat whatever it was given, and occasionally go out to find its own snacks; Ji Xuan never had to worry. But Mephisto was entirely different, quite pampered and delicate. It hadn’t eaten the fish or eggs he’d fed it this morning based on experience, so Ji Xuan was wondering if he should try something else.

However, before he could go, Pei Yingye reached out and grabbed him: “When Shaikh gave you the snake, didn’t he mention that it only eats topmouth gudgeon[1] from the Second Galaxy?”

Ji Xuan was pulled so that his step faltered. His eyes swept over Pei Yingye’s hand clamped on his arm, and he looked up to ask, “You know?”

Pei Yingye gave a small smile: “Of course I know. I also know where to get those things.”

His voice paused, and he suddenly leaned in very close: “Want to come with me?”

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[1] The stone moroko (Pseudorasbora parva), also known as the topmouth gudgeon, is a species of freshwater ray-finned fish belonging to the family Gobionidae, the gudgeons.

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