Deng Xi dove under the water and rushed toward it. Below the black object hung a giant net. It was the same net that had bound the Little Mute. If I am bound, can I be dragged up too? Once up there, maybe I can see the Little Mute.
He could use his song to bewilder those strange creatures and rescue him. Deng Xi knew that time changes many things. After being captured for so long, the Little Mute might have been tortured by them… Deng Xi didn’t dare think further.
But this was the only sliver of hope before him. He had to grab it with all his might.
The blue-tailed mermaid threw himself into the giant net. Sensing a struggling prey, the net tightened instantly. His tail fin was entangled by the rapidly contracting mesh. Deng Xi instinctively struggled. But the more he struggled, the tighter the net became, binding his tail even deeper. Deng Xi frowned, took a deep breath, and stopped moving.
The next moment, the net containing Deng Xi was dragged from the seabed. Just like the silver-tail before him, he was slowly pulled onto the cruise ship.
Thump! The mermaid was tossed onto the deck.
Deng Xi was dizzy for a moment. He looked up in confusion. Before him were several familiar black figures. They had no tails; they were split from the waist and completely covered.
What strange creatures.
But Deng Xi knew he was in the right place. These were the creatures that took the silver-tail. He stared at them warily, his eyes full of resentment.
The creatures stared back just as warily, whispering in a strange language.
“Where’s the sedative?! Quick, quick!” “What kind of alien is this? I thought the only one with a fish tail in the entire universe was the one in the Empire?” Someone swallowed hard, eyes greedy as they looked at the winding fish tail on the deck. “Did we just catch a merman?” “If it really is, we’re rich.”
The second merman in the entire universe was in their hands.
The men looked at each other and slowly approached the wary blue-tail on the deck, leveling several dark muzzles at him. The mermaid was pinned to the deck, unable to move. A long, sharp needle emerged from one of the muzzles and was pressed mercilessly into his flesh. Icy liquid was forced into his body.
It hurt.
Deng Xi thrashed his tail frantically. He was like a fish on a chopping block; the smooth, raised blade reflected his helpless struggle.
It hurt so much.
The men looked at each other and, seeing the blue-tail’s violent reaction, hesitantly stopped the injection.
Three years ago, the missing Admiral of the Empire suddenly appeared at a hearing and revealed his identity as a merman to the entire galaxy. From then on, besides humans and the Zerg, another race existed. Normal people called humans with atavistic traits and beast-like body parts “aliens” (异族人).
Because of that sensational hearing, humans began to discover aliens who had been hidden among them. All aliens experienced periodic “berserk” episodes. During these episodes, they lost their rationality and became hostile to all creatures. Only sedatives could keep them calm.
To prevent a sudden atavistic outbreak, the dose of sedative given to Deng Xi was several times that of a normal person. But he was just an ordinary, fragile mermaid who couldn’t even compare to a normal human. A normal dose of sedative would put the subject to sleep or keep them relaxed and weak. An overdose, however, could be fatal.
If Deng Xi’s genes hadn’t been those of a mermaid blessed by the sea, he would have been a cold corpse by now. But the adverse reactions to the drug quickly appeared: nausea, vomiting, headaches… slowly, Deng Xi couldn’t even feel pain anymore; he just felt miserable.
So miserable.
It was many times worse than when the Little Mute brought him to the reef and his tail lacked water. Unlike his naive thoughts, he didn’t even have the strength to sing.
Deng Xi slowly closed his eyes. In his grogginess, he felt his weak body being moved and stuffed into a large black water tank. After the lid was closed, he sank to the bottom. In his hazy vision, there was only darkness.
In a daze, he seemed to be back on the deep-sea floor, curled up alone in a pitch-black cave. Beneath him were cold, hard rocks. There was no large white shell, and no bright silver tail shimmering like starlight.
Where are you, Little Mute?
When you were captured, were you also curled up in a tiny tank in such misery? Did the wounds on your body hurt this much?
For a moment, Deng Xi seemed to return to the time before he met the Little Mute. In the whole world, the whole ocean, only he was left—this one mermaid. His calls never received a response from his kin, and a deep sense of loneliness flooded his heart.
Suddenly, he missed him.
The physical discomfort was infinitely magnified. He couldn’t fall asleep, and his mind was diluted into a chaotic mess by the sedative. Deng Xi allowed his consciousness to sink into the dark, deep sea of his mind. He hadn’t lost consciousness; he had just blocked out all external perception, drifting aimlessly in the vast sea of his consciousness.
A mermaid’s mental tentacles slowly expanded. It was emitting the owner’s subconscious call. One after another, even though it had never received a response. It was so weak, a fragility that could be scattered by a gentle breeze, yet it never ceased.
Cured sapient beings, like the blue whale, could hear a mermaid’s call and respond. Mermaids can also issue calls to cured sapient beings.
But they were too far apart. Until Deng Xi finally fell into a deep sleep, he did not get the response he wanted.
He hoped the whale and the jellyfish waiting for his return would not be sad when they couldn’t find him.
The cruise ship on the sea transformed into a flying vessel with a skull painted on the hull and quickly sped toward the horizon. It successfully rendezvoused with a giant starship waiting in space.
The “Skull” was the most notorious star-pirate gang in the galaxy. Three years ago, they made a living by human trafficking. They weren’t strong, but they were the best at escaping, claiming that no one could find their true location. But after the existence of aliens was exposed, they began auctioning off aliens.
They sold to the public’s curiosity. After being exposed, these aliens usually feared contact with normal people and hid on nameless planets, praying they wouldn’t be found. The Skull had searched countless nameless fringe planets over the years.
After these pirates returned to headquarters…
Starship Main Control Room.
A “ping” sounded, and a man in a sharp suit looked down at a message on his comms. After nonchalantly replying, he used his fingertip to adjust a prosthetic eye that had rotated behind his socket. A synthesized mechanical voice came from him: “Let’s see the goods. What exactly could get them this excited?”
A “Yes” came through his earpiece.
The blue screen in the control room automatically switched to the monitor in the starship’s hold. In the dim environment, a black water tank was dragged from the vessel. A dozen pirates immediately aimed energy guns at it. A few seconds later, the specialized outer shell began to dissolve, revealing a transparent layer.
The goods appeared like a treasure.
The moment they saw him, the entire hold went deathly silent.
The man, who had been lazily rolling his eye, straightened it. His breathing hitching slightly. After a long while, the mechanical voice let out a low chuckle. “What a huge surprise.”
The second merman variant in the entire galaxy—besides the Imperial Admiral—had actually fallen into his hands. This was a surprise worth billions.
The mechanical voice spoke again: “I will host this auction personally.” The pirate leader in the hold replied through his earpiece: “Yes. Shall we begin the auction preview immediately?” “Of course,” the host smiled slightly.
As long as they marketed him as being from the same race as the Admiral—as the only other merman plenty of people would be interested in participating.
The Skull’s auction was conducted via a live online broadcast. The host behind the scenes sent a notification to the public channel, announcing the auction of a “new species” tomorrow. After a night of fermentation, the heat surged rapidly. Long before the broadcast started, many people were already waiting in the stream.
From the time he was drugged to the time he was transported, the pirates constantly injected Deng Xi with sedatives to prevent an alien outbreak. He had been in a semi-conscious state since yesterday.
The pirates timed it perfectly. As the sedative slowly wore off, the auction was ready to begin.
Deng Xi opened his eyes groggily in the darkness. His gills pulsed slowly, drawing air from the water. His nose caught the salty scent of seawater. He struggled to raise a hand and touch his empty stomach.
A long time must have passed; because he hadn’t eaten for so long, his stomach burned with pain. During this period of grogginess, because of the stinging pain of the injections, Deng Xi had woken up countless times. He couldn’t count how many times he had woken in darkness and passed out in darkness.
The overdose of sedatives made him feel nauseous despite his intense hunger. His limbs were weak, and he didn’t even have the strength to speak. He didn’t try to prop himself up with his tail and explore the dark waters again to see where he was trapped, as he had the previous few times. Because soon, the humans would inject him again, and he would pass out.
Before Deng Xi’s eyes was an endless darkness.
So tired. So painful.
This new world was too dark. Deng Xi couldn’t find any way to escape. He hadn’t even seen a trace of the Little Mute.
He couldn’t find the silver-tail. He couldn’t save himself. A mermaid was truly too weak.
Deng Xi closed his eyes. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes due to the physical pain, silently dissolving into the water.
He didn’t know how much time had passed in the darkness when his eyes suddenly perceived a dim light. Deng Xi opened them, but the sudden brightness forced out more tears.
His surroundings were no longer dark.
Deng Xi seemed to see a spark of hope. He propped up his weak body and struggled to flick his tail fin, swimming toward the surface at an extremely slow pace. The closer he got, the clearer he saw the world outside the water.
He seemed to be in a massive pool. The pool was filled with seawater. Outside, it appeared to be shaped like a funnel—row after row of seats slowly narrowed toward the center of the pool at the bottom. A piercing light shone down from the top.
Strangely, every seat was empty. In this vast venue, Deng Xi seemed to be the only person in the pool.
The golden-haired, blue-tailed mermaid broke the surface in the center of the pool. This was as far as he could swim, for around his neck was an electronic collar connected to the pool wall by a metal chain.
After swimming to the surface, Deng Xi looked up. The air was filled with dense clusters of flying spherical cameras. The dark, red-lit lenses were all aimed at the seawater-filled pool.
Lenses, lights. The auction began.
In virtual space, the venue was not empty. The dense rows of seats were packed. Every virtual avatar represented a real human behind the Dark Web. The pool was surrounded by tens of thousands of people. Their eyes were bright and their expressions excited, cheering and waving as they were stunned by the blue-tailed beauty breaking the water.
His tail was the color of the sky a light blue that faded into deep blue at the end, merging with the deep blue seawater. The fan-shaped tail fin unconsciously created ripples. His pale gold hair draped over his white, slender back, floating slightly with the water’s movement.
His face, covered in water droplets, possessed a beauty beyond human imagination. His existence was the definition of “beautiful” and “pretty.” A perfect face, a mysterious and enchanting charm—it was impossible to look away. His eyes were a very, very light blue, the color of the sky—clear and transparent, completely washing away any hint of vulgarity.
Exclamations of wonder were endless.
The virtual world was noisy and chaotic. Inside the pool, however, Deng Xi gripped the collar that was choking him and looked blankly at his silent, empty surroundings. What are those flying black things? Why are they all circling him?
A hard, cold black restraint. A fragile, beautiful, and ignorant “item.”
The humans with blurred faces in the seats looked down and sent rapid-fire comments: “Is this ‘item’ the peak of beauty in history?” “Oh my god, he’s really so beautiful. Those eyes!” “Help, so cute. If only aliens didn’t go berserk, I’d want to take him home as a pet.” “Just say the price. I’ll bid no matter what!”
Most were stunned by the auction item’s appearance. Every time they looked at that unbelievably beautiful face, they remembered the videos they had seen of aliens going berserk bloody, ugly, and nauseating. The gap was staggering.
Countless people impatiently urged the organizers to announce the starting bid.
The man in the suit, codenamed “Host,” sat in the main control room. Before him was a blue screen with countless monitoring windows. The largest screen displayed the Dark Web livestream page. He tapped his fingers and sent out a notice.
The camera suddenly went dark. The livestream paused, and six words slowly appeared on the screen in plain, white bold text: TEN BILLION IMPERIAL CREDITS.
The font was formal and serious, but these words were no less than a massive joke to everyone. Over 90% of the people here were just looking for fun. To them, this astronomical figure was beyond ridiculous.
The comments dropped significantly. The remaining were in disbelief: “Are you sure there’s no typo? Ten billion??” “Though he’s pretty, you must be crazy for money!” “One face for ten billion? Are you serious?” “Speechless. I’m out.”
At the bottom of the livestream, a large “0”—just as laughable as the mocking comments—represented the number of participants in the bidding.
The host, however, calmly sent another notice: [It is confirmed that the auction item is of the same atavistic species as ‘that one.’ A ‘Siren’ from the East who can defeat the Zerg King with his bare hands. See for yourselves whether his strength is worth ten billion.]
This pinned notice across the entire screen instantly sent the stream’s popularity to its peak. Even though there had been guesses, having the Skull organizers confirm that the item was of the same cruel and powerful merman race as the Imperial Admiral made all the viewers boil with excitement.
That was the Imperial Admiral who led the Empire to become the strongest power in the galaxy—the man who was almost invincible. This race didn’t even need thermal weapons to slaughter a Zerg King!
The comments flew by rapidly, everyone urging the “warm-up show” to start. “I’m starting to look forward to it. With that kind of insane strength, ten billion is a steal!” “But he looks so small. Does he really have the strength to tear apart Zerg?” “If it doesn’t work out, lower the starting bid. I might bid.” “Hurry up and start. If he really is a merman, the price is worth it.” …
The host’s earpiece crackled with an inquiry from a pirate guarding the cage: “His state is very wrong. Should we still proceed with the pre-auction warm-up?”
The host frowned slightly. Before the auction started, he had specifically ordered that the sedative dose be halved to ensure the merman’s strength wouldn’t be suppressed. He had studied the video of the Imperial Admiral killing the Zerg King and performed a data analysis on a merman’s strength. This dose shouldn’t be enough to leave the “item” without the strength to flick its tail.
Host: “It might be his disguise. Proceed as planned.” Pirate: “Yes.”
The cage door opened. In a corner of the pool Deng Xi hadn’t noticed, the silver-white pool wall silently retracted, revealing a black hole. Salty water flowed in from the other side.
A giant creature silently swam out from the hole. It was a Great White Shark, seven meters long, with its blood-red maw open and terrifying, serrated teeth.
And there wasn’t just one. Ten massive Great White Sharks swam out of the hole, all heading toward the oblivious “item.”
The cameras recorded everything perfectly.
Imperial Military Headquarters.
The Adjutant frowned as he looked at the Dark Web livestream on his Light Brain. The Imperial Military had long intended to wipe out the Skull pirates—those “dead flies.” Yes, dead flies.
As one of the Big Three pirate gangs, the Skull specialized in human trafficking. Compared to the other two violent gangs, the Skull’s military strength was not high—it was even weak. They had no advanced weaponry, no high-tech warships, and were often short on energy stone supplies.
But they were good at hiding. Like a dead fly you can never swat. Their equipment was outdated and their supplies were delayed precisely because the Skull was always hiding and moving. This meant their galactic coordinates were constantly changing; their specific location could never be confirmed.
The Empire spanned a dozen star systems with a large population, and it was the most harassed by the Skull. Every year, countless cases of trafficking by the Skull were reported to the military headquarters on the Capital Star.
The military had spent three full years figuring out the Skull’s operations and destroying many of their small outposts, but they could never find the headquarters. Yet, their reconnaissance teams kept a constant eye on the Skull’s activities on the Dark Web.
When the Skull pirates started the online auction preview using the Imperial Admiral’s name as marketing, the data analyst reported the news up the chain. Because it involved the Admiral himself, the Adjutant finally took over.
The quantum monitor captured the blue fish tail, so similar to a merman’s, and broadcast it to the stream. The Adjutant’s expression instantly became solemn. He checked his Light Brain as he walked, finally making up his mind to report it to the Admiral.
The elevator shot into the clouds, reaching the top floor of the building. The Adjutant walked the familiar path to the Admiral’s office floor and knocked.
The system had the Adjutant’s clearance recorded; theoretically, with a slight gesture, he could enter and leave freely. But the Adjutant always stood at the door waiting, as quiet as a mouse.
He never wanted to remember the first time he accidentally entered the Admiral’s office and was punched by his superior—who was undergoing combat training—breaking his bones. He spent five days in a high-level medical cabin before barely surviving. He was still traumatized.
Five minutes later, he received the command to enter. He kept his eyes straight ahead and finally stopped at the door of the treatment room. The room was pitch black.
Ever since the Admiral had returned to the Empire after his disappearance, he had been under some kind of stimulation, and his mental berserk episodes had become more frequent. Only in the treatment room, which was equipped with a special magnetic field, could his mental sea slowly regain its calm.
Every time the Adjutant came to report important matters, he saw the Admiral sitting in the darkness, quietly staring at an ornament on the table. He could sit there in silence for an entire day.
It was a small blue-green conch. Artificial glue could be seen holding the cracks together. Because there were so many cracks, it wasn’t beautiful.
The Adjutant couldn’t understand it. He knocked on the door and reported in a low voice:
“Admiral, the Skull pirates just released a message. They claim to have captured a merman of the same species as you.”