Chapter 002: The Eve of the Uprising

Fudge. (A type of candy)

Barely given a second chance at life, only to die immediately under the blade of a Valkyrie?

Yang Ming figured he ought to try and save himself.

He began meticulously reviewing the recent memories of this body, searching for any useful information.

Unfortunately, in Hanton’s memories, Yang Ming discovered the Empire’s Martial God Project, and confirmed the existence of the Valkyrie.

Yet fortunately, Hanton’s life over the past two years had been monotonous, making a quick review relatively effortless.

Hanton’s recent memories could be summarized into three key points:

A medal;

Two mistresses;

Three wishes.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on Yang Ming, so he simply allowed himself to fall asleep. When he next awoke, he found that he could open his eyes, though he opted to keep them shut, pretending to be asleep.

If he wanted to survive aboard this research ship, he needed to play the role of Hanton convincingly.

Only by staying alive could Yang Ming unravel the mystery of why he had appeared in the world of Abyss, and uncover the connection between Earth’s destruction and this virtual reality game.

First, let’s take a look at this fool Hanton’s three wishes:

First, to earn the favor of Professor Geigerlof to gain the opportunity to enhance his body, and become a powerful godlike warrior.

Second, to be transferred back to the Empire’s homeworld or another affluent and stable region by the age of thirty, transitioning into a law enforcement role in a city teeming with nightlife.

Third, to marry a noblewoman of the Empire. Female nobles only.

For these wishes, Yang Ming, the new occupant of this body, could only offer a sincere apology.

The second wish? He might help fulfill that one. If the opportunity arose that is.

But the first and third? Forget it.

Why willingly abandon his humanity and become some grotesque biochemical sinew monstrosity?

That kind of aesthetic was not something Yang Ming could accept at this stage.

Besides, during his time playing Abyss, he had spent half his in-game hours within the Empire’s faction. He had encountered plenty of noble NPCs, yet even the most virtuous noblewomen had at least three or four lovers!

Marrying a noblewoman… Was he hoping to evolve into a being that could *photosynthesize for sustenance? ^[1]TL’s note: In Chinese internet slang, ‘wearing a green hat’ (戴绿帽) symbolizes being cuckolded, originating from a historical custom where men with unfaithful wives wore green … Continue reading

That aside—

This world felt disturbingly real.

Yang Ming could breathe freely, and when he had briefly opened his eyes, there was no unavoidable wide-angle distortion from any immersive headset.

Then what about the status panel?

Where was the interface that, with a simple tap, should display his attributes?

Even the most minimalistic UI in Abyss retained a status panel, yet now, it was nowhere to be found.

Yang Ming was increasingly convinced that he was in a real world.

This realization grew clearer, more resolute.

Having reviewed Hanton’s three wishes, it was time to examine the two mistresses.

Space travel was an isolating ordeal.

On a cramped, labyrinthine vessel like this—one that remained away from port for months on end—it was only natural that men and women with ‘needs’ would gravitate toward each other, weaving intimate stories and rehearsing the rituals of reproduction.

No one thought much of it. As long as it didn’t interfere with work, no issues would arise, and once the ship returned to port, all ties could be left behind.

Yang Ming skimmed through some fragmented memories of past ‘experiences’. He could feel that his body had begun to react.

At least it was functioning properly.

That was good.

He hastily locked away those memories to prevent any untimely physiological responses.

As for ‘a medal,’ that one was simple.

Due to Hanton’s diligence and his successful completion of several high-risk operations, he had recently been awarded the Thornflower Medal—a recognition equivalent to a kindergarten gold star.

Yang Ming fell into a prolonged silence.

Earth had exploded. He had revived in the background world of Abyss, and the time was thirty years before the game’s official launch. He had taken the identity of a hardworking, yet romantically fortunate, third officer onboard this research ship.

But the survival crisis had not been resolved.

The Valkyrie’s berserk loomed over Yang Ming like an ever-present storm cloud.

Should he try to prevent the uprising?

Or should he find an opportunity to escape this ship before it happened?

Yang Ming carefully considered his options.

His immediate priority was determining how much time remained before the Valkyrie went rogue.

If the event was still years away, there was no need to panic. There would be plenty of time to distance himself from the chaos.

‘The time is critical.’

Yang Ming chose not to sift through Hanton’s fragmented memories any further. Instead, he resolved to find a physical calendar—a self-imposed mission to mark the start of his new life.

He needed to integrate into this world, one that was both familiar and alien.

This research ship was engaged in secret, illicit human experimentation. To maintain security, no networked devices were permitted onboard, and all work uniforms were devoid of extraneous electronic components.

‘There should be a calendar in my cabin.’

——A reasonable enough tutorial mission.

Yang Ming slowly sat up, still feeling slightly dizzy.

His body had sustained injuries from an accident while performing external maintenance on the ship’s tail stabilizer. A head injury that was likely a concussion.

Yang Ming glanced down at his new body.

Damn, he was built.

Pointing at his chest—

His pectoral muscles were straining against the fabric of his white tank top. His powerful thighs stretched the seams of his light-blue military uniform pants. His navy-blue leather boots sat nearby.

Hanton, as it turned out, was a certified Level-2 combat mecha pilot, a graduate of a formal military academy, and a veteran of over a dozen skirmishes.

Yang Ming pulled on the boots, scanning the cramped medical bay cluttered with various instruments and cabinets. The simulated gravity beneath his feet felt stable.

Above him, an oval-shaped window revealed a breathtaking nebula.

He stared for a moment.

Then, the sound of footsteps approached from behind a partition curtain snapped him back to reality.

A middle-aged female doctor with soft golden hair pulled back the curtain.

Her features hinted at a mix of Eastern and Western ancestry. She had a composed, elegant demeanor and a slender frame, though crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes betrayed her age.

Hanton was well acquainted with her.

Lena, the ship’s medical officer, who was responsible for the health of hundreds of crew members. She is gentle in temperament.

“How do you feel, Hanton?” she asked.

“Not bad. Did I sustain any lasting damage?”

“You’re perfectly healthy. Just avoid strenuous activity for now. Try not to bump into anything while walking.”

She handed him a transparent bag containing several yellow capsules.

“Go back to your cabin and rest. You’ve been asleep long enough. Take one of these if you feel dizzy, It’ll help.”

“Thanks.”

Yang Ming murmured his gratitude.

He suddenly remembered something and stopped conversing with Lena

He held back from asking what year it was. It would seem odd if he did.

Exiting the medical bay, Yang Ming strode down the narrow corridor, which barely allowed three people to walk side by side.

The hallway stretched endlessly, lined with small hatches equipped with biometric scanners. These were private quarters for senior crew and officers.

Fortunately, as a third officer, he had his own room.

The medical bay was near the officers’ quarters, so a few turns later, he arrived at his cabin door, and had already made calculations about Abyss’s timeline.

Yang Ming counts as a OG player, and the time coverting system between the Abyss and the galactic time had once been a trending topic amongst players.

When the game launched, it was the Imperial New Calendar Year 753, so going back thirty years would place it at Year 723.

The background description of the dungeon is somewhat vague, only mentioning that a riot occurred thirty years ago without specifying the exact date.

After the biometric scan cleared. The metal door slid open, revealing his modest, ten-square-meter cabin.

Neat. Likely due to frequent female visitors.

Yang Ming closed the door, went straight to his desk, and grabbed the electronic clock to check the date. He read the number and words on it easily.

Then, he realized belatedly that the language he had been hearing and speaking was the galactic common language, and he had understood it effortlessly.

Woo Hoo, thanks, Hanton.

Now, let him see how much longer till the Year 723…

He called out the calendar and narrowed his eyes.

Then, he froze.

New Calendar Year 724, January 22.

Fuck!

It was last year.