Master of the Starry Sky

In no time at all, the water cave was left with only two figures—Li Zhui and Ling Jun. As for the content of their ensuing conversation, let us set it aside for now and instead turn our attention to the man named Ling Jun.

To truly understand Ling Jun, one must begin with the story of the *Sunshine 4+* movement.

The *Sunshine 4+ Club* was founded in Beiming Year 86, registered in the Huaying Colony by a group of highly renowned—though far from wealthy—outdoor sports celebrities.

The "4+" referred to a strict qualification: to become an official club member, one had to obtain advanced certification in four core disciplines—skydiving, surfing, free climbing, and freediving. Beyond these, the candidate was also required to earn at least four additional intermediate-level or higher certifications from a set of specified sports, such as paragliding, hang gliding, kayaking, mountaineering, alpine skiing, or long-distance diving.

To be inducted as a member of *Sunshine 4+* was to be acknowledged as a true all-terrain athlete—master of the skies, the seas, the earth, and the deep. An achievement of such breadth, needless to say, demanded extraordinary prowess.

Precisely because of its daunting challenge, Sunshine 4+ became all the more enticing to the brave. It swiftly evolved into a cultural icon of its era, a symbol of aspiration and vigor. Within a single year, the club attracted the backing of several major financial conglomerates—some acquired shares directly, while others appointed the athletes as brand ambassadors. In no time, wealth flowed in like a tidal wave, unstoppable and ever-rising.

In Beiming Year 87, the Asuka Colony announced a major development initiative on Dongli Island. Leading the project, to everyone's astonishment, was none other than the Sunshine 4+ Outdoor Sports Club.

In partnership with Asuka Group, Sunshine 4+ launched an ambitious venture, investing in the construction of four themed resorts and an underground city across Dongli and its surrounding islets. Their opulence and momentum swiftly eclipsed that of the colony's wealthiest elite.

While the public was left in awe, many couldn't help but wonder—who exactly was behind this enigmatic club, and how did they command such immense resources?

Mainstream media attributed the club's success to its popularity among the second-generation wealthy, especially those enamored with extreme sports. Yet not everyone was convinced by the official narrative.

A journalist from a minor tabloid in Asuka Colony, Saito Kenji, unearthed startling revelations. In a daring exposé, he claimed that the true backer of Sunshine 4+ was the Hua-Ying Corporate Alliance, and that the club's founding members were elite veterans of Hua-Ying's special forces.

The club also displayed an uncanny preference for Huaren (ethnic Chinese). Most of their development contracts went to Huaren construction firms, whose laborers—also predominantly Huaren—filled the island. Even their guides, rescue staff, and service personnel were largely recruited from this ethnic group.

In a short time, Dongli Island became a veritable paradise for the Huaren—at least, a temporary one. Those gifted in athletic prowess—masters of flight, climbing, and diving—were welcomed into the club. Those without such talents could still serve, as laborers and builders.

By Beiming Year 88, Sunshine 4+ had established a branch in the East Pacific Colony. At just twenty-six years of age, Ling Jun was appointed as its general manager. But that triumph marked the beginning of his long descent into turmoil.

Ling Jun was the first official Sunshine 4+ member in the East Pacific Colony. It was difficult to imagine he would one day become entangled with anti-colonial forces. In truth, twelve years prior, he had shown no interest whatsoever in politics.

Born with a silver spoon, he led a carefree life, passionately devoted to outdoor sports. With natural talent and relentless training, he rose to fame by his early twenties.

Due to the club's stellar reputation, outdoor sports enthusiasts came to be known as the "Sunshine Tribe." One group, calling themselves the "Savage Tribe," frequently impersonated the club to conduct independent expeditions.

This Savage Tribe was in fact one of the founding factions of the Alliance for Ecological Preservation—commonly known as the Green League. When Ling Jun integrated archery into the Sunshine 4+ curriculum, many Green League members became his disciples.

Had Ling Jun possessed sharper political instincts, he might have distanced himself from the movement early on. Given his family's influence and his own renown, framing him would not have been easy. Yet he was proud and rebellious by nature, and his arrogance led to betrayal by petty rivals.

In June of Beiming Year 89, the Sunshine 4+ East Pacific branch was shut down, and Ling Jun was imprisoned.

A year later, under pressure from intercolonial diplomacy, the East Pacific Group was forced to release him. Yet the damage was done—Ling Jun considered the ordeal a disgrace too great to forgive, and threw himself wholeheartedly into the Green League.

In essence, the East Pacific authorities had unwittingly created a formidable new enemy.

The Green League, formally known as the Alliance for Ecological Preservation, was originally formed by environmentalists and animal welfare volunteers. They called themselves the Guardians of the Green Watch.

On June 1st, Beiming Year 82, the Green Watch, the Savage Tribe, and the Defenders of the Homeland merged into a single alliance, unified under the name Alliance for Ecological Preservation.

Their emblem featured five anthropomorphic animals—pig, horse, goat, ox, and crane—standing on a verdant globe. The four beasts bore arms: sabers, spears, swords, and halberds, protecting the crowned red-crowned crane at the center, symbolizing the defense of ecology and homeland, and the pursuit of equality and peace.

The alliance functioned as a loosely organized coalition, with each faction operating independently. However, the Green Watch held de facto leadership, owing to its substantial financial support. Publicly, the entire movement was still referred to as the Green League.

Soon after its formation, the alliance came under severe persecution from the East Pacific Corporation and was forced underground.

In Beiming Year 89, the Defenders of the Homeland announced their withdrawal. Shortly thereafter, their core leaders either fled or surrendered, and the organization quickly dissolved.

By Beiming Year 93, the Savage Tribe too declared its exit. Unlike their counterparts, they vanished into the sacred groves of the Shenmu Forest, proclaiming themselves the "Arboreals," and embraced an ascetic, secluded life.

From that point onward, the Green Watch also faded from public view, leading many to believe the League had disbanded. In truth, they had merely gone deeper underground, continuing their activities in secrecy.

In recent years, with the arrival of Ling Jun, Qu Qisheng, and Yan Miao-hua—who swiftly rose to become its central figures—the Green League underwent a dramatic transformation. No longer meek and passive, it grew increasingly resolute—and undeniably more militant.

Meanwhile, atop the Sky Cavern, a surgery was underway. Despite the crude conditions and many inconveniences, the open-chest procedure proved routine for Linghu Min, as effortless as preparing a daily meal.

Linghu Min made a precise incision in Ma Yongxian's torso, clipped through the ribs, pried them open, staunched the bleeding of internal organs, rinsed the cavity, reset the fractured bones, secured them in place, and sutured the wound—all in one seamless, fluid motion.

With the surgery complete, Ling Jun and Liu Fushui escorted Linghu Min out of the cavern. Sun'er and Huzi remained behind, both to tend to Yongxian and to avoid being questioned by Ling Jun.

The most pressing concern now was how to restrain Zhang Xiaoba. Li Zhui had driven three steel spikes into one corner of the stone platform to fasten the creature, but he knew all too well that this type of rock would shatter with just a few violent tugs. He dared not leave for even a moment.

The next morning, Ran Xiaofei arrived with reinforcements and supplies. Per Li Zhui's request, they brought not only 100 kilograms of fresh fish, but also a custom-forged locking mechanism made overnight.

They initially attempted to sedate Zhang Xiaoba with a tranquilizer, but as Li Zhui had predicted, it had no effect whatsoever. Brute force would have to do.

Li Zhui tightened the steel chain, trying to subdue the beast into submission. But this time, the octopus monster resisted with unprecedented ferocity.

It suddenly coiled itself into a tight mass, wrapping its limbs together and rolling toward the pool. The chain yanked taut, halting its escape, but Li Zhui was pulled beneath its enormous body.

The monster's tentacles immediately wrapped around him. Though each was now barely a meter long, a single constriction could easily crush him into pulp.

Yaoyao reacted first. Before the creature could exert its full force, her serpent tail lashed across its head with tremendous power. In midair, she flipped nimbly and drove the nail hammer deep into its skull once again.

Sun'er and Huzi leapt into action. Sun'er triggered her climbing crossbow, sending a rock-piercing bolt through one tentacle and pinning it firmly to the stone platform. Huzi launched himself at the creature's jet orifice, plunging steel claws into the soft tissue and tearing with all his might.

Though the octopus still had seven limbs, their short length and the coordinated assault left it overwhelmed. Amid the chaos, Li Zhui wriggled free from beneath its bulk.

Curling his torso and bending his knees, he sprang upward in one swift motion. His right hand seized the chain, while his left drove an awl into the socket beneath one of its eyes.

"Filthy beast! Move one inch more and I'll rip your eyeballs out!" Li Zhui bellowed.

Though the creature lacked the intelligence to comprehend language, it understood the meaning behind the awl pressed beneath its eye. It let out a low, pitiful whimper through its nostrils and went limp, sprawling across the stone in submission.

"Huzi, pull it through!" Sun'er shouted, busy loading another bolt.

Huzi hooked the arrowhead with his claws, let out a roar, and yanked it free. The arrow shaft, looped with stainless steel chain, followed through the pierced flesh.

Zhang Xiaoba dared not resist further. It only whimpered helplessly, its enormous eyes locked onto Sun'er's. Octopus eyes already resemble those of humans—and with human DNA infused into this creature, the resemblance was uncanny.

A cold shiver rippled through Sun'er's spine. Her hands trembled, and the second arrow refused to fly.

"Sun'er, shoot now!" Li Zhui urged.

Sun'er was suddenly seized by a surge of fury, her thoughts flashing to Xie Donghao and the others who had perished in the belly of this monstrous creature. Blood pounding in her veins, she pulled the trigger—another rock-piercing arrow shot through one of its remaining limbs.

Repeating the method, Sun'er fired while Huzi forcibly dragged the steel chain through. In total, four limbs were pierced and chained. Each chain was then locked tightly around a tentacle, with the other end fastened to a specially forged connector.

This connector, crafted overnight, was equipped with eight spools, allowing the chains to be drawn in or released as needed.

"Big Brother, let's bind them all. This thing won't stay quiet," said Sun'er. Every time she met the creature's eerie gaze, a chill crept down her spine.

Li Zhui nodded silently. As magnificent as this beast might be as a mount, it posed a constant threat to his life. He finally abandoned the idea of taming it.

The climbing crossbow held only four rock-piercing arrows. They retrieved the ones fired earlier, fitted them with chains, and repeated the process until the remaining three limbs were secured.

That afternoon, Ran Xiaofei and his men arrived with a large shipment of supplies. For Sun'er personally, he brought an entire pack full of chocolate.

Meanwhile, the Dongtai Corporation continued its search efforts, shifting its focus toward recovering the underwater robot.

The HXSW-120 unit, with a base manufacturing cost exceeding thirty million yuan, was shrouded in strict confidentiality regulations—its disappearance could not be tolerated.

Starting June 29, the command center had mobilized massive manpower and equipment, sweeping every inch of the Jie River and its banks.

Particular emphasis was placed on the hidden river within the Dragon Vault Cave, which had been flagged as the critical zone. A monitoring point set at the river's exit had not only detected traces of the marker compound but also recovered a tracking sphere.

For this reason, Dongtai, despite the area's long-standing reputation as a forbidden zone for exploration, pressed forward and lost eleven divers to force open the passage.

Alas, despite Dongtai's herculean efforts, they came up empty-handed. The pivotal reason: none of their experts had suspected that the marker sphere had in fact come from the Coldwater Cave system.

Coldwater Cave belonged to the Mu'en Grand Canyon's karst network, which, in theory, should have funneled water into the Rain Dragon River and eventually into the Jie River.

Yet the subterranean river linked to Coldwater Cave defied expectation, veering sharply southward to merge with the Dragon Vault's hidden current.

This geographic twist laid a perfect trap for Dongtai, luring them into a costly expedition that culminated in the annihilation of their elite frogman unit from the security forces.

General Commander Hirao Masahiro, furious at the blunder, personally called and berated Sakamoto Kakeo in a rage.

And thus, Dongtai Corporation's exhaustive search efforts came to a reluctant end.

The upper echelons of Dongtai were, in truth, idealists and visionaries, individuals deeply committed to the advancement of progress. Yet no matter how noble their aspirations, there always seemed to be people—and problems—that tested their resolve.

Now, those vexing monstrosities seemed to have been vanquished—or at the very least, rendered temporarily inert. The Dongtai Corporation could finally redirect its attention to the two more pressing crises: the dammed river and the encroaching toxic gas.

By this time, the gas problem had escalated to a grave level, casting a suffocating pall over the entire Yiba Basin.

Ordinarily, the basin sat serenely at an elevation above 2,000 meters, hemmed in to the west by the Yueping Mountains, which soared to an average height of 2,800 meters.

In contrast, the Liujin River Valley rested at a mere 800 meters. By all logic, the toxic gas should never have been able to cross the towering natural barrier of the Yueping range.

The anomaly lay in the winds.

Summer should have brought steady southeastern breezes. Yet, since June 10th, the winds had veered, blowing instead from the southwest, descending from the celestial heights of the Tianji Plateau.

Driven by these rogue southwestern gusts, the gas surged relentlessly through the Yueping Gorge—its elevation also averaging around 800 meters—invading the Yiba Basin with overwhelming force.

Dongtai did not remain idle. Multiple waves of incendiary bombs were launched to counter the toxic cloud, but the efforts proved futile.

The reason was simple: the gas now contained fewer combustible elements and far more lethal compounds—including those released by the incendiary bombs themselves.

On the afternoon of June 28th, Dongtai's highest governing bodies—the Board of Directors, the Central Administration, and the Security Council—convened in a joint emergency session and formally approved the "Containment and Elimination Protocol."

Containment would involve erecting a ring of true embankments, leveraging the natural mountain ranges encircling Yiba, and deploying mist-spraying mechanisms to trap the gas and prevent further leakage.

Elimination entailed the drilling of 110 deep wells across the basin, into which the gas would be forcefully injected beneath the bedrock using high-pressure pumps.

The containment initiative fell under the jurisdiction of the Colonial Security Engineering Division, while the elimination effort was assigned to the Fuel Company. Bridgezawa Kokuchu, recently favored by Fujiki Sadatake, was appointed both chief commander and chief engineer.

On June 29th, Bridgezawa personally led a massive drilling brigade into the basin with tremendous fanfare. He had, in truth, a unique expertise in gas mitigation—specifically, his use of the mist-spraying method. The principle was simple enough: water was pressurized and dispersed via giant nozzles across wide areas.

All engineering and security personnel entering the quarantine zone were required to wear breathing apparatus and operate on compressed air supplies.

Interestingly, the first drilling sites were not within the basin itself, but atop the Yueping Mountains. Acting on a request from the Search Command, Bridgezawa opportunistically bored several shafts into the karst cave believed to be Li Zhui's hiding place.

Following the cave's demolition, the search authority was renamed on-site as the Yiba Provisional Military Command Zone.

After the divine retribution event, Dongtai hastily erected a temporary pumping station on the southern cliffs of Tian'guan Rock in the Longling Gorge.

After more than ten days of round-the-clock toil, thirty-six colossal water pumps were installed atop the cliff. Thirty-six steel conduits, each two meters in diameter, were laid to reach the gorge below.

On June 30th, with his own hand, Fujiki Sadatake threw the master switch. With a thunderous roar, the massive pumps sprang to life, unleashing torrents of sludge, gravel, and unknown debris from the outflow spouts in an unstoppable deluge.

At last, the issue of the dammed river began to show signs of easing.