Chapter Sixty-One: The Warden Retires

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Although Zhao Li was somewhat downcast due to the situation with Sister Ban, he also came to learn some internal matters of the genius school. Strictly speaking, it was a gain and a loss all at once.

How should he truly face Sister Ban? Were her actions before him merely feigned affection, or was that her genuine nature? Zhao Li could not decide. Mentally, he knew Sister Ban was a dangerous figure, yet subconsciously, he was reluctant to admit it. After all, she had not instigated those people, and from the very beginning, her attitude toward everyone had been consistent, just as it was now toward Zhao Li. From start to finish, she hadn’t even lifted a finger. Could it all truly have been a façade?

Those unusually bright eyes kept swirling in Zhao Li’s mind. He simply could not shake her image. Or perhaps it wasn’t her fault; maybe she only wanted the money.

Finding a reason he could accept, Zhao Li’s spirits lifted considerably, and he resumed his usual patrols. Undeniably, the mutated version of Basic Fitness Techniques held an innate advantage in physical recovery—far superior even to the Nameless True Qi.

It was precisely because of Zhao Li’s near-indomitable endurance that those fellows grew increasingly enthusiastic, imparting more and more knowledge to him.

It seemed they cared little about molding Zhao Li into a particular kind of warrior; they only wanted him to absorb everything they knew. Many untrainable skills—firearms, flight, mountain and jungle warfare—were forced upon him as theoretical knowledge, to be practiced when the opportunity arose later. Space combat skills were no exception.

Following this discussion, Zhao Li truly felt the benefits of a solid foundation, as Professor Hans had described. His body grew stronger, and he could endure more of the Nameless True Qi’s domineering meridians. Whether this was due to his innate suitability for the theory or the influence of the Nameless True Qi, he could not say.

At any rate, Zhao Li had long prepared himself mentally for the overwhelming power of Nameless True Qi. The stronger his body became, the stronger the True Qi seemed to grow. That was enough. Zhao Li was no researcher; he did not need to understand the principles or methods, only the results—knowing the what, not the why.

Regarding Ban Yunchan, Zhao Li’s attitude remained unchanged. It was enough that he knew what to be cautious of. Sister Ban’s place was indeed a haven where he could rest peacefully; he did not wish to lose this refuge of the soul.

Consider this: it had been over a year since moving to the new prison, yet Zhao Li had spent this entire time immersed in intense training and work, scarcely noticing the passage of time.

After a year of grueling training, Zhao Li’s entire demeanor seemed transformed. Enduring the twisted drills of those fellows had unconsciously endowed him with a rugged aura. His body had become remarkably robust—not inferior even to those specialists in brute strength.

In the eyes of those hardened criminals, Zhao Li’s only shortcoming was a lack of ruthless killing intent. Having never drawn blood, it was only natural he hadn’t cultivated that murderous aura. Moreover, the martial arts he excelled in—police baton techniques and muscle-bone separation—were not lethal. They repeatedly advised Zhao Li to focus on techniques for killing, but he seemed resolute in sticking to the two styles he had mastered, only superficially familiarizing himself with lethal skills without earnest practice.

Outside, Zhao Li would be deemed an unqualified special forces soldier; these instructors would have no qualms about discarding him. But here, he seemed to be the only “trainee” with no quota for elimination; everyone simply endured. On the contrary, all were confident Zhao Li would inevitably take up the lethal techniques they taught.

The old warden’s busy days seemed to be settling down. The rebels still maintained certain advantages: besides Noah Star, another colony planet had fallen under their control. The government forces were powerless, prompting widespread public criticism.

With the rebels’ expansion, other chaotic extremist factions—restorationists, terrorists—emerged around the region, seizing small territories and causing turmoil. The current ruling government was thoroughly overwhelmed.

“Juice?” The old warden asked casually while already working his hands. Bright red juice flowed evenly from a simple single-handed juicer. Whenever Zhao Li saw him do this, he wanted to help but was always stopped: “I’m not old enough yet to be unable to squeeze juice. Sit down!”

The usual routine: the old warden’s exquisite wine, Zhao Li’s fresh juice. After drinking it so long, Zhao Li still didn’t know what fruit it came from, only that it tasted exquisite. He vowed to ask the warden someday.

“You’ve been training very hard recently,” the old warden remarked. Everyone in the prison could clearly see Zhao Li’s perseverance under the excessively harsh demands of those inmates. Even the demoted soldiers from outside’s special forces admired him.

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“It’s your teachings that have kept me going,” Zhao Li responded. He had learned to express gratitude at appropriate moments, so others wouldn’t think him ungrateful.

“That still requires your own effort; no one else can replace you.” The old warden savored his wine, feet propped high as usual. “I’ve noticed all your recent efforts. Very good.”

“Thank you for your praise.” Sometimes Zhao Li merely vented his emotions; even he found his endurance surprising. Perhaps the Basic Fitness Techniques helped a lot. But he couldn’t let the old warden know that.

“I’m old.” The warden suddenly said, gazing out at the green pines beyond the office window. He stopped Zhao Li before he could reply: “You don’t need to say anything; I know myself.”

“In a few months, I’ll retire.” The warden’s words struck Zhao Li like a blow, and he found it hard to accept.

“How could that be, sir!” Zhao Li hurriedly asked, not holding back this time.

“I’ve worked hard most of my life. Just in this prison, I’ve spent decades half-retired, half-working. It’s time to retire.” He looked fondly at the wine in his hand. “Everything has been arranged. Only this prison still weighs on my mind. I need a reliable person to watch over it. Are you willing?”

Zhao Li did not immediately grasp the meaning of “watch over” but thought it was a shame to see the warden retire. The old warden was still in good health and could serve several more years without trouble. But it was the warden’s own wish to rest, and no one could persuade him otherwise.

“I promise to complete the task!” Zhao Li mechanically stood, saluted crisply.

The old warden smiled and waved him down: “Sit. You know I hate all that formal stuff.” True enough, every meeting was casual; Zhao Li had yet to see a formal salute exchanged between them. This informality made Zhao Li feel relaxed, as if chatting with an elder rather than a superior. Only when tasks were assigned did the warden grow serious.

“Come on. Finish your drink. Let’s take a walk!” Only Zhao Li seemed to enjoy this treatment; the new prison guards did not. Zhao Li gulped down the juice, stood, and followed the old warden out of the luxurious office.

Zhao Li had not stayed long in the outer area but was not unfamiliar with it. Outside the prisoners’ quarters, beyond the guards’ living area and behind another wall, stretched a desert.

Standing atop the high wall, looking at the automated weapons pointing inward and outward, Zhao Li found himself strangely unafraid. Had his recent surge in cultivation made him indifferent to such weapons?

“This is the first time I’ve stood here so easily, looking out at the vast desert.” The old warden stroked an automatic weapon’s barrel, gazing into the distance, his mood relaxed. “Truly, with no worries, one feels light.”

“I’m feeling the same,” Zhao Li mentally replied but kept silent, sensing that speaking would spoil the mood.

“Let’s go see elsewhere!” The warden changed direction. Inside was lush green grass; outside, endless yellow sand—a stark contrast. From outside looking in, the warden seemed nostalgic. Zhao Li silently followed as a mere companion.

“Once you get old, nostalgia creeps in.” After a tour and some brief chat with the prisoners, they returned to the warden’s office. Zhao Li wisely avoided responding, not wanting to stir more thoughts in the old man.

“Come here, I’ll show you the prison’s real defense system!” When it was time to share important information, Zhao Li stepped forward without hesitation, watching the warden operate.

A three-dimensional topographic map appeared above the desk. The old warden pointed to a central, wheel-shaped section: “This is our prison, where we are now.”

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“The internal defense system is distributed like this.” As the warden spoke, the prison’s outline expanded to cover the desk. The inner walls and certain rooms lit up with various symbols representing light and heavy weaponry.

Zhao Li was embarrassed to realize he had lived over a year in such a heavily fortified place without noticing. He felt rather careless.

The warden noticed Zhao Li’s thoughts and reassured him with a smile: “What I’m showing you now is top-secret, known only to the warden. Even the builders don’t know what these are.” Hearing this, Zhao Li felt better. Thankfully, no one else knew; otherwise, he would be ashamed, especially after claiming to have studied with experts for over a year. No doubt those fellows would not look too pleased either.

“This is the perimeter defense system,” the 3D map shrank to reveal the outer walls and guard living quarters, densely packed with defenses.

“And beyond that.” The desert seemed to shrink onto the warden’s desk, dotted with countless points of light, making Zhao Li feel even more overwhelmed. Who would have thought a prison would deploy defenses spanning hundreds of kilometers of desert? This level of security was astonishing. Even if someone escaped, they would be shredded by the desert’s weapons.

“And here are the nearest rapid response units.” Three large bright spots appeared at the desert’s edge, forming an equilateral triangle encircling the prison. Zhao Li recognized this from his initial briefing with the warden.

“Very good. I have granted you the access rights. Now, follow me and learn the operation.” The old warden wasted no more words and proceeded to teach Zhao Li hands-on.

After finishing, the warden surveyed Zhao Li multiple times: “What’s missing? Oh, I remember!” He reached into a drawer and took out several second lieutenant insignias. Standing before Zhao Li, he removed the sergeant’s shoulder and collar badges and pinned the second lieutenant’s on him. Stepping back, he observed: “There. Now you barely look like an officer. The rank is still low, but you’re young and lack seniority. Raising it too high would cause gossip and won’t benefit you.”

“Sir, doesn’t such a promotion require official notification from above?” Zhao Li could not help but ask.

“Above? What above? I am the above!” The old warden smiled enigmatically.

Zhao Li was speechless. It seemed the old warden’s influence remained immense even as he neared retirement; officer promotions were just a word from him.

“This office is yours from now on.” He patted the large leather chair. “Come, young warden, sit and let me see.” Zhao Li sat, but felt no joy, only a faint sadness.

“Not bad,” the old warden praised. “Also, all the drinks and comforts here are yours now. Don’t waste them.”

“Sir!” Zhao Li noticed the warden’s reluctant expression and called out. “Don’t worry, these are all approved from above. The appointment letter is in the right-hand drawer.” He patted Zhao Li’s shoulder and urged him to sit: “There’s a warship waiting for me. My old friends are holding a farewell party. I won’t keep you.”

“Yes, sir!” Zhao Li forced back his sadness and answered loudly.

“Remember, whenever you hit an insurmountable obstacle, come find me. No matter the problem, I’ll help you fix it.” The old warden said this boldly, stood up straight, and marched out of the office in perfect step.