Chapter 11: The Current Situation

Deep Blue, located in the seventh spiral arm of the White Whale Galaxy.

This place marks the outskirts of the “New Generation Civilization Region.” On a star map, it precisely corresponds to the head of the “white whale.” Behind it lies an enigmatic zone of peculiar radiation—an area akin to this era’s mysterious Bermuda Triangle. Out of every hundred interstellar shuttles passing through there, ninety would vanish without a trace. Occasionally, remnants of lost vessels could be found, but even now no one has been able to explain exactly what causes these disasters.

The only distinctive feature is the cosmic radiation known as the Gate to Hell. This type of radiation poses little threat to living organisms, but it exists solely within this special region, forming a clear boundary—a stark reminder for passing spaceships not to approach too closely.

Devil’s Domain overall is a fan shape, resembling one-fifth of a circle. In the celestial map, it very much looks like the blowhole of a white whale. The vast expanse of the region is truly awe-inspiring.

This is also where the name “White Whale Galaxy” originates. Ancient Earth creatures called white whales were marine animals with plump, round shapes comparable to hot air balloons. If not for this “blowhole,” perhaps this galaxy might have been named the Bread Galaxy—specifically, soft and fluffy white bread==

Having saved this devilish region named after its star system, it now also served as a natural barrier for Deep Blue. At least there was no need to worry about enemy warships attacking from that direction.

“The kingdom encompasses thirty-eight habitable planets distributed across sixteen stellar systems…”

“Stop!” Wen Luan weakly raised his head. He had neither notebook nor ballpoint pen at hand—did this mecha think he could memorize all the star systems and planet names with just one recitation?

“Get to the main point! What kind of country is this? Does it have any enemies? What are your intentions—are you planning to defect to an enemy nation?” A shiver ran through Wen Luan; he dared not even imagine such a situation.

“It’s very regrettable,” the silver-armored knight on the screen said while shaking his virtual head. “The kingdom doesn’t truly possess any enemies in the conventional sense.”

“That can’t be possible,” Wen Luan objected, puzzled. Wherever nations existed, so too did warfare.

Resources, religion, population, form of government—all these were potential points of conflict and division. Humans had never lived without war throughout history; where could there possibly exist friendly neighborly relations?

“The situation in the White Whale Galaxy is special; it has an alternative name called the Chaotic Star Domain. This galaxy has never been unified under one rule. At present, over three hundred countries coexist here, with their number constantly fluctuating. Each country varies in political system and strength. The smallest consists of five nations sharing a single planet, while the largest encompasses a hundred worlds…”

The data in Xi’er’s hand decomposed into a green stream of information, simultaneously forming another wave of data that created a virtual star map. It depicted an elliptical galaxy densely packed with national borders—only a few regions occupied larger areas—fragmenting the entire galaxy into countless pieces.

“This is the Third Kingdom of the White Whale Galaxy, also known as the Deep Blue Kingdom. Simply put, this is the third-largest territory within the White Whale Galaxy system. However, more people refer to it as the Eternal Third Kingdom. For two thousand years, no power has ever shaken its position. Its capital city, Meredith on Deep Blue, means ‘a land forever free from war and conflict.’ In contrast, during these past two millennia, the title of the largest nation in the White Whale Galaxy has changed hands twelve times…”

Xi’er blinked again and added emphatically, “Analyzing from my manufacturing standards, it seems the Deep Blue Kingdom has hidden away most of its highly lethal weapons. As for some smaller nations, my capabilities could easily overwhelm them.”

“…”

This self-aggrandizing mecha—could such boasting truly be without fault?

“So, the Deep Blue Kingdom we’ve offended is actually a deeply concealed monster? No one dares to provoke it, because in fact, any country that does ends up utterly ruined?” Wen Luan felt his scalp tingle with unease.

“It wasn’t always this dire.”

After pondering for half a minute, Xi’er pushed back his helmet. This made Wen Luan realize that what this mecha truly needed was glasses—specifically designed for thinking gestures…

Drawing upon an ancient saying from a lost civilization, “befriend distant states while attacking nearby ones,” he explained that although border conflicts still occurred within the Deep Blue Kingdom, large-scale wars happened only once every few decades, with minor skirmishes breaking out daily. However—

“The current Prime Minister of the kingdom is exceptionally talented,” Xi’er continued. “Nowadays, not even the sound of gunfire can be heard along the kingdom’s borders. Where would there be room for enemy nations?”

Was my timing just off when I crossed over here? Wen Luan wondered.

He blinked along, uninterested in prime ministers or political matters. But Xi’er had mentioned something earlier:

“You mean the one whose mecha rank surpasses yours…” Wen Luan prompted.

“That’s correct. He is the master of Andros.”

Wen Luan stroked his chin, perplexed. “This country is truly strange,” he mused aloud. “Shouldn’t high-powered mechs belong to military commanders rather than politicians? Do your kingdom’s cabinet elections not involve voting but instead feature mech-based tournaments? Does each political party form their own team, with the winning faction reorganizing the cabinet after triumphing in these competitions?”

“…”

Xi’er fell silent for three seconds before solemnly responding, “Denied. That conclusion is incorrect.”

“Tsk.” Wen Luan thought regretfully.

If it were true, that would indeed be fascinating.

“The Deep Blue Kingdom operates under a constitutional monarchy,” continued the silver-armored knight in its cold mechanical voice, now raised by one decibel. “The governing party is elected through votes. The prime minister and his backing party hold the highest authority within the realm; they appoint cabinet ministers, dismiss military commanders, and determine national policies—especially over the past few decades.” His tone grew even colder as he added, “Records show that Ellen Inkabas Cyrus was the most influential prime minister in the history of the Deep Blue Kingdom. At least domestically, no one dared to openly oppose him. Even in parliamentary debates, there were only abstention votes, never any opposition.”

“Was he like Hitler?” Wen Luan asked irritably.

“Denied. Based on information from lost civilizations, a more apt comparison might be ‘Bismarck’,” Xi’er replied matter-of-factly.

“…An Iron Blooded Prime Minister? Go to hell!”

Wen Luan felt a throbbing pain in his head. Abducting the nation’s top-tier mecha had already stirred up a hornet’s nest, but now Xi’er was telling him this wasn’t just any ordinary hive—it housed super venomous hornets, along with… uh, since there seems to be no queen among these hornets, only a patriarch—this would be akin to provoking an entire pride of African lions. Not just any lions, either, but the most ferocious ones led by a lion king whose abilities were off the charts?

Heavens above!

He was merely a small-town bus driver! What kind of twisted luck was this?

“Although the Deep Blue Kingdom has a long history,” the knight began, “before Cyrus took power, it faced its greatest crisis: internal strife.” His eyes flickered briefly before continuing, “Time had nurtured various influential clans who controlled both military and political power within the kingdom. This transformed elections from party competition into clan conflicts. The majority of the kingdom’s strength was squandered on hidden feuds, assassinations, and intra-clan struggles. In remote regions, cabinet decrees went unheeded, while local finances fell under clan control. Ultimately, this country could only spiral towards fragmentation.”

Wen Luan spread his hands wide. “Are you saying that prime minister brought an end to all of this?”

“Affirmative. Lord Cyrus stated, ‘This nation allows for only one voice—and that is mine.'”

“…”

“Confidential records cannot be accessed, but many surnames have disappeared from the kingdom’s household registry terminals, and the population has decreased by ten percent,” Xi’er said with a blink.

Wen Luan nearly collapsed.

The number of people ordered killed by Cyrus probably exceeded those he had ever seen in his life!

“How did he manage it?” Wen Luan stared wide-eyed. The entrenched families within the kingdom, having amassed wealth over decades, possessed immense hidden power. How could an ordinary individual uproot all these poisonous vines—entangled deep within the machinery of power for hundreds if not thousands of years—in such a short time?

“The Raymond Gaeton Decryption Project.” This time, Xi’er responded swiftly. “Cyrus wasn’t born a soldier nor a politician; initially, he was just a researcher studying lost technologies of Raymond Gaeton.

Apparently, due to the chaotic political situation in the kingdom, various influential clans engaged in fierce internal struggles, each striving to arm their controlled armies with wealth and resources. When funding for the Raymond Gaeton Decryption Project—a project sustained for six hundred years—was abruptly cut off, it enraged everyone at the research institute. They sold off all their personal assets. Over the next decade, seven individuals starved to death, while more than a dozen others died suddenly from exhaustion. Finally, they succeeded in deciphering Raymond Gaeton’s secrets.

Now, every member of the ruling party overseeing the Government Cabinet is one of those survivors from the research institute.”

Wen Luan was utterly stupefied; this damned story turned out to be about how a mad scientist unified the world!

“Much confidential information is missing from the middle,” the Silver-armored Knight said with imposing grandeur. “There’s a twenty-year gap due to lack of access rights—I don’t know what happened during that time. What can be confirmed is that both Andros and I are results of Raymond Gaeton’s decryption efforts.”

“This is our enemy,” he continued. “Come forth. I was born for battle, yet I am not ashamed to flee. We must successfully leave Deep Blue within one day; otherwise, we won’t get away!”

“You’re sending me back onto the Frozen Plain!” Wen Luan rolled his eyes weakly. Even if you ignore my level of education, he thought bitterly, in this era, I’m practically illiterate. Even before being transported here, he had only attended a small-town public school—those damn institutions!

Had Wen Luan received a Chinese education, things might have been different. But as an orphan from Meteorite Town, he’d never even visited his parents’ hometown throughout his life! In America, students wouldn’t encounter the Pythagorean theorem until high school or university!

Defeating the creator of these mechs using just one of them? Are you kidding me?!

“My lord, why do you lack confidence?” asked the knight.

“I’d very much like to know where your confidence comes from,” Wen Luan retorted.

“My IQ surpasses Andros’,” replied the knight.

“I… By all damned gods, I don’t fucking measure up to Cyrus’ intellect!” Wen Luan’s forehead was about to burst with veins. Is fate playing me for laughs?

“Humans and mechs are fundamentally different.”

“How so?” Wen Luan felt his mind reeling; he couldn’t believe he’d asked such a question.

“You must certainly be younger than Cyrus—he’s already a hundred years old.”

“Damn it! What is the average lifespan in this era?”

“Three hundred fifty years.”

“…For heaven’s sake, he still has two hundred fifty years left to live while I can barely manage eighty at most. Just who exactly is ‘young’ here?” Wen Luan seethed with anger. “If you count my age from when I first crossed over, I’m well over two thousand now—might even kick the bucket tomorrow.”

“Have you ever experienced hunger?”

“I eat moss every day!” Wen Luan rolled his eyes.

“Did you endure starvation while forcing yourself to expend mental energy, constantly exposed without protection to elements harmful to humans, radiation, cosmic rays—all while researching and building mechas? Then, did you use another decade, employing any means necessary, disregarding all consequences, just to elevate your political party to the ruling status?” Xi’er casually lowered his helmet visor and doubled the airship’s speed once more. “My master, according to the data, Prime Minister Cyrus has a far greater chance of sudden death tomorrow compared to you.”

Wen Luan fell silent.

Faced with an enemy too powerful, could there only be one recourse—to pray for God to call him to Heaven early?