Millie swiped her access card and rushed through the special passageway. By the time she entered the meeting room, it was already packed with people.
Breathing heavily, she got straight to the point: “What the h*ll happened?”
The observer, pale with fear, stammered: “Professor, look at this.”
Millie lifted her head. On the central projection screen, a one-minute video clip was playing on an endless loop.
That one minute captured the sudden brightening of the brown-red planet.
It recorded the probe from the home planet being inexplicably pulled into the abyss by an unknown force.
It documented its final disappearance.
“What is this”
Millie felt as if she had been plunged into an icy abyss. Her pupils dilated in shock.
The footage continued looping.
Around the brown-red planet, a faint, shadowy black outline was taking shape.
The observer reported, “We detected an anomalous gravitational force and have already contacted the home planet. The Imperial military has dispatched a team for investigation.”
As the highest-ranking official in the Oasis, Millie turned to him: “What’s the government’s response?”
“The Filna Star government has activated planetary emergency defense shields.”
Millie’s face turned deathly pale. She gave a slight nod.
The sudden emergence of this gravitational force would undoubtedly disrupt planetary orbits and space debris movement. In the worst case, Filna Star could face an extended period of incoming celestial impacts.
But that wasn’t what terrified her the most.
Millie fixed her gaze on the brown-red planet.
TI90.
She had spent countless days and nights in the Black Tower recording its data. Yet at this moment, it felt completely foreign.
On-screen, the small probe spiraled into darkness, like a puppet under some unseen control, robbed of its autonomy.
“This gravitational force… it feels like a black hole.”
A hoarse voice rang out from the doorway of the meeting room.
An elderly man stepped inside. His hair was white, his face deeply lined with age, yet his expression was solemn and focused.
The glow from the screen illuminated his wrinkled features as he gazed up at it with unwavering seriousness.
His words struck like a boulder shattering the surface of a still lake.
Not just Millie—every scientist in the Oasis felt their minds quake, a bone-deep chill creeping over them.
“A black hole?!”
Millie snapped to attention, her face bloodless, her words rapid: “That’s impossible, Professor! TI90 is just a planet! Its mass is far too low! There’s no way it could form a black hole!”
“No weapon can make an object vanish into thin air in space.”
The old man’s voice was calm, his face expressionless as he stared at the screen. He raised a finger and rasped, “Millie, do you see that black patch? That’s the event horizon. Time has already begun to distort there.”
Millie tensed. “Professor, TI90 doesn’t have enough mass to distort time. There must be something we’re missing.”
The old man looked at her with patient understanding. His voice remained hoarse but steady.
“Mass? Do you truly understand its mass? TI90 was originally a rogue star, drifting into the Milky Way only after losing its parent star. For years, Oasis conducted countless investigations on it, but after the project was terminated, no one ever set foot on its surface again. Do you really know what’s happened to it since then?
In fact… can you even still call it a star?”
Millie fell silent for a moment before stubbornly arguing, though her face had turned pale.
“Professor, I still don’t believe it’s a black hole.”
Her mind was blank, struggling to force itself into rational thought.
A black hole? That was impossible.
A black hole forming would be catastrophic—it would annihilate the entire solar system, wipe out all of human civilization.
It was impossible…
And it was unacceptable…
The old man’s gaze was gentle as he softly reassured his student, “Relax.”
Millie’s hands and feet were ice-cold, trembling. She took a deep breath at his urging and said, her voice shaking, “Professor, I’ve observed it from the tower all this time. I can tell you with absolute certainty—TI90 cannot become a black hole. It isn’t a gas giant, it can’t absorb surrounding energy, and its core’s hydrogen content has never been sufficient to trigger nuclear fusion. It still has at least a thousand years of lifespan left. Even if it were collapsing at this moment, it would only be undergoing a standard planetary death, breaking apart into massive solid fragments.”
She met his gaze. “We’ve conducted endless research on it. We even built the Black Tower, which extends deep into its core. The data is not wrong.”
The old man studied her in silence. His voice, steady and gentle, carried a weight of inevitability.
“If you refuse to accept that TI90 is forming a black hole… Then, Millie, you must accept the only other possibility— Someone is artificially creating one.”
Millie had just exhaled a breath of relief when she heard the first part of the statement, but upon hearing the latter half, her face instantly turned pale. “Teacher, what are you saying?”
The elder spoke with a sigh, his voice heavy with the weight of time. “I have said before—there is no type of radiation or man-made weapon that can cause a massive object to vanish into thin air in the universe. ‘Disappearance’ means it has entered an invisible event horizon, leaping through time or space. The only thing capable of this is a black hole. Even if it isn’t a black hole, then this thing is a gravitational bomb, and once it grows, it will be the end of humanity.”
Millie’s lips trembled. “But the Black Tower hasn’t reported any anomalies.”
“The Black Tower…” The elder let out a soft sigh, his gaze seeming to penetrate time itself, weathered by years of frost and silence. “Millie, do you still remember who created the two Black Towers?”
For a brief moment, silence engulfed the conference room. No one dared to utter that unmentionable name.
Constructing a tower that plunged deep into a planet’s core on the hostile environment of TI90 was not only exorbitantly expensive but also required a design of unimaginable complexity, demanding the highest standards in building materials and energy processors. The sheer difficulty surpassed human imagination. Naturally, the empire had entrusted the task to someone who defied the limits of human capability.
“Laixiya…” Millie murmured. A crack formed in her heart, as if something within her had fractured. Her entire body looked as though she was on the verge of collapse.
The creator of the Black Tower was Laixiya.
The elderly scientist from Oasis had retired from frontline duties many years ago. It was only the blaring alarms that had brought him back to stand among them once more.
He pushed open the window. His aged hands, covered in deep wrinkles, rested against the frame.
Outside the conference room stood the towering structure of Filna Star’s Black Tower, piercing the clouds.
At its peak, a butterfly symbol gleamed with a dazzling golden light.
The elder whispered, “Yes, it was Laixiya.”
A white butterfly landed on the windowsill.
He spoke softly to himself, “Who can say what Laixiya was truly thinking?”
“Professor! Professor!” At that moment, a scientist responsible for communications with the home planet burst into the room, panting heavily. His face was ashen, and he shouted, “Professor, we just received word from the home planet. We have been ordered to activate Level 1 Emergency Readiness. They’ve identified the source of the immense gravitational waves—it’s the Black Tower! The Black Tower on planet TI90!”
Boom—Millie’s head shot up. In her mind, everything she thought she understood crumbled like a collapsing skyscraper. Her entire body swayed unsteadily, staggering backward.
The report continued, “The empire has already deployed photon emitters to disperse frequency waves in an attempt to interfere with the gravitational formation. But the Black Tower is still continuously warping space-time around it, and the gravitational force is growing stronger. According to the simulator’s projections, in five days—light itself will no longer be able to escape!”
Light will no longer be able to escape! That means… a black hole!
The news was too catastrophic for anyone to process.
Suddenly, the screen crackled twice, then the visuals were forcibly cut off. The communicator activated, and a cold, authoritative voice echoed through the room.
A severe-looking military officer appeared on the screen—no one was unfamiliar with him.
The highest commander of the imperial army, Marshal André of the Osmond family.
André spoke, “Where is Xu Wanzhi? Tell him to come see me.”
***
Filna Star severed all external communication. With the emergency barrier activated, no external magnetic waves could penetrate. Mobile phones failed. Computers shut down. Anxiety and fear seeped into every heart like an incoming tide.
“What’s happening?”
“Why did the signal suddenly disappear?”
“The planet has entered Level 1 Emergency Readiness. Are we under attack?”
“What do we do now?”
Panic spread like wildfire. Though Oasis maintained a facade of order, in reality, everyone was like ants on a hot pan, burning with distress.
Meanwhile, on other planets in the solar system, life carried on as usual—people strolled through shopping districts, pampered themselves at salons, browsed forums, watched television, ate meals, and engaged in casual conversations. Love blossomed in laughter, and every day passed as uneventfully and tangibly as the last.
No one knew that, not too far away, a red-brown planet was swallowing everything in its path.
Night was falling.
The hues of Filna Star’s twilight were as vivid as an oil painting. The sunset glowed in shades of dusty red, and the air was thick with ash and fine dust, resembling the lingering smoke of a battlefield’s ruins.
On his way back from the main hall, Lin Jing noticed a single white hyacinth growing by the roadside.
Hyacinths weren’t unfamiliar to him—after all, they were his mother’s favorite flowers. Having grown up with them, he felt an inexplicable sense of closeness, as if encountering a long-lost relative in a foreign land.
He walked toward it.
Squatting down, he murmured, “Did Laixiya bring you here?” It was less of a question directed at the plant and more of a soliloquy.
“She really is a strange person.”
From the moment he stepped into Oasis, he had felt like he was living inside Laixiya’s memories.
That beautiful woman in the black dress and gloves, standing in the rain—through Xu Wanzhi’s casual recollections, her presence had become increasingly tangible.
Lin Jing had no particular feelings toward Laixiya.
She was a criminal of the empire, yet she was also a victim.
No one could forgive the empire on her behalf, just as no one could forgive her for the people who perished in the Aurora explosion.
It was an unsolvable paradox. The only thing Lin Jing regretted was that she was Xu Wanzhi’s mother.
She had once tried to give all her tenderness to her child, only for her story to end in a burst of fireworks.
The setting sun was like blood, and the sky blazed with oil-paint-like intensity.
Standing in the Black Tower’s shadow, Lin Jing inhaled and caught the scent of gunpowder.
Gunpowder…
He looked up—and then came the deafening sound of an explosion. It erupted far from Oasis, at a place called Rode.
Boom—
A hovering vehicle was struck by a weapon and exploded instantly, transforming into a fiery sphere before crashing directly into the city hall.
The building was obliterated in mere moments, sending debris scattering in all directions, enveloped in a thick cloud of smoke and dust.
Screams filled the air as chaos broke loose.
“Evacuate! Emergency evacuation!”
A military officer aboard a patrol aircraft bellowed at the top of his lungs.
First, all external communications were cut off as the planet entered Level 1 Emergency Readiness. Then, a sudden explosion destroyed the city hall. The citizens of Rode were now completely overwhelmed with fear and confusion.
A dark-skinned girl with braided hair clung to her mother’s arms, feeling the trembling in her breath. She whispered, “Mommy, is this the end of the world?”
“No.” The woman’s lips were pale as she covered her child’s eyes and followed the officers toward the safe zone.
She said, “Alunsei, hold my hand tightly.”
“Report: The city hall has been attacked by terrorists. Twenty people have been killed, and 103 are seriously injured. All civilians have now been evacuated to a safe zone.”
“Have we identified the cause?”
“Report: Preliminary investigations indicate the use of a long-range photon weapon.”
“Lock down Rode.”
“Understood.”
Inside an exclusive hover car reserved for the privileged, the mayor’s son gripped the steering wheel with one hand while wrapping the other around the waist of the stunning woman beside him.
Turning his head slightly, he smirked. “Baby, we’re heading to the Oasis for shelter. The most impenetrable shield on Filner Star is there—not even a meteor impact could break through.”
The woman in the red dress, her figure perfectly accentuated by the fabric, gave him a seductive smile. “Darling, I love you so much. Thank you for saving me.”
“Then you’ll have to reward me properly later.” The mayor’s son, unable to resist, leaned in for a kiss.
The woman in the red dress only smiled, saying nothing.
Her black hair fluttered in the wind. Behind her, the setting sun cast a glow over the ruins, smoke still lingering in the air. The shopping mall next to city hall had been evacuated, yet the music hadn’t stopped—a soft, soothing piano melody drifted across the post-explosion wasteland, like the last flicker of civilization.
***
Xu Wanzhi had met Andre before.
In fact, the Osmond family had long been finding ways to insert themselves into his life.
In the video call, Marshal Andre’s expression was graver than ever.
“The Academy of Sciences has confirmed that the Black Tower is now continuously generating gravity using the TI90 planetary core as a base. Simulations indicate that once the gravitational force surpasses its peak threshold, it will form a Schwarzschild-radius black hole capable of consuming the entire solar system.”
Xu Wanzhi showed no reaction. “Is that so? What a pity.”
Andre was momentarily speechless. The battle-hardened marshal, known for his ruthless efficiency, stiffened for a few seconds before revealing an exhausted expression. “Wan, I know you hate Bernard, but the rest are innocent. The Empire is already in chaos. To avoid mass panic, we’ve temporarily suppressed the news. There’s an emergency meeting about this incident happening soon. The creator of the Black Tower is Laixiya. If she’s the one responsible for all of this… then you may be the only one who can stop it.”
Xu Wanzhi smiled faintly.
Andre always found himself at a loss for words when facing his nephew.
He had felt the same way about his sister.
Back when they tried to persuade Laixiya to agree to the neural replication project, they had taken her to the family cemetery.
Even now, he could still vividly recall that scene and conversation.
Their father had spoken to her:
“Laixiya, those who rest here are all ancestors of the Osmond family. They shared our blood, and they upheld their beliefs to the very end. Now, it is our turn to carry on that legacy. From birth, you and I were meant to remember our family’s creed—we are born for honor.”
“We’ve enjoyed the privilege of nobility. It is only natural that we give something in return.”
“Laixiya, you’re not a child anymore.”
In the solemn drizzle, irises bloomed in full glory. Laixiya raised her head quietly and murmured, “Honor.”
“Yes, honor.” Their father nodded. “Your thoughts are too shallow. One day, your child will thank you. This sacrifice isn’t just for the family—it’s for the Empire, for humanity. His birth will be the greatest miracle, just as yours was.”
Back then, Laixiya had held a black umbrella, lace from her hat partially veiling her deep purple eyes. She lowered her gaze to the irises planted among the graves, as if lost in thought. Her voice was soft, melting into the rain. “Just like me?”
Even now, when Andre recalled that rainy day, he felt nothing but suffocation and irony.
In pursuit of superior mental capabilities, they had forcibly stripped Laixiya of her emotions. Then, when they needed her to sacrifice herself, they bound her with family ties and honor.
But could someone who lacked even the ability to feel loyalty to humanity truly be restrained by family?
Andre stared at Xu Wanzhi and spoke bitterly. “We wronged Laixiya, and we’ve already paid the price. This is all in the past.”
Xu Wanzhi paused briefly. His dark eyes lifted as he smiled. His voice was calm. “I’m actually quite curious—just how many emotions did you program into me?”
“What?” Andre was caught off guard.
On the screen, the young man had a beauty mark at the corner of his eye, his striking features inherited from his parents. But his presence was cold—like untouched snow.
“After all these years of covert observation, haven’t you figured it out yet?”
Xu Wanzhi’s voice was indifferent.
“Even hatred was something you forced onto me.”
“In reality, none of my decisions have anything to do with the Empire.”
His slender fingers pressed the disconnect button. He seemed merely bored, lowering his gaze with an air of cold mockery.
“I think it’s time for you all to stop analyzing me.”
His final words were as frigid as an icy abyss.
“So foolish, it’s almost laughable.”
Andre’s pupils dilated in shock. The call cut off. The last image was Xu Wanzhi turning away, his silhouette like an endless void.
As he stepped outside, the explosion at Rode City Hall unfolded before his eyes.
A mushroom cloud loomed in the sky, scattering the evening glow.
The deafening blast echoed in his ears. Xu Wanzhi withdrew his gaze indifferently, his pace never faltering.
Along the way, a few scientists from the base saw him and hesitated as if wanting to greet him—but in the end, fear held them back.
Meanwhile, Lin Jing was still observing a hyacinth when a young assistant suddenly called for him, leading him to the top floor of the base.
This was his first time stepping into the core area of the Oasis.
“Take a seat.”
There, he saw Brandt—the elegantly poised politician with deep green eyes, smiling at him.
Beside Brandt stood a high-ranking military officer, likely the supreme commander of Filner Star, his expression unusually grim.
Lin Jing hesitated, unsure whether to greet them.
Brandt, however, got straight to the point.
“My dear, we’ll be needing your cooperation for a while.”
Lin Jing was completely confused. “Cooperate with what?”
Brandt winked at him. His smile always had a refreshing charm, the kind that made him seem like a smooth, adaptable politician who could navigate any situation with ease.
It was hard to imagine someone like him going against Bernard, who had an iron grip on the political landscape.
Brandt said, “Cooperate with us while we wait for your boyfriend to complete his plan.”
Lin Jing: “…”
Lin Jing: “Are you joking?”
Brandt replied, “No, I’m not joking. My dear, we are now facing the revenge of a mad genius. And only another genius can put an end to it.”
Lin Jing’s mind worked rapidly. In an instant, he figured out the root of all the recent anomalies. “Laixiya?”
Brandt kept smiling, but his expression became much more serious. “That’s right.”
Lin Jing asked, “And what exactly do you need me to cooperate on?”
Brandt shook his head with a wry smile. “I don’t know either. We just hope you can talk some sense into Wanzhi.”
Lin Jing was puzzled by this request.
“What is it you expect me to say to him?”
Brandt remained silent.
The officer beside him spoke in a cold voice. “Convince him to let go of his prejudice against the Empire.”
At that moment, Lin Jing truly wanted to laugh.
He placed the book in his hand onto the table, sat up straight, and his shirt subtly outlined his upright posture. His deep brown eyes lifted, filled with an icy sharpness, yet utterly serious.
“Prejudice?”
In truth, Lin Jing was never the obedient type. For years, he had only played the role of the well-behaved young man in front of elders. At five years old, he had the guts to overturn fireworks at a royal banquet. He was born a favored son of heaven, and fear had never been in his bones.
“Officer, I believe you have it backwards. Wanzhi has never had prejudice against the Empire. It is the Empire that has prejudice against him.”
The officer’s face remained stony, refusing to respond.
Brandt, surprised by Lin Jing’s intensity, quickly stepped in to mediate. “Don’t get upset, sweetheart. I apologize on Colonel Green’s behalf, but this is just the way things are. Try not to take it personally.”
Lin Jing let out a faint chuckle, entirely unimpressed. “He’s talking about my lover. How could I possibly not take it personally? And let’s be honest, it’s not the Empire—just a handful of brain-dead officials. When they held that meeting back then, did they ever think things would end up like this?”
The officer glared at him angrily.
Lin Jing simply returned the stare with quiet defiance.
Brandt sighed and turned to the officer. “Green, let me handle this conversation alone.”
Green stood up and left without hesitation. Now, only Lin Jing and Brandt remained. Lin Jing leaned back, his previous intensity easing. He had some natural goodwill toward Brandt after hearing about him from Lilith, so he didn’t push too hard.
Brandt asked, “You already know what happened back then, don’t you?”
Lin Jing nodded. “Yes, I do. I know that after their plan failed, they were so humiliated that they wanted to kill Laixiya’s child.”
Brandt sighed. “I opposed it at the time, but I understood their reasoning. It was for the sake of all humanity. A SSS-level psychic with no capacity for loyalty is an unpredictable time bomb for the Empire.”
Lin Jing scoffed. “And they still think that the explosion was solely Laixiya’s fault?”
Brandt hesitated.
Lin Jing smirked in mockery. “I’ve read up on the political climate of that time—when the neural enhancement project was first proposed, sociologists immediately raised concerns about ‘human nature and rights,’ but the upper echelons, blinded by their ‘god-making’ frenzy, refused to listen. When it became clear that Laixiya lacked empathy and couldn’t be trained for loyalty to humanity, scientists sounded the alarm, warning against investing too much in her—but those same upper echelons still refused to listen. Then they arranged her career, arranged her marriage, and finally, when they tried to arrange her child, she—someone who had always been indifferent—resisted for the first time. And yet, they still didn’t listen. So the situation escalated into the Aurora explosion.”
“I keep thinking—newspapers and media kept calling Laixiya a double-edged sword. But who, exactly, turned the blade toward the Empire, step by step?”
“And there were so many chances to sheath that sword.”
“But they didn’t.”
“So tell me—who’s really at fault here?”
Brandt remained silent for a long time before finally saying, “At the time, I thought exactly the same thing as you. But once the blade was drawn, they weren’t going to take any chances.”
His deep green eyes held a kind of weary understanding as he looked at Lin Jing.
“Why should they gamble an entire empire, gamble all of humanity, just to protect the life of one child? If the risk can be eliminated at the root, why waste extra resources trying to contain it?”
“That was Bernard’s logic. Cold as it may be, you have to admit—it makes sense.”
Lin Jing said nothing.
Brandt continued, “But making sense doesn’t always mean it’s right.”
“Bernard was an extreme utilitarian, so extreme that he crossed the line into dictatorship.”
“The debate over whether one life should be sacrificed for the greater good has always existed. There’s no clear right or wrong answer.”
Lin Jing gave a small, quiet smile. “Yes, no clear right or wrong. And Laixiya knew that too.”
Brandt fell silent.
Lin Jing had spent the past few days flipping through Laixiya’s old notes out of boredom.
She had no empathy. But she understood human emotions inside and out. Just like Wanzhi.
She understood the choices humans were bound to make.
“So, the explosion in the depths of space—” Lin Jing said softly. “It wasn’t the act of revenge that you all assumed it was.”
“It was just her saying goodbye to her child.”
“And her real revenge…”
“Is far more terrifying than the Aurora explosion ever was.”
“If that meeting had ended with you voting to kill her child, I guarantee you—right now, you’d all be regretting it.”
***
“Marshal, even if we land on TI90, we still won’t be able to shut down the Black Tower.”
“Why?”
On the home planet, a scientist turned pale, his voice trembling as he answered.
“Because Laixiya set the highest level of authorization for activating the Black Tower. The required level of psychic power is…” The scientist’s voice grew weaker and weaker. “SSS.”
Can’t wait until next week to see more? Want to show your support? Come to my Patreon where you can get 5 or more chapters of The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar] right away ! Or go donate at Paypal or Ko-fi to show your appreciation! :)
![The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar]](https://i1.wp.com/lazygirltranslations.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/unnamed-5.jpg?resize=151,215 "The No. 1 Hunfen King in the Entire Server [Interstellar]")
