Chapter 25: Ten Billion

Chapter 25: Ten Billion

Si Jisheng tapped lightly on the desk twice. The system, receiving the signal, automatically illuminated the room. His cold voice was steady as he asked, "Is the Research Institute causing trouble again?"

The adjutant entered, standing before the desk, a puzzled expression on his face. "Didn't we already destroy all genetic data related to you at the Research Institute? How could a merman just appear out of nowhere?"

Logically, the Research Institute shouldn't have been able to create a new merman through human experimentation.

The adjutant tentatively asked, "Could it be the same one from before?"

He couldn't help but recall three years prior, when the military discovered the Research Institute had secretly created a merman through experimentation. Just as they were about to search for the merman’s whereabouts, the Marshal had unequivocally rejected the idea.

To this day, the military had no information about that merman—the product of the elders and the Research Institute stealing the Marshal’s genes for experimentation. The adjutant had been on edge all these years, fearing that the Research Institute might secretly use this merman to develop harmful drugs against the Marshal.

It was like when the Marshal was forced into that berserk state on the battlefield years ago, losing all reason—a trauma that took three years of treatment to recover from, and one the military still spoke of with hushed reverence.

Such a failed experiment, potentially harmful to the Marshal, was better off disappearing as soon as possible. Every extra day it lived was a hidden danger.

Si Jisheng paused briefly, his expression unchanged as he asked, "Where was he captured?"

The adjutant replied, "Reportedly, the Skull Pirates found him on a backward, primitive fringe planet."

"A planet entirely covered by ocean."

His silver eyes instantly sharpened. After a nod from Si Jisheng, the adjutant immediately opened his holoscreen and presented it.

The blue screen displayed a face filled with confusion and helplessness.

Blond hair, blue eyes.

Si Jisheng’s breath caught. His silver pupils constricted, his heart seemingly stopping mid-beat, his blood running cold in his constricted veins.

The next moment, the treatment room’s monitoring system blared a deafening alarm—sharp, piercing. After three years of treatment, his regained speech seemed on the verge of collapsing again under the relentless "beep—beep—" sounds.

Amidst the chaotic noise, memories closed in like a suffocating net, wrapping tightly around him, nearly suffocating him. The last memory lingered on the icy words: "Transaction terminated."

Abruptly cut off.

Si Jisheng closed his eyes briefly before the sounds of the outside world finally reached him—the adjutant’s panicked voice shouting, "Activate the treatment pod immediately—"

His throat felt raw, his voice instantly turning hoarse. "Unnecessary."

The treatment room’s special magnetic field suppressed his mental turbulence once more. Si Jisheng’s cold gaze swept over the Skull emblem on the livestream. "Get the reconnaissance team here. Pinpoint the Skull Pirates’ real-time location."

·

The screen showed a deep blue underwater world, where danger waited silently. The merchandise cowered in a corner, small and fragile, while each colossal great white shark was ten times his size—and there weren’t just one, but ten of them.

Complete overwhelming superiority in size and numbers.

Had the target of the great white sharks’ ambush not been an alien, viewers would have been nervous, or even called the Interstellar Alliance Police for rescue.

But the comments showed only bloodthirsty excitement.

"The organizers went all out. These great whites must also be aliens in atavistic form—rare finds."

"Definitely aliens. The wild ones are probably all protected by the Environmental Bureau."

"Aliens in atavistic form attack indiscriminately—even scarier than wild ones. This is exciting!"

"Don't let some fool bid early and ruin the fun?"

"No way. Everyone knows the rules."

...

Darknet auctions followed an unwritten rule.

The host announced at that moment: "Starting bid—ten billion. Each increment must be no less than one billion. The auction preview begins now. The preview segment will end once the first bidder raises the price."

This preview demonstrated whether the auction item was worth the price. Veterans knew that placing a bid before the item demonstrated its capabilities would immediately end the preview.

Premature bids risked losses and also ruined the fun for everyone.

Ten billion was prohibitively expensive, and no one dared to recklessly bid and bear the consequences.

Thus, though the number of potential bidders at the bottom of the livestream quickly exceeded "100," no one placed a bid on top of the ten billion, interrupting the auction preview.

As the great whites closed in on the corner, the comments exploded. Meanwhile, Deng Xi, weak and curled up in pain, only belatedly sensed the danger.

Merfolk's instinctive awareness of danger was ingrained in their nature.

But the heavy dose of tranquilizer in his system made Deng Xi slow to react. Only now did he sluggishly open his eyes.

The moment he saw clearly, his spine went cold. His already low body temperature plummeted further, his blood freezing in terror. His mind went blank, his face drained of color, his gills freezing mid-tremor in sheer panic.

This was the primal fear of a fragile merfolk at the bottom of the ocean’s food chain—facing the great white sharks, the ocean's apex predators that ruled the seas with terrifying dominance. An instinctive, bone-deep fear.

Merfolk were crystalline in their fragility. Their innate sensitivity to danger existed solely to help them flee from other oceanic species.

The terror rising from Deng Xi’s soul came from racial memory—the moment he hatched from his egg on this blue oceanic planet, only to find himself the last remaining merfolk, facing the horror of extinction.

He wanted to escape.

But there was nowhere to run.

Deng Xi could only huddle helplessly in the corner, hugging his tail to his chest, burying his face in it as if to hide.

Don’t eat me.

Don’t eat me.

The water reeked of the foul blood clinging to the great whites’ jagged teeth, heavy with the metallic tang of blood. Ten sets of jaws gaped over Deng Xi, threatening to swallow him whole. Compared to them, he was no more than a tiny, fragile ant—easily crushed, not even a mouthful.

Tears spilled from Deng Xi’s eyes, vanishing unseen into the sea.

But no one cared about his terror.

Viewers taunted, demanded, provoked, asking why this merman wasn’t fighting back, why he wasn’t ripping the sharks apart barehanded.

No one knew.

Deng Xi was just a weak, ordinary merman—so delicate that the smallest mistake could wipe him from existence in the river of time.

Not an alien. Not a merman.

The galaxy's last merman. The only one left. Beyond value.

Deng Xi shook violently, blue eyes streaming endless tears—unseen, disappearing into the endless sea.

Deng Xi fought against the fear gnawing at him.

No tears.

Singing was still possible.

He didn’t even need to sing—just a sound, even the faintest whisper would do. Even underwater, a mermaid’s powers could be channeled through sound waves.

Deng Xi's lips moved soundlessly.

No sound.

Not a single sound.

The dose of tranquilizer meant for a merman was over ten times the normal amount for a fragile mermaid. It reduced Deng Xi’s mind to molasses, rendering his speech center useless.

It left a mermaid, born to love singing, completely mute—not a single note.

Deng Xi was swallowed by crushing despair.

Before he could even find Little Mute, death would take him first.

Deng Xi was completely encircled by sharks.

He clutched the electronic collar locked around his neck, knuckles turning white from the strain. The heavy restraint dug red marks into his skin, as if destiny had him by the throat, suffocation clinging to him like a second skin.

Yet Deng Xi couldn’t stop himself from gripping it tighter.

He had no means to protect himself now.

Frozen with terror, Deng Xi even lost track of time. Had a minute passed? Or two?

A great white could kill its prey in mere seconds. With ten of them attacking at once, Deng Xi would be shredded in seconds.

But he was still alive.

Deng Xi couldn’t help but soften the trembling of his gills. Like a frightened child in the water, he cautiously peeked through his fingers, carefully observing his surroundings.

The ten great white sharks lazily flicked their tails, holding their formation, their gazes fixed on Deng Xi—yet none moved closer.

Why?

Deng Xi lowered his hands in confusion.

Why hadn’t they attacked him?

Deng Xi let his guard down.

But the barrage of comments erupted in dissatisfaction once more.

"What's going on here?"

"Can't take the heat?"

"I'm out—this is totally fake."

...

As the livestream’s viewership plummeted, the host’s face fell. Irritated, he fiddled with the mechanical prosthetic in his eye socket and snapped coldly, "What in blazes is happening?!"

The space pirate broke into a cold sweat. "Before releasing these white shark aliens, they were at each other's throats in the holding tank. We don’t know why they just... stopped in front of the auction item."

The host fell silent for a long moment. "This merchandise is defective."

But the situation was urgent—now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. The priority was to regain the audience. The host ordered, "Inject them with the berserker serum."

Space pirate: "Understood."

Quantum cameras zipping through the water injected the sharks with a serum—one that would send aliens into a bloodthirsty frenzy.

Danger!

Deng Xi's instincts screamed at him to flee.

But the tranquilizer left him frozen. Before he could even react, the previously calm great white sharks suddenly tensed, emitting ultrasonic screams that echoed through the tank. They went berserk, jaws gaping, their jaws snapping straight for Deng Xi.

Deng Xi’s eyes went wide.

At that very moment, the quantum cameras, acting on programmed commands, swiftly injected the ten great white sharks with tranquilizers.

Just then.

Across the livestream’s public screen, a superchat dominated the screen: "1.1 billion—stop the pre-auction."

·

This auction item was Skull’s most expensive lot ever—a full billion. The host’s goal was to sell it for no less than 5 billion imperial starcoins.

Success would make this auction Skull’s most glorious achievement yet. A greedy gleam flashed in his lifelike mechanical eye.

This auction couldn't tolerate any screw-ups.

But the abrupt halt of the warm-up killed the audience’s buzz. The barrage of comments erupted in universal backlash: "The bidder’s definitely an insider—no bidder would cross that line."

"Total fix job."

"We're being strung along."

"Fraud! Fraud! Fraud!"

...

The mechanical eye took a deep breath, scanning the comments. As the auction host, his only job was guaranteeing the event’s smooth progression—and under his watch, every auction closed successfully.

The host acted swiftly.

Switching to a burner account. Bid placed: "1.2 billion—resume auction warm-up."

The moment this bid appeared, the flood of complaints vanished almost instantly. The viewer count rebounded instantly.

A glint of cunning flashed in the mechanical eye—artificial bidding was the house's play.

Immediately, a flood of bids came in, driving the price up to 1.9 billion. Each bid was followed by the same suffix: "Resume auction warm-up."

The space pirate whispered into his earpiece, "Want us to dose them again?"

The host silently turned his gaze to the livestream feed.

After waiting endlessly for the pain of an attack that never came, Deng Xi slowly opened his eyes—eyes he had shut tight in fear—and gaped in disbelief as the great white sharks before him retracted their teeth, gliding peacefully through the tank.

A great white shark circled back to Deng Xi, bumping against his folded arms with its massive head while he stood frozen, tense.

The slick, smooth sensation and the peaceful, friendly aura of the shark bore no resemblance to the ferocious ocean predator from before.

The ocean’s blessing gave merfolk a natural affinity for sea creatures, and the shark had been drawn to Deng Xi’s gentle presence, nudging with its tapered snout lightly against his arm in a display of goodwill.

Deng Xi hesitantly reached out, his touch still trembling with fear as his fingertips brushed the shark’s head.

But when the shark affectionately nuzzled in response, Deng Xi felt as though he could hear the sea—the same sea that had always protected him—whispering softly, *Don’t be afraid.*

The corners of his lips curved faintly.

The beautiful mermaid, with golden hair and blue eyes, cautiously touched the deadly great white shark with pale fingers—a moment so serene it resembled a painting. Yet in the corner of the frame, a small red light blinked ominously—a miniature monitor capable of injecting drugs at any moment.

The device crept closer.

At this proximity, if the shark went berserk, Deng Xi would have no chance of escape.

The host said, "No need."

With the tranquilizers already administered, resuming the auction preview was impossible. This was merely a ruse to keep the event running smoothly and calm the crowd.

The host skimmed the flood of demands echoing the bidders’ requests, unbothered though he knew they’d never be fulfilled. Straightening his suit, he switched back to his official account and posted an announcement:

*"We regret to inform you that the auction preview will not resume."*

The unusual bond between the auction item and the sharks was undeniable. The moment the announcement went live, the chat erupted with cries of *"foul play!"*

Another notice followed:

*"Once a bid is placed, the preview ends immediately. These are our rules."*

*"However, we understand buyers’ concerns about high risks. Thus, we will exceptionally activate the identity-lock collar during the auction."*

*"Would you like to see how long the merman can endure electrocution?"*

The identity-lock collar referred to the electronic shackle around Deng Xi’s neck—a repurposed military-grade device, now widely circulated in the black market. It functioned as a compact stun device, capable of delivering shocks at the controller’s whim, subduing unruly merchandise and tracking escapees.

For an average person, its high-voltage pulse could instantly render them unconscious—or worse, induce shock. Extended exposure could cause permanent damage and lifelong complications.

Such displays were rare in auctions, as most items were sedated into compliance.

The host’s skilled maneuvering instantly reversed the chat’s outrage, driving excitement to its peak. Bids surged to 3.4 billion, with demands of *"When does the electrocution start?"*

Yet after a tense wait, the shark simply retreated into its portal, leaving only the confused merman on screen.

The space pirate waited by the identity-lock collar’s controls, awaiting orders. But the host hesitated. Something about this specimen unsettled him—its timidity sharply contrasted with the Imperial Marshal’s demeanor.

Too bizarre.

He tapped his knuckles thoughtfully as he studied the frail figure clutching its collar, then glanced at the bidding screen.

A staggering number flashed back:

*"5 billion. I don’t want to know."*

Only two bids went against the crowd—the initial 1.1 billion and now this. Both sought to shield the merchandise.

The host’s eyes gleamed. *"Check if this anon is the same as the first bidder."*

Minutes later, confirmation crackled in his earpiece.

Perfect.

His 5-billion target was met—now he aimed to double it. A 10-billion sale would cement the syndicate’s reputation. But such a sum required the right buyer.

Switching accounts, he bid: *"5.1 billion. Proceed with electrocution."*

The next bidder uncloaked, revealing a generic dark-web avatar and a string of code:

*"7 billion."*

The host caught his breath. This payout meant retirement. *"7.1 billion. Activate the collar."*

The encrypted user countered: *"9 billion."*

The bidding war escalated—34 to 90, then 96, before finally stalling. The chat erupted in disbelief.

---

Si Jisheng’s finger hovered over the *"100 billion"* bid, his gaze fixed on the merman’s shackled neck. *"Report decryption progress."*

In the command center, a team of military cryptographers scrambled at their terminals. The aide reported. *"98%."*

The bidding stalled at 97 billion. No further bids—not even from the code.

The host loosened his tie, greed shining in his natural eye. *"98 billion."*

The aide updated: *"99%."*

Si Jisheng remained silent, the unsent bid waiting.

Beads of sweat formed on the host’s brow. *"99 billion. Activate the shock now—or I withdraw!"* Privately, he hissed to the pirate: *"Stand by with the collar. If no one bids in a minute, trigger it."*

He’d force that 100 billion out.

Simultaneously—

The aide smiled. *"100%. Target located in Alexander System."*

Si Jisheng sent the bid.

Three minutes later, the auction concluded:

*"Congratulations on your winning bid of 100 billion. This auction is now closed."*

The feed cut to black.

The trap was sprung. The syndicate’s every transmission had been tagged since the first message, their location unraveled with each word.

The host had played the angler, leveraging cruelty to inflate bids. But from start to finish, he was the only one hooked.

The aide exhaled. *"Marshal, the 100 billion…?"*

Si Jisheng’s silver eyes glinted. *"Deducted from my personal funds."*

A beat. Then, icy command:

*"Contact the Foreign Ministry. Have them demand passage from the Alexander System’s king."*

*"Clear the way for the Imperial fleet."*