Chapter 114: Forgot

In a shimmer of borrowed light, Chen’s form shifted, resolving into the severe and elegant figure of Xueyi. He moved with a newfound swiftness, a shadow gliding through the underbelly of the Luofu. He made a conscious effort to avoid the path Dan Heng and the others had taken, veering instead into a labyrinth of secluded back-alleys and service corridors.

The physical prowess of a Ten-Lords Commission Judge was nothing short of astonishing. Every step was light, every movement imbued with a coiled, predatory grace. It was a world away from his default Tingyun form—that delicate, foxian body that probably couldn’t even wring a chicken’s neck without getting winded.

He ducked behind the rusting bulk of an abandoned warehouse, casting a quick glance around to confirm he was alone. Only then did he allow himself a moment to truly inhabit the form. He clenched a fist, feeling the strange disconnect.

“Whoa, this feeling…” he murmured, the voice a low, feminine monotone. “Just as I expected of a puppet.” There was a distinct lack of organic feedback, a subtle but obvious sense of artificiality.

“Not bad, not bad at all,” he nodded, a flicker of satisfaction in his borrowed eyes. “But enough sightseeing. Business first.”

He mentally replayed a map he’d glimpsed on a public terminal earlier. If his memory served him right, there was a small, private mechanical workshop tucked away somewhere in this sector. On a place as vast as the Luofu, countless enthusiasts tinkered with their own starships or modified skiffs. Their private workshops were often hidden in exactly these kinds of remote, forgotten corners.

After a ten-minute search, he spotted it: a semi-subterranean entrance nearly buried behind a mountain of scrap material. The door was secured with a heavy-duty lock, but for his current body, that was hardly an obstacle. With a single, precise swipe of his hand, the locking mechanism snapped open with a dull clank.

The workshop was a treasure trove of organized chaos, filled to the brim with various parts, specialized tools, and half-finished projects. Chen’s eyes lit up. He immediately began to rummage through the clutter.

“Energy core… definitely need one of those. Thrusters… ooh, this one’s a beauty. Navigation module… tsk, a bit dated, but it’ll do the job.”

Muttering to himself, he hauled his selected components to an open space in the center of the workshop floor. Then, with a thought, he deactivated the Xueyi transformation, returning to his original appearance as a black-haired young man. Using his own body was more comfortable, but he knew his own limitations. He couldn’t possibly handle these kinds of precision modifications himself.

A sly grin spread across Chen’s face. “Time for a specialist.”

A soft light enveloped him, shrinking his form in a cascade of shimmering data. In the blink of an eye, the tall young man was gone, replaced by a small, brown-haired girl with a perpetually unimpressed expression—the Herta puppet.

“Alright.” Chen, now Herta, clapped his small hands together with a crisp smack. “Time for a true genius to show you how real technology is made.”

He hopped onto a stool in front of the main workbench, his small hands flying across the control panel in a blur. Dense streams of data and complex design blueprints instantly flooded the holographic screen.

“Energy core output increased by forty percent… Thruster architecture improved… Navigation system reprogrammed…” he muttered, his small face a mask of intense focus and barely contained excitement.

In less than half an hour, the unremarkable civilian skiff he’d found was modified beyond recognition. The outer shell was now fitted with simple, simplified armor plating. The thrusters were expanded, their nozzles widened. The energy core hummed with a dangerous new intensity, tuned to the absolute limit of its tolerance. He even managed to piggyback the navigation system onto the Luofu’s public network. The permissions were low-level, but it was more than enough to access real-time star maps.

Chen hopped down from the workbench, circling his creation with a critical eye. He nodded, a rare flicker of genuine satisfaction on the puppet’s face.

“The materials were limited, but I’ve boosted its performance at least threefold. It’ll do.”

He pulled open the cockpit door and clambered inside. The pilot’s seat was a bit high, and the Herta puppet’s short legs could barely graze the pedals. He grunted and adjusted it. Then, a familiar thought crossed his mind.

“Come on out, Geo-Map!”

With a soft pop, the crooked little robot made of scrap metal materialized in the co-pilot’s seat. The gears on its head whirred to life with a series of clicks, and its lightbulb eyes flickered brightly.

“Creator! Geo-Map, ready to handle for you at any time!”

“Listen up,” Chen said, pointing a small finger at the control panel. “I’ve given you control permissions for this starship. You’re in charge of autopilot. Follow the route I’ve planned.” He paused, a wicked grin spreading across the puppet’s face. “I want maximum speed. Understood?”

Geo-Map’s lightbulb eyes blinked several times, the light within dimming and brightening as it performed a series of complex calculations. A few seconds later, it emitted a cheerful electronic tone.

“Understood! Maximum speed! Don’t hit anything! Geo-Map guarantees the mission’s completion!”

“Very good.” Chen grinned and reached for his seatbelt, only to find the crude starship didn’t even have one. He settled for a reinforced cargo strap, cinching it tightly across his small frame and tying himself to the seat.

He took a deep breath.

“Launch!”

The engine coughed, then erupted into a low roar that quickly escalated into a piercing scream. The modified energy core whined as it surged to full power, and the thrusters spat out a torrent of incandescent blue flame. The entire ship jolted violently and shot straight into the sky like a railgun slug.

“Waaaaaah—!”

The excited howl had barely left Chen’s throat before it was brutally slammed back down by an oncoming gale.

“Cough, cough, hack!”

His entire body was pinned against the back of the seat by the crushing G-forces. The violent airflow forced his eyes shut and made breathing a desperate luxury. The Herta puppet’s brown hair was whipped straight back, the strands lashing against his face like tiny, stinging whips.

A horrifying realization dawned on him, a single, catastrophic oversight.

‘Holy sht!!’he screamed in the confines of his mind.’I forgot to install a windshield!!!’

Unfortunately, he couldn’t utter a single word. He managed to pry his eyes open a fraction of an inch. All he could see were blurred streaks of color pulling back at an impossible rate and milky-white air currents that had become almost solid from the sheer velocity. The jury-rigged starship was tearing through the Luofu’s skyways at a frankly terrifying speed. And without a windshield, all of that immense air resistance was slamming squarely into the delicate features of his little puppet-girl face.

“Ge—o—Map—!” Chen managed to force the name through clenched teeth, his voice a pathetic squeak swallowed by the gale.

But Geo-Map heard him. The little robot was firmly fused to the control panel, the gears on its head spinning so fast they were beginning to smoke. It extended two long, thin mechanical arms and began to frantically manipulate the console.

A moment later, a pale blue energy barrier flickered to life at the front of the starship. It expanded forward in a shimmering arc, barely managing to cover the front of the cockpit.

The gale-force wind instantly weakened by more than half.

Chen could finally catch his breath, taking huge, ragged gulps of the still-rushing air. He sagged in his seat, limp. He felt like he had just narrowly avoided becoming the first transmigrator in history to be killed by wind erosion.

[Elysian’s Note:

Having a good time with the story?

Every single bit helps immensely:

Thanks a ton for making this journey possible!]