Chapter 57: The Successor Selection

A brand-new prison, a brand-new staff. Zhao Li didn’t ask the old warden why, but since the elder had given him this chance, he intended to grasp it firmly.

Standing before the seventeen newly arrived “privates,” Zhao Li said little. Aside from the old warden, he held the highest military rank present, and issuing orders was naturally part of his duty.

“Prepare to receive the prisoners!” The command was simple, as was the procedure. Everyone stood in formation on the playground, which also served as a helipad, awaiting the arrival of the warship transporting the dangerous criminals. Their rooms had all been assigned; they only needed to verify the identities of the new arrivals to confirm their incarceration. For these new privates, there was an additional task: to become familiar with each prisoner.

The transport was entrusted to a battalion of special forces, with every four soldiers assigned to one dangerous inmate. The level of importance placed on these prisoners by higher authorities hadn’t diminished despite the disappearance of Montbatten Prison. Though Zhao Li was unaware of their secrets, he could vaguely infer from Ban Yunchan’s charges what might be at play.

During the transition to the new facility, Zhao Li had deliberately followed the news of HSBC’s bankruptcy. As he had suspected, while the bank collapsed, no reports surfaced of internal embezzlement. The public only knew that the bank’s investment department had failed, causing a massive capital shortfall. Panic led to a run on the bank, forcing its bankruptcy.

Since the collapse was not attributed to funds being siphoned off, it followed that there was no recovery of those funds either. In other words, that enormous sum might never have been retrieved and might still be under Ban’s control. This would justify the special treatment she received. Consider the scale: HSBC was the second-largest bank in the federation, with tens of thousands of branches and tens of millions of employees. The amount involved was staggering. The silent vanishing of such a vast fortune suggested that Ban Yunchan had, besides herself, a vast and meticulous money laundering network.

If Ban was like this, what about the others? Surely they had their own reasons. A glimpse of one piece revealed the whole picture. Zhao Li no longer needed to pry into their secrets; it was enough to know they were important—so important that, if necessary, others would sacrifice themselves to protect them.

When the prisoners were brought in, the first thing they saw was Zhao Li and the old warden standing rigidly not far off. Strangely, each of them seemed in good spirits, all smiling and even greeting the two casually.

Following the directions of the prison guards, the four special forces soldiers escorted each prisoner to their assigned rooms without removing their restraints. Only after everyone was in place did they receive the order to release the restraints. Then, the special forces swiftly withdrew, boarding their transport warship, which took off immediately.

Zhao Li couldn’t help but shake his head slightly. With the old warden nearby, he believed these prisoners wouldn’t dare attempt escape, regardless of their intentions. Though the warden never displayed his skills publicly, Zhao Li had a strong intuition about it. The respect and fear the prisoners showed toward the warden were genuine, not feigned.

The new prison environment was decent, and the prisoners seemed to be in good spirits. This prison was arranged peculiarly: except for Zhao Li, all guards were posted outside the perimeter. Zhao Li’s quarters were situated within the inmates’ area; he lived and ate alongside them. While his treatment was somewhat better, in essence, he was as imprisoned as they were. The only difference was that he could leave when necessary.

Zhao Li felt no aversion to this. In fact, he found it easier to get along with these dangerous criminals than with the scheming soldiers. He didn’t know the reason behind this arrangement, but he was certain the old warden wouldn’t harm him.

Life seemed to return to normal here. Without ordinary prisoners causing trouble, everyone passed their days at ease. Zhao Li’s routine remained unchanged; since he was here anyway, he could practice his skills anytime, viewing most of his time as being on duty.

He especially enjoyed communicating with these men. Although many things they wouldn’t discuss, they loved recounting their proud battle stories. Each of them was a top-tier elite, and naturally, the enemies they faced were far from ordinary.

Zhao Li had lived in peaceful regions before, where the government deliberately downplayed such news. The public only heard about small-scale riots causing a few deaths or another cult ensnaring followers before being crushed by the authorities. They never realized how much blood and innocent sacrifice lay behind those few words of news.

“Hey, Zhao Li, I’m about to tell you the top secret of all secrets. You ready to hear it?” Some would boast with such a challenge.

“If you dare say it, why would I be afraid to listen? Bring it on!” Zhao Li always turned their provocations into nothingness with a smile.

“Hmph. Good that you’re willing. This was my masterpiece. At the time, I led an elite squad…” The stories began, unfolding with familiar bravado.

“Nonsense. With that terrain and their sentries, you couldn’t have possibly done that…” Someone always dissented, quickly spotting flaws.

“The situation was exactly like that; here’s how I arranged it…” Arguments inevitably arose, but before Zhao Li, disputes became debates and strategy discussions rather than brawls.

“Those fools. If it were me, I’d set it up like this, and I guarantee you’d lose a man every step of the way…” The atmosphere was lively and intense. Often, one would recount a battle, only to be refuted by several others. All were veterans, once settling scores with fists; now they clashed over tactics.

Zhao Li listened quietly. He was not qualified to join such high-level contests of skill, no matter how skilled he was with his own techniques. But these real battle accounts opened his eyes, and he eagerly absorbed every scrap of knowledge.

Guards stationed outside found Zhao Li strange; he seemed familiar with everyone inside, and no one ever dared lay a hand on him.

Even outside the prison, occasional scuffles broke out during meals or other moments when order needed to be maintained. These prisoners respected no one’s face and would fight fiercely if their intentions were crossed. Though their energy had been sealed, their combat skills still left marks on the guards.

After a few incidents, demoted guards who had erred learned that the place was not just about managing the prison but also about toughening them up. No wonder there was a special forces training ground outside, with equipment nearly identical to the prison’s sports field. Seeing the inmates train daily despite sealed energy, the guards often tried to adopt their methods.

Yet Zhao Li remained a mystery. Most of these inmates’ crimes were public knowledge. That such ruthless killers got along so well with a young man was unexpected. No wonder the arrangement was as it was. With Zhao Li present, the prisoners behaved mostly obediently. Conflicts between inmates and guards rarely occurred in his presence. If they did, a few words from Zhao Li quickly quelled them. The prisoners seemed to generously spare the guards, flaunting this with an arrogant air that annoyed everyone.

Still, despite their irritation, they admired Zhao Li’s uncanny ability to defuse conflicts with seemingly effortless gestures. Zhao Li’s past experiences, including on Montbatten and in another prison, were classified and could not be shared, leaving the others puzzled and assuming he was just a familiar face.

The old warden had been busy lately; Zhao Li hadn’t seen him for a while and wondered what occupied him. Life here was comfortable except for the lack of outside information. Zhao Li was allowed to write occasional letters home and receive replies, a privilege not extended to others.

Even Zhao Li didn’t know what was happening beyond the walls. He only knew that his family was doing better. After the last incident, his father’s position at the research institute had been promoted by one level. Whether this was due to the energy involved in the mishap or the old warden’s influence, it was undoubtedly connected to the latter.

Sometimes, Zhao Li wondered if this arrangement was a form of compensation for those like him who had spent years underground without seeing daylight.

Serving six years without leave was something Zhao Li had never anticipated. It was all because of that damned genius academy. To protect Christine, Zhao Li had to come to this wild place. He hadn’t been treated like a lab rat, but in the end, he was still affected by their experiments.

Yet perhaps it was for the best. This compensation allowed him to learn the Nameless Technique and the Tendon Severing Hand.

When the old warden mysteriously appeared before him, Zhao Li immediately dropped all his work and followed him for a casual walk inside.

“Are you comfortable here?” The warden asked lightly, but Zhao Li sensed a hint of weariness beneath the surface. What could tire the old warden so much? Zhao Li was curious but recalled Ban Yunchan’s warning: one must not be overly inquisitive in the military. So he held back from asking.

“The environment is decent,” Zhao Li gave a noncommittal answer, and the warden didn’t press further.

“The situation outside isn’t optimistic,” the warden suddenly said, leaving Zhao Li puzzled.

“Do you remember the battle alert when you first arrived on Montbatten?” The mention jogged Zhao Li’s memory—it was triggered by rebel forces, though he wasn’t clear on the details.

“The rebels have gained strength, completely capturing Noah Star. They have won several major battles against the government forces, and the military is under heavy pressure.” Hearing ‘major victories’ from the warden made it clear the rebels held a significant advantage.

But shouldn’t this be outside the warden’s jurisdiction? He was only a colonel and prison director. Though the warden wielded considerable power behind the scenes, it seemed unlikely he’d manage military deployments.

Fortunately, though the rebels were strong, they remained confined to Noah Star. Military losses were limited to outer space; the ground, including Earth, remained safe. This news comforted Zhao Li—at least his parents were secure.

Having never been exposed to such matters before, Zhao Li didn’t know what to say. The warden only took him out for a stroll, showing no intention to explain in detail. Perhaps he simply thought Zhao Li should be aware.

“Commander, come have some wine with me. You look tired.” Seeing the warden’s increasingly aged face, Zhao Li couldn’t help but express concern.

“Alright, it’s been a long time since we sat down together.” The warden’s spirits lifted at the invitation. Soon, the two were in his office.

Fine wine and juice—this was always their theme. Watching the warden hand-press fresh juice with one hand, Zhao Li wanted to help but saw the elder enjoyed it too much to interrupt.

“I’m getting old and won’t be able to do this for many more years.” The warden sipped his wine and suddenly said to Zhao Li.

“You look quite vigorous!” Zhao Li spoke more freely now.

“Only looks. I know better.” The warden smiled bitterly and took another sip.

“Maybe I’ll retire within a year or two. But I still have many matters to hand over, which is troublesome!” Suddenly sitting upright, he faced Zhao Li squarely. “I think I need a successor. Are you interested?”