Chapter 93#

Distant Star Reflection 01#

However, Yu Feichen had no time to lament the supreme deity being unable to unwrap the gift box, because the opening of the Door of Eternal Night was an extremely brief process. The sensation of being torn from paradise felt like his entire body was vacuumed. Yet this time differed slightly from before.

In the eternal night, what a person could see correlated directly with their possessed power. Only those possessing power could perceive other power. This time, Yu Feichen didn’t see blankness. He clearly sensed himself transforming into a tiny light point leaving the eternal day’s territory, like a spark splashing outward from the sun.

Then he was pushed by the Tower of Genesis’s power through other glimmering debris, arriving at the destination—a bright luminous sphere. Compared to the supreme deity’s eternal day, it resembled an insignificant star, yet compared to other debris, this sphere was somewhat larger.

Yu Feichen watched himself enter the luminous sphere. A blurred figure was wrapped by the Tower of Genesis’s power and disappeared, replaced by his light point. According to Claros, when he completed his mission and left, that replaced person would naturally return.

After brief vertigo, hearing, touch, and smell suddenly returned. Everything around solidified into reality.

Yu Feichen opened his eyes. He was now lying in bed.

The black and white ceiling resembled a reasonably well-executed abstract painting. Natural light streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows. The bedroom was spacious, architecturally advanced, with furnishings showing technological traces, though the style was chaotic—like a rebellious youth’s taste. His head ached slightly, probably hangover aftermath.

A soft voice sounded: “Duke, you’re awake.”

The title “Duke” seemed somewhat out of place with the environment. Yu Feichen sat up in bed, wearing a soft, delicate white sleep robe. Standing before him was a man in his mid-twenties wearing a black suit and tie, hair perfectly groomed, corners of his mouth turned downward, eyes seeming vacant—practically screaming “I’m a secretary.”

This scene differed greatly from the previous two dungeons, but resembled the shelter experience. Pre-entry tips indicated strength 8, amplitude 2. Small amplitude meant a stable world, not a fragment. Strength 8 indicated high power levels. Based on architecture, likely a technologically advanced civilization with powerful weapons.

Yu Feichen answered the seemingly secretary-like man: “Good afternoon.”

He descended, walking around the room observing surroundings, feet sinking into soft cashmere carpet.

“You woke at precisely the right moment. According to schedule, I would have woken you in one minute. It’s now quarter past noon. What you must do today is…”

Yu Feichen’s gaze was suddenly drawn to a conspicuous low-temperature freezer near the bed. It clearly contained not beverages but medications. Head throbbing from the hangover, he bent to open it, carrying a bad premonition—he’d always viewed excessive drinkers poorly. His first reaction was whether this duke, besides alcoholism, also used drugs.

Thinking this, Yu Feichen retrieved a medication vial, looking at its label.

First came complex chemical names incomprehensible without knowledge of this world’s science. Scanning past, he found parenthetical text for non-specialists:

(Standard inhibitor, 0.35mg/dose)

Yu Feichen: “…?”

He’d encountered such terminology in paradise’s science knowledge spheres. Bad premonition in his mind expanded gradually—intensely worse than suspecting drug use.

The secretary continued rambling: “Proceed to Iris Aviation Port…”

Yu Feichen interrupted.

He looked directly at the secretary’s eyes, asking a question that baffled him: “What am I?”

The secretary’s gaze slowly focused on him, bringing mild confusion: “Are you still intoxicated?”

Yu Feichen: “I’m not drunk. What am I?”

The secretary swallowed, wondering if he’d lost his mind, asking philosophy questions. But facing Yu Feichen’s expression suggesting he might consume them, he struggled to interpret the duke’s meaning, wavering for three seconds between “You’re a person” and “You’re Duke Landon” before answering: “You’re an… alpha.”

Yu Feichen’s mood thoroughly deteriorated. He finally experienced the Door of Eternal Night’s treachery. Previously accepting jobs allowed selectivity, but those entering couldn’t choose world types.

Unhappy, his tone turned icy: “What do I need to do now?”

The secretary was startled, thinking this might genuinely be true stupidity. He hesitated: “Are you… truly okay?”

Yu Feichen: “…I blacked out. I don’t remember anything. Remind me.”

As a qualified secretary who’d fantasized over such absurd scenarios many times, he answered smoothly: “You’re the designated heir to the Landon star system, Imperial Duke, though with unfortunate complications—currently lacking any actual privileges besides wealth.”

Yu Feichen: “Why?”

“Because you must arrive at Iris Aviation Port before quarter past noon, board the Isabella fortress ship, complete the prisoner escort mission delivering the rebel leader to k93 mining star for exile. Only then will the Pope and Emperor permit formal bestowal of your twentieth-year majority ceremony, allowing you to legally assume all your father’s rights over the Landon star system…”

Yu Feichen glanced at the time. It was now quarter past noon.

“If I’m late,” he asked carefully, “will the starship wait?”

“Accompanying you is the renowned strict traditionalist General Ashley, and he particularly dislikes your various behaviors—” The secretary fell silent under Yu Feichen’s increasingly sub-zero gaze, cutting to the point. “Probably not.”

“So,” Yu Feichen said, “why am I still here?”

Secretary: “If you hadn’t spoken drunk just now, we’d already be en route to the port.”

Yu Feichen took a deep breath. He hadn’t encountered such a chaotic beginning in a long time.

“Clothes,” he said.

The secretary finally relaxed, producing them: “Though you dislike it, this mission is special. I recommend wearing the military uniform—it might improve General Ashley’s mood.”

“Have I ever mentioned,” Yu Feichen said, buttoning his shirt, “that you talk too much?”

Secretary: “Unfortunately, you haven’t.”

Yu Feichen briefly examined himself in the mirror. Black hair, silver eyes, early-twenties face—not significantly different from his paradise appearance. The military uniform here was black with silver trim, slightly ornate in design, clearly not front-line combat wear—decorative over practical.

Before leaving, he remembered something: “Did you bring inhibitors?”

“Three doses.”

“Bring more.”

Secretary: “Your characteristic values are too extreme. I don’t think you’d encounter a compatible omega, Duke.”

Yu Feichen said nothing, just watched the secretary voluntarily fall silent before hefting the entire low-temperature case. After lifting it, the secretary added: “I hope that if you encounter a desired omega during this trip, the Pope would be delighted. I also hope for this.”

Yu Feichen: “I hope you become mute.”

The secretary fell completely silent.

Outside, the scenery was beautiful, the cityscape hidden in mist. A flying shuttle waited on the room’s external platform. Emerging, a sweating head poked from the shuttle—apparently the driver.

“Last night the Duke seemed to crash it,” the driver said. “Now it won’t start.”

“I hope you all become as reliable as the Duke after sleeping,” the secretary muttered. Accessing a terminal, he began operating. To Yu Feichen: “No matter, Duke. I’ll call a shared shuttle.”

Yu Feichen grew increasingly confused: “Do I only have one shuttle?”

“Actually, you’re a shuttle collector,” the secretary said. “Unfortunately, you only collect antique models—slower than skateboarding… there, I got one.”

The driver wiped sweat from his forehead as the shared shuttle’s controls hit maximum acceleration, shooting like an arrow. Yet it couldn’t mask the driver’s anxiety: “We’re finished. We won’t make it.”

Secretary: “Don’t panic. We usually don’t.”

“You’re right.”

But the staff’s unreliability couldn’t affect Yu Feichen’s mental state anymore. He wanted to know more about this world, especially his biological classification—it affected his dungeon state and mood.

Before entering the eternal night, he’d followed a principle: avoid worlds where people weren’t quite human. He disliked being dominated by primitive needs, acting like uncontrollable animals. Yet this world seemed precisely the type he disliked, though he didn’t know the extent.

Quickly, he found answers via the terminal.

Unsurprising: pheromones, heat cycles, marking. Alpha and omega classification stemmed from a genetic “characteristic value.” Zero meant beta—normal, comprising most populations.

Besides betas, positive values indicated alphas; negative indicated omegas. Higher absolute values meant superior alphas or omegas, accompanied by pathological costs. Alphas showed clear manic tendencies; omegas were extraordinarily sensitive and anxious, always teetering on cliff’s edges.

Higher values meant higher pathology, with only one cure—finding a matching-value alpha or omega within five years of the twentieth-year majority ceremony for marking. Otherwise, alphas descended into complete madness, losing reason. Omegas experienced lifelong terror, panicking at the slightest disturbance—called “triggered.”

Yu Feichen reading here furrowed his brow. He risked becoming a rabid alpha.

Continuing, finding partners was simple for most alphas and omegas. No expensive genetic testing needed—after twenty, pheromone secretion naturally triggered attraction with compatible partners. Most people’s values fell within ranges where several matchmaking events would find suitable mates. Yet exceptions existed where values were too extreme, with no compatible partners in existence, making survival prospects bleak.

Yu Feichen: “What’s my characteristic value?”

The secretary said nothing. The driver spoke first: “Why worry about it, Duke? You can live without an omega—just shorter lived, that’s all.”

Secretary: “You’re still young, Duke. There’s still hope. Besides, the Landon family is incredibly wealthy. I heard even the sanatorium’s railings are temperature-regulated. Eventually, everyone will visit you there…”

“It’s really too late now,” the secretary realized.

Yu Feichen finally understood why they were all so complacently defeatist. He checked the time—only quarter hour remained. He told the driver: “Let me drive.”

Secretary: “Your license was revoked yesterday.”

Yu Feichen: “This time, it won’t be.”

“True, since it’s already revoked—so you haven’t changed,” the secretary said. “Let him drive.”

Behind controls, beginning high-speed driving, Yu Feichen felt the physiological restlessness diminish. This level of biological trait wouldn’t affect him much.

In the back, the driver asked the secretary: “Why bring inhibitors? It’ll prevent the Duke from finding an omega. Throw them out.”

Yu Feichen checked the navigation, taking shortcuts, sharp turn throwing the back-seat pair against the shuttle wall.

Ahead lay abandoned industrial ruins. The road was broad and empty. Yu Feichen glanced back at them coldly.

“I won’t have any omega,” he said.

—Of course he wouldn’t enter a sanatorium either. Five years was too long. Maximum five months before leaving this nightmare world.

The secretary wept with joy: “Thank heaven, Duke finally accepted reality.”

Yu Feichen looked ahead, finding himself missing Bai Song. But he wanted most to know what role the supreme deity would play in this world.

—Ideally, also an alpha unable to find a partner.