41: Chapter 41 Everything is Ready

Yang Hang's hand was still resting on top of her head, not yet withdrawn.

She couldn't see the expression behind the mask, but judging by the posture, it was highly likely to be indescribable.

"You're overthinking it."

He covered her eyes with one hand.

In his palm, the Power of Causality flowed silently. Under the guidance of the karmic lines, the fabric fibers were rewoven; the material, structure, and function were reorganized in a fraction of a second.

He removed his hand.

The girl opened her eyes in confusion, then immediately felt something was off, slowly looking down.

Then, she froze.

The ragged t-shirt and shorts she had been wearing were gone.

In their place was something she had only ever seen in game CGs.

A brownish-green combat outfit.

The upper body featured a sharply tailored short tactical jacket with a slightly raised collar. Beneath it was a form-fitting, dark gray functional fabric that was breathable and moisture-wicking, with a patterned, grid-like protective weave layer on the chest and ribs. The jacket zipper had matte black metal teeth, and the flap of the left chest pocket was secured with a hidden snap, which could be opened to attach small tools.

At her collarbone, a thin chain necklace hung, featuring a fingernail-sized, brownish-green metal piece engraved with extremely fine patterns.

The waist was cinched, revealing a section of her midriff.

The lower body consisted of high-waisted tactical shorts made of thick but lightweight material. On the outer sides of the thighs were two modular attachment rails where she could snap in knife sheaths, magazine pouches, or tool bags. Below the knees were a pair of dark, high-elasticity combat socks extending from the ankles to above the knees, clinging to the lines of her legs, with thin cushioning pads sewn into the inner knees.

On her feet were ankle-high combat boots; the uppers were made of wear-resistant composite material, the soles had hidden drainage patterns, the sides featured a quick-lacing System, and the boot cuffs were softly lined.

The entire outfit fit her perfectly, as if custom-made for her body, looking both sexy and full of tension.

And it was very warm...

The girl touched the cuffs of the jacket, then the attachment rails on her pant legs, and finally looked down at the combat boots on her feet.

"This outfit... it's so comfortable to wear."

She murmured, looking up.

The stern of the ship was empty.

The mask was gone. The flip-flops were gone. The person who had been standing in front of her just a moment ago had vanished.

"Big Boss?"

No response.

"Big Boss!?"

She rushed to the ship's railing, looking in all directions. There was no figure in the sky, no ripples on the sea surface.

Coming without a shadow and leaving without a trace.

"Wait... why did you just leave!" She stamped her feet in anxiety. "I haven't even asked if you could post our photo together on the Fate Platform! To tell everyone I met you—"

Her voice dissipated into the sea breeze.

There was only the sound of waves all around.

She stood by the railing, her shoulders slumping.

Then she heard it.

Very distant. Very faint. Like the lingering sound of wind blowing from a direction that didn't exist.

"It's possible."

Three words.

The girl shuddered.

She turned around abruptly, looking back and forth across the empty deck twice. No one, truly no one, but that voice had definitely entered her ears.

The next second, she jumped up.

Her combat boots made a dull thud on the rotting wooden deck. She tilted her head back and shouted toward the cloudless blue sky—

"Big Boss Yang Hang, I love you!!!"

The voice carried very, very far.

A flock of seagulls was startled and flew away.

Meanwhile.

In the top right corner of her Fate Platform interface, the karma points balance column flickered silently.

[karma points balance: 1,000,001]

The third trip, southeast direction, 230 nautical miles.

The same method was applied. Mask, landing, one million karma points, gold treasure chest.

This survivor was a silent middle-aged man in his forties who didn't cry, laugh, or fanboy the whole time; only after confirming the karma points had arrived did he bow deeply to Yang Hang.

A thin booklet rolled out of the chest. The cover had flowing star-blue light patterns, and it only had one page when opened, with three characters floating on the page.

[Infinite Horizon (Gold-tier · Spatial Skill Book)]

[After learning, one can fold space, covering ten thousand miles in a single step. Consumes karmic energy or one's own Mental Energy to drive.]

Yang Hang tucked the booklet into his chest, tapped his mask, and disappeared from the sea surface.

Three gold-tier treasures, complete.

Enough.

The Golden Giant Ship.

When Yang Hang landed back on the deck, the setting sun was hanging exactly one fist's height above the horizon.

The bionic maids were already lined up on both sides of the gangway. The one at the lead bowed slightly to him, holding a steaming white towel and a glass of freshly squeezed passion fruit juice in her hands.

Yang Hang took off his mask and took the towel to wipe his face. He downed more than half the glass of juice; the sweet and sour taste shot up from the root of his tongue, relieving the restlessness accumulated from running three trips all afternoon.

The three gold-tier curios lay quietly in his storage space.

sustenance table. life spring. Infinite Horizon.

All the core components for the Fate Platform 3.0, obtained.

But he wasn't in a rush to start working.

He glanced at the door at the end of the deck leading to a private cabin.

A super-luxurious bathhouse of over five hundred square meters.

He had been running around all afternoon and had worked up a sweat. Yang Hang walked in that direction.

After walking a few steps, Yang Hang didn't even look back, waving his right hand behind him.

Two fingers curled upward.

The head maid paused.

She lifted her left wrist and pressed an inconspicuous silver button on her bracelet.

Deep inside the ship, a series of rapid, delicate sounds of high heels clicking against the metal floor rang out.

The first to arrive were two Asian faces. One was wearing a black OL suit tailored to the extreme; the hem of the hip-hugging skirt was just past the mid-thigh, and her stockings extended down from the skirt, creating smooth lines with every step she took. The other was wearing a modified cheongsam, with the stand-up collar buttoned to the collarbone, but the side slit reached the hip bone, revealing large patches of fair skin that appeared and disappeared with each stride.

Then came a Western-style blonde bionic person in a flight attendant uniform; the deep blue short skirt was caught at the narrowest part of her waistline, her shirt was only buttoned with the middle three buttons, the collar was wide open, and a silk scarf rested loosely on the side of her neck. Behind her followed a Latin face with dark brown curly hair in a nurse's outfit—if that could even be called a nurse's outfit. The white one-piece short skirt was as tight as a second skin, and the red cross logo on her chest rose and fell with her breathing.

More bionic people gradually converged into the corridor from various cabins.

Secretary outfit, shirt hem tucked into high-waisted pencil pants, belt cinching the waist dimples. Police style, hot pants version of the uniform so short that half the pockets were exposed, wide-brimmed hat worn askew on side-parted long hair. Gymnastics outfit, pure white one-piece with high leg cuts to the hip bones, the back completely hollowed out, with only two thin crossed straps maintaining the structure's integrity.

Various skin tones shimmered with different textures under the soft light strips of the corridor—porcelain white, honey-colored, wheat-colored, bronze. Tall, short, plump, slim, in all shapes and sizes, like a fashion show without a runway silently lining up behind him.

The last to arrive was a black-haired, straight-haired bionic person in a teacher's outfit. A white shirt tucked into a knee-length gray pencil skirt, black-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, and a closed book tucked in her hand. She looked the most serious—but the shirt was made of semi-transparent material, and the zipper at the back waist of the pencil skirt was deliberately only pulled up two-thirds of the way, revealing a small section of the curve of her spine.

The moment she stepped into the bathhouse cabin, the cabin door closed.

The electronic lock clicked shut.

For the next several hours, the heavy alloy cabin door isolated all movement.

Occasionally, muffled sounds leaked out from the door gap, mixed with the sound of water, like waves crashing against reefs.

The sea breeze outside blew across the empty deck, and seagulls landed on the mast to preen their feathers.

The twin suns sank into the horizon.

The sky burned from orange-red to dark purple, then sank into ink-blue.

When the stars lit up, the door to the bathhouse cabin finally opened.

Night fell.

Warm yellow light diffused from the embedded wall lamps, bathing the entire space in a languid amber hue.

Yang Hang sank into the center of the three-meter-long circular sofa, wearing a deep V-neck dark gray bathrobe, the collar wide open, revealing the layer of faintly visible pale gold patterns on his chest—the marks left by the Stellar Body.

On the left, the cheongsam-clad bionic person knelt on the edge of the sofa, kneading the finger joints of his left hand. On the right, the one in the OL outfit placed his foot on her knee, her thumb pressing into the sole of his foot. The one in the flight attendant uniform leaned against the sofa armrest, holding a prepared cocktail in her hand, the straw pointed in his direction.

Yang Hang took the cocktail and took a sip, while his other hand spread the three treasures out on the low table in front of him.

sustenance table—a gray-white stone table, with golden light swimming in the groove.

life spring—crystal bottle body, liquid stars flowing on the inner wall.

Infinite Horizon—indigo cover, miniature star map drifting endlessly.