The Emperor's Shadow

Han Yujin spent about four days in a cheap motel. During that time, he wandered through various online communities using his Nexus Band, gathering information.

It wasn’t exactly high-quality intel, but it was a decent enough way to understand the general values and atmosphere in which ordinary citizens of the empire lived.

First and foremost, the emperor of the Luminous Galactic Empire was not human, but an AI.

Roughly thirty thousand years ago, during the great war between humans and AIs, the hyper-fused intelligence that alone sided with humanity and displayed an almost unbelievable level of devotion was none other than ‘Luminous.’

It was thanks to Luminous that humanity in this world survived. Thanks to Luminous that the current Galactic Empire was born. And it would not be an exaggeration to say that it was thanks to Luminous that this empire’s strength had been maintained and continued to grow.

To an outsider like Han Yujin, the fact that an AI had ultimately become an absolute ruler with supreme power felt somewhat bizarre. A small minority of people in this world seemed to feel the same. Yet looking at the current state of the Galactic Empire, it was hard to call the choice a mistake.

It sounded quite impressive, and since it had been proven through action across tens of thousands of years, it seemed to move many people deeply.

Anyway.

The important point here was that this hyper-fused intelligence, the AI Emperor, was also a Level 22 spiritualist.

And judging from the information he currently possessed, Level 22 was roughly equivalent to the Void Refinement Stage.

It meant a realm higher than the Body Integration stage and just below the True Immortal stage.

‘They said spiritualists from Level 10 onward can interfere with space-time, so that would be around early Nascent Soul. In that case, it makes sense to calculate three levels per major cultivation realm.’

Moreover, that calculation already included the special Void Refinement stage between Soul Formation and Body Integration.

‘There’s still the possibility that it’s a genuine True Immortal-level divine being.’

When the opponent was an existence of that caliber, no matter how confident he was in his own awakening ability, he couldn’t help but think, ‘What if?’

‘I’ll have to avoid meeting the emperor at all costs and extract as much benefit as possible.’

To do that, he would need to thoroughly exploit the systems of this Galactic Empire.

After all, with his real cultivation not even reaching the Nascent Soul stage, no matter how great a contribution he made or how much attention he drew, it was unlikely he would ever come face to face with the emperor.

Once again, he felt just how vast the universe was, and how many great and powerful beings existed within it.

‘…Still, it does make adventuring more exciting.’

Forcing himself to think positively, he continued collecting information through the Nexus Band.

It was about time to seriously look into the Space Force Exploration Corps.

The Exploration Corps was a specialized reconnaissance unit under the Dimensional Exploration Legion. Famous for being the first to blaze trails into the unknown, it was equally notorious for its extreme danger, making it a rather avoided branch.

Despite the high pay and prestige, recruitment rates were low. Even so, the entry requirements had never once been lowered.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mid-Entry level, Level 2 spiritualist identity that Han Yujin had forged sat exactly at the cutoff line. There was also a written exam, meaning he needed at least basic knowledge of interstellar navigation, survival, and special environments.

‘The more advanced a civilization becomes, the higher the knowledge level it demands from each individual.’

However.

When it came to knowledge, implanting a chip called an Intellitron into the brain apparently increased learning efficiency by more than ten times, making it not particularly difficult.

The chip didn’t just improve learning ability. It could also replace devices like the Nexus Band and, most importantly, defend against external mental intrusion—what people here called mind hacking.

In other words, the chip the security officers at the city checkpoint had embedded in their heads was an Intellitron.

The more he learned, the more it seemed the people of this world had little resistance to implanting chips in their bodies or even replacing perfectly healthy body parts with mechanical devices.

Of course, a small number of people did feel repulsion toward such things and were called Purists. They weren’t exactly ostracized, but there was a subtle atmosphere that treated them as overly fussy oddballs.

For Han Yujin, whose learning ability was already sufficient thanks to his Foundation Establishment cultivation, their existence was welcome. Since he had zero intention of embedding some unknown substance into his brain, disguising himself as one of them was perfect.

‘It also fits quite well with the background of being from a nomadic indigenous tribe.’

In any case.

The Space Force Exploration Corps didn’t recruit year-round. Selection exams were held only twice a year. Although applications could be submitted anytime, failing once meant waiting at least another six months.

Therefore, he could not miss the opportunity one month from now. No matter how long his lifespan was, time was still gold.

Fortunately, studying for the exam wasn’t difficult from the very beginning. Simply asking the Nexus Band’s AI, Big Xi, caused a flood of options on where and how he could receive education.

The most convenient choice was, of course, online education.

Another fortunate thing was that while conditional citizenship came with all sorts of restrictions, it actually provided more educational support than full citizenship.

In short, he could receive what was normally paid education for free.

It might seem like a trivial matter, but there was a reason he cared so much about money.

jjik!jjijik—!

A small delivery drone sent through the Nexus Band arrived with food. As they shared the meal, Mu-yong let out happy cries.

“Is it good?”

jjik!

“I think it’s good too. Except for the part where my credit balance is melting away.”

It was a dish similar to tacos from modern Earth. When you poured the sauce over it, the flavor was truly phenomenal. The accompanying drink was also incredibly delicious.

Somehow, he had ended up being dragged along by Mu-yong’s gluttony and enjoying a gourmet tour together.

‘There are so many other things to enjoy besides this.’

As he finished off the delivery food, he thought briefly.

An advanced civilization naturally couldn’t lack an entertainment sector.

There were incredible things that made modern Earth’s forms of entertainment feel completely outdated. Moreover, the fact that these entertainments were linked to various practical applications earned them very high marks in his book.

For example, there were virtual reality games of such quality that they felt truly perfect to ordinary people, even if those with sharp spiritual senses could detect slight imperfections. Through those games, one could learn various spiritualist training know-how or master the piloting skills of starships.

All while enjoying incredibly realistic spiritualist battles or space wars.

And through such entertainment content, one subtle atmosphere could be felt.

It was that the Galactic Empire’s attitude toward its enemies—the ones he had first learned about during education on the boundary platform—was far more serious than he had expected.

‘An AI emperor who has reached at least the Void Refinement stage maintains such a powerful force, yet still treats them with deadly seriousness.’

If he worked with the Exploration Corps, he would probably encounter them a few times.

‘Xenos… the Infinite Devourers.’

He was slightly curious what it would feel like to face those cosmic monsters in person.

One month later, during the written exam, Han Yujin was naturally confident of passing even before the results came out. He believed he would not only pass, but likely score in the top percentile.

And just as expected.

Two days later, he received a passing notice through his Nexus Band, along with the date for the physical test and interview.

On the day itself.

He boarded a regular shuttle route that, despite having wheels, moved without the slightest shake as if floating through the air, heading toward the spaceport connected to ‘Starport’ on planet G-164.

‘I probably can’t bring a pet to the interview.’

With that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in mind, he had already sent Mu-yong into the Mountain Sea Pearl before departure.

The little one had shown considerable dissatisfaction at being unable to join the adventure, but after he sincerely promised to bring her out again as soon as the situation stabilized, she seemed to understand.

Her self-assertion had grown noticeably stronger as her cultivation rose and her spiritual power increased. Still, it was only at the level of a tantrum, and since it was unbearably cute, he didn’t feel the least bit annoyed.

Thanks to that, he was moving alone for the first time in a while. As he watched the SF-saturated cityscape flowing past the window, a small question rose in his mind.

‘They’re holding the physical test and interview at the Starport?’

If it were for recruits who had already completed all selection and become trainees, he could understand. But they were still in the selection process—conducting it on an orbital space station already felt slightly strange.

Still, this wasn’t some rural village administration. There had to be a reason for everything. If he looked at it positively, it meant he could enjoy a cosmic-scale view from the very beginning.

About thirty minutes later.

Upon arriving at his destination and stepping off the shuttle, he spent a moment admiring the exterior of the spaceport building, which felt similar to a modern Earth airport, before heading inside. He passed through a simple security checkpoint along the way.

Finding where he needed to go was easy.

The Nexus Band’s Big Xi, which had received the relevant data, guided him with an augmented reality interface. The difficulty was so low that even a kindergartener could have found it while sucking on their finger.

As he moved, it was hard to tear his eyes away from the view of the spaceport’s interior revealed without obstruction through the transparent, glass-like walls on one side of the building.

In particular, his gaze was drawn to the sight of shuttle pods heading for the Starport taking off, piercing the atmosphere and vanishing, or conversely, descending from the distant heights wrapped in halos of light before landing.

‘Just how vast must the foundational technology be to operate something like that?’

Even if he brought all the related knowledge back to Earth, actually applying and operating it would require an enormous amount of effort and time.

A short while later.

When he entered an open waiting area in one section of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the spaceport, he could see that several other people had already arrived.

The applicants were obviously applicants at a glance, and the guides were immediately recognizable because they wore Space Force uniforms from the start.

He sat in an appropriate spot and had to wait about thirty minutes until the appointed time. When the time came, the exact number of arrived applicants was fifty-two.

He didn’t know how many applicants other Space Force branches received, but this number didn’t feel large at all.

“It is time.”

The guide who had been standing quietly spoke in a businesslike tone, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Please stand and follow me. There will be a second security verification procedure. If there is anything that might cause a problem, please resolve it here and now. Any issues that arise afterward will be solely your own responsibility.”

The first security verification was probably the checkpoint they had passed when entering the spaceport.

It was an extremely ordinary announcement, but the applicants who were experiencing this for the first time looked slightly nervous. A few even showed something to another nearby guide and asked questions.

Soon.

Led by the guide, the group moved to one section of the spaceport. There, they passed through a security tunnel of considerable length.

Han Yujin couldn’t help but feel tense despite trusting in his Monghwan Yusim ability as spiritual energy waves poured out endlessly from all directions. Fortunately, nothing abnormal was detected.

If something had been caught here, joining the Space Force itself would have become impossible.

‘At this level, I can say my disguise ability is objectively excellent.’

It seemed he could even fool a real Nascent Soul stage opponent.

Several more types of security scans followed, but none were as nerve-wracking as the tunnel. Once all security checks were complete, he received detailed information about the next procedure through his Nexus Band.

It was finally time to board the shuttle pod.