The aerial prison system immediately detected the forced intrusion and sounded an alarm, requesting Shen Ying's decision—whether to allow the communication or block the intruder's visual access.

Yet, despite the commotion, everyone clearly saw her remain utterly unperturbed, fully engrossed in her game, even coordinating with her teammates to eliminate an opponent. Only then did she spare a moment to glance up, locking eyes with the Crown Prince inside the opposing warship.

She didn’t speak. Just a fleeting look, accompanied by a faint smirk.

It wasn’t the reaction one would expect toward the escape of the universe’s most dangerous prisoner. Instead, it was as if she had casually opened a door to let out an annoying rat.

An air of indifference, of absolute control—so mundane it didn’t even ripple her expression.

After that single glance, her attention returned to the game projection.

In that instant, the Crown Prince felt an electric jolt run through him, a shiver of disbelief.

He understood now. This wasn’t a trap. It was something far worse—something that trampled his pride.

She had done this on purpose. She had let them escape, like discarding useless burdens wasting resources.

She might have even dismissed their sloppy plan, deliberately turning a blind eye just to humor their pathetic attempt.

The Crown Prince’s jaw tightened, his face darkening. The fleeting joy of regained freedom vanished without a trace.

His vision, his hearing—everything around him blurred. Only her profile remained, sharp and mocking.

That profile, which couldn’t even be bothered to glance his way.

How dare she ignore him?

What gave her the right?

Burning with these absurd questions, the Crown Prince could only watch as the aerial prison finished charging and instantly warped away, disappearing from the sector.

With the Crown Prince, Lien, and Lu Yu all aboard their respective ships, the external fleet’s assault noticeably weakened.

The White Stone Pirates and Lu Yu’s forces, in particular, had to guard against the Crown Prince’s army turning on them.

The moment everyone escaped the prison, their so-called alliance dissolved.

Lien had boarded the pirate ship using a similar method. As he stared at the space where the prison had been, his chest tightened—a sudden, restless urgency, like realizing he’d left something crucial on a departing train.

He wasn’t stupid. His mech, carrying Bat and the Coder, was now heading toward Lu Yu’s fleet.

Only those two lacked the physical endurance to survive the rescue in open space.

He had assumed the Warden was toying with them again, so he hadn’t questioned the inconsistencies.

It was always like this—whenever she let them succeed at something, a greater scheme always followed.

How could that female investigator have stolen anything from her office? It had to be bait.

Lien had even wondered what punishment she’d devise this time when they were inevitably caught.

Truthfully, he’d been somewhat looking forward to whatever creative torment she’d dream up. So the idea of actually escaping—while thrilling—felt more like disbelief.

That’s it? A plan riddled with holes? And they really got away?

Was she just tired of him constantly seeking her out and decided to kick him out?

Annoyed and agitated, Lien kicked his first mate after the prison vanished. "Quit standing around. Follow them."

The first mate gaped. "How? Do you even know its warp coordinates?"

Lien: "…"

He didn’t. And that only fueled his frustration.

With the prison gone, the three factions now stood in a tense standoff.

Especially between the Crown Prince’s fleet and the White Stone Pirates—given their recent clash, the atmosphere was thick with hostility.

Yet neither leader seemed interested in fighting now.

The Crown Prince’s voice was icy. "Move out."

His entire fleet warped away, leaving a vast emptiness behind.

Lien and Lu Yu, having no prior conflict, faced less tension.

Lu Yu’s side had the most escapees—Niu Xi, Bat, and the Coder were all his people.

As their flagship approached, Lien saw the Coder, still shaken from nearly being obliterated in his mech.

Lien turned to Lu Yu. "Lend me the Coder for a few days."

"I’ve got questions for him."

Lu Yu saw right through him. "You want the code he gave the Warden?"

"You think that’ll help you find her?"

Lien scoffed. "Why not? You managed outside contact—only because she allowed it."

Lu Yu smirked. "You don’t actually think letting us escape means we’re friends now, do you?"

Lien sneered. "Who wants to be her friend?"

Still, Lu Yu refused to hand over the Coder, though he did give Lien the code.

He knew Lien’s obsession would drive him to reach out to the Warden.

Not surprising. Honestly, none of them could forget her.

Lu Yu had clawed his way to power through blood and schemes, never relying on luck.

This victory, handed to him like charity—how could he refuse? How could he forget?

With that, Lien and Lu Yu parted ways. What should have been a triumphant prison break ended with a hollow aftertaste.

No joy. No sense of triumph.

Once the nuisances were gone, Shen Ying finished her game before getting to work.

First, suppressing the rioting prisoners—without excessive casualties. With the spray system’s chemicals replaced, it seemed tricky.

But simplicity won. Shen Ying disabled the cafeteria’s gravity.

As bodies floated helplessly, she reactivated it—tripling the force.

Prisoners crashed down, disoriented. A few rounds of this, and most were too dazed to resist.

The robotic guards easily restrained the once-violent inmates, starting with the most aggressive, escorting them back to their cells.

Many, realizing the futility, complied before their turn came.

Next, repairs. Minimal damage—shattered tables, scattered food.

The prisoners could clean that up tomorrow.

The elevator doors and nearby alloy, blasted by mech weapons, were fixed by robots carrying memory metal.

Shen Ying inspected the dent Niu Xi had punched into the elevator shaft.

She smiled. All those resources invested in him had paid off—his destructive power was impressive.

In the end, the prison’s actual losses amounted to a few unmanned combat units.

A negligible cost—less valuable than Lien’s single mech.

Satisfied, Shen Ying turned as Zheng Yanhui approached hesitantly.

"Warden, now that they’ve all escaped… should our investigation team also—?"

She didn’t want to stay here anymore. The warden’s methods were utterly overwhelming to her.

She couldn’t understand why she had believed the promises of that useless system, thinking that she and it together could take down the warden.

Hadn’t she seen how the chosen male leads only escaped because she let them?

Zheng ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌ ‌‌ ‌ ‌‍Yanhui regretted it. That very day, she cut ties with the system and immediately applied for a new one of her own.

No matter how desperately the system begged.

She drove it straight into depression—now devoid of hope, its eyes lifeless, as if it were already dead.

Shen Ying smiled at Zheng Yanhui’s question and said, “No rush. Headquarters will soon hold someone accountable, and then you’ll probably be able to go back.”

Zheng Yanhui felt a wave of relief, but then her mood grew complicated.

So the warden would be held responsible? What consequences would she face?

As Zheng Yanhui wrestled with her worries, Shen Ying answered the communication request from headquarters.

She had cut off contact using the Crown Prince’s authority, but now that he had escaped, the disconnection protocol had to be lifted.

In the holographic conference, several high-ranking officials appeared in Shen Ying’s office.

All of them looked at her with stern expressions.

“In the fifteen years since the Sky Prison’s establishment, there has never been a single breach of security, nor a single prisoner escape.”

“Yet today, a full five prisoners walked out unscathed. Warden Shen, this is a grave failure on your part.”

“It’s reported that while the prisoners were escaping, you weren’t even monitoring the prison’s security—instead, you were playing a holographic game.”

Shen Ying quickly corrected, “To clarify, the number of escapees today was six.”

A silver-haired elder frowned. “The Crown Prince has already returned to the Imperial Star and provided sufficient evidence to overturn the charges against him. Warden Shen, mind your words.”

Shen Ying shrugged, unfazed. “Clearing a prisoner’s name is the court’s job, not mine.”

“The moment he was sent to the Sky Prison, his only identity was that of a prisoner.”

“Since you’re saying this, I assume you’re pleased with the Crown Prince’s exoneration. In that case, you shouldn’t be here reprimanding me.”

“Without this escape incident, the Crown Prince would never have regained his reputation. It’s a direct cause-and-effect relationship.”

Someone said grimly, “Which is why we aren’t pursuing the Crown Prince’s departure.”

“What we’re discussing now is your negligence, which allowed five other high-profile prisoners to escape.”

Shen Ying spread her hands. “What could I do? They were the Crown Prince’s escape partners.”

“Without their intel, bait, tools, smuggled weapons, and coordinated efforts, even if I’d turned a blind eye, the Crown Prince wouldn’t have gotten far.”

“You can’t expect me to recapture them after the Crown Prince left. Even if I wanted to, remember—he was the last one out. Their escape was made possible by him.”

Wasn’t this just saying the Crown Prince was incompetent, unable to escape alone, and even botched the betrayal afterward?

They wouldn’t dare report that.

The officials had no leverage over Shen Ying. Every argument circled back to the Crown Prince being the mastermind—complaining about the escapees meant complaining about his escape.

After hours of debate, nothing was resolved. To assign blame, they’d first have to confirm the Crown Prince’s role in the coordinated breakout.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t cooperate.

The Sky Prison’s unique nature meant that even if Shen Ying defected from the Empire, she could evade capture for a long time.

So the accusations against her reached a stalemate.

Shen Ying paid no mind. Once the main leads were gone, she turned her predatory—no, attentive—gaze to the other prisoners.

The prison had no shortage of handsome men, each with their own charm. Among the genetically modified inmates, she even found a rabbit hybrid—a master con artist.

Outwardly, he looked pitiful, with eyes perpetually red, as if on the verge of tears.

He seemed like easy prey in prison, but after Lu Yu left, he quickly rose to lead the modified inmates.

He fawned over Shen Ying, vying for the warden’s favor.

But in the surveillance footage, Shen Ying had seen his twisted, sadistic true nature. She had high hopes for this one.

Meanwhile, Shen Ying caught snippets of news—like the executions at the palace.

Among them was the royal physician who had insisted the Emperor was in perfect health.

In reality, His Majesty’s condition was dire.

Or the pacification of the garbage planet’s riots. The Crown Prince signed off on a trillion-credit relocation plan for its residents.

The planet’s mining rights would be nationalized, no longer outsourced.

On the surface, it seemed like a win-win. But Shen Ying knew it masked a brutal purge of factions and capital—just kept off the record.

The Crown Prince’s relocation fund was astronomical, but the assets seized from the families, factions, and interest groups he dismantled more than covered the cost.

Shen Ying skimmed the reports. With billions of lives secured, she moved on.

She logged back into the game, ready to queue up.

After playing for so long, she had a few regular teammates. But today, someone new barged in.

The moment he joined, he said, “Add me.”

Before Shen Ying could react, he added bluntly, “It’s Lien.”

Shen Ying: “…”

This guy really would try anything. A fugitive adding the prison warden as a friend?