The ivory-colored, teardrop-shaped airship settled onto the landing pad at TSC Tech. After scanning and verifying system deviations, the hatch slid open. Stretching his arms with a yawn, Li Pan stepped out, only to be immediately flanked by an eager sales representative.
"Manager Li, thank you for coming in person."
"Oh, oh—Miss Lin, right? Nice to meet you. Hm? Is that a synthetic body you're using? What model?"
These days, Li Pan couldn't help but ask about people's synthetic bodies on sight. This TSC representative was particularly rare—her skin shimmered like liquid mercury, reflecting a metallic sheen that screamed premium grade.
"Yes," she nodded politely. "This is our company's liquid-alloy exobody, the Mercury series. It uses nanobot swarms to generate a magnetic constraint field that controls liquid metal, with a custom HT-developed mid-tier communications module and exclusive satellite uplink channel.
Currently, this model is only manufactured on Earth-0 and Earth-1. If you're interested, we can custom-build one for you—priced at two hundred million, excluding import tax."
Holy shit… yeah, definitely can't afford that.
He followed Miss Lin inside the TSC tower. The interior was minimalist—spacious halls, scattered holograms of interstellar warships. After all, the TSC Group specialized in starships; this wasn't some open-market mall where anyone could wander in. Every display was tailored to the client.
Miss Lin led him into the exhibition chamber.
"Your company's headquarters has recently been in talks with us regarding the purchase of a communications satellite and the construction of a satellite defense system. I wonder if you've heard?"
Ah. So this was about Eighteen's upgrade.
Li Pan nodded. "Technical Department should be handling the talks. I haven't received the procurement draft yet."
Smiling, Miss Lin pressed on. "Yes, but since I had the chance to meet you directly, Manager, I thought I'd present some recommendations. Perhaps you might be interested."
Li Pan didn't mind. Even if procurement wasn't his decision, his signature was still required, which meant veto power. Listening wouldn't hurt.
Miss Lin projected a star map.
"From both cost and manufacturing standpoints, the current standard for satellites is to retrofit existing asteroids.
Given that most asteroids in the Belt have already been seized by Customs, the Fleet, or Takamagahara—and reselling or rebuilding there would be expensive—our suggestion is to select a methane-ice asteroid in the Kuiper Belt and remodel it into a satellite…"
While she lectured, Li Pan pulled up his own smart system to check references.
The Kuiper Belt stretched from Neptune's orbit (30 AU) out to roughly 50 AU. A vast ring of primordial rubble: ice rocks, metallic asteroids, frozen methane deposits.
Modern multiverse civilization might run on QVN quantum internets and wormhole gates, but conventional faster-than-light technologies were still pursued: warp drives, gravitational slingshots, solar sails, tachyon engines.
Plenty of companies had the key technologies. But wormhole "gate" networks dominated: cheaper, safer, scalable. Deep-space exploration beyond the solar system had become a niche, reserved for specialized starship firms like TSC.
In most timelines, the pattern was the same: Mars for the Fleet, the Belt for planetary defense, and everything beyond Jupiter leased to "Spacers"—private cosmic corporations—to build stations, ports, labs, and colonies. Earth belonged to humans; Jupiter to the spacers. Tradition, dating back to Earth-0.
Monster Corp's own vacuum base was on Callisto, Jupiter's moon. Its battleships floated in Callisto orbit; most of its battle-monsters were stored in Callisto's bunkers. So clearly, they wanted Eighteen's control satellite near there, within easy protection range.
The problem: Jupiter's orbits were already overcrowded—wormhole gates, OPA factories, PLANT colonies, shipyards, cargo docks, corporate research stations. Slapping another satellite there would mean approvals, orbital clearances, interference assessments. A bureaucratic nightmare.
Hence TSC's suggestion: skip the crowd, put the satellite in the Kuiper Belt, and spend the budget on upgraded comms and defenses instead of orbital rights.
Li Pan got the gist: upsell them into bigger defense orders. A Kuiper satellite meant defense networks, surveillance grids, extra fleets. A money printer for TSC.
And TSC's 0791 branch was desperate for contracts—nobody here bought shuttles anymore. No wonder they were pushing so hard.
Li Pan shrugged. Not his money. And if it beefed up local Monster Corp presence, why not? He agreed to pass along the proposal.
They talked for hours. By the time the pitch was done, it was nearly closing.
He still had Emilia, Masako Akiyama, and Keiko Saitō waiting for "follow-ups." Li Pan couldn't be bothered—those visits only ever meant money or yang essence. He'd already spent a million on "ammunition" today. Tomorrow, maybe.
Another long day wrapped. He headed back to his shabby suburban apartment.
Sure, he had three-point-four million in his personal account now—he could sleep at any luxury hotel he wanted. But everyone craved a private corner of the world to call their nest, no matter how messy. Home was home.
Orange wasn't around—she was busy guarding the factory renovations in the North District.
So Li Pan showered, collapsed on the sofa, closed his eyes—then opened them again.
Oh, great. Crossed over again.
For once, couldn't he just sleep like a normal person?
Yawning, he rubbed his face—then froze. The hands weren't his. They were dark clay.
The body wasn't Li Pan's. Not even Li Qingyun's. Just a humanoid shape of black clay, like some kid's crude mud figurine. Featureless, but hollow inside—with lungs, organs, meridians.
Definitely not technology-based. But a synthetic body nonetheless.
Instinctively, Li Pan activated Nine Yin Refining Form.
Shockingly, the clay chest rose and fell. Breath—true qi—was flowing. The current animated the clay shell: organs, vessels, skin, pores. Alive.
As he cycled the technique, the clay reshaped itself. Muscles and bones took form. Soon, the vague doll began resembling Li Pan himself. His perception expanded as if a lantern had been lit in his chest, burning away the veil of darkness around him.
He stood on a barren ring-shaped asteroid. No stars. Just endless void.
Experimentally, he moved. Each breath, each step refined the clay further, toughening it. Before long, the clay body was sturdier than his original Nine Yin Third Turn physique.
"Tch. Even a mud-man trains faster than me…"
Then—a streak of blue light. A meteor arced overhead, circled, then dove. From it fell a shining capsule, smashing nearby in a silent shockwave.
A supply drop?
He bounded across the wasteland. At the crater lay a silver alloy case, two arms long.
Touching it did nothing. Until he channeled his Nine Yin true qi into his palm—then the metal softened like putty, sucking his energy in, threatening to trap his hand.
He roared, forced more qi into his arm, and yanked. Out came a sword.
The silver case melted into fluid metal, sinking into his clay body. But Li Pan's eyes were fixed on the blade.
A black Han-style eight-edged war sword. At his touch, talismans flared across its spine like starlight, dazzling as an animated startup screen.
He gave it a test swing—silent arcs sliced the asteroid clean in two, as if cutting tofu.
Holy shit. Who sent him this divine weapon? The robed green man?
Two characters flared gold on the blade: "Ghost Slayer."
So. A sword to slay ghosts? Was it tied to the Nine Yin Manual? Who were these people? Gods from another world? Was he a chosen vessel, like the Cockroach Apostle?
The sword blazed with golden light, glyphs exploding like flashbangs.
"Fuck!"
Li Pan jolted awake, blinded, leaping off the sofa. His implants ran diagnostics: nothing had happened. He'd only been in deep sleep for an hour.
"Just a dream? …Ghost Slayer?"
No sword. But when he checked his pocket, he found a small black sphere, heavy like iron.
"Ghost Slayer?" he muttered. No response.
Channeling qi into it only made it greedily absorb half his reserves. No movement.
So it was a monster core? If so, a silver key might activate it.
He poked the orb with one.
It sprang to life, bouncing across the floor like a hungry rabbit.
"…That's it? Just jumping?"
Then his comm pinged.
"Oh, Kotarō? What's up?"
"Boss, I found her. Tokugawa Senhime departs tonight by shuttle for Kansai. I could infiltrate the crew and track her…"
The feed showed Tokugawa's Edo Castle estate, cloaked shuttles lifting off.
"Oi, oi, don't get yourself killed again. Leave it. I'll handle it."
"But Boss—why target Princess Senhime? I already retrieved Tokugawa's cursed blade for you."
Li Pan sneered.
"She killed so many girls, and just gets away with it? Marries into Hashiba and still calls herself a princess? What a joke. She owes me. If she doesn't pay a few hundred billion in hush money, I'll twist her head off myself—"
The orb suddenly flashed gold, burst through the window, and vanished.
"What the fuck—?!"
He turned just in time to see a golden comet streak back, shattering the window, circling the room, then dropping something onto his lap.
The orb bounced back into his pocket.
Between his knees rolled the severed head of Tokugawa Senhime.
.
.
.
⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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