Super Soldier

Chapter 3: The Carl Prison

After a harrowing week aboard the transport ship—his body relentlessly tormented and honed by the War God System implanted in his mind—Lin Fei finally arrived at the Innocence Star under the cover of night. The ship descended quietly onto the designated docking platform outside Carl Prison.

Through days of unceasing training, Lin Fei could feel a profound transformation in his physique, likely due to the system’s constant recalibration of his body. At the very least, the fifty-pound iron ball chained to his right ankle no longer felt as unbearably heavy as it once did. Surrounded by a dozen heavily armed soldiers, he was solemnly handed over to the prison’s security force.

The Innocence Star—its name a cruel irony—was ninety percent desert. Carl Prison stood as a grim fortress, erected upon the rare oasis that broke the sand’s endless monotony. The moment Lin Fei stepped off the ship, the sting of wind-driven sand lashed his skin, and the night’s desert chill pierced through his thin prison garb, forcing him to quicken his pace toward the grotesque, castle-like structure looming ahead—Carl Prison, one of the Empire’s four infamous institutions, reserved solely for death row inmates and lifers.

Once you enter Carl Prison, you never walk out alive. Just days ago, he had been an ordinary student at the Federation’s military academy. Now, he was condemned to spend the rest of his life behind these walls. Lin Fei could only hope it was some cruel trick of fate, but every cold, tangible detail before him declared the grim truth.

The prison’s towering metal gate, over ten meters high and shaped like an ugly bastion, creaked open with a slow and dreadful groan. Expressionless, Lin Fei clutched the heavy ball chained to his leg and stepped into the metallic corridor of Carl Prison. Black and white. Cold steel walls and floors lit by sterile white lights formed a passageway that felt like the gullet of a monstrous beast—and he was now walking straight into its belly.

Escorted by more than a dozen guards wielding pulse rifles, Lin Fei was taken to a decontamination tunnel. Ordered to strip, he stepped into the long, silver corridor composed entirely of gleaming metal.

Jets of unidentified liquid sprayed him from all sides, washing over his limbs with an acrid scent—like formaldehyde—that felt like a prelude to death. Lin Fei trudged forward, the liquid scouring away layers of sweat and dirt accumulated from his week of relentless training. It was the cleanest he had ever been since birth—though not in a luxurious bathhouse attended by beautiful women, but in a prison dominated by male guards.

After the wash, he entered a warm-drying chamber where automated vents blew hot air over his naked body like he were a mere garment on a spin cycle.

On a chair within the drying room lay a black-and-white prison uniform, emblazoned with bold letters: EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. Lin Fei changed quickly into the coarse, sackcloth-like clothing, finding the lettering offensively ugly—completely devoid of aesthetic sense, as though it defiled the otherwise seductive stripes.

Soon after, he was led to his cell—a dim, eighty-square-meter space with four iron-frame beds and a tiny bathroom. The cell door was made of laser beams.

Under the watchful eyes of the guards, Lin Fei entered the four-man cell. The guards cast a meaningful glance at the “EXTREMELY DANGEROUS” label on his back before quickly departing—likely eager to catch some sleep.

Four beds stood in each corner of the room. Three were already occupied: a brutish-looking fat man, a cold, sinister middle-aged man, and an elderly man approaching his fifties. The cold-faced man stood at the front—clearly the alpha of the group.

“Kid, what did you do to land yourself in here?” the fat man asked, eyeing him with curiosity.

Lin Fei glanced at him but remained silent, uncertain of how—or whether—to answer.

Perhaps sensing his hesitation, the fat man continued, “I was once a top enforcer for the mob. Got caught in a gang war. Killed a few too many, ran too slow. Don’t let the fat fool you—dozens are maimed by me, and five poor souls didn’t make it.

“That old man there? Corporate spy. Swindled too much cash, ended up here. And the guy up front—we call him Ice Bro. He’s a professional killer.

“Now you—what’s your deal? How many did you hurt? How much did you steal?”

“I never stole anything, nor harmed anyone,” Lin Fei replied calmly. “A week ago, the largest creature I’d ever killed was a wild pheasant. Believe it or not.”

Judging by the looks on their faces, none of them did.

In a prison filled with murderers and con artists, someone claiming innocence was the true anomaly. Like a sane man locked away in a madhouse, he would be deemed the crazy one.

Lin Fei sighed and added, “But last week, somehow, I... I killed my combat instructor and the entire class during training. I didn’t mean to. It felt like I was asleep—like I wasn’t in control.

“To put it simply... I slaughtered my instructor and classmates while in a trance. I didn’t want to. I just... wasn’t myself. Do you believe me?”

His words hung heavy in the air. The other three stared at him in stunned silence.

Even Lin Fei himself hadn’t fully accepted the truth of what happened. That his cellmates were shocked made perfect sense—they needed time.

Without another word, Lin Fei chose an empty bed, collapsed onto it, and closed his eyes. The long journey, the bath, the interrogation—he was utterly drained.

But the War God System in his mind had no intention of letting him rest.