Chapter 1 — ILK Chapter 1

The Death Row Prisoner

"—The jury is unanimous. Approved by the Chief Justice, the defendant, B-rank Guide Sang Ye, is hereby sentenced to—death!"

In the video, the impartial judge slammed his gavel down heavily. It exploded like a clap of thunder in the small, solitary cell, echoing for a long time.

Tomorrow would be the execution day for this "notorious" Guide. Today, an officer representing the justice of Imperial law had finished the final walkthrough of the process. He arrived at the cell to show Sang Ye her confession and the court’s judgment video to ensure there were no errors.

The recording froze on the image of Sang Ye’s face, which wore a slight, disdainful sneer. The face that had once stunned the Empire’s First Military District was still breathtakingly beautiful.

It stood in stark contrast to the Sang Ye sitting on the single bed right now—her face stiff and ashen, showing none of the arrogant defiance seen in the video.

Sang Ye had transmigrated. She felt as though she had stumbled into a surreal nightmare.

Before transmigrating, she was a female cultivator in the world of cultivation. Picked up from the streets as a child by her Master, she became a member of Shifang Grotto. Shifang Grotto was a rare, secularized sect in the cultivation world; its disciples mostly possessed Earth or Wood spiritual roots and stayed close to nature. The fruits, vegetables, and spiritual beasts they raised were comparable to spirit stones and elixirs, offering immense benefits to cultivators. Everyone there possessed god-tier culinary skills. While other sects competed in martial arts, they competed in cooking. Their restaurants were spread across the entire cultivation world, making them fabulously wealthy.

After transmigrating, she became a B-rank Guide of the Gamma Empire in the Interstellar Era, sentenced to death. Because she had intentionally maltreated Sentinels during mental channeling sessions, dozens had fallen into mental riots and become vegetative, while several others had died on the spot. Most of them were children of the Imperial nobility.

Before her, the Empire had never sentenced a Guide to death. Guides were too precious. They held special status and treatment within the Empire, and even their promotion system was unique. One Guide might not even appear among 100,000 Sentinels—especially a "Growth-type Guide" like her.

99% of Guides have fixed mental power from birth; their rank is determined by a range and never changes.

"Sang Ye" was part of the remaining 1%. Her mental power existed in a fluctuating range, which meant she could continuously grow and level up through training. In the future, it was possible for her to reach SS-rank—the highest level currently known to mankind.

In the few days since she transmigrated, she had used the terminal on her wrist to cram knowledge and learn how to operate the device. Currently, the terminal's functions were restricted; she could only browse and search, but could not send messages or contact anyone.

"Sang Ye's" terminal only had two contacts: one was her direct superior, and the other was her landlord. She had no other family or friends to contact.

And that direct superior, Su Mo, was standing right in front of her, handing her the execution documents for her signature of confirmation.

Sang Ye didn't take them. She looked Su Mo straight in the eye. "You know why I did it."

Su Mo frowned and avoided her gaze. "You didn't even mount a defense in court. What’s the use of saying this now?"

In the memories Sang Ye had received from the original host, "she" was an orphan with no parents, raised in an orphanage. After being detected as a growth-type Guide, she was quickly taken to the First Military District for training and cultivation.

It was obvious what an orphan with no background would encounter in the military district, especially as she grew more and more beautiful while appearing cold and world-weary. Furthermore, there was a natural power imbalance between Sentinels and Guides.

Before things reached the point of no return, the original "Sang Ye" chose mutual destruction. The moment a Sentinel is most vulnerable is when they completely expose their mental landscape to a Guide for channeling. She had conducted multiple "experiments" to ensure a lethal strike, behaving like a cold-blooded executioner.

The original "Sang Ye" knew her voice carried no weight, and the "victims" were all noble children. Facing the attacks of the lawyers hired by the aristocrats, she had remained silent in court, wearing only a satisfied, cold smile.

Back in the present, the Sang Ye who had transmigrated and occupied the body turned the storage ring on her finger. She pushed away the execution confirmation letter, refusing to sign.

Su Mo fell silent for a moment. "You know that whether you sign or not, it won't change the final outcome."

Sang Ye disliked this weak man, but she chose not to provoke him at this moment. After all, he was the only living person she had seen in days. Before he arrived, Sang Ye had already used the terminal to integrate information and known resources. She decided to make one last gamble; she couldn't have transmigrated just to die all over again.

"I will sign," she answered. "But before I die, I have one wish."

"Tell me. If it's within our power, we will satisfy it."

"I want to prepare a dinner for His Majesty the Emperor."

"?" A look of both shock and confusion appeared on Su Mo’s usually calm face.

As Su Mo stood outside the cell contacting his superiors through the chain of command, Sang Ye closed her eyes and let her consciousness sink into her pocket dimension.

If she wasn't mistaken, what this Interstellar world called a "mental landscape" was the same thing as her pocket dimension—both were products constructed by mental power.

Sang Ye didn't know what the original host’s mental landscape looked like, but clearly, her pocket dimension had replaced it.

Inside her pocket dimension, everything was lush, green, and flourishing.

Her spiritual essence—a massive Parasol Tree—swayed without wind, welcoming her arrival.

Beneath the tree, the fruits and vegetables she had planted days ago had matured under the nourishment of Sang Ye’s mental power. Small spiritual pigs lay in the fields; they weren't fully grown yet, but pork at this age was at its most tender. While their spiritual energy wasn't as high as the mature stage, it was at its purest.

This was the largest pocket dimension Sang Ye’s current mental power could maintain—not even one-ten-thousandth the size of her Master’s.

What people in Shifang Grotto were most famous for was their unique pocket dimensions that relied on spiritual veins for cultivation. The dimensions cultivated by other sects were merely habitats for their spiritual forms, but Shifang Grotto’s dimensions could ignore the seasons to grow produce and livestock, which could then be brought out through storage rings or other mediums.

The reason the food from Shifang Grotto’s restaurants possessed effects comparable to spirit stones was because of the ingredients from these peculiar pocket dimensions.

The storage ring Sang Ye had been turning was a family heirloom given by her Master. It was packed with all kinds of raw food ingredients—vast and all-encompassing. From common items like rice and flour to rare and precious ones like dragon livers and phoenix marrow, it had everything.

Disciples of Shifang Grotto loved to travel far and wide. To ensure they didn't neglect their cultivation, their Masters would often pack them with various seeds and jade slips containing livestock embryos to be raised in their pocket dimensions.

Sang Ye naturally had these in her storage ring, but her cultivation wasn't yet up to par. With her current mental power, she couldn't construct a pocket dimension capable of holding everything.

When Sang Ye opened her eyes, she couldn't help but complain in her heart: Master was great at everything, except she never hoarded life-saving treasures. If I had a magical tool that could travel through space, I would have fled long ago instead of being trapped in this cell.

Her only chance now depended on whether Su Mo could be useful.

The Emperor’s son, the former Marshal of the Empire, Lin Changli, had fallen into a mental riot years ago. All Guides had been powerless to help, including the Emperor herself.

Under the combined suppression of the Imperial family and the military, he had been exiled to the Black Tower Planet—the final destination for Sentinels whose mental riots were incurable. They would fight violently there until they died. It was a planet that even interstellar bandits dared not approach.

This was no secret within the Empire.

But the Emperor had not given up on him. She had been sending Guides to the Black Tower Planet in an attempt to save him, but all had ended in failure.

The returning Guides remained tight-lipped, and there was no information about the Black Tower Planet on the Star-Net.

Right now, only the Emperor could overrule the Supreme Court's judgment and save her life.

In truth, Su Mo couldn't be blamed for such a shocked expression.

Due to soil pollution and other environmental reasons, this Interstellar world had long since become unsuitable for the survival of most plants and animals. Although scientists had tried to remediate it for centuries, they had seen little success.

Long ago, the populace had begun relying on nutrient solutions for energy, and people had grown accustomed to this efficient lifestyle. Consequently, ancient recipes had been shelved and forgotten, and no one learned how to cook anymore.

As for dining, only the military districts were equipped with nutritionists and chefs, but most were titular positions. One could tell the mediocre level of chefs from the "Dark Cuisine" photos circulating on the Star-Net—like steamed pumpkin with cantaloupe or stewed crucian carp with potatoes. Even the military preferred to consume nutrient solutions.

Sang Ye’s request was as nonsensical as wanting to perform a dance for a neighbor before going to work—the meaning was unclear.

Perhaps Sang Ye was simply not destined to die yet, or perhaps it was because of her special status as a growth-type Guide, but when Su Mo returned, he wore an indescribable expression.

"Her Majesty has agreed."

When she was escorted out of prison, Sang Ye wore only a single red-flickering shackle on her left ankle. If she made any abnormal movements, it would immediately release an electric current to paralyze her heart.

Her escort consisted only of Su Mo and another guard. Given the absolute power gap between a Guide and a Sentinel, this was considered sufficient.

Sang Ye didn't bother trying to escape; with her current strength, it was impossible.

The skill points of Shifang Grotto disciples were all invested in cooking, planting, and animal husbandry. As for spiritual cultivation, they were the "lowlands" of the cultivation world. Her physical fitness was only slightly better than a mortal's—at most, she could hold her own in an arm-wrestling match with a martial arts master.

The aircraft Sang Ye took was fast, escorting her to the Imperial Palace within half an hour.

A sharp luster floated over the silver-gray buildings, like a giant beast crouching in the dark night, silently staring at visitors and exerting a massive, groundless sense of pressure.

The palace interior was solemn and awe-inspiring. The guards were grim-faced, not sparing a single glance for the three intruders.

The Imperial Head of Servants personally escorted Sang Ye to the back kitchen; she was also quite curious about what Sang Ye planned to do.

To the palace, the back kitchen was a mere ornament. It was only used during banquets to provide a pile of overly sweet, fragile desserts to accompany wine. Usually, it served more as a warehouse. The title of "Head Chef" was more like a warehouse manager.

The kitchen was extremely simple: two stoves, two woks, one steamer, and about a dozen ovens—since they only made sweets, ovens were naturally the most numerous. Standing against the wall was a giant refrigerator storing ice, various flavors of nutrient solutions, and energy bars.

The "Head Chef" would put these three items into ice buckets every day. If a member of the Imperial family was feeling whimsical, he would add a bottle of wine, and the attendants would deliver it.

There weren't even three meals a day; one meal was enough. This was his simple job, his simple day.

On the counter sat a "special drink" the Head Chef had made for himself: wine mixed with several bottles of nutrient solution, emitting a pungent odor.

While in prison, Sang Ye had familiarized herself with the kitchenware of this era and had even run tests through terminal projection simulations. It was much more convenient than the cultivation era. Back then, they had kept many outer disciples with Fire spiritual roots in the sect specifically to control the fires in the restaurants; now, she just had to adjust a switch.

The Head Chef casually opened a door. "In here are some meats and some unknown powders handed down from a long time ago. You ask how long? Anyway, they're older than me, and probably older than Her Majesty’s ancestors."

His expression was contemptuous as he looked at this notorious Guide with some disgust.

Guides were precious, but Sentinels were the heroes of the Empire. It was the Sentinels who expanded territories and defended the country, and it was the Sentinels who bore the consequences of mental collapse. A Guide who committed such atrocities was naturally loathed by the common people.

Such ingredients were obviously unusable, but Sang Ye walked in anyway, pretending to rummage through that pile of "heirloom" ingredients.

The Head Chef shrugged, nonchalantly leaving Sang Ye alone in the storage room.

She didn't expect to find usable ingredients in there; even with the best preservation technology, things would only be "edible" and would have long ago lost their original flavor. She was just checking what was inside so she could swap them out with items from her pocket dimension.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sang Ye saw that Su Mo, the guard, the supervisor, and the Head Chef had walked out of the kitchen and were leaning against the outdoor bar, drinking wine. They didn't care about her actions inside the storage room.

Allowing her this chance was only out of respect for her special status as a Guide—after all, she was once a growth-type Guide the Empire had high hopes for. Furthermore, with the ankle shackle, she had nowhere to run.

Their lack of interest in the kitchen saved Sang Ye from a lot of unnecessary concealment.

She casually tossed a few pieces of "ancestor meat" and various side dishes into her storage ring, making it look like she had used up the ingredients.