Scott Harris leaned in a little closer, covering his nose, his pale eyes staring down at Golden Raven with an excessive calmness: "I'm sorry, my father has already passed away. I'm not sure if you can carry out your earlier idea, but I don't mind sending you to meet him."

　　Golden Raven: "......"

　　Once you've tasted freedom, being restricted again becomes unbearably hard, like an itch you can't scratch.

　　Golden Raven silently cursed Scott Harris's ancestors for eight generations, finally gave in, rolled his eyes, and banged on the cage at Scott Harris: I was wrong.

　　Scott Harris smiled and unlocked his sound-absorbing ring again.

　　Golden Raven wanted to spit blood in his face, but thinking about being muted again, he could only pinch his nose and hold back, saying, "That... the second day after Lily Young left the prison, chaos broke out here. The deputy chief and the guards on duty were ambushed and all locked up in the first ward, while the rest of us were forcibly put into physiological shock by those bastards. When we woke up, we were already in the cages."

　　Scott Harris frowned: "The first ward was already full, could it fit more?"

　　"It could, because the people originally locked inside were released—Grey Wolf Seth and his grandsons." Golden Raven sneered, "Both the ambush on the guards and the opening of the first ward were ordered by the same person..."

　　"Who?" Scott Harris asked.

　　Golden Raven: "You."

　　Scott Harris touched his earlobe, then squinted and said, "I must have misheard you. Who did you say?"

Chapter 11: The Stuttering System

　　"You heard right, it was you. At the time, I hadn't been locked in this damned thing yet, I was out and about... politely probing for signals, and happened to catch the order they received. The signal source was you, absolutely no mistake, unless I was blind."

　　Golden Raven curled his lips, stared at Scott Harris's expression for a moment, and said, "But looking at your face, I'm starting to wonder if I really was blind back then."

　　Scott Harris was still mulling over this strange matter in his mind, but casually replied, "Apparently so."

　　Golden Raven: "...Damn it, I was just being polite!"

　　Scott Harris: "No need."

　　Golden Raven: "......"

　　He turned away and flopped down at the bottom of the cage like a dead dog, looking like he never wanted to speak to Scott Harris again.

　　Eric Bennett was often blocked by Scott Harris himself, so he enjoyed watching others get blocked by Scott Harris too. He chuckled and reminded, "Darling, I have a suggestion."

　　"What suggestion?" Scott Harris turned to ask.

　　Eric Bennett pointed upward.

　　The dining table he was leaning against was near the corner, and right above his head, in the corner where the walls met, a tiny red light the size of a grain of rice was blinking every few seconds. In this entire space prison, similar red lights were almost everywhere—these were the prison's intelligent system recording devices, somewhat like ordinary surveillance, but far more comprehensive.

　　Besides visuals, they could also record things like temperature, humidity, and everything else a camera couldn't capture, including communication signals, and could even do basic analysis and processing.

　　It's just that the precision and detail of the analysis varied depending on the intelligence level of the system.

　　With today's technology, if these devices wanted to be hidden, they could be made to blend in perfectly with anything, completely undetectable. But the 138 devices in the space prison were deliberately made so obvious.

　　Mainly because the prisoners here had issues from their brains down to their bones.

　　When the space prison was first built, the designers hadn't figured out the prisoners' temperaments yet, so the recorders were made as hidden as possible. As a result, these lunatics did nothing all day but dig around everywhere, fully embracing the spirit of minesweepers, carpet-searching to find every surveillance device, determined to leave none behind.

　　As soon as one batch was destroyed, another was installed. As soon as another batch was installed, another was destroyed.

　　They summarized strategy after strategy, almost forming a mature business chain.

　　After fifty years of this back-and-forth, the design team finally gave in, cursing, and switched to another strategy—

　　They made every recorder as obvious as a searchlight, installing them brightly in every corner, the red lights flashing 24/7, never stopping, announcing to the world in a blinding way: Come on, blow me up if you dare!

　　This shameless approach somehow suited the prisoners' tastes.

　　Maybe because the challenge was too low, the prisoners suddenly lost interest in destroying the recorders. Except for occasionally flipping them off, they basically treated the 138 devices like they were nothing, and went off to study other things.

　　That's how these recorders managed to live long, turtle-like lives.

　　With Eric Bennett's reminder, Scott Harris finally remembered these ever-present little turtles.

　　He immediately left the corpse-like Golden Raven in the cage and strode toward the partition door on the other side of the dining hall. Beyond that door was Monitoring Center No. 2.

　　The connection between this disc and the rest of the space prison was on the north side, much of it overlapping with the outer shell of Monitoring Center No. 2. When the connection was severed earlier, it had been bombarded quite a bit, so now the monitoring center looked like it had been hit by a typhoon, with an entire curved wall blown apart.