H1—Minor Education Chip.It granted only learning permissions—limited to mathematics, science, literature, history, and art. No entertainment access. No "adult content."
H2—National Chip.A far broader scope. It unlocked knowledge and information streams from all fields of human society—culinary arts, spacecraft engineering, gymnastics, galactic navigation.
H3—Citizen Chip.That one marked true citizenship under the Earth Alliance. It granted full civil rights, as well as authorization to handle and pilot weapons.
The first two levels were practically automatic—attained simply by age and education.
But the H3 chip… had three paths of acquisition.
The first: Recommendation.Students with excellent academic records and clean conduct could be recommended by their institutions directly into military academies, receiving the H3 chip and the rank of reserve officer under the Earth Alliance.
The second: Enlistment.Within ten years of receiving an H2 chip, any individual with a clean record and adequate physical metrics could apply for Alliance service. After approval, they would enlist as ordinary soldiers and receive the H3 chip upon entry.
The third: Wealth.For those without criminal records who contributed—or "donated"—over one million credits in taxes or currency, citizenship could be purchased directly through state approval, followed by the legal purchase of an H3 chip.
The first path was for the gifted.The second, for the masses.The last… was for the rich and powerful.
Tianxiao had graduated less than two months ago. He was twenty-four, and his entire net worth barely exceeded a thousand credits. No wealth. No power. Mediocre grades.
He could technically apply for enlistment to earn his H3 chip, but… once in the military, he'd be a faceless cog in the machine—promotion near impossible, movement restricted.
In contrast, working as a miner during the age of rapid colonial expansion seemed far more promising.
"Zoom in—here."Tianxiao pointed at a dark spot on the map.
Qinglong immediately obeyed.
The satellite image expanded: a massive pit roughly fifteen hundred meters in diameter. Its depths were immeasurable, a gaping black abyss that seemed to stare back, cold and lifeless.
There were tens of thousands of such craters on this planet.
Only mineral-rich regions bore such violent scars—evidence of rapid, aggressive extraction. Though the surface pit was wide, the underground cavity stretched far deeper, like a hollowed-out world beneath the crust.
And around this particular pit, over a dozen H3-class mining drones were hovering in steady flight—moving in and out of the area.
Large-scale excavation machines no longer operated here; the mine was officially classified as exhausted. But abandoned veins still yielded enough ore to keep small-scale miners profitable.
That was why thousands of them remained stationed here, working in distributed cells—small costs, minimal energy, maximum efficiency.
In his memories, however, this very crater would collapse one month from now.
During a thunderstorm, the unstable substructure would give way, widening the pit from fifteen hundred meters to over twenty kilometers in diameter. The collapse would kill more than a dozen miners still working inside.
They'd gone down that day chasing a rumor—an accidental discovery of a fractured vein at the pit's bottom.
A few men struck it rich overnight.
The vein was said to be worth over thirty million credits. Even after the company's seventy–thirty split, each miner had pocketed nearly ten million.
"This is it," Tianxiao murmured.
He was going to intercept fate itself.
Back then, the company had sealed off all news of the discovery. By the time word leaked, the vein was nearly depleted—and the miners who rushed in afterward were buried alive.
Three years later, not even their flightcraft debris had been recovered.
"Qinglong," he ordered."Prepare three nutrient packs. We're working overtime tonight."
A soft chime."Master, you seem to have forgotten," Qinglong reminded him."Today's schedule is marked for personal leave—to stay in the base and prepare a birthday gift for Miss Wang Jingyi."
Wang Jingyi.
The name alone disturbed his calm.
Birthday.
Yes, he remembered now.
She had been his classmate—pretty, popular. When they both joined Yunzhong Group as rookie miners, she had struggled to meet her daily mining quotas.
Out of sympathy, Tianxiao had helped her—analyzing geological data, locating rich ore deposits, helping her complete assignments. Soon rumors spread through the base: they were "a couple."
But that illusion shattered on her birthday.
Too poor to afford a gift, Tianxiao had baked a small cake himself. When he brought it over, he overheard her talking to a friend.
He no longer remembered the exact words—but two phrases still burned in his memory:
"A toad dreaming of swan meat.""A broke miner who can't even buy a gift—what future could he possibly have?"
The toad turned away.
The cake meant for the swan went into the trash.
After that, he never sought her again.He drowned himself in work instead—his last scrap of pride as a poor man.
Later, he'd heard that Wang Jingyi had become involved with a small-time manager at Yunzhong Group. Her life, by all accounts, had improved.
If not for Qinglong's reminder, he might have forgotten that faint, pathetic chapter entirely.
"Cancel the leave," Tianxiao said calmly."Clear today's schedule."
"Understood," Qinglong replied.Then, with almost human curiosity:"What about the cake in the refrigerator, Master? Should I deliver it as planned?"
"No."
Tianxiao turned and opened the fridge.
Inside sat a freshly made cake—simple but carefully crafted.
He took out a handful of candles and began placing them one by one.
"Shall I call Miss Wang Jingyi to come over and blow out the candles?" Qinglong offered. "I can decorate the room—make it more romantic."
"No."
Tianxiao inserted the final candle and said quietly,"This cake is for me."
"But today isn't your birthday, Master."
Tianxiao smiled faintly.
No—it wasn't his birthday.
But it was the day he was reborn.