Cole Port Prison was a medium-sized men's prison, converted from a kilometer-class comprehensive transport ship.
It boasted a permanent simulated gravity field, with hundreds of cells spread across six levels, equipped with facilities such as entertainment rooms, audio-visual rooms, rest areas, libraries, and gyms.
Because it was affiliated with the Interstellar Court, the prison occasionally accepted exiled political prisoners, who were given spacious single rooms on the top floor.
Local criminals from Cole Port were housed on the middle two levels, typically in double or triple cells, each with its own private bathroom.
The bottom three levels were crowded and chaotic, housing the most vicious criminals from across the stars, with the number of inmates severely exceeding capacity.
Occasionally, one could find notorious space pirates here, as well as serial killers shackled and confined to the lowest level, always in irons, and other non-human yet humanoid extraterrestrial lives. Those who were not humanoid, however, were not taken in.
For the guards of the lower three levels, working at Cole Port Prison was by no means an easy job.
And the problem they most feared, was like what was happening now:
Sudden bursts of noise erupted on the fifth floor, where energetic inmates, with no outlet for their energy, were shaking the bars of their cages maniacally, piercing the air with their whistles, and sticking fingers into their mouths that had just been god-knows-where.
Armed guards quickly assembled, running towards the direction the prisoners were facing.
The harsh alarm blared through every corner of the fifth floor.
Guards armed with stun batons came from all directions, yelling at the prisoners to be quiet, but even when they reached the scene, they couldn't remain calm.
Soon, the guards called for the Deputy Warden, the warden of the lower three levels, Gulipa.
Gulipa was an elderly gentleman in a tailcoat, holding a civilized cane, his hairline having retreated to the top of his head, his gray-white hair slightly disheveled. When he appeared, limping along, the inmates quickly quieted down, losing their earlier frenzy.
"The warden, it's this."
Gulipa adjusted his monocle, frowning toward the cell in front of him.
Behind thirty-two alloy metal bars, spaced twelve centimeters apart, lay six robust men.
They were arranged in an oval, all twelve arms dislocated, each mouth filled with the toes of another, connected head-to-tail, resembling a grotesque ouroboros.
"Don't move them," Gulipa instructed, frowning, "Go outside and call in a professional orthopedic doctor."
Several guards hurried off.
Gulipa turned to look at the quiet young man reading in the corner, his brows deeply furrowed.
This young man had the typical features of a Sherman person, a broad forehead, smooth cheekbones, a straight nose bridge, and slightly recessed eye sockets, all typical facial characteristics of the Sherman people.
"Did you do this?" Gulipa asked in a heavy voice.
Yang Ming put down the book in his hand, "They said they wanted to show me, the newcomer, a performance of a new-style wrestling, claiming it was a local custom here. And then this happened."
"Is that so?"
Gulipa glanced at the six strapping men lying on the ground, then turned to look at the guards who had brought Yang Ming in.
A guard stepped forward and whispered something into Gulipa's ear.
Gulipa's gaze became more amused, "How did you manage this, Imperial soldier?"
"I've undergone the strictest combat training."
Yang Ming believed that his actions had not revealed any strength beyond that of a normal man; the six men had been taken down through his skill.
The real trick lay in his reaction speed that made 'time seem to slow down.'
"I need to put you in solitary confinement for now," said Gulipa, "That's the rule here."
Yang Ming asked, "May I take these books with me?"
"Of course, our prison implements the most humane management," Gulipa smiled, "It's also a good skill if you manage to read books in that kind of solitary environment."
Yang Ming stood up, and a slew of guards raised their laser guns as he impassively walked to the corner to pick up the dusty books on local customs of Cole Port and laws of the International Court.
As he passed by the six strapping men, the completely immobilized men twitched all over, their eyes filled with terror, whimpering continuously.
Yang Ming displayed a gentle smile, handed the books to a guard, and willingly extended his hands. Under the watchful eyes of several laser gun barrels, he was handcuffed and shackled.
Suddenly, one of the guards made a move with a baton and struck fiercely at Yang Ming's neck.
Yang Ming frowned slightly, his body almost reflexively reacting. He ducked, tilted his head, shrugged his shoulders, and stepped back... The baton grazed his shoulder, and Yang Ming's hands were already pushed in front of the guard's neck.
Yang Ming did not actually hit the guard's neck; his fingers were two or three centimeters away, but the guard didn't dare move, even his breathing seemed strained.
Seconds later, the sound of laser guns being put on safety filled the air.
"Stop it! Are you not embarrassed enough?" Gulipa cursed, frowning, "You lot are a mess! I tell you to enhance your training, but all you do is just go through the motions!"
Before withdrawing his hand, Yang Ming patted the guard's throat and said with a smile, "I am an active-duty officer of the Sherman Empire, you can target me personally, but please do not provoke the dignity of the Empire."
"Alright, okay, sir," the guard answered quietly.