A bone-chilling wind filled the basement. It came from nowhere, sweeping through the entire space in an instant.
Xia Ye raised his head and met the gaze of the ‘people inside the experimental pods.
They had no pupils. Their hollow eye sockets held pure white eyeballs that stared into the void.
The moment they sensed Xia Ye looking at them, every test subject turned its head in unison, their lifeless gazes converging on him from all directions.
Something was wrong.
Xia Ye stepped back half a step and tightened his grip on the dagger.
The snow leopard had retreated behind him, its back rigid and arched into a taut curve.
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
Without drawing attention to the movement, Xia Ye adjusted his stance, bringing his entire back within the snow leopard’s protective reach as he spoke to it in a low voice.
The snow leopard let out a soft chirp, its eyes gleaming with alertness.
“What’s going on?”
Chi Zhou’s voice came from behind them, his footsteps drawing closer. “Your mental domain is fluctuating violently.”
As the strongest Sentinel, Chi Zhou could sense fluctuations in other people’s mental domains, but that ability didn’t work on Xia Ye. As an SSS-rank Dark Guide, Xia Ye was unrivalled in the realm of mental power, and even Chi Zhou was no exception.
They hadn’t undergone a bond, nor had they even established a temporary mark. Under normal circumstances, Chi Zhou shouldn’t have been able to probe Xia Ye’s mental domain, much less detect its fluctuations.
Only one explanation remained for how he could have noticed.
Xia Ye’s composure had been shaken too badly.
Pressing his lips together, Xia Ye snapped, “Don’t come any closer!”
He closed his eyes and forced himself to forget those pure white eyeballs.
When he opened them again, Chi Zhou was already standing in front of him, studying the experimental pods.
The scene was familiar. Chi Zhou understood what these things represented far better than Xia Ye did.
Without the slightest hesitation, he issued an order. “Fang Shike, Yu Yuxu, hold the rear. Neither of you is to enter without my permission.”
Fang Shike’s voice came from behind the storage racks. “Captain, what’s happening?”
“The situation has become complicated.”
Chi Zhou kept his answer brief. “Notify Jian Feiyang. Upgrade [Code XII] to an S-rank mission and report it to the Alliance immediately. Seal off Longgu Town completely. No one is to enter.”
Fang Shike’s breathing hitched.
As the commander of the Special Operations Department, Chi Zhou had the authority to temporarily change a mission’s classification. An S-rank mission meant that a high-level or higher extraterrestrial organism had appeared. This was beyond what the rest of them could handle, and Chi Zhou wasn’t about to let them risk their lives for nothing.
In his thirteen years with the Special Operations Department, Fang Shike had never encountered a situation like this.
He answered with difficulty, “Understood.”
—
Standing among the rows of experimental pods that filled the basement, Xia Ye and Chi Zhou studied their contents.
Xia Ye didn’t know how to describe the ‘people’ inside. They had faces identical to his own and floated naked in pale liquid, like infants suspended in their mothers’ wombs.
Finding so many ‘people’ who looked exactly like him inside an extraterrestrial’s territory was disturbing enough. It also raised questions he didn’t want to confront.
After watching the recording of the guide who had undergone a berserk transformation, Xia Ye had already realised that the boundary between extraterrestrial organisms and humans wasn’t as clear-cut as he had once believed. At the very least, there was no absolute barrier separating the two species.
If a man-faced tree could parasitise the dean, then what exactly were these ‘people’ in the experimental pods?
And what did that make him?
Xia Ye was certain that he was human. His memories were clear and unbroken, and apart from briefly losing consciousness during the extraterrestrial contamination incident in District Twelve, he had remained conscious almost every moment of his life.
What he couldn’t be certain of was what Chi Zhou would think.
After a long silence, Xia Ye finally spoke in a low voice. “Their mental attacks are extremely strong.”
Chi Zhou turned his gaze away from the experimental pods. “Are they identical to you?”
Xia Ye nodded, feeling deeply uncomfortable.
“Even the details?”
Chi Zhou met his eyes openly, without the slightest trace of embarrassment.
It wasn’t that Xia Ye doubted his integrity. It was just that, in the face of such unwavering honesty, even his own discomfort felt like a kind of desecration.
He looked away. “More or less.”
“Are they identical in every respect?” Chi Zhou’s voice grew more serious. “That can’t be right. You don’t look like—”
He abruptly cut himself off, and Xia Ye was certain he had realised something.
Xia Ye stepped closer until they were standing almost nose to nose. He could hear his own breathing, faster than usual, but he had no attention to spare for such details. He fixed his gaze on Chi Zhou.
“You don’t look like a ‘vessel’.”
This time, Chi Zhou was the one who looked away.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not doubting you.”
“Then why won’t you look me in the eye?” Xia Ye’s voice was hoarse, with a hint of anger beneath it.
Those pure white eyeballs resurfaced in his mind.
Did Chi Zhou think he was like those things?
Only then did Xia Ye remember the questions Chi Zhou had asked him.
The details. Every part. Identical.
Those ambiguous questions hid a deeper meaning, one that could only be answered through the nuances of human language.
Even the highest-ranking extraterrestrial organisms couldn’t understand such subtle distinctions.
It had been a test.
—
“Chi Zhou, I’m not like them.”
Xia Ye spoke each word deliberately.
“I’ve been injured.”
The stagnant air seemed to hold both the biting chill of the wind and the oppressive heat of midsummer, their opposing forces churning into a turbulent undercurrent.
Chi Zhou looked up just as Xia Ye raised his hands and began undoing his shirt buttons with slender fingers.
The Special Operations Department’s uniform was stiff and immaculate, its cut formal and severe.
“I’ve been injured, and they haven’t,” Xia Ye said calmly. “The details of our skin are different.”
One button after another came undone. His loose shirt hung from his arms, making his already slender frame look even thinner and more fragile.
A grotesque scar ran from his shoulder down across his entire upper body, extending all the way to his narrow waist against his pale skin.
“During the District Twelve contamination incident, Xia Zhi and I were attacked by an extraterrestrial organism. I tried to protect my younger sister, but I failed. This scar is what I was left with.”
Xia Ye spoke about the past with detached indifference, without a trace of emotion.
Over the long years, he had learned to distance himself from those memories. Looking back on them now no longer brought him pain.
“Chi Zhou, I’m not like them.”
He repeated himself, his voice low and firm. “You have to believe me.”
“I believe you.” Chi Zhou’s voice softened. “Xia Ye, you don’t have to prove yourself like this.”
He reached out and carefully fastened Xia Ye’s shirt buttons one by one.
The warmth of his fingers against Xia Ye’s skin brought an unfamiliar ticklish sensation, making Xia Ye tremble slightly.
“Xia Ye, remember this.”
Chi Zhou spoke calmly. “Don’t doubt yourself, and don’t doubt me.”
“I know what you’ve been through. I know what you’re thinking.” He gestured toward the eerie experimental pods. “I’ve seen things like these a long time ago.”
His tone was unwavering, as though he were simply stating a fact.
“Anyone in the Alliance might betray you, but I never will.”
—
Xia Ye had no time to ask what he meant before the [Door] opened.
The damp, gloomy underground dissection room vanished before their eyes, replaced by a vast, open expanse of land.
Two suns hung in the pitch-black sky. Their light was so fierce that it was almost impossible to keep one’s eyes open, yet it carried not the slightest warmth.
Howling winds swept in from every direction, bringing a bone-deep chill that seemed to come straight from the Arctic.
“The air is dry, and it’s minus forty degrees,” Chi Zhou remarked, surveying their surroundings. “What a godforsaken place.”
Xia Ye crouched and brushed his fingertips across the ground. “Red soil with extremely high acidity. In theory, nothing should be able to grow in land like this.”
“Though theory doesn’t seem particularly useful here.” Xia Ye pointed toward the redwood forest in the distance. “There are trees over there.”
He had grown accustomed to things that completely defied common sense.
Longgu Town was full of them: trees towering over a dozen meters high, humans who could keep moving even after their heads were severed, and experimental pods in the underground dissection room.
Everything he had learned from books seemed to stop applying here.
It was as though something had descended over Longgu Town, transforming it into an entirely different world.
“That’s to be expected,” Chi Zhou said, setting off toward the redwood forest. “Their world isn’t like ours. Everything there is constructed through mental power.”
Xia Ye followed him. “So there’s no physical matter?”
“No. They don’t need it,” Chi Zhou explained. “They abandoned physical forms, which is why they have to rely on parasitism to accomplish their goals.”
Xia Ye understood.
The extraterrestrial organisms that had given the Alliance so much trouble were, in essence, beings without physical bodies. By continually parasitising animals and plants, they altered their structures, transforming them into mutated creatures that served as weapons.
It was precisely because the resulting creatures differed every time they appeared that they were exceptionally difficult to deal with.
—
Though the redwood forest looked far away, it was actually quite close. In less than ten minutes, they had reached its edge.
Much like the mutations in Longgu Town, the trees here were extraordinarily tall. The redwoods stretched toward the sky, their heights almost impossible to gauge.
Whenever anything approached, the entire forest stirred despite the absence of wind, its leaves rustling as though issuing a warning.
Chi Zhou took out a portable camera and pressed the shutter a few times.
“Just as I expected. It doesn’t work.” He smiled indifferently. “Going through all this trouble every single time—what a waste of effort.”
With only a dozen or so meters remaining between them and the forest, Chi Zhou stopped and showed Xia Ye the photographs he had taken.
The portable camera’s screen was almost entirely black, with only a few scattered points of light indicating that it had captured an image at all.
“Magnetic interference?” Xia Ye asked.
“Exactly. Extraterrestrial territories interfere with all magnetic fields,” Chi Zhou replied with a nod. “If even cameras without physical components don’t work, why would anyone think an old-fashioned camera would? Those old geezers in the Alliance really have nothing better to do.”
He sounded so casual that the Alliance’s unreasonable demands seemed little more than a joke.
Xia Ye felt himself relax a little. “They really want to see photographs?”
“Every time. They always demand pictures, and every time we end up with something like this.” Chi Zhou smiled nonchalantly. “I’ve told them already: if they’re so eager to see it, why don’t they come along themselves?”
Whenever he made fun of the Alliance, there was a certain roguish edge to his words that made him seem particularly unruly.
For a moment, Xia Ye almost forgot that they were standing inside an extraterrestrial’s territory. There was something strangely comforting about the exchange.
“They wouldn’t dare,” Xia Ye said with a smile.
“Of course not. They wouldn’t last three seconds here.” Chi Zhou rolled a cigarette between his fingers, indulging in the habit without actually lighting it. “Not bad, Xia Ye. You’re adapting pretty quickly. You’ve even learned to joke around.”
His words carried a deeper meaning. Xia Ye knew he was referring to what had happened back in the Colonel’s office.
“Then how are we supposed to find it?” Xia Ye asked, deliberately changing the subject. “Apart from the redwood forest, there’s nothing here.”
“Obviously, we go inside.” Chi Zhou stepped into the forest. “This mission isn’t going to be over anytime soon, so consider it another lesson.”
Xia Ye nodded. He didn’t mind.
“Once the [Door] opens, no one can leave the territory until the extraterrestrial organism inside has been completely killed.”
Chi Zhou continued speaking as they walked.
“This one’s territory is two to three times larger than an ordinary one. I would estimate that it’s at least a high-level species, possibly higher. Things could get troublesome, so stay close to me.”
Xia Ye asked quietly, “Is that why you wouldn’t let the others come in?”
“Yes and no. Their abilities really aren’t sufficient to deal with an extraterrestrial organism of this level.”
He paused before continuing. “Besides, I don’t know what we’ll encounter in here. If they see what’s inside those experimental pods… Well, it could lead to some serious complications.”
—
Xia Ye fell silent.
Inside the redwood forest, the ground seemed to suck all the moisture from the surrounding space, leaving the soil sticky and damp. It was as though countless hands were reaching up from beneath the earth, trying to drag everyone down into its depths.
After a long silence, he finally asked, “Because of me?”
“Because of us.”
There was no discernible emotion in Chi Zhou’s eyes.
“I told you before, didn’t I? I’ve seen the same things you have.”
Chi Zhou wasn’t a talkative person. Outside of missions, he rarely spoke to others, and he was even less inclined to discuss his past.
Extraterrestrial contamination had shattered his life into fragments, and countless memories had been sealed away in classified files, locked up and buried for good.
When the Alliance ordered him not to breathe a word about them, he had accepted without hesitation. Chi Zhou had understood long ago that his comrades weren’t necessarily his friends and that not everyone could be trusted. But today, he had decided to take a risk.
“If you’ve ever watched the Alliance’s propaganda film, you are likely familiar with the ‘Sacred Lake Contamination’ incident,” Chi Zhou said.
Xia Ye nodded. “I know.”
The ‘Sacred Lake Contamination’ incident had been the bloodiest battle in the Alliance’s history. Extraterrestrial organisms descended in full force, occupied all of District Three, and established a base at Sacred Lake, demanding that humanity abandon the Upper Seven Districts and submit to them as vassals.
To achieve their goal, vast numbers of high-level species had gathered at Sacred Lake. Even the extraterrestrials’ maternal progenitor, the [Queen], had descended on the area and entrenched herself in the lake’s depths.
The extraterrestrials’ mental power field had occupied the entire Sacred Lake region. No other sentinel or guide could approach it.
Only Chi Zhou had managed to do so.
“You piloted Prometheus into Sacred Lake alone and brought back the [Queen]’s Bone-Eater,” Xia Ye recited, his usually cool voice concealing a hint of admiration. “The black dragon blotted out the sky, forcing all the extraterrestrial organisms to retreat.”
His voice softened. “I’ve watched it many times. It left a deep impression on me.”
“That was the version in the Alliance’s propaganda film.” Chi Zhou’s smile turned bitter. “In reality, the military was completely helpless against Sacred Lake. They considered abandoning it several times. They were never particularly steadfast people, but I didn’t want to give up.”
“After leaving the Solar System, humanity drifted through the universe for who knows how long before finding our current star system. I don’t believe giving up is the right choice.”
Chi Zhou instinctively reached for his cigarette case. He had a few bad habits, one of which was smoking whenever something weighed on his mind.
“Dr. Xia approached me and said he had developed a new-generation mecha. Yes, Prometheus. Back then, they still called it the Fire Thief. He said it was a revolutionary weapon that could allow me to penetrate Sacred Lake, and he asked if I was willing to give it a try.”
Xia Ye looked at him. “My father?”
“En. He was the Alliance’s foremost mecha engineer, and Iron Cavalry was his creation, too.”
At the mention of an old acquaintance, Chi Zhou’s voice finally softened a little.
“Prometheus was still a prototype at the time, and its performance was far from complete. But I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Sacred Lake was the heart of the entire Upper Seven Districts. If it fell, the consequences would have been unimaginable.”
For a moment, Chi Zhou seemed lost in his memories.
“I piloted Prometheus and went to Sacred Lake alone. At the bottom of the lake, I discovered a laboratory.”
Xia Ye listened quietly, sensing that something was wrong.
“Was it like the place we just left?” he asked. “Was it filled with… ‘You’?”
“Yes.” Chi Zhou nodded. “There were fifty-six experimental pods in the laboratory, and every single one contained a version of me.”
“The [Queen] was waiting for me there.”
Chi Zhou’s lips twisted into a mocking smile. “It said it had chosen me as its vessel and that I should feel honoured.”
Xia Ye pressed his lips tightly together, a surge of anger rising within him.
For Chi Zhou, something like that was clearly an insult. He was a Sentinel willing to sacrifice his life for humanity, yet the extraterrestrials had wanted to take possession of his consciousness.
“Apparently, they had conducted fifty-six experiments, and every one had failed. That’s why the [Queen] decided to wait for me to arrive so we could negotiate.”
Chi Zhou let out a cold laugh.
“I couldn’t be bothered to listen to their nonsense.”
Xia Ye already knew what had happened afterwards.
Chi Zhou had killed the [Queen] and taken its Bone-Eater, forging it into the long blade known as Heaven’s Path.
But the version Chi Zhou had told him was entirely different from the story he had seen in the Alliance’s propaganda film.
It wasn’t the heroic tale of humanity’s champion he had imagined. It was a tragedy.
“Don’t look at me like that. This sort of thing is perfectly normal,” Chi Zhou said. “Adults are exceptionally good at lying.”
He casually ruffled the snow leopard’s head. It was a new habit of his; whenever he couldn’t smoke, he had instinctively reached out and stroked Xia Ye’s spirit animal instead.
Xia Ye muttered unhappily, “It wasn’t fair to you.”
“Fairness has nothing to do with it. I brought it on myself.” Chi Zhou looked into the depths of the redwood forest. “Protecting humanity is my destiny.”
His voice remained calm, which only made Xia Ye feel even more distressed for him.
He understood what Chi Zhou meant. He had brought this upon himself, placing his own shackles around his wrists and choosing to become humanity’s Sentinel.
It was his integrity that had led him down this path.
Without warning, Xia Ye reached out and scooped the snow leopard into his arms. Caught off guard, the animal let out a soft yelp as its owner pulled it close.
Holding the snow leopard like an enormous stuffed toy, Xia Ye presented it to Chi Zhou.
“Here. You can pet it.”
—
The ground suddenly began to shake, and the entire redwood forest swayed with it. Leaves fluttered down from the canopy and sank into the sticky, damp soil.
After pushing through a dense stretch of grass nearly three meters tall, Xia Ye emerged into a vast clearing.
The soil was silver-grey, and the air still carried the lingering smell of something scorched.
“You’d never guess there was such a huge space inside from the outside,” Chi Zhou remarked. “A territory within a territory. That’s a rare phenomenon.”
At the centre of the clearing stood an enormous throne.
It clearly hadn’t been designed for humans. It was almost as tall as a three-story building, and the seat itself looked large enough to accommodate an entire football field.
There were no decorations whatsoever, only smooth, streamlined contours that exuded an absurdly cold atmosphere.
“Is that the [Queen]’s throne?” Xia Ye asked.
“I don’t know. The last time I was here, there was nothing like this.”
Chi Zhou studied the throne in the middle of the clearing with interest. After playing with Xia Ye’s snow leopard, the unpleasant memories that had weighed on him had completely faded. He had returned to his usual nonchalant self, looking as though everything remained firmly under his control.
“Looks like they’ve evolved,” Chi Zhou said. “A black monolith. They’re learning from our civilisation.”
“Like 2001: A Space Odyssey?” Xia Ye asked.
He had seen the film, an ultimate expression of humanity’s imagination about the cosmos in the era of ancient Earth. In it, a monolith appeared out of nowhere and ushered in the age of Homo sapiens. Humanity had called the black monolith the Revelator.
Now, the same black monolith had appeared inside an extraterrestrial’s territory.
A bone-piercing gale swept in from beyond the redwood forest. The ground shook even more violently, as though the world were on the verge of splitting apart.
Redwoods were already beginning to fall.
Even the resilient trees couldn’t withstand the raging wind. Their intricate root systems were torn from the earth and hurled into the air, swallowed by the eye of the storm.
Crack after crack spread across the silver-grey soil, as though something were about to burst out from beneath it.
Chi Zhou’s black dragon soared into the sky, facing the eye of the storm from a distance.
For the first time, Xia Ye saw the black dragon in its entirety.
Majestic and solemn, it was a dragon that should have existed only in myths and legends. With the body of a serpent and the head of a crocodile, its long, sinuous form flowed like a drifting cloud. Its black scales gleamed with a cold sheen, and its sharp claws curled inward, poised to strike at any moment.
A dragon that blotted out the sky, unstoppable in its might.
It was exactly as Xia Ye had imagined.
“It’s coming out.”
Chi Zhou’s hand rested on his blade’s hilt, and Heaven’s Path already hummed inside its scabbard.
“Xia Ye.” He tossed him a small box. “I’m leaving it to you.”
It was Prometheus’s activation device.
Xia Ye silently caught it, understanding what it meant.
Chi Zhou trusted him.
He was placing his life in Xia Ye’s hands.
—
A bizarre creature unlike anything Xia Ye had ever seen burst out of the ground, releasing a string of mocking laughter from its grotesquely shaped mouthparts.
“Humans! Pathetic little humans!”
It was enormous, resembling a spider, with countless legs covering its lower body. The legs gripped the ground firmly even amid the raging winds.
Sharp bristles covered its body in a nauseating array of colours.
“Hee hee hee hee! Is that you, Chi Zhou?”
Countless eyes opened along its legs, all turning toward Chi Zhou.
They were pure black, without a trace of white.
Xia Ye remembered the test subjects with their pupil-less eyes and felt a chill of revulsion run through him.
Prometheus activated silently. With the mecha’s assistance, Xia Ye’s mental domain expanded once more, recovering its former range before the suppression.
Through his Omniscient Vision, he finally saw the creature in its entirety.
It was a mountain made of corpses.
The remains of extraterrestrial organisms, mutated creatures, plants, animals, and humans had been stitched together with nearly transparent threads. They had slowly grown and fused over an unknown number of years until they had become this monstrosity.
The eyes scattered across its countless legs belonged to those corpses.
They had long since rotted away, leaving nothing but empty sockets that appeared completely black.
“Chi Zhou! Is that you?” the creature shrieked. Its voice was neither distinctly male nor female, sounding like a beast’s roar mixed with mechanical static. “I’ve finally found you! Hee hee hee hee!”
“You’re giving me a headache.”
Chi Zhou leapt into the air, and Heaven’s Path flashed out of its scabbard.
“I thought you had learned something new,” Chi Zhou said in a lazy tone. “Turns out you still can’t even speak properly.”
The long blade let out a sharp whistle, severing four or five legs covered in eyes.
“Ahhhhh! Do you know who I am?! I’m the new-generation leader!” Enraged by the pain, the creature roared. “Give me back my mother’s core!”
“You mean this?”
Standing in Prometheus’s palm, Chi Zhou held the hilt of Heaven’s Path horizontally in front of the creature.
“You’re such a good little mama’s boy, though I’m not so sure she would agree.”
His tone was mocking, edged with contempt. “For a high-level species like you, your mother must have given birth to at least ten thousand others just like you.”
Inside the c0ckpit, Xia Ye’s lips curled into a faint smile.
Chi Zhou showed no mercy when taunting the Leader. Every word struck exactly where it hurt.
According to the extraterrestrial contamination reports published by the research institute, the social structure of extraterrestrial organisms was simple, resembling that of ants.
The highest-ranking extraterrestrial organism, the [Queen], served as the maternal progenitor of the entire society and possessed both supreme authority and immense power.
The high-level species she gave birth to were scattered throughout the region, forming the backbone of extraterrestrial society. Like the [Queen], they possessed their own mental domains.
As for the mutated creatures produced through contamination by these high-level species, they were little more than nourishment.
The [Queen] had indeed given birth to countless high-level species like this leader.
Predictably, the Leader was enraged.
It had always regarded itself as the [Queen]’s successor, convinced that it possessed the strength to inherit her position. It considered itself the most intelligent being in the entire star system. Not only had it recruited many ‘people’ to join its ranks, but it had also been enthusiastic about studying human civilisation, even learning ancient human sayings such as Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated.
It had even learned to imitate its mother’s methods, establishing its own laboratory and creating cultivation pods to prepare for the moment it would descend.
And yet this insignificant human dared to claim that its mother didn’t love it!
“Chi Zhou! Chi Zhou! Today is the day you die!”
Eager to show off what it had learned, the Leader charged toward Chi Zhou on its eight hundred legs, spewing a stream of venom from its mouthparts.
“Once you’re dead, our world will be ours!”
“Dream on,” Chi Zhou replied calmly, leaning against Prometheus’s palm. “You extraterrestrials need to watch fewer Earth movies.”
—
At the same time, an invisible shield unfolded in front of Prometheus, blocking the torrent of venom.
Xia Ye gripped the control levers, guiding Prometheus to close its hand before leaping backwards with the mecha, nimbly evading the Leader’s attack.
“Good,” Chi Zhou’s voice came through the communicator. “Xia Ye, what’s your synchronisation rate with Prometheus?”
Xia Ye glanced at the display and answered calmly, “Ninety-six percent.”
“That high?” Chi Zhou sounded genuinely surprised. “This is my mecha, you know.”
There was even a faintly sulky edge to his voice.
A mecha’s power depended on its pilot. The so-called dedicated mechas were simply those with exceptionally high synchronisation rates with their designated pilots.
Under normal circumstances, a synchronisation rate of sixty percent was already an alarming figure. At eighty percent, a pilot could be considered the mecha’s rightful owner.
The more powerful the mecha, the lower its synchronisation rate with most humans, making it increasingly difficult to find its destined pilot.
Prometheus had been specially designed for Chi Zhou. Every material used in its construction had been selected from the most advanced technologies available, and its precision was beyond the reach of ordinary mechas.
During a military academy visit, some students had been forced to retreat simply by approaching Prometheus, unable to withstand the pressure it exuded.
And yet Xia Ye had achieved a synchronisation rate of ninety-six percent.
It was unbelievable.
He seemed born to pilot mechas. The moment he entered Prometheus, Xia Ye felt the same familiar surge of excitement he had once experienced when standing beside Scarlet Dawn Lotus.
There was no doubt about it. Mechas had souls.
Prometheus amplified his mental power more than tenfold. Xia Ye effortlessly deployed an invisible shield, while even the light sword in Prometheus’s hand was enhanced to an astonishing degree.
Chi Zhou was certain he had never encountered a Guide more powerful than Xia Ye.
—
“Maybe… We’re just more alike?” Xia Ye asked uncertainly. “What’s your synchronisation rate?”
“Me?” Chi Zhou laughed. “Guess.”
Xia Ye was at a loss for words. A high-level extraterrestrial organism stood right in front of them, glaring and shouting that it intended to tear them apart, and Chi Zhou still had the leisure to play guessing games.
He was almost unnervingly calm.
And precisely because of that, Xia Ye felt that perhaps the situation wasn’t quite as bad as it seemed.
“One hundred percent?”
He had watched recordings of Chi Zhou piloting Prometheus. In Chi Zhou’s hands, the mecha displayed astonishing combat prowess, and Xia Ye felt it performed even better than under his own control.
One hundred percent was a bold guess, but not an impossible one.
“You’re still being too conservative.”
Chi Zhou chuckled.
“One hundred and sixty percent. In my hands, it goes into overdrive.”
Xia Ye was momentarily speechless. “How was I supposed to guess that?”
He had never even heard of such a thing.
“Prometheus is my destined mecha,” Chi Zhou explained. “When a mecha encounters the pilot destined for it, it can enter an overdrive state.”
“Not many people get an opportunity like that.” His voice softened. “Xia Ye, you should treasure it.”
He didn’t finish the thought, but Xia Ye knew he was referring to Scarlet Dawn Lotus.
—
A clattering, rhythmic sound of footsteps came from behind them, sounding like an entire army in pursuit.
The Leader charged after them on its eight hundred legs, shouting furiously, “Stop running! If you’ve got the guts, fight me head-on!”
“Are we not facing you head-on already?”
Chi Zhou’s smile faded as he straightened up again.
“I told you that you talk too much. You really do talk too much.”
They had lured the Leader out of the redwood forest. Now that it was farther from the throne, its mental power had weakened greatly, and the eyes along its legs slowly closed.
The level of mental contamination had dropped by two grades.
Holding Heaven’s Path, Chi Zhou turned toward the leader.
“Xia Ye, I’ll strike its weak point. You destroy its core and extract the Bone-Eater.”
Xia Ye answered crisply, “Understood.”
—
The Leader chased them all the way to the place where the [Door] had originally opened.
“Wah! Why are you coming to my laboratory?” It stopped abruptly, as though startled, and waved its long, slender legs. “Don’t think I’ll repeat my mother’s mistakes! I’ve learned my lesson! I’ve learned my lesson!”
The empty laboratory was lined with rows of experimental pods, each containing a test subject identical to Xia Ye.
Xia Ye looked at them coldly. Now he understood what they were.
They were the vessels the Leader had prepared for itself.
At the Leader’s command, hundreds of experimental pods suddenly shattered. Unknown liquid poured out of them, releasing a haze of vapour as it evaporated over the crimson soil.
It was a highly corrosive liquid—its venom.
“These are all defective! Failed experiments! Useless trash!”
The Leader shrieked incoherently, sweeping its long legs across the test subjects scattered on the ground.
“Mother chose the wrong person, and so did I! Neither of you is a suitable vessel! I’ll find the right person!”
The Leader let out a sinister, cackling laugh. Its horrifying eyes opened once more, fixing directly on Xia Ye.
“I’ll find the right person.”
“This is unbearable,” Xia Ye said coldly, completely unmoved by the sight of the Leader trampling the experimental subjects. Even though they looked exactly like him, he paid them no attention and focused on the creature’s movements. “Chi Zhou was right. You’re too noisy.”
Amid the raging winds, Prometheus sprang into action.
The pristine white war machine charged toward the grotesque extraterrestrial, its light sword slicing through the air as though it intended to cleave the creature in two.
Chi Zhou flashed out of Prometheus’s palm, leaping down toward the ground.
His target was clear; Heaven’s Path pointed straight at the eye on the Leader’s forehead.
The black dragon let out a mighty roar and followed Chi Zhou, charging straight at the Leader.
Dark clouds blotted out the sky as the black dragon summoned them, blocking the two artificial suns created by the Leader.
The fierce sunlight weakened, depriving the Leader of its source of nourishment and slowing its movements.
It no longer had time for idle chatter. Desperately, it raised its legs to shield its vulnerable eye.
That was its weak point. Once the eye was struck, it would lose all activity.
“I have so many eyes, and you just had to pick this one!” the Leader shouted furiously. “Chi Zhou, don’t blame me for what happens next!”
It repeated its earlier attack, spraying venom at Chi Zhou, but Prometheus intercepted every drop before it reached him.
Bolstered by Xia Ye’s enhancement, Prometheus’s invisible shield unleashed astonishing power.
The Leader’s venom was completely dissolved, leaving not even a trace behind.
The next instant, Heaven’s Path pierced the Leader’s eye. It let out a terrible scream, all its legs flailing wildly as it desperately tried to throw Chi Zhou off its body.
It had no chance.
Prometheus had already circled behind it.
Xia Ye concentrated, gathering his formidable mental power into several bolts of lightning that shot toward the Leader.
“You’ll regret this! You’ll regret it!”
The Leader shrieked and thrashed its legs, unable to decide which of its attackers to fend off first.
“I found the right person! Xia Ye, I found the right person!”
Amid its frantic cries, the light sword descended without mercy. The mountain of corpses collapsed, exposing the core buried within.
The black core resembled an egg waiting to hatch, its surface now marked by several cracks.
Chi Zhou heard a sharp snapping sound, but Xia Ye remained silent.
The Leader had lost all activity. Its entire body collapsed limply onto the ground, looking like a puddle of aqua regia.
The ground beneath their feet began to shake, signalling that the territory was on the verge of collapse.
“Xia Ye?” Chi Zhou called. “Extract the Bone-Eater, and we can get out of here.”
Xia Ye didn’t answer.
A sense of unease crept over Chi Zhou. Gripping his sword hilt, he circled to the Leader’s back.
Prometheus’s c0ckpit had already ejected. Xia Ye stood beside the Leader’s core, staring at it in a daze.
“What happened?” Chi Zhou demanded, his voice turning serious. “Xia Ye, answer me.”
“Chi Zhou…”
After a moment, Xia Ye finally seemed to come to himself and called out to him.
His voice trembled faintly.
“There is no Bone-Eater.”
He pointed at the cracked core, not even daring to look at it.
“Inside…is my younger sister.”
T/N:
Does it feels long? Seems like it’s never ending?
This is the usual first VIP chapter in JJWXC so the length usually is like 2-3x longer than usual~
But it’s not why I took so much time to post it *cough*, it was coz I was caught up with another RL responsibilities… I’ll try my best to start updating again regularly tho!
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