The utterly shocked warrior inspected the mech, only to discover that at some unknown time, the joints of the mech had all been corroded. The corrosion marks were fine and dense, as if caused by countless tiny things continuously gnawing and corroding.
What could destroy a mech? And how did it appear?
During normal operation, the mech’s surface carried electricity and maintained protective high temperatures, preventing any object from remaining on it, but at this moment the mech was in dormant state.
Soon, the command center arrived, and the deputy commander was furious.
The entire Alliance had less than ten mechs remaining, each one invaluable, yet now one had been ruined because of gluttony!
And those greedy Da Qian people had long since eaten their fill and fled with the wind.
Things having reached this point, they could only continue the pursuit. However, from then on, the command center also followed the main force day and night without rest, forcing the soldiers to remain constantly alert, becoming increasingly exhausted.
The further they went, the more convinced the deputy commander became that the Da Qian Emperor had his own destination. He suspected it might be like Haiyou—a major ambush site where all human and material resources had been concentrated. Therefore, he formulated countermeasures early on: they would not fall for any lures, would not rescue anyone who became hostages, would employ long-range strikes, blast through mountains when encountering them, and kill anyone they met.
One day, the Emperor’s party disappeared behind a great mountain. The mountain had a thin body but was extremely tall and craggy, impassable even for birds, standing like a giant screen blocking the path ahead.
This was a natural barrier for the Da Qian people, but for the Alliance forces it was merely a slightly larger roadblock. At the deputy commander’s order, various lasers cut horizontally and vertically across the cliff face, and the mountain cliff collapsed silently.
This reminded people of four years ago when Gui Qizhai opened a mountain path to help Dan Ye take a shortcut to the capital.
When the cliff collapsed, it revealed valleys full of people and a sizeable stronghold. The people in the stronghold wore rattan armor, carried long knives, and had fierce, tense expressions—clearly prepared for battle.
The deputy commander was greatly energized!
He had guessed correctly! Indeed, the Da Qian Emperor had planted ambush troops here! Not daring to be negligent, he simultaneously pulled back the battle line, sent out mine-clearing robots, ordered mechs to the front with soldiers in formation, mechs ready with rocket artillery, soldiers responding with laser guns, arranging a formation that was both steady and methodical while leaving no survivors.
The result was naturally devastating.
The opposition collapsed the moment they made contact with Alliance weapons. They held their knives that turned to ash in the blink of an eye, watched companions suddenly fall beside them, stared dumbfounded at the mountain-like mechs advancing, and smelled the acrid stench of human bodies continuously pierced and burned by lasers.
They couldn’t even find their enemies. They didn’t understand why these white and blue arrows had such long range, appearing and disappearing instantly, or how those giant monsters appeared, or why such arrows were shooting down from overhead.
This must be divine intervention, gods displaying their power!
Someone let out a cry, threw down their weapons, shouted in the local indigenous tongue about heavenly gods, and scattered in all directions.
These people had originally been organized to resist an approaching enemy, but their enemy was not this group of otherworldly visitors—it was the Yannan army and His Majesty the Da Qian Emperor.
Just a quarter-hour ago, the Da Qian Emperor had appeared with his people at one of their outposts. This shocked and enraged their leader, who immediately organized all available forces, intending to use the terrain advantage to simply eliminate their enemy and reclaim their territory.
Originally, this was a well-hidden location they had found with great difficulty. Behind them was a mountain cliff providing cover with no passable routes, ahead were two entrances through steep mountain terrain that was easy to defend and difficult to attack. Within the valley were hidden marshes and secret caves, complex and intricate—anyone who fell in would face nine deaths out of ten. Not to mention a small group, even if a large army entered, they would never return.
Who could have known that before the battle here even began, with a thunderous roar, the mountain barrier they relied on actually collapsed.
Suddenly their rear became an open plain, and beyond the plain appeared many powerful monsters that human strength simply couldn’t resist. The people in the valley instantly scattered.
Some still tried to flee toward those two mountain passes, but those passes were instead seized by Tie Ci’s people during the chaos. The mountain passes originally meant to resist external enemies now became strongholds used by enemies to block them in.
Ahead were mortal enemies, behind were demon gods.
This force that someone had painstakingly built through enduring hardships and lying low in wait was instantly annihilated in the pincer attack.
Tie Ci stood with hands behind her back on the watchtower at the mountain pass, looking at that figure in the valley.
It was the long-unseen Chi Qingbo.
Two years ago, with Tie Ci’s support and the help of Xiao Xueya’s army, Adan had successively subdued the three major chieftains, formed an alliance with herself as leader, established a tribal autonomous government, and gathered the chieftain soldiers.
At the same time, they discovered that among the three major chieftains was a hidden elite force from the former Prince of Yannan that had mysteriously disappeared.
Both Xiao Xueya and Tie Ci suspected this force had been hidden away early by Chi Qingbo. In the final struggle for the Yannan royal position, Chi Qingbo hadn’t had time to deploy this army because it was hidden in Qiuli, the furthest from Kun Zhou.
After Chi Qingbo’s escape, he presumably contacted this force, then hid in the deep mountains, spending ten years sharpening his sword while waiting for revenge.
This became Yannan’s constant worry. You Weixing and Adan successively sent no fewer than five groups of scouts into the mountains to search for Chi Qingbo’s new base, wanting to remove this thorn early.
Unfortunately, Yannan’s mountains stretched endlessly with complex terrain. Some mountains even locals dared not enter deeply, and there were no clear maps. After nearly three years, they finally roughly determined Chi Qingbo’s camp location last year, but upon study found the terrain extremely complex, easy to defend and difficult to attack, likely requiring enormous military resources with little success. Therefore, this matter was set aside, with only continued surveillance, waiting for Chi Qingbo to lose patience and make trouble himself.
Who knew this man learned from his setbacks and truly remained holed up in the mountains, occasionally emerging via secret paths he had opened to transport supplies, slippery as a loach.
He had patience, and Tie Ci had patience too. This wait lasted four years.
Until today.
Tie Ci came to Yannan, Tie Ci delved into the deep mountains, Tie Ci made many feints, Tie Ci consistently advanced toward this location—not as the deputy commander thought, to replicate the Qingyang Mountain trap in Yannan’s deep mountains.
She was simply borrowing a knife to kill.
Tie Ci calmly watched below.
Chi Qingbo, dark and thin, was running against the fleeing crowd. Clearly he thought these monsters were reinforcements Tie Ci had brought, that the pincer attack from both sides had brought him this devastating blow. Grief and anger drove him completely mad as he grabbed a long spear and charged waving at the nearest mech warrior.
While shouting loudly: “Come on, come on, you parasitic maggots, you dogs of Tie Ci!”
His shouts were drowned by the rumbling gunfire. The mech warrior indifferently watched the only ant moving against the flow, slowly raising its mountain-like foot.
It crashed down with a rumble, dust shooting out gray-yellow rays like bullets.
The deputy commander laughed loudly: “Well shot! Quite brave too, worthy of being Tie Ci’s loyal dog!”
In the distance, standing on the watchtower, Tie Ci watched the flesh and blood become mud below, the crowds scattering, the mechs striding in pursuit, the white, blue, and yellow lights weaving through the mountain forest.
She watched the deputy commander in the transparent command cabin who thought he had finally achieved a great victory and was laughing uncontrollably.
She also smiled slightly.
“Yes, all good dogs under my command.”
…
That battle destroyed Chi Qingbo’s last force, resolving Da Qian Yannan’s greatest internal threat.
It also consumed another batch of the Alliance’s final military strength.
Although Chi Qingbo’s army couldn’t withstand modern weapons, the valley terrain caused great trouble for Alliance warriors. Some fell into culverts—winding passages from which they couldn’t emerge once they fell. When tracking robots were sent down, there were also corrosive gases below that damaged several machines.
Then mechs running rampantly got stuck in swamps.
Adding Tie Ci’s people causing trouble in secret, when casualties were tallied after the battle, the Alliance had actually lost twelve drones, seven muscle warriors fell into culverts, two mechs stuck in mud, plus the one that was dismantled—three mechs total.
This was an enormous loss that nearly gave the deputy commander a heart attack.
If this were still the Alliance of old with abundant troops and ammunition, such losses would be nothing. But now, they themselves were remnant soldiers, refugees.
The deputy commander could only report this “enormous victory” upward, hoping management would go easy on punishment considering the “great win.”
But just as the victory was reported, the repeatedly frustrated management was still considering whether to suppress the losses and first reward this rare victory to boost visibly flagging morale.
To let everyone feel the “glory” of this victory, when the commendation order reached the Da Qian command center, management connected signals to all civilians, implementing live broadcast.
Since it was live broadcast, naturally cameras needed more coverage, displaying the complex terrain, intense battle conditions, and fruitful results before all civilians.
The scheduled broadcast viewership reached the highest since the apocalypse. Countless civilians who had been fleeing, struggling to survive between harsh environments and mutated animals and plants, long unable to spare energy for their optical brains and signal receiving devices, all connected their personal terminal equipment at that moment.
People looked up at the light screens unfolding before them, eyes full of hope.
After all, everyone knew this was the most important action management had taken since the apocalypse’s arrival, related to humanity’s final survival opportunity. Whether everyone could survive depended on this venture.
Previously, related news had been kept secret from the people, with wording always “proceeding smoothly, future promising, please maintain safety precautions and wait patiently.”
Just when this waiting was beginning to make people anxious, suddenly came news of this “great victory.” Rumors said the Da Qian Emperor was being hunted in embarrassing flight, barely alive, soon to be captured. Though everyone sympathized for a second out of humanitarianism, they were immediately occupied by excitement over their coming new life.
The light screens brightened. People saw layered peaks, river belts like jade, mountains covered in deep and shallow greens, and also saw the Alliance’s mighty mechs and capable muscle warriors, saw dark masses of drones in the sky.
Only compared to Da Qian’s endless mountain ranges, the mechs seemed too few, and the drone swarms only occupied a small portion of the screen.
Alliance civilians followed the drone cameras, almost greedily viewing the boundless mountains and rivers before them. Vibrant Da Qian amazed them, then made them recall they too once possessed pure blue planets, once had undulating mountains and vast seas, endless forests and grasslands.
However, all this was now destroyed under warfare and unchecked industrial development, turned into steel ruins forever emanating acrid smells.
Having once possessed, then lost, when facing it again, that feeling became urgent. People’s gazes burned, wishing they could cross through the optical brains immediately to breathe that especially fresh air, to see that long-missed touch of green.
Therefore, some raised questions.
Our weapons are so beyond their era, why isn’t the Da Qian Emperor dead yet?
Since drones can monitor everything below, why can’t they lock onto the Da Qian Emperor? Isn’t this something one shot could resolve?
Some suggested this might be due to cosmic treaty regulations—we can’t fire randomly before conflict occurs.
Others said if that were true, then management was being too soft-hearted. Star wars and interstellar wars had been going on for so many years that cosmic treaties had long become scattered waste paper in the galaxy. Using such treaties against a lower alien civilization was like lecturing ants.
Debates quickly spread. Countless people argued fiercely before their optical brains, emotions growing increasingly heated, until finally someone called for management to broadcast the handling of the Da Qian Emperor.
At minimum, they should let them see Da Qian’s current military strength and weapons.
Management hadn’t expected events to develop this way. They certainly didn’t want civilians to see the Da Qian Emperor, because he wasn’t currently “embarrassingly disheveled and barely alive”—he was even wearing Alliance muscle clothing. How would they explain if civilians saw this?
Just as management was thinking what excuse to use to refuse this demand, or simply speed up the process, directly issue commendations, and end the broadcast early, the Da Qian Emperor suddenly appeared on the command center screens.
Almost immediately, the boiling electronic terminals quieted down.
The remaining Alliance civilians stared at their screens in astonishment.
Before them were vast mountains, countless ranges floating in mist and light clouds like drifting islands.
On the most central peak of peculiar steepness, with extremely precipitous mountain terrain, countless monkeys watched from afar, swinging past the mountainside.
Yet there was one person advancing on the mountain path, winding and leaping, swift as lightning.
Mountain wind lifted her robes, wandering clouds meandered beneath her feet, her figure became a continuous light plowing through the winding mountain path.
Where there were no paths at all, she stepped up cliffs nearly ninety degrees steep.
Wind poured down from the sky’s edge. She climbed against the wind, body leaning back, strolling leisurely.
Alliance civilians before their screens were dumbfounded.
They knew mech warriors could perform some such movements, but due to bulk would have difficulty walking on cliffs like this. Speed also couldn’t be this fast or graceful.
Muscle warriors were even more impossible.
Was this martial arts from ancient times?
At this moment, Alliance civilians proud of high technology and modernization felt respect for Da Qian for the first time.
Among the peaks, above the sea of clouds, atop the mountain summit.
Tie Ci stopped.
Overhead, drones immediately flew higher.
Knowing she wore muscle clothing under her robes, hitting her with one or two shots would be useless, and this time would be enough for the Da Qian Emperor to escape and smash them down.
After losing too many drones, to continue ensuring surveillance of Da Qian, drones no longer attempted to attack Tie Ci’s group.
At the mountain summit, Tie Ci looked up.
Facing the drones.
Because all drones stored Tie Ci’s data, immediately a line of text appeared on everyone’s screens:
“Target confirmed, Da Qian Emperor Tie Ci, fire?”
“Asking again, fire immediately?”
Firing authority lay with the command center, but most civilians watching the broadcast instinctively shouted, “Shoot!”
“Shoot!”
Someone exclaimed: “This is the Da Qian Emperor? A woman!”
“So young too!”
“She looks so powerful!”
“What happened to barely alive?”
“Shoot! Shoot!”
In the command center, the deputy commander’s face was iron-blue, fingers trembling.
In management’s spacious bright pure white hall, countless bigshots sat or stood, all staring at the big screen before them, staring at that person at the mountain summit, in the center of the sea of clouds.
Coffee held in hands forgotten, documents dropped from hands—clearly also shocked that the Da Qian Emperor was so bold as to enter the broadcast screen like this.
Before the enormous wide screen, an elder in dark blue uniform stood silently, gold stars flashing on his shoulders and numerous magnificent medals proving his high military rank.
Snow-white thick eyebrows shadowed eyes coldly staring at the woman on screen.
Beside him was a woman with pale golden hair, face maintained extremely well, wearing what for the Alliance was an ancient popular Chinese qipao dress, graceful figure, expression indifferent.
Staff and commanders looked up at the bigshots ahead, somewhat anxiously waiting for their decision.
Giving a shooting order wasn’t difficult—the difficulty was this was live broadcast. If they missed, the blow to civilian morale would be enormous.
In the past, no one would think this shot might miss, but now, at least the command center and management, no one dared be so overconfident.
But civilians didn’t know this, and some were already shouting.
“Shoot! What’s all this hesitation!”
“So close, such a good opportunity, why not shoot?”
The crowd suddenly quieted.
Because the Da Qian Emperor suddenly waved at the camera.
This gesture was too modern and unexpected, leaving people confused, watching the Da Qian Emperor begin her… speech.
Facing drones circling distantly, not daring to approach, she said clearly: “Thank you for your constant care toward my Da Qian, especially thanking you for recently providing large quantities of weapons and troops, helping Da Qian sweep away the dark forces that long occupied Da Qian’s southwest. You spared no expense of twelve aircraft, three steel giant warriors, and various flying vehicle warriors to help my Da Qian eliminate internal threats. Such noble character is deeply appreciated.”
When mentioning steel giant warriors and flying vehicle warriors, she pointed respectively at the mechs and muscle warriors below, helping civilians understand exactly what they had sacrificed.
After saying this, she put her hands together in gratitude.
Management: “…”
Command Center: “…”
Alliance civilians: “…”
Not far below the summit, Pingzong and Xiao Xueya nervously protected her left and right, watching this scene. Pingzong couldn’t help but laugh loudly, learning from Tie Ci by giving the drones the middle finger.
Xiao Xueya looked up at Tie Ci. She stood on the sea of clouds, head touched by sunlight, brilliant as one above the heavens.
She had great wisdom and great courage, worthy of this position at the peak of the human world.
He recalled his experience on the Jinsha River and couldn’t help but show a rare smile.
After a moment of silence, confirming she had successfully struck her opponents, Tie Ci continued: “Just now, you all must have appreciated Da Qian’s scenery. Indeed, Da Qian is a beautiful country, vast in territory and rich in resources, with magnificent rivers and mountains. These magnificent rivers and mountains were built brick by brick by the Da Qian people working hand in hand. The Da Qian people, and I, are all proud of Da Qian, and welcome all guests who hold peaceful goals and hope for friendly cooperation and exchange with Da Qian.”
“But likewise, we will spare no effort defending our homeland. For its integrity and safety, we will not hesitate to shed rivers of blood and bare our fangs. For a hundred years, one hundred million Da Qian people have used their lives, their blood, everything they could sacrifice, to prove our attitude and determination.”
She stood on merely a square foot of ground, yet walked as if on level earth, hands behind her back in the wind, robes fluttering.
Whether in reality or beyond the screens, countless people watching that small figure floating in the sea of clouds instinctively held their breath, not daring to miss any of her words.
She said: “Indeed, you have extremely powerful weapons that Da Qian cannot match. But if worldly matters could truly be resolved by force alone, you should have conquered the world long ago. In fact, from September 16th this year when you began hunting me until now, you have successively deployed countless aircraft, countless soldiers, even mobilizing such behemoths. Not to mention in weapon-inferior Da Qian, even in your homeland, I believe such military force would be enough to claim millions of lives. But now? You can only stand on your side, looking shocked and helpless at me, or perhaps angry and roaring like an impotent mad dog.”
Before management screens, the general preparing to smash his coffee cup froze his arm in midair.
In the command center, the deputy commander who had stood up abruptly several times now slumped down, holding his head and wailing: “It’s over…”
Before countless personal electronic terminals, the clamoring angry crowds gradually quieted, looking at each other with surprised fury.
In the principal’s office of Da Qian Academy in the capital, Yun Buci sat in her executive chair, slowly spinning. She didn’t watch the screen, only supported her forehead listening to Tie Ci speak, occasionally laughing.
Beside her were several closest disciples who had rushed over. The eldest brother looked calm, the fourth brother frowned, the third sister seemed distracted, fingers unconsciously moving as if operating an invisible abacus.
Several people watched the screen with complex expressions.
“You hunted me for over two months, now I can still calmly face your aircraft, yet your aircraft don’t even dare fire. Oh right, just over a month ago, in one of our coastal provinces, we eliminated three thousand of your strongest warriors in one go. For specific casualty details, I suggest you petition your management to release reports. I hear your place is an extremely free country with flowers blooming year-round, fresh air, civilians with extremely high status enjoying the best resources, most generous treatment and most honored positions. Your officials lead by example, existing entirely to serve you. Your society creates for itself and enjoys priority, every inch of land written with happiness, satisfaction and freedom. This is the Great Unity world my teacher once described to me, also the blueprint she painted for Da Qian scholars when seducing them to petition for reform. Since this is so, surely such small requests will certainly be satisfied. I’m just sharing that that night, one of your generals wearing silver-gray battle clothing became my hostage. I heard pursuing soldiers call him: Lord Xilin.”
When Tie Ci began sarcastically implying Alliance freedom, the qipao golden-haired woman had already said softly: “Cut it off.”
She meant disconnect all personal terminal connections.
The Da Qian Emperor was cunning and sinister. She had guessed the Alliance’s current situation and understood human nature well, specially coming to sow discord.
If this were still the Alliance of a hundred years ago, they wouldn’t fear it, because then it was indeed prosperous and free with high civilian loyalty.
But now?
Mountains and rivers shattered, economy regressed, environment collapsed, vitality nearly extinct. Existing resources were mainly used to maintain management operations and remaining military equipment. Resources distributed to civilians only maintained minimum survival needs.
Moreover, management knew in their hearts that even in the most difficult times, supply to the upper levels remained abundant. This naked class disparity of “wine and meat behind vermillion gates while bones freeze on the roads” had already made civilian sentiment increasingly dissatisfied.
Civilians at this time couldn’t withstand such provocation.
The general finally smashed his cup.
Because the Haiyou casualties weren’t three thousand at all.
But the Da Qian Emperor lied publicly while digging traps for them. With trust already crumbling today, civilians would certainly force them to publish casualty figures. But if they said there weren’t three thousand, civilians absolutely wouldn’t trust them, only thinking they were falsifying numbers.
Then would come another wave of civilian backlash. Management credibility would drop again.
The general was about to agree to cut communications when Tie Ci suddenly mentioned Xilin.
His expression immediately changed, fury burning in his eyes.
He said harshly: “Listen! I want to hear what she says!”
The qipao woman smiled, eyes very cold.
On screen, Tie Ci also smiled, saying: “Here I again thank Lord Xilin for providing his own body to help us block all attacks, finally even providing his own armor to protect our general, still able to escape when mountains collapsed and earth split. He himself sacrificed for this. I mention Lord Xilin for two reasons: to thank him, and to inquire. I want to ask what kind of battle clothing Lord Xilin wore, why when so many warriors wearing armor were blown up, his battle clothing was light and soft, yet just covering the body could withstand explosives that could collapse entire mountains. I want to ask why he obviously couldn’t lift with his hands or carry with his shoulders, yet could surpass those three thousand soldiers to become their leader, ultimately leading three thousand subordinates to their graves in Da Qian. I hear your officials are all elected by civilians—why did you elect him to harm him? Because he was whiter?”
Command Center: “…”
Alliance civilians: “…”
Tie Ci said regretfully: “Such goods would only be fit to solicit customers at elephant hall doors in our Da Qian!”
Alliance civilians: “…What’s an elephant hall?”
Didn’t sound like anything good.
The general turned to look at the ancient folklore expert in management.
The folklore expert stammered: “This… this… I’m not quite sure either.”
Did he dare say? Did he dare say your son wasn’t even fit to be a male prostitute in their eyes?
Though he didn’t speak, the general clearly understood. This time he couldn’t listen anymore either.
He had wanted to know something about his son’s final moments, still holding some remaining hope—after all, Xilin wore the current highest technology, most expensive armor, a treasure that could remain unharmed even under the highest yield nuclear attack.
But the Da Qian Emperor’s words made his vision go black, extinguishing his last hope completely.
More critically, such words would provoke even higher levels of civilian protest against management.
He roared: “Cut communications, open fire!”
But at this moment, something suddenly appeared in Tie Ci’s hand.
Silver light flashing, constantly flowing and changing shapes in Tie Ci’s palm.
Everyone exclaimed: “Nano-programming robot!”
This was one of the Alliance’s high-tech products that ordinary civilians had only seen introduced on military networks.
No one had imagined such a device would fall into the Da Qian Emperor’s hands.
The qipao woman quickly stepped forward to cut communications.
The general roared angrily: “Open fire! Recapture the nano robot!”
Before the two could argue, before everyone could react, Tie Ci standing at the mountain summit stretched and pulled with both hands.
The nano robot became a silver great bow, which she drew to full moon.
The full moon bow aimed at the drone swarm overhead.
The drones seemed stunned, motionless, their real-time transmission faithfully relaying this scene to everyone before their screens.
Those about to fire, to cut communications, to curse, to question, to kill.
All forgot their actions and words at this moment, instinctively staring unblinkingly at the screen.
At the mountain summit.
Tie Ci’s sleeves billowed, flying clouds swirled chaotically around her as if pulled by invisible hands. Around her, floating clouds scattered, leaving only clustered green mountains and vast empty heaven and earth.
In more distant places, due to her own circulating energy field, floating clouds gathered and spun rapidly like enormous whirlpools, whistling in the wind.
The Da Qian Emperor stood between heaven and earth, at the mountain summit, bow drawn like the moon, facing invaders from alien space-time, saying word by word:
“I repeat one final time.”
“Da Qian welcomes all well-intentioned guests.”
“Does not welcome any plunderers attempting to possess and invade us!”
“If you persist obstinately…”
…
As soon as the words fell, in management, the general pressed the button, roaring: “Open fire!”
The qipao woman forcefully slapped another green button.
The drone swarm shuddered, shooting rapid rain of yellow light.
At the same time.
Tie Ci released her hand.
The silver bow became countless silver small arrows, whistling from her palm, filling the sky with silver light and yellow rain piercing the blue sky, rapidly meeting, then exploding into countless flashing star flowers, clustered and twinkling in the blue sky before disappearing.
One wave of arrows caught all the drones’ attacks.
The next instant Tie Ci raised her hand, a purple lightning split the air, instantly penetrating the center of the drone swarm.
Intense light flashed, drones in the center section fell, management’s three large screens went black on one side, one-third of Alliance civilians lost signal.
Tie Ci didn’t pause, her figure flashed, already appearing in midair, passing through the hole just created, forcibly crashing into the center of the drone swarm!
Everyone remaining before screens was exclaiming.
Even wearing mechs and muscle clothing, it shouldn’t be possible to violate physics by floating in midair like this!
Silver light flashed, the nano robot appeared in Tie Ci’s hand again, this time becoming a fine, snake-like silver whip!
Tie Ci cracked the whip in midair, the whip sound exploding like renewed thunder and purple lightning!
Silver electric light swept across all remaining drones!
Crackling sounds erupted as everyone before screens only saw the Da Qian Emperor wielding the whip in midair, white light and purple lightning instantly sweeping across wind, clouds, and vision, screens beginning to shake violently.
They heard her issue her final declaration between the vast heaven and earth:
“Then all who come shall be punished!”
“Crack.”
Fragments flew, propellers churned chaotically, drones broke apart or collided, trailing long streams of fire, falling miserably through the sky, drawing deep red traces across the mountains.
“Crack.”
All screens before people flashed once and went completely black.
At the mountain summit, Tie Ci’s figure flashed, standing once again at the peak, looking down at the falling sparks.
Wind and clouds surged, yet she remained still as a deep abyss.
…