"The battle is truly fierce."
Crown Prince Mistofen of the Empire gazed at the smoke-covered battlefield and couldn’t help but sigh.
Is it because they are favored by the Philosopher King? The strength of these few people far exceeds their imagination.
The area between the combatants has been annihilated into a vacuum zone, and the powerful collisions seem to have generated a kind of singularity, causing severe damage to the entire space.
Fortunately, this is the Inherent Ti Domain, where the self-repair ability and strength of space are far stronger than the Layer Abyss’s fragile physical attributes. Coupled with their prior preparation, there were essentially no problems.
As long as the Empire is willing, in their Inherent Ti Domain, outsiders can’t even kill an ant.
If this were the outside... such an offensive could flatten an entire stellar system, wouldn’t it?
"That strike fused a lot of Arcane Energy, not rely the power of the Councilor... truly interesting."
Clearly a councilor, yet he betrayed his origin, voluntarily selling a vast amount of information—no, rather than selling, he deliberately ca to deliver intelligence.
Then he walked the Pathway of the Destroyer, yet used and dominated Arcane Energy effortlessly.
He doesn’t seem like an incarnation or a growth-armored vanguard either, communicating with those Descenders without obstruction—he is simply one of the Descenders.
"It seems that the talents of these Descenders need to be reassessed."
Narrative Civilization previously did not pay much attention to the players’ existence.
Although, due to Li Aozi’s layout, a large number of players borrowed Baizhu Star early on to contact Valkyrie Fortress, the largest rcenary platform in Layer Abyss, and showcase their skills, the world players connected with was not taken seriously by Narrative Civilization.
After all, players at the mont are rely PMC military contractors in the Third World, whereas Narrative Civilization consists of well-established Heavenly Soldiers and Generals’ regular army.
The most brutal battlefield in recent years is undoubtedly the Galaxy Eye at Grinder, yet for Narrative Civilization, the Galaxy Eye is just a tablecloth that can be dismissed with a blink, requiring no manpower grinding.
They have nurous non-war tools that can achieve the effect: mathematical rules, constant modifiers, mass subconscious hypnosis, soul seals, ntal plagues...
No matter how dazzling the players’ achievents are, in the eyes of Narrative Civilization, it’s rely small-ti.
You say your body is immortal, but our Narrative Citizens have fifteen free revivals, seemingly not much different.
You say you grow rapidly, but Narrative Civilization has perfected extre education and cultivation, directing mass talent production, even nurturing a drunkard like Qinlan Jiuge into a Kappa (10)-level powerhouse for the Empire.
You say your numbers are vast—do you wish to compete in population with Narrative Civilization?
But now, Leoz and others are fiercely confronting Underwater Abyss Bureau Director Qinlan Jiuge, truly refreshing Narrative Civilization’s perceptions.
"Perhaps these Descenders are not only for cannon fodder use."
"Their talents may not be inferior to our Narrative Citizens, and their numbers aren’t small; they encompass various races without requiring dostication."
"However, compared to these Descenders, that ’Blacksmith’ nad Leoz is even more noteworthy..."
Mistofen contemplated in his heart.
These few Descenders should be considered top-tier strength in their group, whether it’s the Elental Caster ticulously deploying elents and refreshing spell slots or the ’Soul Capturer’ superbly controlling the field—these are battle-hardened individuals, absolutely trained amidst piles of corpses.
But, no matter how one looks at it, the most eye-catching is that ’Blacksmith’.
"Leoz... what an unimaginative na, as if too lazy to even act, really unwilling to reveal his identity, or is it just opportunism, betting on both sides?"
Mistofen was quite interested in this ’Blacksmith’.
However, unfortunately, no matter how much he wanted to keep the opponent, the Philosopher King’s orders were more important; he could only let them leave.
This final strike was their evidence presented to the Empire’s high echelons, proving they weren’t re terrorists but rather talents worthy of investnt.
In fact, this further corroborated the Philosopher King’s correct judgnt, akin to reciprocation.
Speaking of which, hasn’t Qinlan Jiuge made any movents all this ti?
Mistofen glanced at the center of the impact, the core position that was gradually surrounded by a dense plasma ocean following the explosion, almost imperceptible to any changes.
Is it still in battle, or has Director Qinlan Jiuge already taken control?
If it’s truly the latter, then they can only find an opportunity to let them go.
According to the e Philosopher King’s deduction, only when this group reaches the Border Abyss can they bring effective returns to the Empire.
Ti passed by the minute, yet the plasma ocean showed no signs of weakening, the thick primordial matter aura around didn’t dissipate, seemingly indicating that Qinlan Jiuge and the group of insurgents were locked in a fierce battle.
...?
Mistofen lightly tapped the tabletop and spoke:
"King, set up the four-dinsional network; I want to apply to view the tiline."
"Permission granted."
The Philosopher King gently raised a finger, seeming to select sothing in the air, suddenly dragging and choosing a distinct ray of light.
"Ti for 30 seconds; drag it yourself. The light threads will link you and . Be careful not to let go; otherwise, you’ll remain turning at the ti fork."
"Understood."
Mistofen raised his hand, catching the light thread that had sohow arrived in front of him, his eyes quickly becoming deep and hollow.
First screening, singularity zero, no change.
Noticed unusual fluctuations, one minute fifty seconds ago—identified as a normal phenonon.
Second screening, singularity five, no change.
Observed four node fluctuations, six minutes seven seconds ago, twelve minutes ago, twenty-six seconds ago—excluded.
Perford model filtering, removed passive interference items...
Third screening begins.
"—Got it!"
Thirteen minutes and twenty-one seconds ago, at this ti point, an anomaly occurred.
Mistofen rapidly dived into his subconscious, directly arriving at this ti, magnified the space location, switched the perspective, and step by step directed his consciousness into the plasma ocean.
Almost there, the surrounding space noise points are nurous, the dinsion shows discontinuous stacking traces; it’s evident soone edited at the four-dinsional level.
Mistofen cald down; this clearly wasn’t the work of Kappa or Zeta.
Able to enter the higher-dinsional realm without anyone noticing, even bypassing the Philosopher King’s surveillance, and directly editing the three-dinsional space.
This is not sothing a Mortal can achieve, nor can ordinary Ascenders or common Ogas.
To achieve this...
Mistofen’s heart grew heavier, as he continued to plunge into the tiline, heedless of his own safety.
Just as he was about to enter the plasma ocean, the surrounding world suddenly darkened.
"What’s going on?"
He looked down at his left hand—clutching tightly at the golden thread in his palm, which was now rapidly fading into darkness.
"The Philosopher King’s thread of light, unexpectedly being eroded..."
Mistofen was horrified, but having co this far, he had no other choice.
The only path now was to continue forward along the set trajectory, reach the edited ti segnt, and from there reconnect with the Empire.
This was the only way to leave.
With his mind made up, Mistofen took step after step forward.
Strictly speaking, the world before him was not completely dark; he could faintly hear many strange sounds.
The rotation of celestial bodies, the conversations of n and won, the songs of rfolk, the howling cold winds atop snow-capped mountains...
Finally, these sounds beca clearer, and he was drawing ever closer to that missing ti segnt.
He stepped his left foot forward, suddenly finding himself on a muddy land, the cold and damp environnt vastly different from the eternally springlike Red Mist Star.
"Here..."
Mistofen’s eyes widened in shock as he gazed at the world before him.
............
Outside the Empire enforcent team periter, the various ard units imdiately fell into tense formations.
As soon as Mistofen stepped into the tiline, these enforcent units were t by a group of bizarre individuals.
"Who are you?"
The temporary commander cautiously observed the unexpected guests, who appeared to be of the Cosmic Human Race, yet inexplicably exuded an indescribable sense of discord.
At first glance, they seed to be living people, yet they appeared strangely odd.
Their skin was fair and their gazes were clear, but their movents were as stiff as plants.
The man leading them wore a straw hat and had a towel around his neck, resembling an old farr, while others looked like firefighters, lawyers, or reporters, a grand total of about two hundred people.
In response to the Empire official’s questioning, the lead farr illogically said:
"Senator Leoz, we’ve been waiting for you for a long ti."
The Empire official furrowed his brow, displeased, and shouted:
"Who exactly are you? This is an enforcent site, unauthorized personnel should not approach."
"I’m not talking to you, sir."
The old farr removed his hat, revealing a simple and honest face, and smiled:
"I’m just a farr, a land tiller, looking for a Blacksmith to co into the city and have so fun."
In the next mont, the entire Empire shook violently, and a suffocating despair and oppression surged through the world.
"Forged nine tis—not, this aura—"
The Empire official’s face turned ashen:
"Final—Reforging?!"
..................
A bitter wind blew past his forehead, tossing Leoz’s disheveled hair.
"Here..."
The familiar cold touched his fingertips, and Leoz sheathed his Blade, standing amidst the snow.
A steam train wheezed by beside him, as a newspaper boy with a face full of frostbite shouted loudly:
"Extra! Extra! Victor Duchy and Falysia Kingdom announce a trade agreent, a new grain export law is forthcoming!"
"Falysia... such a familiar na?"
"A’zhen?"
Hearing soone call him, Leoz turned his head, only to see a white puffball rolling towards him, which up close, he recognized as Lanan.
"Yueyue? How did you beco like this?"
"Ah, this."
Clad in a luxurious moon-white gown, Lanan looked like a little princess, her hair soaked with snow, with a cluster of unknown purple flowers tucked into her forehead. She lifted the hem of her gown and spun around, her feet sinking into the soft snow, making a rustling sound.
"I don’t know either why, but after coming here, I suddenly found myself in this attire."
Lanan said, tilting her head to look at Leoz, and said:
"A’zhen, you’ve also changed."
"Really?"
Leoz raised his hand, using the Blacksmith’s power to refine rcury, forming a Mirror before him:
"Hmm? This appearance..."
The mirror did not show the conscripted body of Isaac Maxim, but rather a tall, cold-faced, gold-haired Samurai with deep blue eyes, a Blade at his waist.
He had seen this appearance before.
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