85: Hope, and the deeper despair that follows

The battlefield was a painting named “Despair,” drawn with strokes of fire, steel, and blood.

Looking out from the panoramic command deck of Pangu Biotech's headquarters, the tactical display was a crimson sea of icons, an overwhelming wave of power that had already engulfed the city's outer defenses. The blue icons representing allied forces were like a few scattered, flickering embers in the raging fires of Hell.

A Senior Analyst, pale-faced and sweating profusely, delivered the final, stark assessment. His voice was flat, stripped of all emotion by the pure, crushing weight of the data.

"Madam," he began, addressing Su Mucheng, his gaze never leaving his console, "enemy numbers are confirmed to be ten times our own. Their armored divisions have breached the third line of defense. Worse, we've identified three distinct S-Class energy signatures within their command structure. Our Elder Long Wei is currently engaging one of them, but... he is being suppressed. The probability of a successful defense... statistically, is zero."

These words hung in the air of the command center like a cold, heavy shroud. Every officer, every technician, felt the last vestiges of hope being drained from their hearts. This wasn't a battle; it was an execution.

As if to add a bloody footnote to the analyst's report, the arrogant, amplified voice of the Coalition Commander—a man named Kellen—crackled over their open comms channel. His voice dripped with condescending contempt and the casual cruelty of a man who had already won.

"Su Mucheng," the voice boomed, as if mocking the heavens, "your shields are down, your armies are broken. I offer you one last chance to save your city and your people, as my... benevolent gesture. Surrender. Come to my flagship, the 'Iron Tyrant,' in person to negotiate terms. But, my patience is running out."

The unspoken implication was clear and deeply humiliating. This was an invasion, a demand for submission that transcended the battlefield.

Su Mucheng's knuckles, clutching the edge of the command console, were white. The alloy surface groaned faintly under her grip. She knew what he wanted. It wasn't negotiation; it was a trophy. He wanted to parade her, the beautiful and defiant empress of a burgeoning commercial kingdom, before his victorious armies. He wanted to destroy not just her city, but her herself, and in doing so, send a message of ultimate humiliation to the man she served.

Her thoughts flashed back to Lin Tian. She remembered the first time she met him, how his casual, almost bored arrogance in his eyes had dismantled her pride with a few cold questions. She remembered the unparalleled sense of security she felt when he stood before her, shielding her from Ye Fan's pathetic rage. He was a tyrant, yes, but he was her tyrant. He had broken her, but he had also remade her, giving her a purpose and strength she had never dreamed of. This city, this company, was not just a business. It was the first cornerstone of the Empire he had entrusted to her. It was a testament to his grand design and a symbol of her own Rebirth.

To surrender it, to surrender herself, would not just be a personal failure, but a betrayal of the trust he had placed in her, a stain on his name.

She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and straightened her spine. The fear that had coiled in her stomach was consumed by a sudden, cold, defiant fire.

She activated her broadcast channel, her voice ringing across the battlefield, clear and resolute.

"This is Su Mucheng, CEO of Pangu Biotech," she declared, her tone as sharp and unyielding as a diamond, "I answer only to our Chairman, Mr. Lin Tian. If you wish to negotiate, you may climb to Yanjing and present your terms to him. As for me..."

She drew the ceremonial energy pistol from her hip holster. It was an ornate and beautiful weapon, more a symbol of her position than a tool of war, but now, it felt heavy and real in her hand, like a scepter.

"...I will defend his property to my last breath."

Her gaze swept over the faces of her subordinates in the command room. She saw their despair, but also, in her defiance, a spark of pride rekindled within them.

"All units," she commanded, her voice a clarion call in the encroaching darkness, "prepare for the final battle! For the Chairman's glory!"

The battle erupted into its final, most brutal phase.

It wasn't a battle; it was a massacre. The Coalition forces, led by one of the S-Class Commanders—a hulking brute in custom power armor—slammed into the defenders' last line like a giant iron ball shattering glass. The city's automated defense turrets were vaporized, and elite guards in sleek black armor were cut down in swathes. The fighting was brutal, desperate, and utterly one-sided, a merciless testament to the cold arithmetic of war.

On the highest city wall, Elder Long Wei roared, his body wreathed in the secret technique of the Dragon Family's main lineage—a fiery phantom of a battle Dragon. He was a seasoned veteran, his face a map of old scars, his will as tough as an ancient mountain. He met the enemy's S-Class Commander head-on, each of his attacks carrying the weight of a lifetime of combat. But he was already wounded, his shields shattered, and his opponent was at his Peak, a brutal warrior fighting with cruel, relentless efficiency. Each clash of their weapons unleashed shockwaves capable of leveling entire city blocks, the concussive force pulverizing rebar and concrete, turning vehicles into twisted shrapnel. It was clear he was losing, being painfully pushed back step by step, his fiery battle Dragon phantom dimming with each heavy blow he took.

The defenses were collapsing. The defenders were pushed back to the city's central plaza, their numbers dwindling by the minute. Despair was a tangible thing, a cold, suffocating fog that permeated the hearts of the brave men and women making their last stand.

Then, a miracle occurred.

A roar, not of anger, but of pure, transformative metamorphosis, tore through the din of battle.

Long Ao, the man who had been fighting like a madman on the front lines, his sword light a silver curtain, had been pushed to his absolute limit. He watched Elder Long Wei stumble back, a massive war hammer breaking through his defenses and sending him flying. He saw the enemy Commander raise his weapon, preparing to deliver a killing blow. He saw the desperate expressions on his comrades' faces. In that singular, clear moment of absolute crisis, under the crushing pressure of imminent total annihilation, a genetic 鎖 that had bound him for years shattered within him.

He remembered his past. The pride of being the first heir. The humiliation of being so easily surpassed by Lin Tian. The silent yearning to prove his worth—not just to his Family, but to the man who now stood at the Peak. This was not just a battle for the city; this was his battle for redemption.

"I... will not... disappoint him!" he screamed, the words a vow torn from the depths of his Soul.

Boom!

A pure, incandescent pillar of sword-shaped energy erupted from within him, like a miniature sun, sweeping away the surrounding smoke and chaos. His Aura, already at Peak A-rank, surged with explosive power, crossing the sacred and inviolable threshold, entering the S-Class Domain. He had achieved a Breakthrough!

With a cry of triumph mixed with pain and ecstasy, he charged forward, his newfound power transforming into a burning, destructive supernova. He moved with unprecedented speed, his sword leaving a golden streak in the air. He intercepted the fatal blow meant for Elder Long Wei, his blade colliding with the enemy's war hammer in a catastrophic energy explosion that sent the S-Class Commander staggering back, his eyes filled with disbelief.

"For Alpha!" Long Ao roared, his voice resonating with his newfound power and authority.

A glimmer of hope, bright, dazzling, and utterly unexpected, pierced the suffocating gloom of the battlefield. The defenders, witnessing this impossible turn, let out a hoarse, disbelieving cheer. Their voices, raw with exhaustion and despair, coalesced into a renewed chorus of defiance. They had another S-Class Expert! They could hold! They might even win!

This hope lasted for precisely ten seconds.

It was a beautiful and fleeting moment of courage in impossible odds. A candle lit in a hurricane.

As if in response to this defiant spark, the sky above the battlefield darkened once more. Two more figures descended from the enemy flagship, their movements unhurried, their very presence an absolute negation of the hope that had just been born. Their oppressive Aura, vast and suffocating, was like that of a pair of death gods, each a true S-Class Expert.

They did not speak, nor did they posture; they simply acted.

One of the newcomers, a lean man in a long trench coat, simply raised a hand. The air around Long Ao instantly became thick and heavy, gravity increasing a hundredfold out of nowhere. The newly promoted warrior, a burning sun a moment ago, was instantly crushed to his knees, the ground beneath him cracking under the immense pressure.

The second newcomer, a woman with cold, Mental Energy-blue eyes, merely glanced at him. An invisible storm of Mental Energy daggers bypassed all his physical defenses and slammed into Long Ao's mind.

He let out a shriek, a primal, agonized roar, his senses being torn apart from within.

The first Commander, who had been forced back, seized the opportunity. He charged forward, his war hammer glowing with corrosive plasma, bringing it down in a relentless, all-ending strike.

Three distinct S-Class Auras—a crushing gravitational field, a storm of mental torment, and finally, an overwhelming physical attack—converged simultaneously on the newly promoted Long Ao.

He didn't even have time to organize any defense.

The brilliant pillar of sword light that had been his symbol of victory, his redemption, and the hope of the defenders, was instantly extinguished, like a candle in the Void Realm. He was slammed back to the ground with the force of a meteor impact, his nascent S-Class Aura shattering into a million sparkling fragments. His armor cracked and splintered, his body broke, and a fountain of blood erupted from his mouth.

The hope that had just been born was brutally, mercilessly, and efficiently crushed by an absolute, insurmountable force.

The battlefield fell silent again. The hoarse cheers of the defenders died in their throats, replaced by a silence born not of shock, but of complete, Soul-crushing despair. It was the silence of a dying person in the desert who sees a beautiful oasis, only to find it is a mirage.

Enemy Commander Kellen's voice returned to the comms channel, now laced with a cruel, mocking amusement, far more terrifying than his previous anger.

"A valiant effort. Truly touching. Almost brought a tear to my eye."

He let the silence hang for a moment, savoring their despair.

"Su Mucheng," he said, his tone dropping into a cold ultimatum that echoed over the shattered city, "I am a busy man. My offer still stands, but because you've wasted my time, the price has gone up. Walk out of that tower yourself, and kneel before my flagship. Now."

He paused, letting his next words utterly crush them.

"Otherwise, I will order this city razed, and every man, woman, and child within it will be turned to dust before your eyes."

"You have one minute to decide."