88: Chapter 88 A mortal body, comparable to gods? Guild Master: You all step back, I'll handle this!

Under the overpass.

The moment the five black shadows crashed down, the General's order had already cut into every communication channel.

"Three Shadow Erosion Beasts, concentrate high-temperature shells for coverage! Everyone pull back at least fifty meters, do not touch the black mist!"

"Two Scythe-Blade Mantis Beasts, aim for the joint gaps! Sniper team, use armor-piercing rounds and aim for the connection points of the forelimbs! Wait for it to swing its scythe before firing, that's when the gap is widest!"

This wasn't a blind charge.

The weak point report on the exotic beasts from The Seventh Division had been issued to every squad forty-eight hours ago, and every soldier had memorized it three times over.

Three self-propelled artillery units fired simultaneously.

The high-temperature shells accurately struck the chest cavity of the first Shadow Erosion Beast; orange-red fireballs exploded within the black mist, the heatwave overturning all unsecured debris within thirty meters.

1,100 degrees.

The maximum output of conventional high-temperature shells.

The smoke cleared.

Ripples appeared in the black mist of the Shadow Erosion Beast's chest cavity.

It was a layer thinner.

That was all.

The General gritted his teeth.

The compass said high temperatures were effective, and that was correct.

But between "effective" and "useful" lay a chasm called "dimension."

"Switch to thermite shells!"

Second round.

Military-grade special thermite incendiary shells, with a high-purity thermite formula in the warhead core.

Detonation temperature—2,500 degrees.

This was the ceiling of temperature within the human individual weapon system.

Three thermite shells hit simultaneously.

White flames exploded on the surface of the Shadow Erosion Beast; the temperature was so high that even the paint on the armored vehicle fifteen meters away bubbled.

The black mist churned violently.

It retreated!

It retreated a full half-meter!

"Effective! Keep firing!"

The artillery observer's voice exploded from the walkie-talkie, carrying a hint of trembling ecstasy.

But the next second, his voice stuck.

The black mist had retreated half a meter, only to surge back.

2,500-degree thermite could only force the black mist back half a meter, and it lasted less than three seconds.

The General's mind was racing.

He had read the data analysis report of that battle in the East Sea seven times.

The mysterious man's flame temperature, back-calculated by thermal imaging satellites, was approximately 2,000 degrees in the core area.

2,500 degrees couldn't pierce it, yet 2,000 degrees could burn the sky with a single palm?

Why?

There was no time to think.

"All shell types, coverage! Don't stop!"

Sniper team.

Three snipers lay behind the overpass railing, armor-piercing rounds loaded.

In the scope, the Scythe-Blade Mantis Beast on the left was swinging its forelimbs, sweeping across the roadblocks.

"Wait for it to swing its scythe..."

Sniper One's breathing was suppressed to the lowest frequency.

The Mantis Beast's forelimb raised to its highest point, then slashed down.

"Fire!"

Three gunshots rang out.

The armor-piercing rounds hit the joints.

Sparks flew.

Three tiny dents appeared on the surface of the carapace.

No penetration.

Sniper One reloaded.

The observer looked at him,

"It won't penetrate."

"I know."

His index finger returned to the trigger,

"But I haven't run out of ammo yet."

Infantry squad.

Private Zhao Xiaobei crouched behind an armored vehicle, changing magazines.

His hands were shaking.

It wasn't fear; it was the recoil from continuous firing vibrating from his shoulders to his fingertips, making his joints numb.

Folded in his chest pocket was a letter, written at four in the morning.

"Mother, your son is unfilial. Guarding the body for the nation, I can no longer serve by your side. In the next life, I will still be your son. Your son kneels and bids you farewell."

When he finished writing, the squad leader pulled out a letter folded in the same way from his pocket and patted his shoulder.

The whole squad of forty-one men, forty-one letters.

Eight minutes.

Four armored vehicles were totaled, one infantry fighting vehicle overturned.

The self-propelled artillery barrels had overheated and deformed, with the last round jammed in the chamber.

Seven were seriously injured, twelve slightly injured.

The thermite shells were gone. The high-temperature shells were gone. Only two basic loads of armor-piercing rounds remained.

The black mist was spreading.

Upon touching the tracks of the self-propelled artillery, the metal rusted and flaked off at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The General stood on top of the command vehicle.

He saw everything.

The direction was entirely correct, but the power was completely insufficient.

2,500-degree thermite hit the exotic beast like a scratch.

Yet that man could burn the sky with 2,000 degrees.

It wasn't a temperature issue.

It was a fundamental difference.

He cursed, his voice so low that only he could hear it.

Then he picked up the walkie-talkie.

"All units, listen up—close combat team, prepare. Engineer shovels, bayonets, close the distance, and leave a mark on it."

He paused for a beat.

"Even if you can't, make it remember—the people on this land are not to be bullied."

He jumped off the command vehicle and picked up a pistol from the passenger seat.

Sixty-one years old, thirty-seven years of military service.

Zhao Xiaobei was knocked flying for the second time.

The back of his head hit the curb, his vision flashing black, bright, black.

He lay on the ground, his hand still gripping his rifle.

The shockwave opened the pocket on his chest, and that neatly folded letter slid out, fluttering in the chaotic airflow.

The white letter paper was glaringly obvious in the smoke-filled air.

Zhao Xiaobei reached out to grab it, but didn't catch it.

The letter drifted toward the approaching Shadow Erosion Beast, was swept up by the black mist at its feet, and silently turned into ashes.

Zhao Xiaobei's eyes turned red.

He struggled to lift his head.

The Shadow Erosion Beast's claws were already descending.

He closed his eyes.

"Mother, I'm sor—"

The claw shadow stopped.

All sound vanished at the same moment.

The whistling of shells, the roar of firearms, the screeching of exotic beasts, the groans of the wounded... everything seemed as if a mute button had been pressed.

Zhao Xiaobei opened his eyes.

The Shadow Erosion Beast's claws hung half a meter above his head, motionless.

Not just this one.

All five exotic beasts were frozen in place.

The black mist stagnated, the joints locked, the dark red light spots stopped pulsating.

It was as if they had been grasped from space-time by an invisible giant hand and nailed into this single frame.

!!! What on earth is going on?!!

The General slowly lowered the arm holding the pistol.

All soldiers stopped firing and looked up.

Above the firmament, amidst the lead-colored dark clouds—firelight.

It wasn't the orange-red of artillery fire.

It was an extraordinary flame that burned from orange-red to pure white, and then from pure white to transparent.

A figure emerged from the firelight.

A black trench coat whipped and snapped in the thermal radiation airflow.

Half of his face was hidden beneath a Cyan-Motion mask.

Those eyes—angry, cold.

The soldiers who had encountered Su Chen in the East Sea saw emotion in those eyes for the first time.

It wasn't the composure of the East Sea, nor the calmness of the War Zone.

It was the uncontrollable, scorching rage after seeing his own people bleed.

Su Chen hovered in mid-air.

A telekinetic field enveloped the entire battlefield; the five exotic beasts were locked by his mental power, unable to move a single hair.

He looked down.

His gaze swept over the overturned armored vehicles, the shell casings covering the ground, and every soldier, bloodied but standing with straight backs.

Zhao Xiaobei looked up from the ground at that figure.

He finally let go of his rifle.

Tears hit the rubble.

The General stood beside the command vehicle; the sixty-one-year-old veteran looked up, his lips moving twice.

No sound came out.

But everyone saw his expression.

A sense of relief.

Su Chen's gaze finally fell upon the General.

Beneath the mask, the lines of his mouth were pulled tight.

He spoke.

His voice wasn't loud, but the telekinetic field delivered every word into the ears of everyone present.

"You all fall back."

"What comes next—I'll handle."