140: Chapter 142's loading screen is also the output phase.

The light inside the Warp blind jump corridor was a dark purple.

This Black Battleaxe Frigate, forcibly cobbled together from anti-aircraft towers and load-bearing pillars, had no portholes; that maddening dark purple glow seeped directly through the gaps in the hull's steel plating.

The temperature inside the ship dropped to absolute zero within the third second of the jump.

Fourteen Astartes stood in a metal corridor smelted from scrap power armor.

Frost clung to their eyelashes and breathing filter grilles, and a thick shell of ice formed on the surface of their pitch-black Artificer Armor.

The thermometer on the main control panel had stopped working.

The pressure gauge was the next to go on strike.

On the alloy bulkheads at the end of the corridor, the thick rivets crudely welded by low-level Priests began to bulge outward one by one.

It wasn't because of a pressure imbalance.

Something inside the walls was pushing out.

A sharp "crack" rang out.

A rivet the size of a human head was sent flying, slamming into Fourteenth Recruit's breastplate and striking a cluster of ghostly blue sparks.

From the hole left by the rivet, a wriggling mass of dark red flesh squeezed out.

The fleshy tumor expanded rapidly, a slit tearing open on its surface as a giant eyeball with fine barbs and a yellow pupil rolled out from within.

Warp demons were boarding.

This ship had no Geller Field protection.

In the system's judgment, it was completely defenseless.

The main screen in the cockpit was instantly flooded with a series of crimson system warnings.

[Global Warning: Large-scale high-dimensional mental entity intrusion detected.]

[Civilization Sanity (San value) dropping rapidly.]

[Irreversible mental mutation of crew expected in three seconds.]

[Judgment: Civilization existence crisis.]

Li Cang didn't look up at those red warnings.

His gaze was fixed on the number on the loading interface: [Time Remaining for Jump: 120 Seconds].

His fingers swept over the tactical card slots, pulling out that purple trump card representing the bottom line of absolute materialism.

[Imperial Truth].

The card turned into a golden light and slammed into the ship's underlying physical connections.

The crimson warnings on the main screen instantly froze.

That string of Civilization Sanity judgments, frantically counting down to zero, was forcibly tagged by the system with an unidentifiable garbled label.

As long as the trump card wasn't withdrawn, the system could not judge the Astartes as having a mental breakdown in this match.

Inside the ship's corridor.

The yellow eyeball that had squeezed out of the wall rolled once, its pupil locking onto Fourteenth Recruit.

A long trail of slimy tentacles pulled out from behind the eyeball, and large patches of purple-black fungus and fanged mouths began to grow at the junction of the walls and the metal floor.

A heavy stench, a mix of rotting meat and ozone, filled the air.

The fourteen Astartes suffered no "indescribable" mental interference.

Only the last command issued by Li Cang before the jump remained in their minds.

"Just mince them for me."

Fourteenth Recruit did not retreat.

He raised the electromagnetic-accelerated Bolter in his hand.

The barrel was frosted due to the previous extreme cold, and the muzzle was shoved directly to within half a meter of that yellow eyeball.

His index finger squeezed the trigger tight.

Boom.

Inside this enclosed metal box, the roar of the Bolter's fire shook the ship's keel into resonance.

The depleted uranium armor-piercing core, carrying terrifying kinetic energy after three stages of electromagnetic acceleration, bored straight through the eyeball's pupil.

The bolt shell underwent a secondary detonation inside the demon's fleshy tumor.

Yellow slime and purple-black shredded meat instantly plastered the walls on both sides of the corridor.

The eyeball, along with the trail of tentacles pulled out behind it, was blown into a pile of unidentifiable mush.

But this was only the beginning.

Those newly grown, fanged mouths on the metal deck began to let out ear-piercing shrieks.

More rivets snapped off.

Several Void Abominations, composed entirely of blurred light and shadow and sharp bone blades, crawled out from the energy conduits in the ceiling.

The fourteen giants simultaneously holstered their Bolters on their backs.

In such a cramped, enclosed space, bolt shells were prone to ricochets that could injure allies.

They drew the high-frequency Chainswords that had been scattered on the floor.

Thumbs pressed down on the power valves on the hilts.

Fourteen sets of serrated teeth instantly ramped up to maximum RPM, the smell of burning engine oil mixing into the foul-smelling space.

A purely physical exorcism ritual began.

No holy water, no exorcism incantations, no clash of mental strength.

This was a unilateral physical slaughter of interdimensional creatures by steel and high heat.

Recruit Number One swung his spinning Chainsword, cleaving a Void Abomination pouncing from a vent in half.

Bone blades clashed with high-frequency serrations, and snapped bone shards embedded themselves directly into the recruit's faceplate.

Without pausing, the recruit stepped on the half-corpse, reversed his Chainsword, and sliced across the floor, grinding all those newly opened demonic mouths into meat paste.

Both ends of the corridor were completely blocked.

No one knew how many Warp creatures were attracted by this hull-less wreck, frantically squeezing out from the gap between the material and immaterial.

The fourteen men formed a steel circle, back-to-back.

A dark red overload glow lit up in the gaps of their black Artificer Armor.

Their dual hearts pumped blood at a maximum frequency of four hundred beats per minute.

The Chainswords pulled out fourteen blue afterimages in their rapid swings.

Not a single demon that rushed forward lived long enough to see the full appearance of these giants.

Their tentacles were sawed off.

Their eyeballs were crushed by armored boots.

Their proud chaotic whispers, capable of driving ordinary people mad, were all ruthlessly drowned out by the deafening roar of the Chainswords.

The interior of the warship began to shake violently due to the fierce collisions of the melee.

Li Cang sat in the pilot's chair, watching the jump countdown on the screen.

[Time Remaining: 10 Seconds.]

The temperature of the ship's hull was rising rapidly.

Warp blind jumps are unstable and have no fixed exit point.

That Dark Gold-grade engine, which had an extremely high instability rate due to being stuffed with scrap and cyber-viruses, was now frantically drawing energy from the reactor, preparing to forcibly tear open a rift back to the real universe.

Public Star Sector, Star-Shattering Battle Royale Main Stage.

This was a chaotic region of space scattered with countless asteroid fragments and the wreckage of abandoned star-gates.

The vanguard forces of thousands of civilizations were arriving safely through standard space jump protocols.

Behind a giant meteorite on the edge of the star sector.

A Lightwing-class Frigate, with an extremely streamlined shape and a hull coated in stealth reflective paint, had just completed its jump.

This was a standard scout ship of the "Holy Machine Alliance," an established power in the 11th Sector.

On the bridge, three mechanical operators with data tubes plugged into the backs of their heads were methodically calibrating the radar.

They intended to establish a hidden sniping position here, harvesting those unstable novice civilizations while the competition had just begun.

"Jump ripples stable, no high-energy reactions within ten thousand kilometers."

The main operator's report had just been uploaded to the mothership via the data link.

On the ultra-high-definition holographic radar screen in front of him, a brilliant red halo suddenly burst forth.

The halo appeared less than thirty meters directly above their frigate.

"Spatial coefficient anomaly!"

The operator's voice instantly changed pitch.

This wasn't a standard spatial Warp signal; this was some kind of extremely violent spatial tearing.

It was as if someone had used a rusty crowbar to forcibly pry open a hole in the physical dimensions of this star sector.

In the vacuum thirty meters away, a giant dark purple rift roared open.

The Imperial frigate, in the shape of a black battleaxe and covered in frost and the residual foul aura of the Warp, leaped out from the rift.

Its exit posture was completely out of control; the solid ramming prow on the bow, smelted from anti-aircraft towers, crushed down directly onto the exquisite stealth starship below with an initial velocity of several Mach.

The Holy Machine Alliance frigate didn't even have time to activate its Energy Shield.

That wasn't the most fatal part.

The most fatal part was the Dark Gold engine's property: [Gravitational Tear].

The moment the Imperial warship exited the Warp, the energy overload of the gravity engine formed a small gravity collapse field around the hull.

The Holy Machine scout ship was caught tight by this irresistible gravitational field and dragged upward.

A tragic physical kiss occurred between the solid ramming prow and the streamlined hull.

There was no suspense.

That layer of composite armor, representing the pinnacle of advanced materials science, was torn open directly by the ramming prow.

The hull snapped into two pieces under the massive kinetic energy and gravitational tearing.

The three operators with tubes plugged in didn't even get a chance to activate their escape pods before their body fluids were sucked dry by the cosmic vacuum pouring into the cabin.

A brief fireball erupted in the silent starry sky.

This expensive scout ship was crushed on the spot by a wreck that had just crawled out of hell.

Inside the cockpit.

The all-channel system banner refreshed on time.

[Battle Royale Match Bulletin: Holy Machine Alliance - Lightwing Flight Ship No. 1 has been destroyed.]

[Slayer: Unnamed Civilization (Black Box Status).]

[First Kill Reward: Epic Resource Supply Box × 3 (Scattered at the kill point).]

The jump was over.

The temperature inside the ship began to slowly rise.

In the lower corridor, the fourteen Astartes stopped their Chainswords.

The floor was covered in a thick layer of shredded meat and slime that could no longer be identified biologically, and the walls were covered in deep gouges cut by the Chainswords.

Four giant metal supply boxes floated beside the wreckage of the enemy ship, which was broken into two pieces, emitting an enticing purple glow.

Li Cang didn't look at the sector kill bulletin.

He only glanced at the current coordinates of those supply boxes.

His finger pressed the hatch unlock button on the main console.

"First Legion, the hatch is open."

"Go out and get our stuff back."

The gravity isolation hatch at the end of the corridor slid open to both sides with a roar.

The cosmic vacuum outside poured in with a suction force capable of tearing a person apart, sucking the demonic meat paste off the floor.

Fourteen steel giants, covered in blood of various colors, activated their magnetic suction boots and stepped out of the ship's cabin one by one against the howling wind of decompression.