137: Chapter 137 The True Face of the Correct Time and Space Revealed

The world behind the door unfolded before everyone.

It was an amber sky.

It was not the warm afterglow scattered by the atmosphere at sunset on Earth, but a soft, pale golden light permeating from within space itself, evenly filling every corner of the field of vision.

Beneath the sky hovered a floating city, vast to the point of being boundless.

The base of the city was constructed of some deep gray alloy-like material.

Beneath each level of the base, huge energy cores were embedded, emitting a steady, soft, cold white light, outlining the city from the bottom in layers of light rings.

Floating tracks circled the city's surface, operating silently at different heights and speeds.

Streamlined aircraft shuttled between the tracks; some were as massive as aircraft carriers, others as nimble as shuttles, dragging thin, pale blue trails through the amber skylight.

At the center of the top level of the city stood a tower-like structure.

From the spire, several straight beams of light extended upward, piercing the entire sky, connecting the amber dome with the center of the city.

Further out in the sky beyond the city, the outlines of several giant warships could be faintly seen docked quietly in orbit.

Occasionally, faint cold lights swept across the hulls, like the slow, rhythmic breathing of a sleeping giant.

The entire city had no neon lights, no billboards, no noisy streets or crowded people—only an aesthetic of extreme symmetry and the silence of a high-level civilization.

Harris stood with her mouth agape, forgetting everything she had intended to say.

Graves didn't notice when his grip on his military cap loosened; the brim hit the edge of the stone table, bounced, and rolled to the ground, but he didn't bend down to pick it up.

Mark Milley's broad palms, which had never trembled through countless field exercises and war briefings, rested on the edge of the stone table.

His fingers splayed and closed, as if repeatedly verifying the physical reality before his eyes.

Chief of Staff Madeleine Rasmussen squeezed the water bottle in her hand, causing the plastic to emit a faint, crisp crackle, though she was unaware of it herself.

Sawyer stood beside her, his lips moving several times without making a sound.

This was the first time in his life that he had absolutely no words when he needed to speak.

All the composure on Biden's face condensed into an extremely restrained silence within seconds of that spatial opening.

He slowly withdrew the hand he had tucked into his trouser pocket and clasped his hands together in front of him.

His spine remained straight, his mouth didn't twitch, and his chin didn't drop, but his gaze was nailed to the massive city hovering beneath that amber sky, missing not a single inch from the city's base to the light beam at the very top.

The Secret Service agents who had previously held their guns aimed at Zhang Long now lowered their muzzles to the lowest point.

The Secret Service team leader, the one who had been ready to order fire without hesitation, slowly released his right hand from the gun grip and returned it to his side, his fingers still trembling slightly even after letting go.

He didn't dare to think about what would have happened if he had actually pulled the trigger.

In his entire life—from service to retirement, and even to the grave—he would never dare to think that he had nearly pointed a Glock at a gate leading to the core of a higher civilization.

Diana stood behind the side of the stone table, her chin slightly lifted, lips pressed tight, hands folded gently in front of her.

While these top White House officials were still stunned in place, she only made one confirmation in her heart: She had bet correctly!

From the time she was persuaded by her brother at the Carver Auto Repair Shop to the current situation, she had been gambling every step of the way, and this door of Zhang Long's today cashed in all the bets she had accumulated previously in one go.

At this moment, she knew clearly that her position on the map of power was no longer that of a "military-industrial complex agent."

As long as Zhang Long stood here, every move the President made would be pre-corrected through her understanding of the Longevity Faction's stance.

Augustus stood beside her, his thick, heavy palms resting on the edge of the stone table, his gaze dazed as he looked at the floating city behind the gate.

His lips moved, but he didn't offer any rough comments as he usually would.

He was grateful now that when π=3 was at its most desperate, he hadn't wavered like Sterling.

At that time, it was only a decision of which side to take that separated him from Sterling.

And now, the Remington family was kicked out, while he could still stand here and follow Lord Zhang Long through that door.

Zhang Long watched the reactions of everyone present in silence.

He didn't urge them, nor did he explain.

He simply waited until the shock in the courtyard had subsided slightly on everyone's faces before turning around, taking a step, and walking toward the spatial opening suspended in mid-air.

As he reached the door, he turned his head slightly and dropped a faint, "Follow me," before his entire figure submerged into that dark blue halo, disappearing into the depths of the floating city beneath the amber sky.

Everyone present snapped out of their shock simultaneously, subconsciously stepping forward.

But the two Men in Black at the door raised their arms at the same time, blocking the way.

Biden was blocked at the very front, with Harris following closely behind.

Graves and Mark Milley lunged forward almost side-by-side, but were simultaneously blocked back to their original spots by that invisible barrier.

Only Diana and Augustus were not stopped.

Under everyone's gaze, they followed behind Zhang Long and disappeared into the dark blue halo one after another.

Biden remained composed, his hands back in his trouser pockets, continuing to stare at the spatial opening that traversed the strange light, without saying any extra words to his entourage.

Harris forcibly pulled back the foot she had just lunged forward with, her heel thudding against the courtyard stone, but she didn't speak.

Graves tucked the military cap he had just bent down to pick up back into the crook of his arm, pressing the brim flat again and again, his chest heaving more rapidly than before.

Mark Milley stood where he was, his jaw somewhat stiff, his lips pressed tightly together without uttering a sound.

Sawyer took half a step forward, wanting to speak... but when facing those two Men in Black, all the confidence he had previously used to clear his throat and raise his voice in front of Diana vanished.

He lowered his voice to the minimum, using a tone completely different from before—one that was too polite, even bordering on ingratiating—and said to one of the Men in Black: "Lord Zhang Long just... just said to let us follow him in."

This sentence from Sawyer was also the one thing all the high-ranking White House officials present were holding back in their hearts.

They didn't dare to question him righteously like they had questioned Diana just now.

Looking back now, questioning Diana was simply ridiculous, because Diana had someone above her, and this person had just opened a door for all of them that had been carved open from the inside of space.