80: Chapter 80 African Madman and Nuclear Explosion

While undercurrents were surging throughout the world, Chen Mo had already left Hong Kong.

Two days had passed.

He traveled westward from Hong Kong, flying over the Indochinese Peninsula.

The tropical rainforests in the early morning were steaming with white mist.

Chen Mo's Mental Perception covered a range of several kilometers below, but the scenes he captured were not pleasant.

In the corners of border towns, people bound by iron chains were being shoved into truck beds.

Inside the high walls of scam compounds, confiscated passports were piled up like mountains in safes.

In the shadows of dock warehouses, transaction figures danced on mobile phone screens.

Chen Mo only took a glance.

He did not stop.

There were too many things happening in the world.

He was not a savior; he could not manage them all.

He simply watched.

Continuing westward, he crossed the Andaman Sea and entered the airspace of India.

On the land of India, the plains shimmered with gray-yellow dust under the afternoon sun.

On the outskirts of the cities, the tin roofs of slums reflected blinding white light.

Traffic crawled slowly along congested streets, with the sounds of horns, hawking, and temple bells mingling together.

Chen Mo lowered his altitude and swept over a city.

Then, his perception captured a video that was going viral on social media.

In the footage, a burly black man wearing camouflage stood in an open space, backed by earthen-yellow walls and several pickup trucks mounted with machine guns.

He was around forty years old, wearing a thick gold chain around his neck, holding a gold-plated rifle in his left hand, and making a provocative gesture at the camera with his right.

Behind him were the extremist militants he had used to slaughter innocents over the years; they were his core force and his source of confidence.

"That god, that so-called deity who appeared in Hong Kong."

The warlord grinned at the camera, revealing a mouthful of gold teeth, "I'll give him one day."

He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the entire world.

"Tomorrow, come to me."

"If you don't come."

He turned around, and the camera followed him to the other side.

In the open space behind him, a group of bound people knelt on the ground—men, women, and the elderly.

Their faces held a hollow numbness, a blankness remaining after experiencing too much fear.

"I will start slaughtering the city."

He turned back and smiled at the camera.

"He is nothing but a flying monster.

Before my weapons, he is fragile."

He patted the heavy machine gun beside him, its metal barrel reflecting a cold, hard light under the sun.

"I'll be waiting for him right here."

The video ended.

The comment section below was like an exploded anthill.

"He's crazy."

"He's looking for death."

"Lord Deity, please kill him."

"If you really have the ability, then go! If you don't go, you're just ignoring people in distress!"

"Don't go, it's a trap."

"Are you crazy, upstairs? If he doesn't go, he's going to slaughter the city!"

"Why should he go? He's not the police."

"People with abilities should step in; otherwise, what's the use of having such power?"

"Moral kidnapping is truly disgusting."

All kinds of voices—arguments, accusations, justifications—piled up layer upon layer.

Chen Mo finished watching the video, his expression unchanged.

From the moment he decided to reveal his power to the world, he knew this day would come.

Some would fear, some would worship, some would question, and some would test him.

And some would provoke him.

They did not believe that an existence that had never appeared before could truly be that strong.

They mistook forbearance for weakness.

They mistook kindness for cowardice.

They were wrong.

They needed to see destruction with their own eyes to learn how to be in awe.

Chen Mo felt no anger.

He calmly located the warlord's coordinates.

In central Africa, an armed stronghold converted from an abandoned mining area.

Then, he instantly activated his Force Field.

Twelve Mach.

Invisibility.

Silent and traceless.

From India to central Africa, 8,600 kilometers.

Chen Mo flew at full speed.

Half an hour later.

Chen Mo hovered five thousand meters above the target.

His Mental Perception extended downward, covering the entire area.

It was a compound covering several square kilometers.

The perimeter consisted of earthen-yellow high walls, with machine guns and rocket launchers mounted on the walls.

Inside was a dense cluster of buildings: barracks, warehouses, training grounds, and armories.

In the very center was a two-story villa, its exterior walls covered in cheap marble tiles, with a massive satellite dish installed on the roof.

There were over two thousand militants in the compound.

They had rifles, machine guns, rocket launchers, and even several modified armored vehicles and a towed artillery piece.

This was the warlord's entire fortune.

Over the years, he had led these men to slaughter four villages and burn down two towns.

He would lock living people in cellars, drag them out when needed, and make them disappear in front of the camera.

The warlord leader was currently standing in the open space in front of the villa.

The live stream camera was pointed at him, and the real-time footage was being transmitted to every screen around the world.

He was still provoking.

"Where is that god? Why isn't he here yet? Is he afraid?"

The warlord spread his arms, spun around, and shouted at the sky.

"I said it, you're just a flying monster!

What does your invisibility count for?

What does your speed count for?

Before my army, you are nothing!"

The militants behind him raised their guns and shouted in unison.

"Come on! I'm right here!"

Chen Mo ignored his shouting.

The Source Power throughout his body was slowly condensing.

Every cell was releasing its stored energy.

Gathering into the palm of his right hand.

Chen Mo's palm began to glow.

A searing, scorching white light, as if a miniature star were being born in his palm.

The light grew brighter and larger, expanding from the size of a fist to the size of a human head, and then to a diameter of five meters.

That was the condensed state of Source Power—high-density energy compressed within a spherical space wrapped by a Force Field, its temperature climbing to tens of thousands of degrees within seconds.

The moisture in the air was instantly evaporated.

The surrounding clouds were pushed away by the energy dissipated by the ball of light, forming a huge circular hole in the sky.

Then.

The people on the ground saw it.

The first to notice was a militant.

He was looking up at the sky, his rifle nearly dropping to the ground.

"What is that?"

In the sky, five thousand meters up, a second sun appeared.

No, that was not the sun.

The sun was in the west; that ball of light was in the north.

It hovered above the clouds, its brightness making it impossible to look directly at.

The white light poured down like a waterfall, pressing the shadows of the entire compound into short, black silhouettes.

The air seemed to be trembling, and a low, humming sound pressed down from the sky, penetrating the skin and vibrating everyone's bones.

The live stream camera turned to the sky.

In the footage, that ball of light looked like a white eye overlooking the earth.

The chat exploded instantly.

"He's here!"

"That deity! He's here!"

"My god, what is that?"

"A second sun!"

"That light in his hand, what kind of weapon is that?!"

"Run!!! Everyone run!!!"

Meanwhile, in space.

Satellites from various countries turned simultaneously at this moment.

The United States' Keyhole satellites, the United Kingdom's radar satellites, and Russia's reconnaissance satellites—all lenses were aimed at those coordinates, at that piece of African land, and at that blinding light source in the sky.

Analysts in front of their screens widened their eyes.

They dared not imagine what the consequences would be if that ball of light were to fall.

Chen Mo did not strike immediately.

He hovered in the sky; the Source Power sphere in his palm had condensed to the limit of what he could currently control.

It was too bright.

Too hot.

Too unstable.

But his Force Field constrained it tightly, fixing it at a position above his palm like a star tethered by iron chains.

He was waiting.

Waiting for the world's satellites to all be aimed here.

Waiting for the world's screens to all be watching here.

Waiting for everyone to know who did what was about to happen, and why.

The compound below was in complete chaos.

The militants were no longer shouting or raising their guns.

They dropped their weapons and rushed toward cars, motorcycles, or any tool that could get them away quickly.

Some fought over keys, while others ran frantically on foot. In the chaos, some were trampled, some were shoved against walls, and some drew pistols and shot at those pushing past them.

The warlord leader collapsed to the ground.

He looked at the ball of light in the sky, all the arrogance on his face vanished.

He could feel it.

The trembling in the air, the pressure pressing down from the sky, the fear that seeped into his marrow—he knew he had been wrong.

That existence was not a monster at all.

The monster was himself.

And the deity had come.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

But only a hoarse, airy sound came from his throat.

Chen Mo looked down at the chaos below.

His expression remained calm.

No anger, no sneer, no pity.

Just calm.

Then he spoke.

His voice, amplified by the Force Field, echoed across the sky like a bell tolling from beyond the heavens.

"You wanted me to come."

"Now, I am here."

The next moment.

The Source Power sphere fell.

That white sun plummeted from five thousand meters, its speed increasing rapidly.

The air on its surface heated up rapidly, ionizing into plasma and dragging out a bright tail of flame.

It passed through the clouds like a meteorite, like a spear of divine punishment.

The people on the ground looked up.

Light filled their entire field of vision.

Then.

Impact.

The moment the white ball of light touched the ground, everything within a two-kilometer radius vanished.

Buildings, vehicles, weapons, people—all matter was instantly vaporized under the tens of thousands of degrees of heat; there was no process of burning, no transition of explosion.

They turned directly from solids into plasma; in this instant, they were hotter than the surface of the sun.

Then came the explosion.

The shockwave spread at supersonic speeds, starting from the epicenter, crushing outward like an invisible wall.

Brick walls tore like paper before the shockwave, concrete buildings were lifted whole, disintegrated into countless fragments in the air, and were then swept further outward by the subsequent air waves.

Trees were uprooted, spinning, snapping, and burning in the shockwave.

A modified armored vehicle was lifted off the ground by the air wave, rolled for over a hundred meters, and smashed into a building.

Within a ten-kilometer radius, all buildings were flattened.

Twenty kilometers away, glass windows in the city shattered in unison.

People stood on the streets, feeling the vibration from the ground, watching the massive mushroom cloud rising in the distance, stunned and motionless.

And on the world's screens.

They only saw a sun rise.

Then a huge mushroom cloud.

It roared, using the most primal, most violent power to declare to the entire world.

That existence cannot be provoked.

Chen Mo hovered above the clouds, feeling the heat waves and the remnants of the shockwave rising from below.

The aftershocks of the Source Power were still spreading further; the rising air currents formed by the heated air carried dust and ashes, creating a gray curtain in the sky.

He looked at the palm of his right hand.

That ball just now condensed all of his Source Power.

However, at his recovery speed, he could release the same attack again in half an hour.

Of course, he didn't need to do it that often.

One attack with this range of destruction was enough.

The temperature at the epicenter was not as high as a nuclear weapon, roughly tens of thousands of degrees.

Based on the destruction range and duration of the shockwave, the equivalent of this Source Power sphere was estimated to be around the megaton TNT level.

Although slightly inferior to a nuclear bomb in instantaneous temperature, the overall destructive effect had reached the level of a strategic weapon.

Moreover, there was no radiation, no long-term pollution.

The warlord leader below, his armed forces, and his compound had all vanished.

And on the other side of the world, in the emergency conference rooms of major powers, the mushroom cloud on the screens was still churning and rising.

Everyone who saw this scene understood one thing.

The power structure of this world, starting from today, had changed forever.