147: Iron Fist from Falem

At the edge of the Faleimland System, a fleet, though small in scale but radiating a heart-palpitating sense of oppression, was ready to set off.

This task force consisted of only six warships. At its core was the pitch-black Titan flagship, the [Eternal Silence]. Surrounding it, the silver-white armor on the hulls of five [Sciences End-class] battleships reflected a cold, chilling light under the stellar radiance.

"Coordinates confirmed: [Celestial Throne] System."

"anti-psionic interference device charging complete; all-ship system self-check finished."

In the underground command room of Tianqiong City, Lei Wen watched the real-time footage transmitted by the Faleim People's wartime command system on the screen. His fingers tapped lightly on the desk, his eyes calm and profound.

"Begin," he whispered the command. "Let us go and wake those dreamers."

"As you command, the guide."

With a command from Sal, the Jump Drives of the six warships activated simultaneously.

Space itself was forcibly folded by a higher-dimensional power at that instant, blurring the boundary between reality and illusion.

In less than the blink of an eye.

The starlight of Faleimland vanished, replaced by an exotic starry sky.

To the Faleim People's sensors, the [Celestial Throne] System now appeared like a massive radiation-contaminated zone.

Unlike physical radiation, this place was filled with psionic particles so dense they were almost liquefying.

"Psionic readings are off the charts."

On the bridge of the Eternal Silence, Sal frowned slightly as he looked at the frantically jumping red data on the screen. "The physical constants here are undergoing minor shifts. That Void entity seems to be trying to assimilate this system into a part of Itself."

"If this level of reality distortion isn't stopped, perhaps in a thousand years, the physical laws here will completely collapse, turning into a domain of idealistic rules like The Void Realm."

"Execute phase one of the plan," Sal ordered quickly. "Find the anchor point and sever it."

"Yes, Commander. The battleship Nightingale is breaking formation and heading for the orbit of the third planet."

...Cradle Star, Supreme Cathedral.

Losanda, who was immersed in the wonderful illusion of "unity between god and man," suddenly felt a pang of heart palpitations.

He snapped open his heterochromatic purple-gold eyes, his gaze piercing through the broken dome of the cathedral to look directly at the heavens.

As the chosen one of [the instrument of desire], his perception of space and energy had reached a level unimaginable to mortals. He clearly felt a massive and cold material force rudely intruding into this star system.

"Amira? Has that rebellious little girl finally arrived?"

A confident and mocking smile curled at the corners of Losanda's mouth.

He had been waiting for this moment. In his "love and peace" utopia, he would thoroughly crush the final resistance of the old era in front of everyone and turn that proud princess into a submissive lamb beneath the divine throne.

"Alert! Alert! A giant unidentified flying object has appeared above the planetary orbit! No psionic reaction detected!"

Before the empire's air defense forces could react, the originally thick clouds in the sky were forcibly pushed aside by an invisible force.

An eighty-kilometer-long silver-white battleship, the [Nightingale], deactivated its stealth field and hovered in the orbital space directly above the Supreme Cathedral with a suffocating pressure.

Its sleek geometric lines, mirror-smooth armor, and the field distortion around the hull—which, though invisible, was clearly perceptible—all proclaimed that this was a creation far beyond the technological level of the Angel Empire.

"Is this the ship she brought back? It does have some tricks."

Looking at the giant ship above him, Losanda felt no fear; instead, a greedy look appeared in his eyes, like a hunter seeing rare prey.

"No psionic fluctuations, a pure material creation... Hmph, the clever tricks of materialistic heretics. Though it looks sturdy, in the face of divine power, matter is but fragile clay."

He slowly ascended into the sky.

He wasn't equipped with any thrusters, nor did he flap any wings; he relied solely on his will to free his body from the shackles of gravity.

The six purple-gold light wings behind him snapped open, reaching a staggering wingspan of dozens of meters. Countless complex psionic runes swirled around him, making him look truly like a deity descended upon the mortal world.

He flew out of the atmosphere, still able to survive and move freely in the vacuum.

He hovered right in front of the Nightingale's bow. His tiny body was like dust compared to the massive warship, yet the psionic pressure he radiated seemed to contend with the giant vessel.

He mistakenly thought this was Amira's vessel.

Thus, through a psionic technique, he projected his will directly toward the warship, his voice exploding in the minds of every "potentially existing" Angel crew member.

"Amira Radiance! My child, you have finally returned!"

Losanda spread his arms, that kind smile on his face as if he were a forgiving elder welcoming home a runaway child.

"Look at this world! Look at this purple radiance! Look at this paradise filled with happiness and fulfillment!"

"Are you still unrepentant? Are you still clinging to those decaying old ideas, trying to use those cold pieces of scrap metal to oppose the will of God?"

"I know you brought back a warship of unknown origin, and I know your heart is filled with hatred. But God is merciful. If you lay down your weapons now, step out of that iron shell, and kneel in repentance, I am still willing to accept you and let you become a citizen of the Kingdom of God."

"Do not try to resist, Amira. Your little toys are meaningless in the face of true power."

"I am the God-chosen, I am the truth, I am—"

Losanda's monologue was filled with self-intoxicated passion; he had even planned the holy posture he would adopt to stroke Amira's head when she wept in regret.

However.

Inside the Faleim battleship named Nightingale, the only response to him was dead silence and a few cold mechanical commands.

"Target confirmed: Surface coordinates XXX below, high-energy psionic reaction convergence point, presumed to be the ritual core anchor."

"High-energy biological entity ahead is conducting a wide-area mental broadcast. Detected a large amount of meaningless junk information and mental pollution bands."

"Enable psionic shielding?"

"Enable shielding, ignore target biological entity, and continue the mission."

The captain of the Nightingale sat in the command seat, not even glancing at the glowing old man outside the window.

In his eyes, the target—which glowed in space but was essentially a carbon-based organism—was less important than the pile of rocks on the ground.

"Main cannon charging complete."

"Fire neutron beam."

No nonsense, no standoff, and certainly no cliché of the villain dying from talking too much.

The Faleim People were here to work, not to debate.

The armor plate beneath the Nightingale's bow slid open abruptly, revealing the massive muzzle of the Neutron Emitter.

Hum—

A clump of neutron degenerate matter, accelerated to near the speed of light, erupted from the muzzle with terrifying kinetic energy enough to shatter any material structure.

It flew past Losanda's side. The ripples in space-time caused by its terrifying speed even made this "demigod" stagger in space.

"Wha...?!"

Losanda's words were forced back into his stomach. He turned his head in horror, watching as that clump of death energy blasted straight toward the Supreme Cathedral on the ground.

BOOM!!!

This time, the sound was no longer an illusion.

The moment the neutron beam hit the ground, although it didn't produce a towering fire like a conventional explosion, it pierced directly through the psionic barrier Losanda had set up at the cathedral. Like a hot knife through butter, it drilled deep underground and then instantly released all its kinetic energy.

It was pure physical destructive power.

The entire Supreme Cathedral, along with its foundations for several kilometers around, was shaken into powder in an instant.

More importantly, the ritual array serving as the anchor point for the passage to The Void Realm, as well as the countless zheluo crystals piled there as a medium, were all completely annihilated under this terrifying energy impact.

Crack—

A crisp cracking sound, not from the material world, echoed throughout the psionic network of the [Celestial Throne] System.

The purple light pillar in the sky that originally pierced through heaven and earth trembled violently. Then, like a holographic projection with its power cut, it instantly flickered, disintegrated, and dissipated.

The Void rift that had shrouded the planet like a giant purple vortex began to shrink rapidly after losing its anchored coordinates.

The connection was severed.

"No!!!"

Losanda let out a heart-wrenching scream.

This pain did not come from the flesh but from the depths of the soul.

The vast divine power that had filled his body and made him feel omnipotent rapidly drained away like a receding tide as the connection was cut.

The sense of fulfillment from being constantly connected to the Great Will vanished, replaced by a maddening emptiness and cold.

It was like someone who had consumed the highest purity of drugs was suddenly forcibly cut off and thrown into an ice cellar.

Meanwhile, deep within The Void Realm.

That indescribable great existence, [the instrument of desire], was also infuriated by this sudden turn of events.

It had been leisurely enjoying the emotional food of the entire Angel civilization, named "enterprise" and "struggle"—it was a sumptuous feast.

But suddenly, Its dining table was overturned.

A physical force carrying cold rationality had forcibly cut off Its feeding straw.

Anger.

A pure, high-dimensional anger beyond the scope of human understanding erupted within The Void Realm.

"Who... dares... interrupt... the contract..."

A low roar vibrated in the remaining psionic echoes, causing all psionic-sensitives in the entire system to feel a sharp pain in their brains, as if they were about to burst... In space.

Losanda's body was trembling violently; the six light wings behind him grew dim and even began to crack.

He looked at the cathedral-turned-ruins below and the dissipating purple light in the sky, knowing he was finished.

But he was unwilling to accept it.

Extreme loss instantly transformed into extreme madness.

He snapped his head around, staring fixedly at the silver-white warship before him.

"You... how dare you destroy my kingdom of god!"

"You damned heretics! Since you have cut off God's blessing, then pay for it with your lives!"

Though he had lost the continuous supply from The Void Realm, the psionic energy remaining in his body was still staggeringly vast—it was his final foundation as the God-chosen.

Losanda let out a beast-like roar.

He no longer held back, no longer caring about his body's capacity to endure.

He detonated all the psionic cells in his body in an instant, compressing all his mental power to the extreme.

His body began to burn, turning into an extremely dazzling purple-gold fireball.

"Die for me!"

He turned into a meteor, carrying a terrifying psionic impact comparable to a massive antimatter bomb, and charged recklessly toward the bridge of the Nightingale.

This was the final self-destructing strike of a Saint-level psionic powerhouse.

Even the armor of a Faleim warship might not emerge unscathed from a psionic suicide attack of this level.

However, facing this frantic scene.

The Nightingale's reaction was still just as indifferent and lacking in martial virtue.

"High-energy psionic reaction source detected approaching rapidly."

"Threat level: Medium."

"Activate emergency defense protocols."

The shield generators on the ship's surface instantly changed frequency, and a layer of phase shields specifically designed against psionic impacts lit up beneath the conventional shields.

Simultaneously, thousands of point-defense turrets and proton rapid-fire cannons on the side of the hull automatically locked onto the incoming fireball.

Zzt-zzt-zzt—

Boom-boom-boom—

A dense web of fire intertwined in space to form a barrier of death.

Losanda's figure was hit by countless beams and shells while he was still several kilometers away from the ship.

His psionic shield shattered after holding out for less than a second.

Then came his flesh.

Under the high temperatures and impacts capable of vaporizing most sturdy materials, this former Angel archbishop, who had presumed to become a god, turned into a brilliant and brief firework in space along with his twisted ideals and frantic ambitions.

He left no last words, and there was no tragic background music.

Under the Faleim People's gunfire, a so-called Saint-level psionicist was no different from a flying rock.

"Target cleared."

"Anchor point destroyed."

"Phase one mission complete."

The captain of the Nightingale reported calmly, as if he had just swatted a mosquito.

"Very good," Sal's voice sounded in the communication channel.

"Now, all ships attention."

"That big guy is about to come out."

With Losanda's death and the destruction of the anchor point, although the continuous supply from The Void Realm was cut off, it also completely infuriated that Void god.

Above the orbit of Cradle Star, the purple halo that had originally dissipated suddenly condensed again.

But this time, it was no longer that soft, seductive light, but a deep purple storm filled with tyranny, chaos, and destruction.

Space wailed and reality distorted as a giant hand composed of pure psionic energy, comparable in size to a small planet, slowly reached out from the forcibly torn Void rift, grasping toward the material world.