Chapter 70: The Intellect That Makes the Starry Sky Tremble (Part V)

Leaving one narrative thread aside, let us turn to another.

Over on this side, after landing strike after strike, the butcher vanished entirely, leaving no trace of when he might attack again. The repeatedly injured elder in linen robes now radiated a billowing, turbulent aura. Whether this was merely a show of false strength or a desperate bluff, it projected an unmistakable, dare-die lethality that warned all to keep their distance.

Beneath this towering, overwhelming pressure, Zhou Yihu and Liu Erhei immediately found it difficult to breathe, no longer daring to spare a single thought for the lurking hunter.

At this moment, the technique of Baonanzi had only seven strides remaining to its final step. The closer it drew to the end, the more arduous it became, yet by now it possessed an unstoppable momentum. Who could possibly withstand this celestial prison of starry skies? Greater than the sea is the sky, and greater than the sky is the bosom of Nars.

The two intelligent robots vanished, followed closely by Wu Xukong. Consequently, the remaining few individuals were left somewhat at a loss. The conference room remained bathed in a silver-white decor, appearing even more solidly silver than before. For the people trapped here, this was undoubtedly grim news.

Because, quite simply, there was no way out. They had been guided here by an intelligent robot, following a light-pillar-like teleportation route that now left no trace to follow. Meanwhile, the guiding Mysius-3 made no effort to conceal its form, merely wandering aimlessly about. Truly, it was just wandering; the intelligence it had exhibited earlier was now utterly untraceable.

"Could it explode? I've watched a lot of sci-fi movies where spaceships without masters always blow up." Ever since the death of the chair and the robotic head, Electric Mist had stopped hiding things from Lin Xiuxiu, so she was well aware of their current predicament.

Lin Xiuxiu's worry was not without reason, but to Yu Fu, her words drew his attention primarily to the phrase "sci-fi movies." In Wu Yue's view, Yu Fu's curiosity had long since reached a warped degree.

People from two different provinces had difficulty understanding each other's speech; two people from different countries could only communicate their amazement through hand gestures; and two people from different planets had never even dreamed of communication. What, then, of people from two entirely different universes?

Yu Fu could never comprehend how ordinary people piloting great chunks of iron could protect a planet by flying haphazardly beyond the boundaries—and what on earth even was a planet? Nor could Lin Xiuxiu explain what was wrong with a group of people watching a movie. Why not go watch a play? Why on earth would one go watch a play? How could cultivators possibly lower themselves to pretend to act out stories, only to record them on jade slips for ordinary people to watch? The two of them were completely at a loss for words.

Yet there remained another trouble at hand: Hou Baiyu was sleeping soundly and could not be awakened no matter how they shouted. Although Zhao Qingzhi had examined him and confirmed that sleeping thus would greatly aid his recovery, they now seemed to have unconsciously drifted to the brink of life and death. How could anyone still possess the leisurely mood to plan for the future?

Chang'an departed in a fleeting flash of dimness. Despite pouring his utmost strength into a strike, it accomplished nothing against Ji Wushi, leaving the entire space utterly unchanged. Li Wenzhang, who had broken the previous impasse, now furrowed his brows deeply. No divine ability had manifested, nor had any magical treasure been deployed. He truly seemed like an ordinary person. Wu Yue did not ask, and the two of them tacitly understood one another without a word.

The conference room now resembled an iron cage; neither water nor fire could be poured in, nor could anything escape from within. It was not just Wu Yue and his companions who found themselves at their wits' end—a figure in pure white shared their plight.

It was the same silver space, yet the contents within were naturally completely different. Zhang Xuanzi looked at the large capitalized symbols hanging on the wall. As it happened, he recognized them; translated, they read: Barracks 3. This was knowledge Wu Yue did not possess, yet Zhang Xuanzi somehow knew it. Naturally, there were no soldiers left inside now; the majority had rushed out to encircle the mighty being of the Life-Mystic realm, while a small fraction had been reduced to fragments beneath the furious hands of Zhang Xuanzi.

The gray-robed elder no longer attempted to heal his wounds, cowering in a corner without daring to draw a full breath. Zhang Xuanzi felt an unnamed rage rising in his chest. The smooth sailing of his journey thus far had made him almost forget the very word "accident."

From the moment he first arrived here—leaving aside minor matters and speaking only of the major ones—he had successively inherited two legacies from the masters of Leaving Mountain. Without straining his mind, he had steadily cultivated himself to the peak. This was a depth of fortuitous destiny that Wu Yue could never have imagined.

Following that, he had acquired a slender saber in a perilous zone, which he named Swift Snow. Yet this divine artifact had now been lost before it could truly shine in the world. Even in the Tower of the Sky, where the living dared not tread, he had lived quite comfortably, leaving behind a profound legacy of human goodwill.

Countless other instances were too numerous to list. Take the gray-robed elder, for example—what was the value of the loyalty of a grand cultivator who had transcended mortality? For Zhang Xuanzi, matters of this magnitude could only be described as "et cetera."

Yet here, at the present moment—most recently, it seemed—all his good luck had abandoned him. First, in the City of Black Veil, when he had intended to deepen his goodwill with the Tower of the Sky, he had instead lost the bait without catching the fish, inadvertently making wedding robes for someone else.

Then, traveling thousands of miles to come here expecting to pluck treasures as easily as reaching into a pocket, he had first fought an inexplicable battle, only to be threatened and negotiated with by his future servant? Was this not the most ridiculous joke under heaven? And now, he found himself trapped here. The more he thought about it, the more furious he grew.

Rage surged from the depths of his heart.

Water and fire are merciless; water and fire are incompatible—this was the rule of heaven and earth. Yet at this moment, the enraged Zhang Xuanzi actually fused them together, causing the eyelids of the gray-robed elder—who had been observing everything with detached caution—to leap wildly. Zhang Xuanzi's expression was blank, but the depth of his fury could well be imagined. With one hand he held a plant stem, and with the other a lotus flower, bringing his two hands together.

A stunningly gorgeous lotus bloomed: azure for water, crimson for fire, and a pale hue where water and fire naturally fused. It lacked the noble purity of rising unsullied from the mud; instead, to anyone who laid eyes upon it, it appeared shockingly, breathtakingly striking. Zhang Xuanzi held this lotus in his hand, then extended his arm and released his grip.

The lotus drifted slowly downward. The gray-robed elder involuntarily clenched his fists. Could this young man, whose disposition, luck, and cultivation were all superior to ordinary mortals, have lost his mind?

The gray-robed elder had never been able to truly fathom this young master of his. Such a divine ability was different from painstakingly cultivated divine souls; spiritual awareness was like a domestic fowl, capable of recognizing people and crying out. But a divine ability like this was akin to a cold weapon: you could stab others with it, yet you could just as easily injure yourself.

In the eyes of the gray-robed elder, Zhang Xuanzi had crafted an unfamiliar weapon with his own hands, and though he had miraculously avoided injuring himself during the forging process, he was now turning its edge directly against himself? This was both baffling and spine-chilling.

Carrying the elder's anxieties, the lotus drifted slowly downward, yet to touch the floor.

The stars shifted, and the heavens revolved, changing in myriad ways—fitting the scene precisely.

At the same time, within the conference room:

" Scanning and detection complete. Base Zero has no master, nor does it have any heir." The cold, mechanical synthetic voice rang out once more. In a desperate, last-ditch struggle, Wu Yue hammered away blindly at the buttons, his sole reward being an irrelevant prompt: Please enter the password.

Wu Yue lacked the capability to enter a password, leaving him to watch helplessly as the world turned upside down and the place gradually transformed into an unowned base. From this moment on, all order vanished, allowing him to truly test the intelligence of Nars and see how much risk and reward Base Zero truly held.

Of course, not everyone rejected this outcome. The gray-robed elder, for instance, let out a long sigh of relief. The lotus did not land upon the floor; instead, it fell right through along with a collapsing slab of stone.

Equally, there were those who burned with fury. Baonanzi's final step was about to fall, and countless heroes lay buried beneath the starry firmament. Yet at this very instant, the entire space underwent a radical transformation and replacement. Baonanzi found himself instantly shifted to a completely different location.

His divine ability instantly dissipated, and his aura vanished entirely. As this final step fell, it was utterly unremarkable, accomplishing nothing. Despite the passage of endless years, Nars had effortlessly shattered the grand divine ability of a Life-Mystic mighty being.