The air in the command center froze the moment Xuan Mingzi finished speaking.
The tactical helmet that Long Wu threw into the air crashed to the ground with a clatter, and no one picked it up.
The longsword that the white-bearded man had just shoved into Lin Yi's hand was still humming, but now it seemed as if he had been choked, the lingering sound stuck at the mouth of the scabbard.
"What exactly is the backup plan?" Lin Yi's voice was like that of cold iron, his knuckles taut and white on the sword hilt.
The image of the shadow of Mother Nest from three days ago flashed across his retina—that darkness that had swallowed three jump stars was now creeping up his spine into his brain.
Xuanmingzi's Taoist robe suddenly trembled violently, revealing a withered wrist at the rolled-up cuff.
He swiped his fingertips across the holographic screen of the control panel, and the star map instantly twisted into countless cocoons of light: "They have buried high-dimensional anchor points at the nodes of the supply transport line." The cocoons of light cracked open with a "pop," revealing the seventh star gate that the transport fleet had to pass through—the gateposts were covered with serpentine dark patterns. "These anchor points will transform the supplies into..." He swallowed hard, "into nourishment to awaken the consciousness of the mother hive."
Long Wu's goggles snapped into combat mode, and blood-red warning lines flickered in his pupils: "I'm taking the True Dragon Guards and charging over there right now! I'll tear that Broken Star Gate to shreds!" He turned to charge, but was grabbed by the white-bearded man.
The old craftsman's calloused hands pressed on his shoulder armor, his nails almost digging into the metal: "It will take three days to dismantle the star gate, and the transport team will pass through the seventh star gate in four hours."
A soft knocking sound suddenly came from the console.
Everyone instinctively turned their heads.
The heavy alloy door of the command center had been opened a crack at some point, and light cut through the crack, illuminating a tall figure.
The man was wearing a faded craftsman's apron, with twelve forging hammers of different materials hanging from his waist, each hammer handle wrapped with a faded red rope—he was none other than Aizen, the mysterious craftsman who, according to rumors on the black market three days ago, "could forge meteorite iron into something as soft as silk."
“I heard someone’s planning to smash the face of an advanced civilization with equipment.” Aizen stepped in, his leather shoes tapping on the metal floor. “Perfect timing. I have a few things here that can make your hammers heavier.”
He took off his apron, revealing a dense array of pockets inside.
The first thing they pulled out was a palm-sized piece of metal, its surface shimmering with a deep blue luster, as if the night sky had been crushed and embedded within it.
“Void alloy, scrap that’s been soaking in the Quantum Sea for three hundred years.” Aizen tapped it with his knuckles, and the metal rang out like a bell. “It can be used as the outer armor of transport ships, and it can slow down the erosion of high-dimensional anchor points by at least 70%.”
The second item was a fist-sized crystal with purple light surging inside, as if there were living things swimming inside.
“Psionic Crystal, extracted from the core of the Annihilation Star.” Aizen placed the crystal on the control panel, and the energy index of the entire command center instantly soared by 20%. “Using it as fuel for the transport ship’s engines will double the warp speed—a four-hour journey can be completed in two hours.”
Whitebeard's breathing suddenly became heavy.
He staggered closer, his cracked hand hovering above the void alloy, yet he dared not touch it, as if facing some fragile miracle: "My master showed me the Starry Sky Forging Record back then, which mentioned void alloy... saying that even the forging tables of advanced civilizations couldn't melt it." He suddenly grabbed Aizen's wrist with astonishing force, "How did you get it?"
“I did odd jobs for advanced civilizations for three hundred years.” Aizen tugged at his wrist, which was being squeezed so hard, and spoke as lightly as if he were talking about the weather. “They used this alloy to make cages to imprison disobedient sparks of civilization. I stole some scraps.”
The temperature in the command center seemed to drop another ten degrees.
Ryuu's goggles automatically switched off combat mode. He stared at the forging hammer at Aizen's waist and suddenly laughed, "Good! I love hanging out with people who've stolen from advanced civilizations!" He bent down to pick up the tactical helmet from the ground. "Boss, I'm going to notify the transport team to preheat their engines to the limit!"
Lin Yi didn't speak.
He stared at the third thing Aizen had pulled out—a roll of yellowed parchment that emitted the smell of burnt gunpowder when unfolded.
He recognized the runes above; they were the "Star Trail Forging Technique," which advanced civilizations forbade all lower-dimensional beings from learning.
“This scroll of magic can increase the efficiency of equipment crafting by five times.” Aizen pushed the parchment in front of Lin Yi. “On the condition that…” He raised his eyes, his gaze like two poisoned knives, “you must deliver the ten pieces of Star Marrow Iron I need to the forging table within three days.”
Whitebeard had already grabbed the Void Alloy and rushed towards the forging area.
His apron was lifted by the wind, revealing the two characters "Soul Casting" tattooed on his back—they were branded on by his master with a red-hot iron stick thirty years ago before he died.
"Little Blue!" he shouted without turning his head, "The Star Marrow Iron is in the third warehouse, I've had it moved there! Come quickly and teach me how to melt this damn alloy!"
Aizen nodded to Lin Yi, then turned and followed Whitebeard.
The sound of their footsteps echoed like drumbeats in the corridor, quickly fading into the deafening hammering of the forging area.
"Chu Yao." Lin Yi turned to the control panel, where Chu Yao's projection had already appeared on the holographic screen—her pupils were flowing data streams, and the ends of her hair glowed with a pale blue light. "Re-plan the allocation of resources. Prioritize the energy supply to the forging area, and reserve 30% of the transport team's warp fuel for Aizen's psionic crystal experiment."
“Adjusted.” Chu Yao’s fingertips traced golden chains of light in the void. “The strength of the faith link has increased by 15%, and the spiritual power of all job changers is converging towards the forging area. The white-bearded craftsman’s heart rate has reached 110 beats per minute—this was his state when he forged the national sword.”
Lin Yi walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.
In deep space, the transport fleet's exhaust plumes resembled a string of flowing diamonds, rapidly approaching the Seventh Stargate.
Further away, the shadow of the mother star seemed to have deepened, like a stretched ink blot, slowly enveloping the stargate.
“Senior Xuanming.” As he turned around, he found Xuanmingzi standing at the entrance of the forging area.
The old man's palm held another shard of light, but this time the vibration frequency was three times faster than before. "The erosion speed of the higher-dimensional anchor point..."
“It’s sped up.” Xuanmingzi’s voice was like sandpaper rubbing. “They’ve detected Aizen’s technology.” He released his hand, and the light fragments suddenly exploded into countless points of light. One of them landed on the back of Lin Yi’s hand, burning his fingers. “In three hours, the first layer of the Mother Nest consciousness will awaken.”
Cheers erupted from the corridor.
The explosion-proof door of the forging area was smashed open, and a blinding blue light burst out—it was the void alloy being melted into a liquid state, churning in the crucible with a galaxy-like light.
Aizen's voice, mingled with the sound of hammering, carried an unusual fervor: "Old man! Throw in the Star Marrow Iron! Let these high-ranking bastards see that our furnace contains more than just metal!"
Lin Yi touched his chest.
The longsword that the white-bearded man had given him still retained its warmth, and it was now burning hot with the fluctuations of the faith link.
He gazed toward the forging area, hearing his own heartbeat drown out all other noises—it was the resonance of countless job changers' wills, like a rising tide.
In deep space, the serpentine dark patterns on the Seventh Star Gate suddenly began to writhe.
Deep within the shadows of Mother Nest, something stirred, like a colossal beast awakened by a fragrance, slowly opening its mouth.
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