Chapter 1713: Chapter 973
Shang Yanwen pushed open the blast door and walked into the circular office. Inside, engineers from the Shadow-eating Clan were kneeling as they adjusted the environment system. The screech of air filters drowned out the minute instructions from the Spirit Race adjusting the parameters. His new terminal, remodeled from an Obsidian Altar, had a touchscreen marred by unknown biological scratches. The moment the interface was activated, eight hundred surveillance windows unfolded on the curved screen: Spirit Race porters at Port Seven were hauling two-ton reactor components uphill, the chain collars around their necks leaving purple marks; soldiers of the surrender faction were being whipped with laser whips on the training field; in the Blood People laboratory, a pale Alien physician was demonstrating to a human technician how to open the Kane Crystal casing.
"Supervisor, the Valak family refuses to hand over the Star Gate calibration codes." Vikas’s bald-headed projection rose from the floating screen. Shang Yanwen brought up the archives, his fingertips gliding over the three logistical routes and twelve warehouse groups managed by the family. "Tell the Valak representative," he opened the schedule and marked tonight’s liquidation meeting in red, "two hundred new soul caskets will be added to their nursery tomorrow."
Lunch was held on a terrace overlooking the ruins of the Theater of Pain. While Shang Yanwen chewed on synthetic steak, a surrender ceremony was taking place in the plaza below. A thousand Spirit Race warriors disarmed and knelt into a pool of rotten blood, their phase weapons pressed into metal ingots by engineering mechas. A young Spirit Race suddenly lunged at the execution Angel and was vaporized by a hot melt gun into drifting blue smoke. Vikas refilled Shang Yanwen’s coffee: "These fools don’t understand, only by living can they protect the secret of the Holy Artifact..."
"Like this?" Shang Yanwen picked up the object wrapped in a napkin. A pale green Kane Crystal rotated in his palm, at its core a tiny struggling light spirit suspended. "Found in the third storage room." Vikas’s neck scales spread out nervously, "It can amplify the Subspace probe’s accuracy by thirty times..."
The alarm shredded the afternoon once more. The communication from the execution Angel exploded in Shang Yanwen’s earpiece: "The resistance has hijacked human workers in Zone B7!" A holographic map unfolded on the table, red dots flashing densely at the intersection of sewage pipelines. Vikas enlarged the projection with his clawed fingers: "From the route... it’s the former Blood People clinic."
When Shang Yanwen rushed into the clinic with the rapid response team, the sticky scent of preservatives mingled with fresh blood. Shoulder lights of three execution Angels pierced the darkness, illuminating seventeen human corpses hanging from the surgical chain. Their throats were cut in a standard execution method, blood flowing along the clavicle into the collection trough below—a blood bath for the Spirit Race.
"The hunt begins." The Judgment Badge on the back of the captain’s power armor glowed coldly under the scanning ray. Vikas’s trusted aide dragged in five bound Spirit Race children, their electric collars causing them to whimper like dying small beasts. "They’ll smell the bone blood of their kin." The old Spirit Race pressed the children towards the blood droplets falling from the corpses’ ankles. The children’s noses twitched furiously, emitting a high-frequency scream under the electric field’s stimulation.
A sonic tracking map formed on the tactical display. The heavy weapon squad of the execution Angels broke through the clinic’s rear wall, grenades and flamethrowers igniting the underground pipelines. Blue-skinned resistance fighters struggled and howled in the inferno, as Shang Yanwen noticed Vikas collecting strands of human dead’s hair. "What a quality specimen of vengeance..." The governor of the Shadow-eating Clan’s whisper was drowned out by the explosion.
The evening liquidation meeting was held in the former Victor Throne Hall. The Valak family representative knelt on the cold Spirit bone floor tiles signing the transfer agreement, his young sons being fitted with neural inhibitors behind bulletproof glass. Shang Yanwen checked the list of Star Gate password transfers as Vikas pushed a bloody crystal vial in front of him, "Today’s sacrifice worker’s genetic sample... perhaps it might be suitable for cultivating a special crop?"
The armored vehicle returning to the residence passed through newly set checkpoints, where human soldiers used laser pointers to scan the Spirit Race team laboring outside the car window. A Spirit Race architect with handcuffs slowed down a step, and a shock baton exploded blue light on his spine. Shang Yanwen closed his eyes, leaning against the bulletproof interior, the Kane Crystal in his pocket emitting a chill through the fabric—today’s conflict mortality rate statistics flickering on his retinal projection.
At midnight, Shang Yanwen stood on the balcony of the newly assigned official residence. Below, the streets were brightly lit, with human engineers directing surrender faction Spirit Race to inspect the energy tower. A technician from the Spirit Race fell from a hundred-meter steel frame, the dull thud of hitting the protective net carried by the night wind. He flipped open the agenda for tomorrow: in the morning, review the safety regulations for the soul stone cutting workshop, in the afternoon, inspect the curriculum settings of the surrender faction nursery brainwashing center.
The defense terminal flashed a red warning. An encrypted message from the execution Angel came with spatial coordinates: "Based on infant pheromone tracking, eliminate the C-zone resistance nursery nest. Execute 12 adult females, 47 infants. Victor’s Sword fragment has been confiscated." The holographic image accompanying the message showed a pile of bloodstained Spirit Race swaddles beside an extinguished incubator. Shang Yanwen pushed open the blast door and walked into the circular office as engineers from the Shadow-eating Clan were kneeling to adjust the environment system. The screech of air filters drowned out the minute instructions from the Spirit Race adjusting the parameters. His new terminal, remodeled from an Obsidian Altar, had a touchscreen marred by unknown biological scratches. The moment the interface was activated, eight hundred surveillance windows unfolded on the curved screen: Spirit Race porters at Port Seven were hauling two-ton reactor components uphill, the chain collars around their necks leaving purple marks; soldiers of the surrender faction were being whipped with laser whips on the training field; in the Blood People laboratory, a pale Alien physician was demonstrating to a human technician how to open the Kane Crystal casing.
"Supervisor, the Valak family refuses to hand over the Star Gate calibration codes." Vikas’s bald projection rose from the suspended screen. Shang Yanwen pulled up the files, his fingers tracing over the three logistical corridors and twelve warehouse clusters managed by the family. "Tell the Valak representative," he opened the schedule and marked tonight’s settlement meeting in red, "their childcare center will receive two hundred new soul boxes tomorrow."
Lunch was held on the terrace overlooking the ruins of the Theater of Pain. As Shang Yanwen chewed on synthetic steak, a surrender ceremony was taking place in the plaza below. A thousand Spirit Race warriors were kneeling in the pool of decayed blood after doffing their armor, their phase weapons pressed into metal ingots by engineering mechas. A young Spirit suddenly lunged at an execution Angel and was vaporized into drifting blue smoke by a hot melt gun. Vikas refilled Shang Yanwen’s coffee: "These fools don’t understand that only by living can they guard the secret of the Holy Artifact..."
"Like this?" Shang Yanwen picked up the object wrapped in the napkin. The pale green Kane Crystal rotated in his palm, with tiny struggling light spirits suspended at its core. "Found in the third storage room." Vikas’s neck scales tensed and spread, "It can amplify the subspace detector’s precision thirtyfold..."
The alarm ripped through the afternoon again. The execution Angel’s communication blasted in Shang Yanwen’s earpiece: "The resistance has hijacked the human workers in Section B7!" A holographic map unfolded on the table, dense red dots flashing at the intersection of the sewage pipes. Vikas enlarged the projection with clawed fingers: "Judging by the path...it’s the old clinic of the Blood People."
As Shang Yanwen rushed into the clinic with the rapid response team, the viscous smell of preservatives was mingled with the freshness of blood. The shoulder lights of three execution Angels pierced the darkness, illuminating seventeen human corpses hanging from the surgical chain. Their throats were cut in the standard execution method, the blood flowing down their clavicles into a collection trough below—it’s a blood bath used by the Spirit Race for bathing.
"The hunt begins." The Judgment Badge on the back of the captain’s power armor gleamed coldly under the scanning rays. Vikas’s trusted aide dragged in five bound Spirit children, their electric collars causing them to whimper like dying small animals. "They will smell the bone and blood of their kin." The old Spirit pressed the children toward the blood plasma dripping from the corpses’ ankles. The children’s nostrils flared madly, producing high-pitched screams under the stimulation of the electric field.
Sound wave tracking charts appeared on the tactical screen. An execution Angel’s heavy weapon team smashed through the clinic’s back wall, while grenades and flamethrowers ignited the underground pipes. The blue-skinned resistors struggled and howled in the inferno, as Shang Yanwen noticed Vikas collecting the hair of the human dead. "Such fine revenge specimens..." the Shadow-eating Governor’s whisper was drowned out by the explosions.
The evening’s settlement meeting was held in the former Victor’s Throne Hall. The Valak family representative knelt on the cold spirit bone floor tiles after signing the transfer agreement, his young children were placed in neural suppressors behind bulletproof glass. Shang Yanwen verified the Star Gate code handover list, and Vikas seized the chance to push a blood-streaked crystal bottle in front of him: "Today’s gene samples from the sacrificed workers...might be suitable for cultivating special crops?"
The armored vehicle returned to the residence passing through newly established checkpoints, where human soldiers used laser pointers to scan the outside of the vehicle at the lineup of Spirit Race laborers. A Spirit architect, shackled and moving a step too slow, was hit in the spine by an electric baton that exploded with blue light. Shang Yanwen closed his eyes and leaned against the bulletproof lining, feeling the Kane Crystal in his pocket radiate coldness through the fabric—the death rate statistics from today’s conflict flickering in projection on his retina.
At midnight, Shang Yanwen stood on the terrace of the newly assigned mansion. The districts below were ablaze with lights, human engineers directing the surrendering Spirit Race to service the energy towers. A Spirit technician fell from a hundred-meter steel frame, the dull thud of his impact with the safety net carried over by the night wind. He flipped open the next day’s agenda: reviewing safety regulations for the soul stone cutting shop in the morning, inspecting curriculum setups at the surrendering faction’s youth indoctrination center in the afternoon.
The defense terminal flashed a red warning. An encrypted message from an execution Angel attached with space coordinates: "Tracking by juvenile pheromone, eliminate the resistance nursery in Zone C. Execute 12 adult females, 47 juveniles. Fragment of Victor’s Sword has been confiscated." In the holographic image accompanying the message, blood-smeared Spirit cradles were piled next to an extinguished incubation chamber.
