Chapter Seventy-One: Shipborne Weapon—The King's Sword

Chapter Seventy-One: Ship-to-Ship Weapon—King’s Sword

A rare smile flickered across Moy’s usually stern face as he waved a hand, signaling it was time to begin. From the empty ground, a magnificent longsword materialized, slowly appearing before Ge Xiaolun.

“Pick up this sword,” Moy instructed.

“Xiaomei, activate the interstellar projection, open a space link, lock the spatial range, and enable energy support,” Moy commanded the staff below.

Then he turned to Ge Xiaolun, his gaze sharp. “Wield your sword. Wherever your blade sweeps, let it be cut by the Heavenly Blade.”

Hearing this, Ge Xiaolun understood the magnitude of the weapon in his hands. He leveled the sword at the massive cross-shaped ship displayed in the projection, his eyes fierce though his expression remained grave.

“Ha!” With a clear shout, he slashed the blade through the projection.

Meanwhile, out in space where the Gluttonous fleet lingered, a colossal wormhole ripped open. Without warning, a gigantic crimson blade of pure energy appeared, descending without hesitation upon the cross-shaped ship.

Though sound could not travel through the vacuum, the sight of the immense blade cleaving the giant cross in two filled the hearts of the Gluttonous crew with an imagined thunderous roar. Before they could react, a second enormous blade manifested, targeting another cross-shaped flagship.

The result was the same: the cross-shaped ship was sliced in half and then melted by searing heat into a ruin of twisted metal, its crew fused with the molten wreckage.

There were only four main cross-shaped flagships here; in less than twenty seconds, two were destroyed. The commanders of the remaining ships were terrified, but their ferocity soon flared. With tacit understanding, both barked the same order: “All units, attack Earth Biscuit!”

Their thinking was identical: when invading Earth, they had fought close to the planet to avoid unnecessary damage from nuclear weapons. Now, faced with such a devastating long-range strike, they decided to force close combat with Earth’s ships. Surely Earth would not risk destroying their own vessels along with the enemy. If they did, it would mean Earthlings were truly ruthless—sacrificing a new ship right after its debut. In that case, they would just chalk it up to bad luck.

Back aboard the Heavenly Blade, Ge Xiaolun swung his sword for a third strike. This time, however, there was no resistance as the blade passed through the cross-shaped ship; instead, it crashed into the ground with a crisp, ringing clash.

An indifferent electronic voice sounded: “Energy insufficient. Replenishing energy.”

10%... 20%...

Hearing this, Ge Xiaolun looked puzzled and turned to Moy. “They blast one of our cities, I destroy two of their ships, and that’s it?”

Moy quickly explained, “When we activated the Heavenly Blade, we set up a stellar energy safeguard to prevent excessive strain on your Red Crow Star.”

He paused, then continued, “Otherwise, if a fleet of Heavenly Blades drew on your star’s energy, it would burn out in no time.”

“So ruthless? All right, then, we’ll leave the last two ships to Mangdang Mountain. This is a training exercise anyway. If only Earth had this kind of technology,” Ge Xiaolun replied, still shocked by Moy’s words, then laid down the sword.

When Mangdang Mountain received the communication from Heavenly Blade, it also detected the two cross-shaped ships barreling toward them, accompanied by thirty battleships and countless attack craft.

Lianfeng, having received the information, rose to her feet with solemn determination. “You have all endured eighteen months of war, but the future may hold eighteen years, or even eighty.”

She paused, gathering her thoughts, and continued, “Regrettably, Earth has been drawn into a vast interstellar war. But as Admiral Dukao has always told us, whether life lasts ten thousand years or a hundred, it is equally precious.”

Clasping her hands behind her back, Lianfeng raised her voice, “Now, target the Gluttonous cross-shaped ships! All units, advance!”

With the attack plan set, there was no further discussion. Yunyang teleported directly to the council hall of Heavenly Blade Seven, and Ge Xiaolun hurried to join him.

Yunyang signaled for Ge Xiaolun to enter the virtual space without delay, as everything had been meticulously planned: Heavenly Blade Seven would strike only two of the cross-shaped ships, leaving the rest for Mangdang Mountain’s live combat drill.

Once back aboard Mangdang Mountain, the teams split up. Since helicopters were useless in space, they would rely on Yunyang’s virtual space to transport personnel.

Yunyang summoned his assistant, Xiao Yi, and brought Liu Chuang and Rui Mengmeng into the virtual space for a surprise assault on one of the cross-shaped ships.

Meanwhile, Ge Xiaolun and Zhixin calculated together, aiming to breach the light-energy barrier on the second cross-shaped ship, so Mangdang Mountain could unleash its firepower.

Qilin and He Weilan positioned themselves as snipers, providing covering fire for Yunyang and Ge Xiaolun as they charged.

Within an hour, Mangdang Mountain encountered the Gluttonous cross-shaped ships. Squads of exo-armored soldiers marched onto the combat platform, bracing for the first wave.

Yunyang and Ge Xiaolun exchanged glances, unfurled their wings, and soared toward the enemy ships. With the cross-shaped vessels spread apart, the two split left and right, each aiming for a different target.

Watching the swarm of attack craft heading his way, Yunyang summoned his flying sword. With a flash of silver, an enemy fighter exploded—one strike, one kill, if not exactly effortless, then at least decisive.

After losing a few fighters, the remaining Gluttonous pilots lost their nerve and kept their distance, firing from afar. Undeterred, Yunyang drew the King’s Sword, held it before him, and with a powerful beat of his wings, accelerated, cleaving through enemy fighters and leaving a trail of wreckage in his wake.

With their fighter escort destroyed, the Gluttonous warriors drifted helplessly in space, easy prey for Yunyang’s flying sword.

Caressing the King’s Sword, Yunyang suddenly realized he’d been using it the wrong way all along. This was clearly a ship-to-ship weapon—why had he ever used it on people? It was needlessly bloody and gruesome, and left him with psychological scars. Using the flying sword was far more elegant; after all, he was a sword immortal.

Lost in thought, Yunyang failed to notice several escort ships targeting him. They swiveled their guns and locked on, while Yunyang pressed on toward the cross-shaped ship, oblivious.

Suddenly, Qilin’s voice came through the covert channel. “Yunyang, six escort ships have you in their sights. Evade now!”

Startled, Yunyang quickly scanned the battlefield. Sure enough, three escort ships—much larger than the fighters—were aiming right at him. Without hesitation, he halted and began teleporting.

The gunners aboard the Gluttonous escorts, surprised to see him stop, wasted no time and fired. One second later, the cannons roared; half a second after that, energy blasts struck his position—but Yunyang was already gone.

He reappeared a kilometer away. The short distance made his teleport almost instantaneous, indistinguishable from a blink, and he didn’t even need to calculate the spatial medium—just locate the quantum particles at the destination.

Why not teleport straight onto the cross-shaped ship? Because Yunyang, ever the sword immortal, wanted to test his combat skills and take some pressure off the warriors aboard Mangdang Mountain. Whether anyone else believed in his prowess, Yunyang certainly did.

Using his speed advantage, Yunyang spent ten minutes dashing to the cross-shaped ship, leaving a trail of devastation—fighters split in two, some exploding, others not, but all rendered useless.

Reaching his target, he directed his flying sword forward until it was stopped by a honeycomb-patterned light barrier. He didn’t withdraw, but kept attacking the shield with his sword.

Raising the King’s Sword, he brought it down hard on the barrier. To his delight, a crack appeared in the shield—but before he could grin, the barrier restored itself, just like the spatial traps Crane Xi had used on him and Ge Xiaolun.

“Damn, not again. Looks like the King’s Sword isn’t suited for cutting energy,” he muttered, then teleported onto the cross-shaped ship’s deck.

With another blink, he entered the ship and released Liu Chuang and Rui Mengmeng.

Liu Chuang looked around and, seeing no enemies, exclaimed, “Man, I was getting anxious. So this is what the inside of a Gluttonous cross-shaped ship looks like.”

He punched a hole the size of his fist in a steel wall, then commented, “Hmm, not the best quality.”

Yunyang, exasperated, warned them to be careful and tested the wall with his own sword. When the ship didn’t split in half as he’d imagined, he didn’t linger, but teleported out.

He resumed his assault on the fighters, drifting closer to the escort ships—getting hit by a salvo would have ended his mission if not for Qilin’s timely warning. He wasn’t nearly as tough as Ge Xiaolun, and he’d remember this grudge.

Soon, Yunyang landed atop one of the escort ships. He wasn’t sure which side was “up” in space, but to him, this was it. He brought the King’s Sword down in a mighty blow. The comparatively small escort ship, a fraction of the cross-shaped flagships’ size, was sheared in half as if struck by the Heavenly Blade.

Eyes brightening at the sight, Yunyang ignored the crippled vessel and set his sights on the nearest escort ship. He charged, unconcerned by the enemy fighters behind him, and raised the King’s Sword for another devastating strike.