201: Chapter 201 The Raven Throne Descends, 500% of Mental Power Flows Back!

In the distance, upon that deathly silent ice field, the Shadow Raven Legion, which had been tirelessly pecking at the monster remains, stopped their movements.

Tens of thousands of black birds raised their heads simultaneously. In those pairs of crimson eyes, the tyranny faded, leaving only absolute obedience.

The flock of crows took flight.

They abandoned the impending gluttonous feast, turning into a black tornado that whistled back to the deck of the Aircraft Carrier.

But they did not dissipate.

These creatures, composed of high-concentration shadow energy, began to gather behind Jiang Ming Mirror Image One.

They squeezed and stacked against each other. Their black wings interlocked, forming a solid architectural structure.

First was the base, wide and heavy, as if carved from obsidian.

Next were the armrests; several massive Shadow Crows spread their wings and solidified their bodies, becoming sharp-angled supports.

Finally, the towering backrest; countless Shadow Crows clung together in layers, with black mist flowing through the gaps, bonding them into a single whole.

In just three short seconds.

A throne over five meters tall, pitch black all over and emitting a heart-palpitating aura, appeared out of thin air beside the island of the steel warship.

Jiang Ming Mirror Image One flashed directly in front of the throne and sat down.

[Trait: Raven Throne Activated]

[Mental Power Backflow Channel Opened]

[Current Recovery Efficiency: 500%]

The moment his back touched those cold feathers, a visible black airflow surged from within the throne.

Following Jiang Ming's spine, it was forcibly poured into his body.

That feeling of depletion, as if his brain had been drained, quickly receded.

In its place was a sense of fullness, like a dried-up riverbed being refilled by a flood.

Neural synapses became active again, and his originally blurred vision became clear and sharp once more.

...

"What are you all looking at!!"

In the communication channel, a rough roar broke the dead silence.

It was an Army Major from the Americans; he was the first to recover from the shock of that transcendent power.

"The Commander-in-Chief has bought us time! Don't waste it!"

The massive war machine that was the Human Joint Expeditionary Force finally re-engaged its gears.

"Quick! Quick! Quick!"

"First Battalion, drag the wounded down! Don't worry about those with broken arms or legs; as long as they're still breathing, send them to the back!"

"Second Battalion, take over the defensive line! Remount the heavy machine guns! Replace all the overheated barrels!"

The deck was a mess, but there was order within the chaos.

The Chinese armored units reacted the fastest.

Those few 99A Main Battle Tanks at the very front were now covered in scars.

The composite armor plates were full of deep pits corroded by black mud, and one tank's barrel was even bent ninety degrees.

The driver shifted into reverse.

The diesel engine gave a dull roar, and the steel tracks crushed the ice shards and shredded meat on the ground, making a tooth-grinding friction sound as they slowly retreated to the second defensive line.

There, the Engineer Company was already rushing to repair the bunkers.

Dozens of engineering machines and bulldozers were working frantically.

They pushed aside the destroyed concrete blocks and used quick-drying cement and steel plates to reconstruct a two-meter-high temporary breakwater.

A heavy truck fully loaded with ammunition drove up, and the rear compartment opened.

Logistics soldiers, who had been waiting for a long time, swarmed forward.

No one spoke.

Everyone was fighting for their lives; the porters gritted their teeth, veins bulging on their foreheads as they carried crates of heavy armor-piercing shells and high-explosive grenades on their shoulders, jogging to the artillery positions.

A young Private was loading bullets into his automatic rifle.

His hand was shaking violently. The magazine dropped to the ground.

"Clack."

A rough hand picked up the magazine and shoved it back into his hand.

The Private looked up and saw his squad leader's face, covered in grease and smoke.

"Don't look over there." The squad leader pointed to the black throne in the distance. "That's a fight between immortals. Our task is to hold this line."

The Private swallowed, nodded, and stopped looking at the man sitting on the throne, instead staring intently at the frozen black ice field ahead.

There.

The monsters frozen into ice sculptures were not all dead.

Thermal imagers showed that beneath the thick ice shell, there were still faint heat source reactions.

The Abyss's energy was slowly countering the laws of thermodynamics; beneath the black ice, a faint cracking sound could be heard.

...

On the other side, Mirror New Delhi.

Gravitational parameters had been altered to thirty times that of a normal surface.

The nitrogen and oxygen in the air had long been replaced by the Abyss's high-concentration acid mist.

The green lotus sword in Li Bai's hand made a tooth-grinding sound of metal fatigue.

The webbing of his thumb was split, and blood slid down the hilt, being torn into a blood mist by the high gravity before it could even hit the ground.

Right in front of him, the "Jeanne d'Arc" holding the black holy flag floated three feet off the ground.

Behind her were thousands of black mud clones; though these monsters had no facial features, they raised their weapons in unison.

A desperate situation.

A true place of death.

Sir Isaac Newton leaned on his prism staff, his back slightly bent due to the super-gravity, but his gray-blue eyes held only frantically jumping data streams.

He was calculating.

In this hellish place where physical laws had been altered, he still insisted on using mathematics to analyze a god.

"Analysis complete."

Newton's voice sounded exceptionally calm, even a bit dry, amidst the violent energy flow.

He didn't look at Li Bai but stared fixedly at that black flag that was swallowing all attacks—Luminosité Eternelle.

"There is a logical loophole in that Noble Phantasm's defense mechanism."

Newton's staff traced a complex geometric figure in the black mud on the ground.

"It is not an omnipotent defense. Based on the feedback from the previous three attacks, this flag absorbs damage through the concept of 'transformation,' but its transformation efficiency is only 73%. The remaining 27% is forcibly offset using Abyss energy."

Li Bai wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, not caring about these obscure terms: "Sir, say something this humble Taoist can understand. Whether it's me or God, we both need a straightforward way to die right now."

"Attack threshold."

Newton looked up, and his face, which always maintained aristocratic composure, was now filled with a gambler's fanaticism.

"Its 'conceptual defense' only targets 'sharpness,' 'penetration,' or 'explosion,' because those are physical means of killing. But if we input a concept of 'destruction' that it cannot understand, or rather, cannot be compatible with, its operational logic will jam."

"Jam?"

"Like forcibly inputting one of Shakespeare's Sonnets into a machine precisely calculating Pi." Newton spoke extremely fast. "Give me a strike—not fast, not sharp, but heavy. The kind of weight that can shatter 'existence' itself. It must burst its energy buffer zone in an instant."