266: Chapter 266 The Demon's Nest is Destroyed, and Cheers Resound

Boom—!

Three massive explosions erupted in succession, shaking the bedrock beneath their feet.

Debris shot into the sky, and black smoke splattered everywhere, carrying charred fragments of carapace.

Chen Wuwang stood on high ground, his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye narrowing slightly as a stream of data flashed across the edge of his vision: [The core of the remaining monster array has been completely destroyed; threat level zeroed].

He slowly exhaled, the tension in his shoulders finally easing a fraction.

"Tiezhu," he spoke, his voice not loud, yet it pierced through the lingering echoes of the roar.

Chen Tiezhu was standing up from beside the wreckage of a mecha emitting green smoke, half a burnt communication wire still hanging from his ear.

He wiped the dust from his face and grinned. "Cleanly blown away! Not a speck remains of the last array core."

He raised a hand in a gesture, and several young craftsmen behind him immediately set to work, recovering the three Psionic Detonators embedded in the ground.

The casings of those devices had long since blackened and deformed, but the core Rune Plates were still faintly flickering, recording the final energy fluctuations.

"Well done," Chen Wuwang nodded, his gaze sweeping over the ruins that had once been covered in purple-black slime.

Now, the scorched earth lay bare, crisscrossed with fissures, and the residual Demonic Qi in the air had been completely neutralized by the Purification Light Waves Bai Ling had released earlier.

In the distance, Chen Xiaodao stood atop a collapsed rock wall, his Laser Sword sheathed, the mechanical device on his left arm emitting a soft cooling hum.

He looked down at his palm, where burn marks from the battle still lingered, then looked up toward where the clansmen were gathered and gave a light wave.

This action served as a signal.

The clansmen, who had been gripping their weapons with wary eyes, finally lowered them slowly.

Some sat down on the ground, some leaned against damaged mechas to catch their breath, and a few teenagers gathered together, whispering about the details of the fierce battle just now, their tones filled with the excitement of survivors.

"Is it really over?" an old craftsman murmured, still clutching a welding torch.

"It's over," the person beside him patted his shoulder. "The nest is destroyed, the Demonic Qi has dispersed, and we survived."

Just as the words fell, someone was the first to shout, "The Patriarch is mighty!"

The sound rose like a fuse being lit.

"The Patriarch is mighty!"

"The Young Lord is awesome!"

"Lady Bai Ling's Divine Power is invincible!"

The cheers surged up in layers; at first they were scattered, but they quickly merged into a wave, echoing endlessly through the valley.

Some raised wine skins, some waved broken blades, and even a few wounded on stretchers struggled to sit up and join the roar.

Chen Wuwang didn't smile, nor did he move; he just watched quietly.

He knew why these people were shouting.

It wasn't just because they won, but because they had once thought they would die—

On this land that had been infested by the insect race for three years, after countless raids and sacrifices, they had finally smashed the source of that nightmare to pieces with their own hands.

He turned and walked toward the Central Sacrificial Altar.

It was a platform temporarily constructed from mecha fragments and spirit-inscribed metal salvaged from the battlefield, engraved with four large characters: Eastern Wasteland Chen Family.

He raised his hand, condensed a ball of Psionic Flame in his palm, and gave it a light tap.

The fire flared up, spreading along the gaps in the inscriptions, illuminating those four characters in bright red.

The flame did not go out, reflecting a glow on everyone's faces.

The entire field gradually grew quiet.

Chen Wuwang looked around and finally raised the wine cup in his hand—

It was an ordinary clay cup filled with the Chen family's self-brewed strong liquor, without the enhancement of Spirit Medicine, and not worth many Spirit Stones.

"To a stronger future," he said.

His voice wasn't high, even a bit hoarse, yet every word was like a stake driven into the ground, steady and reassuring.

A moment of silence.

Then came even more violent cheers.

"To a stronger future!"

"For the Chen Family!"

"For those who live, and for those who couldn't see this day!"

Wine cups were raised high, blades clashed, and mecha components were struck with a clanging sound.

A child hugged his father's leg and repeated loudly, "I want to become strong too! I want to be a Sword Cultivator like the Young Lord!"

Chen Xiaodao heard this, his mouth twitching slightly, then he laughed and ruffled the child's hair.

Bai Ling sat at the edge of the Medicinal Field, her fingertip lightly touching a newly sprouted seedling.

She hummed an Ancient Elven Folk Song in a low voice; the sound was very light, yet it drifted far on the night breeze.

Wherever the song passed, a few wisps of green actually poked out quietly from beneath the scorched earth.

"Heroic Spirit Projection Array, activate," Chen Wuwang suddenly said.

The sky suddenly brightened.

Dozens of light shadows emerged, suspended in mid-air.

Within each ball of light was a figure—a youth driving an old mecha into the gates of the Demon Nest, still laughing wildly before the engine exploded;

An old woman dragging a crippled leg to crawl thirty meters just to deliver an energy battery to the front line;

And a girl no more than twelve years old, who used her body to block a leaking toxic gas pipe before she died...

No one spoke.

Some bowed their heads, some wiped their faces, and some silently took off their helmets and placed them on their knees.

Chen Wuwang stared at the girl's image for a long time before saying softly, "They did not see today, but we must see it for them."

Chen Xiaodao stepped forward and unfastened that half-broken wooden sword from his waist.

The wooden body had long since carbonized, but it was encased in a layer of flowing psionic metal, the hilt wrapped with fine rune threads.

He knelt on one knee and thrust the sword into the ground in front of the sacrificial altar.

Hum—

The entire plaza floor lit up, as countless rune circuits extended from all directions, connecting to every mecha, every defensive array, and the Psionic Chip within every clansman.

In an instant, everyone's consciousness seemed to be linked by an invisible thread, their heartbeats synchronized, their breathing in unison.

"This is..." someone exclaimed.

"The Chen Family Will Resonance Network," Bai Ling said softly, starlight flickering in her eyes. "He has turned our conviction into power."

She sang the folk song again, the sound waves resonating with the runes, turning into sprinkles of silver light.

The light swept over the wounded, easing their pain; it brushed over the weary, dispelling their exhaustion;

It fell on the children's faces, making them laugh out loud.

The celebration continued late into the night.

Over a dozen bonfires were lit, and over a hundred wine jars were opened.

Some fell drunk on the ground snoring, while others sat around recounting the battle, their stories becoming more fantastical as they spoke.

A few teenagers imitated Chen Xiaodao's sword moves, pushing and shoving, nearly kicking over a bonfire and drawing a round of laughing scolding.

Chen Tiezhu squatted in the western workshop area, gesturing to a group of young craftsmen:

"Next time we upgrade the armor modules, we have to add double-layered Cooling Fins, otherwise it's easy to overload during a long fight—look at my 'earth dragon', its rear was about to explode!"

The crowd roared with laughter.

Chen Xiaodao was surrounded by a group of teenagers, demonstrating how to use a mechanical arm to activate Sword Intent Runes.

A blue light flashed on his left arm, and a short sword floated out, tracing a smooth arc in the air.

The children's eyes widened, and they screamed in excitement.

Bai Ling sat in the southern medical area, her fingertip lightly stroking a wounded person's forehead.

She sang a lullaby in a low voice; the person's brow gradually smoothed, and they fell into a deep sleep.

She looked up at the figure on the distant high cliff, said nothing, and only sighed softly.

Chen Wuwang stood there alone.

The wine cup was still in his hand, the liquor inside unfinished.

Moonlight spilled over the three claw marks on his right cheek, gleaming with a cold hue.

His Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flickered slightly, reviewing the post-war data stream: casualty statistics, resource consumption, mecha damage rates... everything was filed.

He didn't move.

The wind blew from the direction of the mine tunnels, carrying a hint of chill.

He gazed into the depths of that darkness, his gaze calm, as if he could pierce through the rock layers to see a certain crawling figure.

Behind him, the cheering continued.

Before him, there was only silence.