349: Chapter 349 A New Crisis Approaches Quietly

The night wind swept across the high platform of the Martial Arts Arena, dispersing the last traces of residual heat from scorched metal.

The lamps were still lit, but the silhouettes of people had gradually thinned out.

Several young clansmen walked toward the dormitory area clutching their training notebooks, arguing as they went about whether the third step of the "Wind-Whisper Instant Step" should be coordinated with the psionic nozzle's power output.

In a corner, Uncle Chen Defu hobbled along slowly with a cane, the practice armor he had used during the day still draped over his shoulder.

No one looked up at the sky.

Right at the edge of the clouds illuminated pale blue by the moonlight, a dark line so thin it was almost invisible was sewn into the night sky like a stitch.

It glided silently across the firmament, hugging the outer layers of the atmosphere; it stirred not a single ripple of Spiritual Qi, nor did it trigger any early-warning talismans.

It merely passed through, then vanished at the end of the northern wasteland.

Far, far away, inside an Immortal Cave embedded deep within a mountainside, the air was as stagnant as dead water.

A water mirror hung in the center of the stone chamber, its surface covered in cracks and its edges seeping black gas, looking as if it might shatter at any moment.

The image reflected in the mirror was the Martial Arts Arena from moments ago—brightly lit with figures moving about. Near the mecha wreckage, some were dismantling parts; Bai Ling leaned against the steps, eyes closed as she regulated her breathing; Chen Wuwang stood at the edge of the high platform, his fingertip lightly touching the old scar on his cheek.

A figure sat quietly on a stone seat behind, draped in a deep gray robe. His face was hidden in the shadows, revealing only half of his pale fingers, which were lightly tapping the armrest in a steady, unhurried rhythm, as if counting something.

“Thirty-seven people participated in the rotation training, sixteen have mastered basic flash-shifting, the mecha group completed three combat simulation advancements...” he muttered in a low voice, his tone as dry as sandpaper scraping against stone. “Efficiency is forty percent higher than estimated.”

He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “It seems they weren't just boasting.”

As his voice fell, the water mirror shook violently, and the image switched to the interior of the Technology Workshop—Chen Tiezhu was stuffing a blue-glowing crystal into the core of a Shockwave Hammer, mumbling torque parameters under his breath.

A second later, it jumped to the command console where Chen Wuwang was pressing a communication token to issue orders, a stream of data flashing through his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye.

“The coupling progress between technology and magic has reached a critical point.” The man slowly stood up, walked to the water mirror, and extended a finger to draw a line across its surface. “If this continues, they will break through the psionic coding barrier within three years.”

He gave a cold sneer. “A bunch of hicks, treating scrap metal like treasure, actually thinking they can rewrite the rules of the Cultivation World?”

The image in the water mirror suddenly froze at the moment Chen Xiaodao drew his sword and took to the sky, the blade tearing through the air and trailing a silver-white wake behind him.

“Heh... a Sword Cultivator dares to play with mecha?” He scoffed. “Putting a flesh-and-blood body into an iron shell makes one a powerhouse? Ridiculous.”

But there was no laughter in his eyes. Those eyes hidden under the hood were as black as the bottom of a well, staring at the mirror's surface for a long time without moving.

After a moment, he suddenly spoke, his tone low and certain: “But they have indeed... become stronger.”

His voice wasn't loud, yet it made the air in the entire stone chamber feel several degrees heavier.

“But it doesn't matter.” He raised his hand, and a pitch-black talisman plate appeared in his palm, engraved with twisted patterns that vaguely formed the word ‘Steal.’ “Strength is the only thing with value. The stronger they are, the more suitable they are to be stepping stones.”

He stared at the talisman plate and said word for word, “What I want isn't their lives, but their results. Their technology, their system, every single path they’ve felt their way through—it must all belong to me.”

The water mirror jolted, showing a panoramic view of the Chen Family's main city: towering walls, forests of Psionic Tower, the ruins of the Star Gate faintly visible to the south, and a faint flow of light surging from the Northern Mines—clearly, the ‘earth dragon’ was in operation.

“Advancing on three fronts? No small ambition.” He sneered, lightly flicking the talisman plate with his finger. “A pity, you don't know that someone has been watching all along.”

“Watching how you climb up step by step, how you grow stronger little by little, how you pile all your resources toward the Peak...”

He slowly closed his eyes. “The moment you reach the top, I will personally pull the ladder away.”

The water mirror vibrated again, the image jumping to the backs of the last group of clansmen leaving the Martial Arts Arena.

“For now...” He opened his eyes, his gaze freezing cold. “Let them be happy for a few more days.”

He raised his hand and suddenly clenched it toward the water mirror.

*Snap!*

With a crisp sound, the water mirror exploded into countless fragments. Each piece turned into black smoke upon hitting the ground, quickly burrowing into the cracks in the floor and vanishing.

Silence returned to the stone chamber.

The man stood with his hands behind his back, speaking no more. Only the water droplets dripping from the rocky ceiling above went tap, tap, tap against the floor.

After an unknown amount of time, extremely faint footsteps came from outside the Immortal Cave, approaching from afar and stopping outside the door.

“My Lord.” A lowered voice sounded. “Abnormal energy residue was detected in the direction of the Eastern Wasteland, suspected to be a new type of psionic emission characteristic. A sample has been collected and sent back.”

“Bring it in,” he said indifferently.

The door opened a crack, and a hand wearing a black glove handed in a Jade Slip. The door closed quickly, and the footsteps receded.

He picked up the Jade Slip and infused it with spiritual power. Rows of data streams appeared before his eyes: pulse frequencies, energy Peaks, rune coding structures...

“Dual-core engine?” He narrowed his eyes. “Segmented power supply? These people really... haven't wasted any time at all.”

He suddenly laughed, a very light laugh, yet it carried a chill that made one's bones go numb.

“Good, very good. Keep watching. I want to know the upgrade nodes for every one of their mecha, the testing time for every new technique, and the contents of every meeting.”

He put away the Jade Slip and turned toward the depths of the stone chamber, where there was a massive sand table marked with dense clusters of strongholds and routes.

With a wave of his hand, a projection of a city appeared in the center of the sand table—the city walls, towers, the location of the Technology Workshop, the flow of the Spiritual Vein, and even the layout of the Martial Arts Arena were all crystal clear.

“Chen Family...” he whispered, his fingertip landing on the main control hall in the center of the city. He applied pressure slowly, and the projection collapsed. “Your hard work... I shall ‘inherit’ it well.”

He withdrew his hand, flicked his sleeve, and the entire stone chamber fell into darkness.

Only that single low murmur continued to echo slowly in the air:

“The Chen Family shall become the stepping stone for me to ascend to the Peak.”

At the same time, above the territory of the Eastern Wasteland Chen Family, the last lamp was extinguished.

The clansmen had long since retired to their quarters, and the clamor of training had completely subsided. A breeze blew across the empty Martial Arts Arena, swirling a few scraps of paper before gently setting them down again.

Everything seemed normal.

But in the extremely high heavens, a trace of very faint black gas suddenly swept past the edge of the moon, thin as a hair and fast as a bolt of lightning, instantly piercing into the cloud layer without leaving a trace.

The wind continued to blow, carrying away the residual heat of the metal and the brief peace of this land.

That black thread silently plunged into the deepest part of the night.