85: Chapter 85: Harvest Imminent, Unexpected Events Occur

The moment the grass blades three hundred meters away swayed, Chen Wuwang's fingertips stopped.

It wasn't due to hesitation; his body had locked its reaction before his consciousness did—like the last frame before code enters an infinite loop, terrifyingly still.

He didn't move, nor did his pupils shift, but the data stream within his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye had already exploded.

Ten steps behind the withered tree in the southeast corner, the Spiritual Qi reading suddenly increased by 3.7. It wasn't a fluctuation, but an accumulation, as if a dozen people were holding their breath simultaneously, unable to suppress the overflow of Spiritual Qi within their bodies.

"They are here," he whispered, his voice lighter than the wind.

The moment his words fell, the mist broke.

It didn't disperse; it was torn apart. A black shadow streaked across the ground, moving so fast that even its afterimage was only half-visible.

Following closely, a second, a third... a total of thirteen figures rushed out of the forest. They landed silently, yet every step left scorched marks on the ground, as if their boot soles were on fire while they sprinted.

Chen Xiaodao saw it clearly from the old pine tree—these people were not wearing ordinary martial attire, but form-fitting soft armor with dark runic patterns, and their cuffs all bore a jagged fire seal.

Their strikes carried the strength of Foundation Establishment Peak, and their first wave of attacks went straight for the three harvesting mechs.

"Move!" he roared, already leaping down.

His sword remained sheathed, his toes kicked off the tree trunk, and his entire body shot out like an arrow. He rolled upon landing, dodged the incoming chain blade, drew the longsword from his back with a backhand motion, and swept it out horizontally.

Clang!

Sparks flew everywhere. One of the opponents crouched to block; the short halberd in his hand actually carried an electromagnetic vibration, and he didn't retreat but advanced after taking the sword strike head-on.

Chen Xiaodao's hand went numb from the shock, but he didn't retreat. Instead, he took a half-step forward, rammed his left shoulder into the enemy's chest, used the momentum to spin, and slashed the sword edge in an upward arc.

The man reacted extremely quickly, leaning back to dodge the fatal throat strike, but his cheek was still cut open. He let out a muffled groan, but instead of retreating, he grinned hideously and raised his hand to throw a Talisman.

The yellow paper ignited into ash the moment it left his hand, and a visible shockwave exploded in the air.

Chen Xiaodao's pupils constricted—an Array-Breaking Talisman! It specifically countered defensive Magical Artifacts and barriers!

He had no time to think, rolled to the side, and shouted at the same time: "Anti-blast! Everyone get down!"

Boom—!

The shockwave sent the nearest harvesting mech flying, its flexible Spiritual energy clamps twisting and deforming on the spot. The vacuum storage cabin cracked, and the humming Tier 3 buffer runic network inside flickered twice before going dark.

The pilot of another mech reacted quickly and activated the emergency shield, but the shield only lasted two seconds before being shattered by the overlapping impact of three subsequent Array-Breaking Talismans.

The cockpit glass shattered, and the man, covered in blood, struggled to crawl out.

The third mech hadn't been affected yet, but the controlling Disciple had been forced to the edge of the field by two raiders. With his back against a stone post and his sword dropped, he only had one hand left, gripping the control panel tightly.

"Don't destroy the machine!" he shrieked, his fingers fumbling over the emergency lock button.

No one listened to him.

The raiders didn't care about casualties, nor did they bother with probing; they went straight for full-scale suppression.

They split into three groups: five besieged the remaining mechs, three lunged at the protective Formation nodes at the edge of the Medicinal Field, and the remaining five charged straight at the spiritual plant itself.

Chen Xiaodao gritted his teeth, rolled into the fray, and his sword light flashed like lightning, forcing two people back and saving the controlling Disciple.

He panted heavily, wiped the sweat from his face, and discovered his left sleeve had been cut, with blood seeping out.

"Can you still fight?" he asked the Disciple.

"Yes!" the man nodded, his face covered in dust and blood, but his eyes were bright. "As long as the mech can still move, I dare to pilot it!"

"Good." Chen Xiaodao nodded, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield.

Of their thirty people, fewer than ten could stand firmly now. Two clansmen lay on the ground; one had a broken leg, and the other had a caved-in chest, being dragged to a safe zone.

Two others were entangled with enemies, clearly at a disadvantage.

And of the thirteen enemies, none had fallen.

The most ruthless one was the leader—shrouded in a black robe, with a metal mask covering his face, revealing only his eyes.

Those eyes were so cold they didn't seem human; the way he stared at the spiritual plant was like a starving wolf eyeing the last piece of meat.

He stood on the perimeter of the Medicinal Field, not intervening personally, just raising his hand to make a gesture.

Immediately, two people pulled out small explosive Talisman devices and attached them to the Spiritual energy conduits of the protective Formation.

Chen Wuwang saw it clearly.

His right hand slowly moved to his waist, gripping the hilt of the Titanium Alloy Dagger. His fingertips traced the three carvings on it—once, twice.

Three images flashed through his mind:

The day the Zerg slaughtered the village three years ago, with nothing left in the ruins but cries and severed limbs;

The solemn appearance of the Seven Clans Elders when they pressed their handprints at the Alliance founding ceremony two months ago;

And the seedling that Elder Lin had quietly slipped to him last night, saying, "If this thing succeeds, our Chen Clan will be able to stand tall and speak."

Now, someone wanted to smash all of this right in front of him.

He didn't move, but deep within his right eye, blood-colored spiritual patterns quietly emerged.

The Mechanical Prosthetic Eye automatically switched to thermal imaging mode, and thirteen red dots were clearly marked in his field of vision. He scanned them and noticed a crest on the inside of the leader's left wrist—a black snake on a silver background, coiled into a ring, with a forked tail tip.

He had never seen it.

But that wasn't important.

What was important was that the opponent was not a Loose Cultivator, but an organized force, with clear goals and excellent equipment, knowing there was something worth stealing here before they arrived.

This wasn't a raid.

It was a decapitation strike.

Chen Xiaodao's side was almost unable to hold on.

He was fighting three enemies at once, his Sword Intent sharp, but the three opponents coordinated perfectly; one attacked while the other two used Talisman devices to disrupt his rhythm.

His left shoulder was grazed by a Talisman blade, his black clothing exploded, his flesh tore open, and blood streamed down his arm.

He didn't stop; instead, he fought more frantically, his sword moves becoming increasingly dangerous, almost trading his life for time.

Finally, after a forced thrust, he drove one person back and leaped back to the stone steps of the Medicinal Field, panting like a bellows.

"Brothers!" he roared back, "Hold this line! Whoever dares to take a step forward, I'll chop off three of their legs!"

The remaining six clansmen responded in unison, forming a semicircle and blocking behind him.

But anyone could see that this defensive line wouldn't last long.

The raiders advanced again. The people attaching the devices to the Formation conduits had finished the setup; as soon as they detonated the bombs, the entire protective System would be paralyzed.

The others were only twenty zhang away from the spiritual plant; in another ten breaths, they would be able to rush in.

Chen Wuwang finally moved.

He didn't rush out; he slowly raised his right hand and drew the Titanium Alloy Dagger three inches from its sheath.

A cold gleam flashed and vanished.

He remained standing where he was, like a statue, but the Spiritual Qi within his body had already begun to surge along his Meridians, like underground lava seeking an outlet. Every inch of his muscles was coiled with power, and every nerve ending was awaiting a command.

He knew that as soon as he acted, the situation would be reversed.

But it also meant exposing his strength—he was not an ordinary Foundation Establishment, nor a Golden Core, but a monster who had long since touched the threshold of Nascent Soul. After this battle, no one in the Eastern Wasteland would dare to underestimate the Chen Clan again.

But he also knew that some things, if they couldn't be hidden, had to be revealed.

Especially when your brothers are risking their lives for you in the front.

He narrowed his eyes, staring at the masked leader.

Just as that person reached out to press the detonation Talisman device—

Chen Wuwang moved his intent.

Not his feet, but his gaze.

A surge of killing intent, like a sword unsheathed, pierced straight into the opponent's brow.

The man's movements paused, and he suddenly looked up, staring toward the high platform.

Separated by thirty zhang, their gazes collided.

Chen Wuwang didn't dodge.

He simply spat out two words:

"Death wish."