Chapter 978: No Way to Escape (Thanks to Actually My Name Is Grandpa Deng's alliance leader 100,000 reward!)

Chapter 978: No Way Out (With gratitude to Patron "Actually My Name Is Grandpa Deng" for the hundred-thousand-coin reward!)

Han Xiao’s intelligence parted the fog of war for the Empire; a host of renowned imperial commanders at the front moved with swift, ruthless precision, launching a ferocious offensive that swept across the Kundu homeworlds in a mere month.

Each legion operated independently, intercepting and slaughtering Kundu main fleets stationed at various coordinates, engaging in brutal carnage amidst the starfields as battle formations advanced in crisscrossing tides, scouring the interstellar void.

Beneath the Empire’s thunderous artillery, the Kundu were caught entirely off guard, forced into a relentless retreat that cost them a devastating number of capital ships.

In a certain star system, an imperial legion clashed with a Kundu main fleet; the enemy, already crumbling into rout, faced merciless slaughter as vessel after vessel was pierced by psionic cannons, blooming into fleeting fireworks against the cosmic dark.

The enemy flagship lay tightly encircled, countless imperial naval guns trained upon its hull from every angle, ready to obliterate it at the slightest provocation; they held their fire only because they intended to take the enemy fleet commander alive.

A small shuttle detached from the imperial formation, carrying the imperial officers dispatched to seize control of the flagship.

The enemy flagship dropped its shields in apparent surrender, allowing the shuttle to glide smoothly inward and dock at the airlock; the disparity in their sizes was akin to a sesame seed resting against a grape.

Hiss—

The pressure valves released, the boarding ramp of the flagship groaned open, and a pale-skinned imperial officer stepped onto enemy ground: Gao De.

Adjutants to imperial officers bore multifaceted duties; some acted as private secretaries, while others doubled as vanguard combatants. Gao De belonged to the latter breed.

Ahead, layers upon layers of Kundu soldiers stood in a tight cordon, knuckles white around their weapons, radiating palpable hostility.

Gao De swept them a glance, utterly unfazed, and reached up to adjust the universal translator at his ear before speaking in a measured tone:

"Who is your commander? Step forward."

A ripple of agitation passed through the Kundu ranks until a towering, mantis-shrimp-like figure in uniform emerged—the fleet’s commander—his voice heavy and grave. "Invader, how is it you speak our tongue?"

The two sides had warred without ever exchanging archives; for these Kundu officers, this was their first face-to-face encounter with the invaders, and Gao De’s fluency left them utterly bewildered.

"A trivial matter of technology," Gao De replied, his voice even.

The intelligence Han Xiao had delivered to the Empire was comprehensive, naturally including linguistic data; there was no need for imperial cryptographers to decipher anything, as the language could be fed directly into stellar translators for seamless communication.

The Kundu commander pressed no further, his tone sinking. "Cease the slaughter of my kin. We have already lost this war."

"Agreed. Surrender, hand over command of the fleet, and our guns will fall silent," Gao De stated coolly.

"Very well. Follow me."

The Kundu commander turned to lead the way, his soldiers parting to form a corridor; Gao De cast a sidelong glance, a flicker of mockery touching his lips, and strode forward to follow.

The party moved down the winding corridors, turning corner after corner in a heavy, unbroken silence.

After some time, Gao De suddenly let out a soft chuckle, his words drawn out with deliberate calm:

"You have led us in circles long enough. Is your trap ready yet? Do not keep me waiting."

At these words, the Kundu commander at the front froze abruptly, whirling around with eyes wide in shock.

Exposed?!

But if he had seen through it, why did he remain so utterly composed?!

Though his ruse was laid bare, it would not sway his resolve; the Kundu commander’s voice suddenly twisted into a savage snarl.

"You butcher my troops and expect my surrender? Keep dreaming! We die together!"

The moment the words left his lips, a violent tremor shuddered through the deck plates; Gao De glanced down as the metal flooring swelled and fractured, jagged fissures splitting open to bleed a blinding, ethereal blue light.

"Rigging your own ship with primordial psionic energy... you planned to detonate it from the start, didn't you..."

Gao De’s sentence was cut short as a deafening shockwave tore through the entire flagship.

BOOM!!

In the next instant, psionic energy erupted in a violent torrent, instantly swallowing Gao De, the Kundu commander, and every soul aboard, saturating every cubic inch of space!

Simultaneously, the imperial fleet outside detected the anomaly; the encircled enemy flagship ruptured from within, violently blossoming into a rapidly expanding sphere of primordial psionic energy that surged outward, threatening the imperial cordon—the Kundu commander had detonated his ship with the sole intent of dragging the imperial armada down with him!

Aboard the distant command vessel, the imperial general overseeing the legion let out a cold snort.

"As expected, a self-detonation. Psionic containment unit, engage!"

At the command, the innermost ring of imperial warships revealed circular apparatuses at their prows; the devices hummed into resonance, weaving an invisible, transparent dome that completely enveloped the psionic sphere, warping the surrounding space into visible ripples.

The imperial fleet had long prepared for psionic detonations; this apparatus was specialized equipment designed to neutralize psionic contamination, requiring synchronized operation to cage the energy mass, and since this freshly born sphere was still relatively small, it remained manageable.

The expansion of the primordial psionic sphere began to decelerate, its outward surge gradually reversing into an inward collapse, shrinking steadily.

The process dragged on for several dozen minutes until the primordial mass, once the size of a flagship, condensed into a sphere merely two or three meters in diameter, still compressing at a rapid pace.

The standard protocol for neutralizing psionic contamination involved using specialized machinery to compress its volume, heightening its energy density until it crystallized into a psionic seed, which was then secured within a stabilization containment unit; this method was relatively clean with minimal side effects, its only drawbacks being the time required and the difficulty of handling the energy once it expanded beyond a certain threshold.

Just then, a silhouette stepped lightly out of the psionic haze, drifting into view: Gao De, completely unscathed, his hair not even out of place, casually carrying the still-thrashing Kundu commander in one hand.

The entire flagship had been assimilated and devoured by the primordial psionic energy; only two souls remained among the living.

"Y-you..." The Kundu commander’s eyes bulged, staring at Gao De in sheer terror.

He had steeled himself for certain death, resolved to take his enemies with him, yet in this moment, he could not comprehend what his eyes had just witnessed.

Gao De spared him a glance, delivered a casual strike to knock him unconscious, then extended his free hand toward the psionic sphere, fingers curling as if grasping the void.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

Mist-like trails of psionic energy swirled through the air, and in the blink of an eye, the primordial mass collapsed into a speck of light no larger than a grain of rice, radiating a dazzling azure glow.

It was a newly forged psionic seed, resembling a sapphire gemstone that settled upon Gao De’s fingertips, bathing his hand and face in an ethereal blue luminescence.

Clutching an unstable super-energy source, Gao De’s expression remained utterly placid; after a brief inspection, he flipped his wrist, produced a spherical containment unit, and slipped the psionic seed inside.

He then signaled the imperial fleet to power down the compression arrays, and escorted the unconscious Kundu commander along with the contained seed back to the command vessel to report to his superior.

"Excellent work. I will personally see that this merit is recorded in your file."

The imperial general greeted Gao De in person, patting his shoulder with genuine approval; it was precisely because he understood Gao De’s capabilities that he had chosen him for the boarding operation.

Primordial psionic energy was ruthlessly corrosive; even a Beyond Grade A entity would suffer continuous, devastating damage within it, yet supernatural abilities always harbored infinite possibilities, and a rare few could allow their wielders to survive unscathed in raw psionic tides.

Gao De’s ability was one such rarity, and its implications were profoundly unique.

Before Gao De, the cosmos had only theorized the existence of such an ultra-high-risk ability, lacking any concrete precedent... Gao De might well be the first confirmed wielder discovered since antiquity, or at the very least, his power bore the closest resemblance to that theoretical phenomenon.

On the surface, he was merely an imperial military esper who had recently ascended to the Calamity Grade, yet due to the singular nature of his power, he had already drawn the attention of the high command, secured a place on the priority observation roster, and was being groomed by the Empire as a Beyond Grade A prospect, burdened with immense expectations.

Hearing his superior’s praise, Gao De remained unmoved by favor or disgrace, offering only a faint smile as he stepped back to stand at attention, his eyes as still as an ancient well, his thoughts entirely inscrutable.

...

The Empire launched simultaneous offensives across multiple fronts, blooming into full-scale war.

The Kundu armies crumbled in successive routs, their formations thrown into chaos by the Empire’s sudden, comprehensive assault.

"Gentlemen, we are losing this war."

Within the high council chamber of the Kundu command vessel, the Kundu leader leaned heavily against the table, his cold gaze sweeping over the assembled executives.

"Defeat was within our calculations, but the progression has spiraled beyond our control," a senior officer stated grimly. "Our main fleets, hidden at various staging coordinates, have suffered precise enemy strikes and catastrophic casualties. The situation is deeply irregular; it appears the enemy has acquired our positional data."

The Kundu battle plan had originally called for a gradual, luring retreat, drawing the Crimson Empire deep into their territorial heartland, while concealed main fleets stationed beyond the borders would converge to strike the enemy’s stargates, severing their retreat before enacting a scorched-earth protocol to obliterate their own homeworlds along with as many invaders as possible.

Yet, the Crimson Empire’s precision strikes had already shattered the Kundu strategy, and what chilled them to the bone was the dawning realization that their own intelligence had likely been compromised.

"We cannot yet determine whether the enemy located our hidden fleets through advanced observational means or infiltrated our internal networks," another voice murmured uneasily. "If it is the former, we retain some hope. But if it is the latter, our situation is dire. The enemy has likely deduced our scorched-earth protocol, and may even possess the coordinates of every unit, including our own."

The Kundu leader’s voice cut through the tension: "Regardless, we must prepare for the worst. Our grasp of applied quantum network technology remains immature, while the enemy’s systems are far more refined. Perhaps it is time we temporarily abandon this convenient means of communication."

"In that case, we shall find ourselves even more cornered..."

"Say no more. The tide has irrevocably turned; it is time to withdraw and pin our hopes on the Scorched Earth Protocol." The Kunde patriarch's voice sank like lead. "The sole uncertainty lies in whether the enemy has pierced the veil of our design. Should it be exposed, we must enact a contingency."

"What manner of contingency?"

"The vanguard executing the protocol departed long ago. Even should the foe possess their coordinates, pursuit shall demand time. Thus, we need only sever their tether to command, collapse the quantum network, and strangle all external transmission. In doing so, the enemy shall once more lose their trail in the void."

At these words, the assembled shrimp-like dignitaries could not help but nod in solemn accord.

To render the protocol's fleet a blind and deaf phantom armada was, admittedly, a sound stratagem.

Yet a voice of doubt arose from the ranks. "If the enemy has already divined our intent, they will surely have countermeasures at the ready. Even ignorant of where we bury the primordial nether-energy, they could triangulate the detonations through observation and swiftly contain them. The protocol's efficacy would be grievously blunted, snuffed out before it can truly burn."

"Indeed, our grand strategy has, in some measure, already foundered." The patriarch's tone was ironclad. "Yet we must leave the foe as barren a prize as possible. At any cost, we shall make them bleed."

The high command exchanged glances across the table; not a single voice rose in dissent.

Seeing no objection, the Kunde leader summoned the chamber's holographic display, keyed in his clearance, and unveiled a classified interface that tracked the real-time positions and vitals of every unit bound for the scorched earth.

At present, the readouts showed all contingents proceeding unimpeded toward their objectives, untouched by hostile fire, a portrait of flawless execution.

Confirming the protocol remained intact and unspoiled by enemy sabotage, a collective breath escaped the room... It was the final gambit upon which their hopes now rested.

They immediately hailed the protocol's executor; the channel bridged in moments, and the commander's visage materialized upon the light-screen.

"High Command issues new directives. Alter the burial sites for the nether-energy, sever the quantum uplink, and black out all communication channels. Only once the deed is done and you have withdrawn to a safe distance shall you restore the link and report. Do you comprehend?"

"Understood."

With a few final words of caution, the patriarch terminated the transmission.

Several dozen seconds elapsed before the live feeds of the scorched earth units winked out one by one, until the screen lay entirely dark, every tether severed.

"Hardly an ideal solution, yet it buys us a measure of security," murmured a senior official, his sigh heavy in the still air.

The Kunde leader gave a slow nod, his gaze sweeping over the assembled council as he spoke in a grave timbre:

"Now that the pieces are set, we shall commence our exodus. See to it that every Esper captive we have taken is brought along."

With the hour grown late and the war irrevocably lost, the Kunde race resolved to recall their remaining forces and scatter into the dark.

The preceding clashes had not been entirely fruitless; they had indeed secured a handful of Espers, prized as vital experimental subjects, and intended to spirit them away for future dissection and study.

...

Meanwhile, along the fraying borders of Kunde territory, a detachment of the scorched earth fleet found itself under savage assault by Imperial warships.

One Kunde cruiser had already been boarded, Imperial Espers sweeping through its corridors to purge the remaining crew.

The captain had sealed the bridge bulkheads, frantically broadcasting hail after hail to High Command, yet each plea vanished into the void, met with utter silence.

"What in the abyss is happening? Why does Command ignore a priority distress call?!"

Terror and fury warred within the captain's chest.

In that instant, a blade of frigid light sheared through the bridge's alloy doors, grazing the captain's frame.

Shhhk—

"Gah!" The captain shrieked, collapsing heavily to the deck as cobalt blood bubbled from the wound, his breath reduced to a ragged wheeze.

An Imperial officer, alloy saber in hand, sauntered through the breach. He glanced at the blinking comms panel, then down at the captain's defiant glare, and offered a dark chuckle before casually terminating the feed.

"Spare your breath. You will never reach your own again."

At this, the captain's eyes widened in dawning horror. "Could it be..."

Swish!

A flash of cold steel arced through the air, and a massive shrimp-like head tumbled free, azure blood painting the bulkhead in a crude, grotesque abstract.

Sheathing his blade, the officer turned on his heel and departed; offering no exposition to a dying foe was a fundamental tenet of Imperial soldiery.

In truth, Han Xiao had surrendered far more than mere intelligence. As the old adage went, if one escorts a monk, one sees him all the way to the temple; having committed to the cause, he had conveniently handed over the backdoor exploits he had seeded within the Kunde quantum network, granting the Empire full dominion to maximize his mission rating.

Consequently, the entirety of the Kunde command architecture had been reduced to an Imperial plaything, stripped of all resistance, left to be twisted and manipulated into whatever contorted shapes their captors desired.

Every feed the Kunde High Command witnessed, every face on their comms channels, was nothing but an elaborate phantom woven by the Empire.

They believed they had issued new orders to the scorched earth detachments; in reality, they had spoken to the void, and those fleets had received not a single syllable from command.

Simultaneously, every data tether between those units and headquarters lay firmly in Imperial hands, all transmissions intercepted and rerouted, the channels jammed so thoroughly that it was akin to two deaf men screaming across a chasm—miraculous if either heard a word.

The Kunde race had been rendered utterly blind and deaf. Command labored under the illusion that events unfolded according to design, a hallucination carefully curated by their foes; with the cerebral command network paralyzed, the outer fleets could not cry for help, left only to be devoured piece by piece.

Devoid of interstellar society's backing, the Kunde were a crippled cluster-tier civilization, their quantum networking so profoundly rudimentary that it crumbled like glass before Han Xiao. Had this been a legitimate cluster-tier power from the explored cosmos, he would not have seized their digital veins with such effortless grace.

The very existence of a Virtual Mechanic was a strategic weapon of intelligence warfare, and Han Xiao stood at the pinnacle of the Beyond Grade A threshold, recently blessed with Perfect Mechanical Affinity; his utility in the theater of war was something the other four esper disciplines could never hope to replicate.

It was enough to ensure his enemies perished without ever comprehending the hand that struck them down.

...

Far from their homeworld, adrift in the silent expanse, the migrant armada carrying the entirety of the Kunde civilian population executed a ghostly reversal, slipping back along the very trajectory from which they had fled.

Yet the stellar charts betrayed no alteration, and those aboard remained blissfully ignorant, unaware they were retracing their steps into the jaws of the trap.

The Empire harbored no custom of letting prey slip through its fingers; the net had already been cast to drag them all into the dark.

For the Kunde race, there was no escape.