Chapter 26: Power

"Run... away?"

The fleet, which had blotted out the sky, did not open fire this time.

Ren Sisi had effortlessly breached the command chain, prying open every fire-support platform she deemed unprotected. The onboard AIs and soldiers received contradictory orders, and the more faulty instruments were directly overloaded and detonated.

Mo Wen could see the flames in the air. The fleet, which had been flexing its might only a moment ago, instantly became a collection of sitting ducks. Worse still, their fire-control systems failed completely, causing them to fire upon one another, while the satellites hovering high above were unable to influence the outcome.

Inside the makeshift command post, the simulated A-874184 furrowed his brow. "He actually managed to find such an elite hacker?"

"No, that’s not right. Even the world’s best hacker couldn't break in so inexplicably before a physical connection was established. My nuclear trap is likely useless now as well."

"A Psion... Has that bizarre, inexplicable technology already given birth to such special talents? Indeed, they must be eradicated in their infancy; they cannot be allowed the chance to grow."

He immediately adjusted his strategy, deploying low-intelligence forces. Modified soldiers hidden in every corner rushed to their firing positions, and various giant machines that had been temporarily disconnected from the network rushed to fill the gaps at top speed.

Meanwhile, Mo Wen had already breached the city.

One man against a city—what were the odds of victory?

Would the winner be the combination of tens of thousands of heavily armed super-soldiers—who had been stripped of emotion, possessed sonic-level reaction speeds, and were equipped with enough heavy firepower that a few squads could topple an old-world nation—alongside giant machines that usually disguised themselves as skyscrapers, reaching dozens of meters in height and capable of easily clearing entire city blocks?

Or would it be one man?

At this moment, Mo Wen believed that victory belonged to him. The odds were one hundred percent. It was not just because of the technological disparity of the era, but because it was he who had stepped onto this battlefield.

He gripped a high-frequency vibration particle blade in one hand and held an energy rifle connected to his prosthetic power supply in the other. For other cyborgs, these two weapons were ineffective. Even if they could smoothly slice through most materials, who would bother running a long distance to deliver themselves to death when they could attack from thousands of meters away? The energy rifle suffered from low efficiency; at low power, it couldn't penetrate defenses, and at high power, it couldn't fire many shots—not to mention that by drawing from a prosthetic power source rather than an external one, the user might run out of power first.

But for Mo Wen, who existed in a different flow of time under the influence of Psionics, they were a perfect match.

Fast—extremely fast—fast enough to outpace the raising of a gun barrel, the rotation of a turret, and the lock-on of every fire-control system. He moved through the city without gathering a speck of dust.

Strong—supremely strong—strong enough to cleave a building-sized machine in two with a single strike, destroy its power source, and annihilate every soldier in his path.

Exhilarating! Free!

Only now, without the need to face fleet-grade firepower or fear the enemy’s schemes, did Mo Wen truly feel how powerful his modified self had become. No matter how much those weaklings struggled, they couldn't harm him in the slightest.

He could easily dismantle missiles, or even leap away gracefully before the shockwave hit after an explosion. He could catch a bullet fired by a headless corpse with his last ounce of strength between two fingers and crush it into powder. The beams fired by giant machines, ignoring friendly fire, couldn't catch his shadow even if they wiped out all their own allies.

And he... he was death itself. Wherever he passed, the life and death of others were decided by him.

The enemies were not even worthy of reacting, not worthy of screaming, not worthy of terror. They had been stripped of the only right a living being has when facing a killer; they could only accept the choices he made.

Power—what a sweet thing it was. The power held in one’s own hands surpassed all worldly authority; it was the supreme power that could directly decide the life and death of others, and of oneself. Every hardship and death he had endured until now seemed to suddenly clarify its meaning: they were all forged to create this power.

Mo Wen felt a bit manic, wanting to burst into loud laughter.

Being alive is truly wonderful.

But now, it was not the time to relax, even though he had carved his way through a city for the first time. He could see his target in the distance attempting to flee. The target had many prosthetics supporting his sub-sonic flight, and his personal guards swarmed in, attempting to block the arrival of the Reaper.

Could they not understand that this was all in vain? Even if they escaped for several kilometers, it would take Mo Wen less than a second to catch up.

Heh, perhaps there were secret escape tunnels or specialized defensive facilities nearby. But it didn't matter; he would just kill the target now.

Mo Wen pressed forward.

There were twelve personal guards, all battle-hardened elites at their peak, coordinated as one, fearless of death.

How to kill them?

He would kill them as he pleased.

Mo Wen raised his hand. The power supply from his prosthetic reactor was drawn to its minimum, and a fierce beam of energy suddenly pierced the air, striking the control hub of a guard attempting to fire.

Then, the second, the third, the fourth.

Four guards with absolute sniping radii exceeding 12 kilometers, capable of intercepting missiles, had their lives taken with ease.

They had not been able to block him at all, and Mo Wen had already reached their side.

In a moment too short for thought, two guards relied on their honed instincts, judging Mo Wen's trajectory and struggling to intercept him.

Too slow. It was like a snail trying to stop a human. Unless the human intended to step on it, how could it be possible?

However, Mo Wen did not intend to move aside. Power had granted him the right to walk a straight path, and he intended to exercise that right.

A horizontal slash.

Shields capable of withstanding heavy artillery and high-yield aerial bombs were severed, even with their protective fields fully deployed. The two guards—their arms capable of tossing tanks, their bodies specialized for defense—were useless. They couldn't even delay Mo Wen for an instant.

Having crossed their obstruction, the path ahead was clear.

Should he continue the slaughter and eradicate the remaining guards?

It was no longer necessary. If their existence could not stop his footsteps, why would he need to destroy their lives?

Mo Wen caught the target just before he realized he had been overtaken. With a slight exertion of his steel arm, he crushed the skull that had not undergone deep modification, leaving only a lump of pulp in his palm.

The headless corpse continued to fly forward due to the last order issued before death, but unable to control its direction accurately, it plunged into the earth.

Ren Sisi’s voice sounded over the team comms: "Wow, that was fast. Also, don't you feel the joy of teamwork? My technical skills are solid, right!"

"This guy seems to have a post-mortem suicide signal, trying to drag more people down with him. Let me handle it."

Not far from Mo Wen, the newly arrived NPC Qi Shiming stood in a daze.

The virtual reality world stalled.

[Mission Accomplished]

[Training Evaluation: Fair]

[AI Comment: No cooperation, no technique, no hidden side-quests discovered. You simply steamrolled through with raw stats. Suggest changing training plan.]

[Normal ending for the current mission unlocked.]

[Other missions for this scenario unlocked.]