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... nsion located right next to the partition that divided the corrupted part of the city from the rest.

At the rooftop, Netherius was looking at the distance with a somewhat satisfied expression, glancing to the side with little interest when he heard Isidor arriving.

"So, you've returned…" Netherius commented.

"Apologies, Master. That Hellslayer is… something," Isidor replied, kneeling down in pain as he held his severed arm.

"Mhmm, I did warn you about him," Nether ...

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Beside the coast, a hundred-meter star gate is overflowing with light.

Outside the star gate, the army made of steel can’t see the edge at a glance.

On the sky, a fighter jet flew across the sky, interweaving the iron curtain.

In the distant ocean, aircraft carriers, destroyers, and frigates are all over the sea, ready to go.

All the muzzles were aimed at a figure walking out of the star gate.

“I order you to withdraw in the name of the Federal Command, otherwise, all-out war awaits you.”

“war?”

Ancient and Jinlai took a step forward, and his body rose against the wind. In an instant, he grew from less than two meters to a Chaos Demon God thousands of meters high. The brilliance of a white dwarf radiated from him, and his own gravity alone caused it to be caused by thousands of miles around. Lightning and thunder, tsunami tides.

He bows his head…

Looking at a toy-like war weapon.

Reaching out, a hydrogen bomb fell into his hand.

The electron degenerate star nucleus in the body releases helium, and the helium element expands. The terrifying high temperature instantly causes the isotopic elements of hydrogen to aggregate deuterium and tritium, and the energy explodes. The sudden white brilliance is like lighting a sun on the sea.

Before waiting for the sun’s energy to be released, he closed his hands together, and the blazing whiteness mixed with hundreds of millions of high temperatures was compressed and sealed in the palm of his hand, escaping less than half of it.

“I think you should choose peace.”

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The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”