Mech: Shattering of the Galaxy Chapter 1557 73: Who Is It!?

The elder's statement immediately pacified Boluo's turbulent inner thoughts.

Few could resist the temptation of meteorite iron, but the presence of mortal danger drastically altered the situation.

"Damn Red Stone Clan!"

Boluo grumbled under his breath, striking the water with his wooden paddle, generating waves that surged several meters high.

"Silence, we are on the river now, and such words absolutely cannot be uttered," the old man sternly rebuked. Boluo frowned in displeasure but eventually chose to comply.

After a few moments of intense staring, Boluo lowered his head and began rowing the boat.

The canoe moved onward; the disturbance caused by the meteorite iron had subsided in less than thirty seconds.

...

...

[Analyzing surrounding environment: temperature 27 degrees Celsius, nitrogen content approximately 71%, oxygen content 27%, rare gases and other impurities 1%. Non-toxic composition, close to atmospheric ratio, suitable for direct human respiration.]

A line of data appeared before his vision.

Mu Fan shook his head, attempting to dispel the residual tremors from earlier.

"This region is indeed peculiar. I only fear these inexplicable spatial oppressive fields. Evil Wing, you foolish dragon, why are you flying so rapidly!"

However, Black's voice was fated to remain solely within Mu Fan's mind, as all external communications had been abruptly severed.

"This locale resembles an Ancient Relic; the more potent the mechanical energy, the greater the suppressive effect."

"Or perhaps this is an Ancient Relic, originating from another dimension."

Mu Fan muttered, panting as he attempted to move his arm.

At this precise moment, his arm felt as though it were fused in place, an immense counter-pulling force immobilizing Shura's limb.

Countless dense, dark threads latched onto Shura's searing mech shell, appearing to sprout directly from the very air around it.

When the arm twitched, the surrounding atmosphere visibly warped.

"What are these things?"

Mu Fan inquired softly, Shura's powerful mental wave instantly transmitted.

"Is it akin to a semi-dimensional spatial barrier? Your power is being siphoned into another void? The energy density here is 14 times that of our previous universe, yet the absorption rate is suppressed to merely 1% of its former capacity? To depart, power must still be accumulated within the Heart of Shura. Current energy level is... 2.4%..."

In a hushed tone, Mu Fan's gaze hardened with resolve. "I understand. Shura, remain here and accumulate power."

"As for the path forward, that burden falls to me."

The neural sync cord behind him detached instantly.

Mu Fan’s well-defined, robust physique landed lightly on the ground. The door ahead swung open, admitting a cool breeze that carried the scent of oxygen-rich air, clearing his mind.

The young man, attired in Shadow Island's standard black combat uniform, stood at the threshold, briefly surveying the scene.

Shura's midsection was embedded in the mud by the riverbank. The Flame Rain Frost Blue he had deployed was half-buried in the earth, supporting Shura's form.

Within a half-meter radius of the gun handle, reminiscent of blue ice crystals, the mud and river water had been transformed into solid ice.

The night sky displayed two prominent crescent moons, encircled by endless, dense grasslands. Due to Shura's submersion in the mire, the field of vision was limited.

Glancing to the side, Evil Wing lay listlessly nearby, its demeanor one of profound confusion. However, upon meeting Mu Fan's gaze, its eyes instantly sparkled with recognition, and it nodded fervently.

"Roooar, roooar..."

Yet, these draconic cries were pathetically weak, sounding more like the whimpers of a lost puppy.

Mu Fan's eyes registered a flicker of disbelief.

Evil Wing's mobility appeared to be considerably less hindered than that of the SSS-level Emperor Body Shura. Furthermore, its body seemed entirely free of the minute black tendrils ensnaring the other mech.

"Evil Wing states its mechanical energy conversion device is heavily suppressed, but its nano-cells and metallic muscle fibers are minimally affected. It claims its entire body aches and it cannot expel fire currently... it requires rest to recuperate... and it's very hungry now... Oh, this dim-witted dragon clearly hasn't grasped the gravity of the situation; its recent fall must have addled its brain," Black translated into Mu Fan's ear, adding its own commentary once more.

Mu Fan, however, disregarded Black's prattling, his gaze fixed expectantly on Evil Wing. His voice trembled with anticipation: "Evil Wing, take a good sniff, can you detect any trace of this long spear!"

His arm pointed sharply towards the artifact that was part flame, part frost.

"Roar..."

Evil Wing initially nodded, then proceeded to shake its head.

"This imbecilic dragon reports it can only confirm the presence of energy with similar fluctuations within the immediate vicinity. While it was deliberately adjusting its trajectory during the crash, its current energy control mechanisms are sealed, preventing further detection."

Crunch!

At some indiscernible point, Evil Wing had begun chewing a piece of High Crystal Stone. It lifted its head dazedly after a moment of closing its eyes in contemplation.

"The High Crystal Stone's energy is gone, it didn't consume any..." Black translated with a sense of helplessness, feeling driven to madness by this dragon.

"ROAR-ROAR-ROAR!"

The dragon's eyes blazed with fervent red.

The High Crystal Stone was thus squandered.

Just as Mu Fan was about to inquire further, a boisterous laugh echoed from a distance. A hint of malevolent green flickered within his pupils, and he swiftly drew the dark gold short stick from his waist with a reversed hand.

Then, with a swift motion, he propelled himself towards the pit's edge.

...

...

Emerging from a mud-laden area, a small figure scrambled out, desperately retreating while clutching something tightly. Upon grasping a familiar arm, the figure wiped its cheek with the back of its hand.

"Father, Father, we're here! Wake up!"

"Wake up..."

"Cough, cough!" A feeble cough emanated as Beardsley's eyelids finally fluttered, struggling to open. "Father merely dozed off. Have we arrived yet? Did we manage to evade those Red Stone Clan scoundrels?"

Despite his awakening, Beardsley was clearly feigning strength, his gaze lacking its usual clarity.

"Heh, looks like the eagle gets to feast on the Barbaric Bull."

A mocking chuckle accompanied the rustling of the surrounding grass.

All the Udan Spearmen who had been lying on the ground now stood upright.

Hawthorn, his face marked with three blood seals, advanced with a frigid sneer, his war spear held ready.

The young, stout Enok, who was supporting his father, witnessed the approach of the tall, slender figures. Terror etched on his face, he nevertheless bravely positioned himself to shield his father with his own back.

Beardsley's eyes snapped wide open!

Furious, he glared at Enok, bellowing like a madman, "Didn't I tell you to run away?!"

Yet, this time, Enok stubbornly cried out, "I won't leave! I can't be without Father! I'll stay even if it means my death!! Sob..."

"Hahaha, such touching father-son affection. Then I shall slay the father first, and then the son!"

Hawthorn's expression grew colder, yet his laughter intensified with excitement.

At this critical juncture, Enok's tears ceased. A glint of determination flickered across his dark features. He drew his waist knife, spun around, and charged towards Hawthorn like a fired cannonball.

His intent was to defend his father, embodying the spirit of a true warrior.

Enok's physical prowess was significant, as was his swiftness.

However, his adversary at this moment was none other than a seasoned warrior of the Red Stone Tribe!

Consequently, in Enok's perception, Hawthorn merely offered a mocking smile before raising his foot for a powerful kick.

BOOM!

The waist knife was wrenched from Enok's grasp. The small, dark figure emitted a cry of pain as it was propelled backward at an even greater velocity, crashing hard onto the ground.

"Enok!"

Beardsley's face contorted in pure rage, his sanity fracturing. However, his vision began to spin more rapidly.

He attempted to rise but collapsed heavily onto the ground.

"Hahahaha."

A sharp laugh pierced the air.

Squeak...

The distinct sound of footsteps crushing through the grass could be heard. A figure materialized silently, gazing down at Enok, who was clutching his chest in agony, his eyes unwavering.

"Who is it!?" The laughter abruptly ceased as Hawthorn looked up fiercely. All the Udan Spearmen simultaneously unsheathed their long spears. To their sight, a slender figure stood calmly before them. Beneath a mane of disheveled white hair, those eyes held an extraordinary serenity.