Mech: Shattering of the Galaxy Chapter 1568 - 84: From Now On, I Negotiate With You

"Brother Mu, that’s the main tent of the Star Hunters! What are you planning to do?"

Lance and the others turned dreadfully pale, yet their alarmed shouts failed to halt Mu Fan’s advance.

"Brother Mu..." Enock, having just helped his father through the village gate, suddenly spun around.

The image of a lone figure calmly striding forward amidst the tense spears became vividly clear.

The manner in which he walked forward was surprisingly imbued with...

The aura of royalty.

He wasn't imposing in height, nor physically robust; there were no fierce roars or rallying cries.

Yet, the less he displayed, the more the subdued momentum beneath his composure...

Felt overwhelming!

"Retreat!"

Roar!

"Retreat!"

Roar!

Each sharp command was met with a deep, resounding growl.

The Red Stone Clan’s crossbow guards instantly nocked their bolts, taking aim at the white-haired individual.

The Udan Spearmen simultaneously leveled their lances, assuming an offensive formation.

Meanwhile, the Black Water Clan Guards, fulfilling their role as intermediaries, thirty warriors stood with their vine-wood staffs held horizontally.

Any unauthorized approach to the main tent during negotiations was an act of aggression!

One step, two steps...

Mu Fan appeared oblivious to the escalating warnings.

The crossbow strings were drawn taut to their limit.

The Udan Spearmen took a synchronized step forward, drawing back their weapons.

In the next breath, these warriors would strike without hesitation.

But at that precise moment, Mu Fan gently halted, his gaze calmly fixed upon the main tent’s entrance, concealed by a long beast-skin carpet.

The tent flap was then smoothly lifted...

The laughter that had moments before filled the air abruptly ceased.

An elder clad in red robes slowly raised his aged eyelids, meeting Mu Fan’s eyes directly.

Edgeworth’s brow furrowed.

Mu Fan’s lips curled into a subtle smile.

However, that smile held a chilling edge Edgeworth found profoundly unsettling.

"Is something amiss?"

After his gaze briefly swept the surroundings, Edgeworth’s voice, hoarse and low, inquired, making no move to restrain his subordinates.

"Is your negotiation concluded?"

His soft query resonated.

It not only reached Edgeworth’s ears distinctly but also drifted gently into the main tent.

Everyone preparing to depart simultaneously frowned.

Whose voice was that?

A young maiden, gracefully escorting Isaiah towards the exit, stopped in her tracks, a flicker of bewilderment crossing her large eyes.

Then, her entire frame trembled violently...

Looking up abruptly!

"Teacher Wang, is something wrong?"

"Miss Nuonuo..."

Alva also acutely perceived the girl’s sudden distress.

Yet, he observed that the delicate yet always resolute young lady, who commanded universal admiration, now displayed an unprecedented haze in her eyes!

She instantly shed all her composure, elegance, and noble bearing.

Her gaze locked onto the area just outside the tent,

as the wind had lifted the tent's entrance flap.

She beheld that upright figure outside, beneath a cascade of unruly white hair, was... the face she yearned for day and night!

I once believed I would never see you again in this lifetime.

I have replayed our encounters countless times in my mind.

But I have not abandoned hope, for you once told me...

In this world, nothing is truly impossible.

In the days without your presence, I learned to become strong.

I learned to bear solitude.

I even learned to confront death head-on.

But I never managed to learn...

How not to miss you.

Her radiant face gazed foolishly towards the opening of the tent.

"Is Nuonuo dreaming? Are you... no longer angry with Nuonuo?"

Her trembling whisper was choked in her throat.

At that instant, the girl found herself weeping, unaware.

In that moment, both inside and outside the tent, two young hearts beat in perfect unison.

...

Edgeworth frowned as he watched the young man before him smile, his gaze unwavering, until tears began to stream brilliantly.

The coldness in his eyes intensified.

He had initially surmised this was some form of adversary.

Now, it seemed he might be lacking some mental faculty.

"So what if it’s finished, and so what if it’s not," Edgeworth finally declared, fully lifting the tent flap and speaking coldly. "If you have nothing further, be gone."

Mu Fan’s grin widened, his recently dispersed focus converging once more, settling upon Edgeworth’s aged countenance.

With a slight inflection, his soft voice emerged from that brilliantly smiling face:

"Then, next... it is our turn to converse."

He raised his right foot gently, lightly tapping the ground.

The instant his heel struck, the earth within a two-meter radius of the impact point instantly collapsed inwards.

A visible ripple of air erupted outwards.

His form blurred in an instant.

Every warrior present felt the hairs on their backs stand on end simultaneously.

"Watch out!!"

Kemmler, the Black Water Clan elder accompanying them, suddenly let out an enraged roar. His figure became spectral, his arm leaving a swift, shadowed trail as he lunged towards Edgeworth like lightning.

A shadow instantaneously materialized in front of the red-robed elder, meeting the dark hand at that very moment.

—Boom!

The palpable distortion in the air erupted outwards in all directions.

In an instant, those within the tent were completely bewildered, unsure of what had transpired.

They only registered a composed voice reaching their ears, just before the tent flap, which Edgeworth had lifted, was violently torn apart!

A shadow was violently flung backward.

Thud!

The shadow slammed into the side of the tent, right where a beast-bone chair had been situated, causing countless fragments of bone to scatter wildly.

"Ugh!" A muffled groan escaped.

"Pfft!" A mist of blood spewed forth forcefully.

As the shadow made contact with the ground, it resolved into two distinct figures.

Kemmler, the foremost warrior of the Black Water Clan, remained in a half-kneeling posture, one hand still extended, his face a mask of astonishment as if confronting an overwhelmingly powerful adversary.

Meanwhile, Edgeworth, clad in red robes, crashed heavily onto the ground. Blood filled his mouth, making his already wizened, elderly face appear even more gruesome and terrifying.

He gazed at the tent's ceiling with shock and fury, his visage contorted into madness. A furious roar erupted from him, his right hand striking the ground with immense force.

His entire body rebounded from the ground, landing with a heavy thud.

At this juncture, Edgeworth’s dignity as a mission elder had vanished. Beads of blood clung to his beard as he glared ahead with unbridled rage, bellowing, "You court death!!"

His red robe was ripped outward from his chest, revealing a distinct boot print deeply imprinted upon his not-so-sturdy torso, with his back protruding unnaturally.

Yet, despite this, the aged Edgeworth, far from being mortally wounded, displayed a remarkable physical resilience that belied his appearance.

Both men fixed their furious gazes upon the same spot ahead!

At the entrance of the tent, which had been violently blown open, a young man with white hair suddenly stood.

He was in the process of gently lowering his left foot.

That youthful face, which bore a brilliant smile yet seemed to hold silent sorrow, lifted slightly, and a calm voice reverberated within the main tent:

"From this moment forth, I shall speak with you."

...

From the act of stepping to traversing the distance, it took less than a single second.

A brief moment of stunned silence descended upon the main tent.

When that composed voice echoed, it affected everyone, whether inside or outside the tent, regardless of their allegiance—Red Stone, White Armor, or Black Water...

All were utterly dumbfounded.

The crossbowmen forgot to lower their weapons.

The spearmen neglected to hurl their spears.

The diligent members of the White Armor Tribe stood frozen, as if turned to stone.

Isaiah and Alva stared in disbelief at the two mission elders lying on the ground, reduced to a state as wretched as stray dogs.

In the subsequent second, every eye was riveted upon the tall, white-haired figure.

Beneath the starlit sky, what had truly transpired here?