In just an instant, the entire imperial palace turned into a forest of steel.

He Caitou sucked in a sharp breath. As a soul engineer, he knew better than anyone how terrifying these soul tools were—there were no fewer than a hundred ninth-rank soul cannons alone. Each one could threaten a Titled Douluo; with such numbers, even an Ultimate Douluo would have to flee in disgrace.

“When Father was on the throne, the palace never had defenses like this…” He Caitou was shocked.

What he didn’t know was that after the assassination attempt years ago that left Xu Tiannan half-paralyzed, the emperor had become obsessively concerned with his own safety. Over the years he had spared no expense to construct beneath the palace a defense system as impregnable as iron.

He trusted no one. Even with the Sun Moon Royal Soul Engineer Legion under his command, the thing he relied on most was these cold, unfeeling soul tools.

Though Karna’s anti-army Noble Phantasm had leveled the surface buildings and killed countless guards, it couldn’t touch the killing machines buried deep underground.

And Xu Tiannan—who could force Kong Deming to abandon his original plan and bet on him once more—was not about to die so easily.

He now stood at the center of the ruins, a bowl-shaped soul tool floating above his head. It emitted a dazzling golden barrier that firmly protected him.

It was the top-tier ninth-rank defensive soul tool, the “Silver Moon Divine Light Ray,” capable of withstanding a full-power strike from an Ultimate Douluo—the very life-saving treasure Kong Deming had gifted him years ago.

Xu Tiannan coldly watched the surrounded He Caitou and Karna, the corner of his mouth twisting into a cruel smile. “If you dare invade the palace, be ready to die here.”

His fingertip flicked. The surrounding soul cannons charged at once, their blinding radiance illuminating his pale face.

“Open fire!”

At Xu Tianyuan’s roar—the commander of the Sun Moon Royal Soul Engineer Legion—hundreds of soul cannons spat out destructive light in unison.

Scarlet energy streams surged like molten lava, weaving into an impenetrable web of firepower that poured down on He Caitou and Karna.

The air warped in the heat. The ground sizzled with scorched tracks, and even distant dust clouds were blasted apart by the force.

“Master, get back!”

Karna’s voice was low and steady as he stepped forward, placing himself before He Caitou.

Two golden discs flew out behind him, hanging in midair like miniature suns. Scorching lines flowed across their surfaces, radiating enough heat to melt steel.

“O sun, become my armor!”

With his Noble Phantasm’s invocation, Karna’s golden armor erupted with solar brilliance.

The light surged outward like a tide, condensing into a thick radiant shield around him and He Caitou, enclosing them both at the center.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The next instant, countless dense beams of energy pounded the light-shield like a torrential storm.

The explosions were deafening. Gouts of flame and smoke rose high, swallowing the ruins; above the palace, it was as if a new sun had ascended.

The palatial remnants already toppled by Karna’s anti-army strike were now reduced to powder under the bombardment; even the foundations were churned into meters of charred earth.

“How did that kid He Caitou… end up in the imperial palace?”

…

Elsewhere in Mingdu, dark light gleamed on Xuan Zi’s horned brow; his muscles bulged like rock.

He slammed a fist forward, sending a tawny, earth-glowing giant punch that knocked a Voidranger: Distorter unit flying, smashing half a building.

Sensing the familiar aura from the direction of the palace, his brows knit and his face darkened.

Karna’s sacred, sun-like aura was too distinctive. To unveil such a Noble Phantasm so brazenly—there was no mistaking it.

He Caitou hadn’t linked up with them and instead ran to wreak havoc at the palace. Such disregard for the bigger picture ignited the temper of Shrek Academy’s Sea God Pavilion Master.

“Aglaea, How is it?”

Han Ruoruo’s chill voice sounded from another side of the battlefield. Hands weaving seals, her Martial Soul, the Golden Binding Rope, sprang forth like a living serpent, instantly coiling around a Borisin’s four limbs.

Energy flowed across the golden cords, locking down brute force sufficient to rend alloy.

Ma Xiaotao, clad in Blaze Armor, leapt up—her armor seethed with flame—and drove a fist into the bound Borisin.

The True Phoenix of Fire spread its wings behind her, engulfing the Borisin. The heat distorted the air; its tough outer shell melted visibly, hissing.

Not far away, Aglaea stood on a broken wall, fine golden threads winding around her slender fingers.

The threads spread like a web into every corner of Mingdu, bringing the city’s movements under her gaze—the assault on the palace by He Caitou and Karna; disciples of major sects retreating in panic; Childe and Miyabi guarding civilians; and familiar faces like Cerydra, Hysilens, even Castorice—all within her surveillance.

Even Sparkle, who had slipped away from the group and left her Master Ma Xiaotao behind to wander, did not escape her senses.

Aglaea’s brows knit by a barely noticeable fraction.

Her golden threads didn’t just transmit information—they could also compute optimal retreat routes. But now, soul engineer legions stationed around Mingdu had sealed every exit. Even if they broke through the Antimatter Legion, outside lay the four Beast-King-class soul engineer legions assimilated by Celenova’s Harmonization, along with other battle-ready forces.

Mingdu was sealed tight—not even a bird could slip out easily.

The mastermind clearly intended to cast a net over everyone, hoping to settle the world with one battle.

Such a massive deployment, such confidence, such frightening control—it startled even Aglaea, who had shed most of her humanity.

“The outlook isn’t good.”

Aglaea reined in her gaze, expression still placid, as if the dead-end before them had nothing to do with her.

“Outside Mingdu is full of ambushes. The situation is extremely unfavorable to us.”

Her divinity far outweighed her humanity; she cared for little, including her own life, which she could discard at any time.

Just as earlier—she could have exposed Sparkle’s prank with her lie-detecting threads, but chose silence and concealment—indifferent to the prank, unwilling to stir needless trouble.

Even before her Master Han Ruoruo, she calmly hid her lie-detecting ability.

Han Ruoruo nodded, worry creasing her expression. But this wasn’t the time to think too much; the Antimatter Legion would offer no breathing room.

Ma Xiaotao withdrew her fist; the True Phoenix dissipated, revealing the Borisin’s charred remains.

The two women met eyes, both seeing the weight there—if even Aglaea said things were bad, the situation truly had gone sour.

“We needn’t despair too much. Our side isn’t necessarily outmatched.”

Aglaea’s gaze skimmed the chaotic field. Her fingertip threads quivered, projecting two fiercest clashes into her perception—high above, Feixiao’s turquoise gales clashed with the Doomsday Beast in an epic collision.

Elsewhere amid ruins, Jing Yuan’s golden thunder constantly suppressed Hoolay’s blood-red flames; the balance had quietly tipped.

In her view, Feixiao and Jing Yuan were powerful—top-tier among all strong presences she sensed in Mingdu. The Doomsday Beast and Hoolay were formidable, but slightly inferior.

Moreover, her old acquaintances Castorice and Cerydra’s side was also stacked—featuring someone comparable to Feixiao and Jing Yuan.

“The situation isn’t irretrievable yet.”

Aglaea drew back her gaze; the golden threads slid back. “For now, we still have room to maneuver.”

Of course, she knew the mastermind who controlled the board hadn’t truly acted yet, nor revealed all their cards.

Celenova’s power was unfathomable. To quietly lay such a net, she couldn’t be relying solely on the Doomsday Beast.

The battle’s final direction was full of uncertainty.

More important, there were too many powerful Servants on the field.

Their abilities were myriad. Karna, Yae Sakura, Cú Chulainn… many among them could not be fully discerned even by her threads.

Any Servant could become the key to turning the tide; any tiny accident could tip the scales completely.

“Too many variables,” Aglaea murmured, a complex glint in her eyes.

She could see the present, but not predict what came next—perhaps the most alluring, and most dangerous, aspect of this war.

Han Ruoruo and Ma Xiaotao exchanged a look; the weight in their hearts lightened slightly.

Aglaea’s words at least meant they weren’t without a chance.

“Good.”

Ma Xiaotao clenched her fist, the flames on her holy armor flaring anew. “As long as there’s a chance, we can’t give up!”

Han Ruoruo nodded as well, the Golden Binding Rope gathering force again. “Find the main group first, then plan.”

They said no more, wheeling into another sector of the battlefield, racing toward their comrades.

Above the ruins, golden threads continued to spread quietly, recording every clash and collision.

…

In Mingdu’s western district, the outline of the Wuchang Division headquarters flickered in the firelight.

The structure of black iron and soul-guide alloy crouched like a dormant beast, unshaken in the anti-matter tides.

At the first sign of the Antimatter Legion’s assault, Lu Jingming had withdrawn everyone to this site—with top-tier Servants like Durandal and Cerydra, their lineup was enough to make any foe balk.

Though the Antimatter Legion surged like waves, it couldn’t break the outer defensive ring.

Those Antimatter Legion—any who approached were sniped by Lemuen; any who got close were cut down by Durandal, Hysilens, and others.

Neither Voidranger: Reaver nor the stronger Voidranger: Trampler could near this zone of absolute safety.

Celenova had clearly noticed how tough this bone was to gnaw, and stopped committing heavy forces—only a few units prowled at the periphery, creating a strange stalemate.

For that reason, many surviving civilians flocked here as to a lighthouse.

The courtyard now teemed with ragged people. Children huddled in elders’ arms; though fearful, they no longer despaired—at least here, they smelled food, heard the patrol steps of Wuchang’s black-and-white wardens, and felt a long-lost sense of safety.

When Lu Jingming entrusted Jiang Nannan and Xiao Xiao to Zhang Lexuan, civilians were queuing for hot porridge.

Zhang Lexuan, in a plain white robe, was personally wiping grime from a child’s face. Behind her, members of Wuchang and the Common Alliance tended the wounded. It was crowded, but orderly.

“Settle them well. Don’t let unrelated people disturb them.”

Lu Jingming said softly to Zhang Lexuan.

She nodded, her gaze passing toward Qingque and Songque in a distant corner.

Qingque hugged a jade token, dozing; sunlight through the lattice fell across her serene profile. Songque crouched, using a branch to draw funny ghost faces for the children, drawing peals of laughter.

These two Servants radiated salted-fish energy from start to finish—neither fighting nor vying for the Grail, like tourists in Mingdu.

Lu Jingming didn’t mind.

He hadn’t intended to make all Servants feed the Grail—especially those two super slackers.

He walked up to the rooftop. The evening wind lifted his robe, revealing the stigmata on his arm.

Looking up, he saw Mingdu’s night sky stained crimson by flames; the air reeked of smoke and blood—peak negative energy.

This Holy Grail War had veered from its course.

Negative energy spilling from the graves of gods in the black hole was like kindling to a fire, swelling the energy pool meant to condense a single divinity.

By the original plan, the Servants had to battle until one remained, using the negative energy of fallen Servants to condense a first-rank godhood of the Sea God.

But now, the abundance of energy changed things.

They no longer needed to kill every Servant. After feedback to the planet, the surplus could even condense more than one godhood.

Thus Zhang Lexuan, Xu Jiujiu, and others no longer needed to have their Servants fight to the death to decide a final victor.

Wind bells at the eaves chimed softly. Lu Jingming’s gaze seemed to pierce space, fixing on an unknowable dimension.

He could see Celenova’s moves—the Lord Ravager hadn’t appeared, yet like an invisible shadow, greedily drew negative energy from across Mingdu.

The Antimatter Legion’s slaughter and ruination, civilians’ wails and despair, soul masters’ fury and fear… all negative feelings were fodder for her strength.

Summoned memory-type Servants were condensed from negative energy to begin with. By absorbing more negative energy, they could grow without limit.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep