Chapter 329: Virtual World

City No. 7—once hailed as the steel fortress at the forefront of surveillance over City No. 14—was now engulfed in an atmosphere of unprecedented tension and pressure.

Over the past few years, countless executives from major interstellar corporations had viewed this place as fertile ground for profit, pouring in massive funds to construct an impregnable defense line. All of it was done in the hope of carving out a share in the eventual suppression of City No. 14.

Everyone had firmly believed that with the gradual failure of the Heavenly Dao Code, City No. 14 was nothing more than a grasshopper after autumn—soon to perish.

Wiping it off the map was merely a matter of time.

But three days ago, a sudden, cataclysmic strike shattered all such illusions.

That once-vaunted border defense, which stretched for hundreds of kilometers and was believed to be impenetrable, was flattened within the span of fifteen minutes, reduced to scorched earth.

Years of careful preparation and fortification in City No. 7 crumbled in an instant before overwhelming force, leaving nothing but ruin.

Panic spread like a plague across the city. The once-arrogant elites scattered like frightened rabbits, desperately trying to flee the city that was on the brink of becoming a battlefield.

High-ranking executives of the major corporations scrambled to board private aircrafts in the dead of night, fleeing to safer cities in the rear, terrified of becoming casualties in this doomsday war.

Yet just as they prepared to escape, a cold, merciless command descended from the omniscient AI God looming above the skies—an invisible shackle that sealed off all escape routes.

“Mobilize all available forces. No matter the cost, hold City No. 7!”

The order was absolute. Undeniable. Inviolable.

Over the next three days, City No. 7 transformed into a monstrous war machine, ravenously consuming the military resources of the interstellar conglomerates.

More than a hundred thousand elite psionic troops flooded into the city like a tide, heavily guarding all strategic points.

Hundreds of massive spaceborne carriers hovered above the city like beasts of steel, their dark muzzles exuding a chilling aura.

Orbital satellite turrets that had long been dormant were reactivated, their killing intent locking onto every inch of land around the city.

Thousands of interceptor jets screamed across the skies, weaving an impenetrable net of firepower.

The conglomerates poured out all their hidden weaponry without reservation, investing every ounce of strength into this lone city.

Even the legendary Seraph-class psionic warriors—deemed avatars of divine judgment and possessing unfathomable power—appeared rarely but decisively, taking up stations in the city and casting a suffocating pressure across the landscape.

The interstellar giants spared no effort, rallying every resource they had for the war that was sure to come.

…

At the city’s border, in a hastily erected outpost, a ten-man psionic patrol team clad in heavy exosuits followed their designated route through the surrounding area.

The atmosphere was heavy, the squad members listless, exchanging idle chatter to push back the gnawing anxiety.

“I mean, is City No. 14 really that scary? With the way they’re mobilizing carriers and elite troops like crazy?” one young psionic soldier asked, unable to hide his doubt.

“Obviously,” replied a more seasoned member, his tone grave. “It’s the only known force bold enough to openly defy the conglomerates—and they even destroyed our entire border defense in one go. That alone tells you how powerful they are.”

“I heard that line we spent over two years building didn’t last even fifteen minutes… It was wiped out completely. Not even a Seraph-class warrior could pull off destruction like that, could they?”

“If they’re that powerful, then what’s the point of sending us out here? Are we just cannon fodder?”

Their voices brimmed with despair and confusion, death looming like a stormcloud over their heads.

Only the team captain, a middle-aged man named Osei, remained strangely calm—his face even bore an unreadable trace of excitement.

Someone finally asked, “Captain Osei, with your experience and strength, shouldn’t you have been able to avoid this conscription? Why’d you come along on this near-suicidal mission?”

Osei grinned, baring his alloy-reinforced teeth.

“No point in staying back,” he chuckled. “Sooner or later, they’d toss us into those damn Soul Towers to become nothing more than cold data. If I’m gonna die, I’d rather go out with a bang here on the frontlines!”

He raised his eyes, burning with something close to fanaticism.

“Besides, if I get to witness those godlike monsters in action… even dying here would be worth it!”

At that moment, a blazing streak of light ripped across the dark sky like a daytime meteor, hurtling directly toward City No. 7 at a speed beyond comprehension.

Even Osei, with his strength as a high-tier psionic warrior, only caught a fleeting blur.

“What the hell was that?” a team member shrieked, pointing skyward.

“Probably just a meteor… It’s not like those madmen from City No. 14 would really attack, right?” another tried to sound calm—but his trembling voice betrayed him.

“Stop spooking yourselves!” an older psionic veteran barked. “We’re just out here for show. Don’t forget—our Sky Dome’s always watching. Nothing can fly through it unnoticed by the conglomerates!”

But the moment he finished speaking, everyone’s pupils shrank, horror freezing on their faces.

From their vantage point, the three towering Soul Towers at the heart of City No. 7—all sacred monuments of the conglomerates—suddenly let out thunderous, ear-splitting booms.

The towers—once feared, then gradually accepted, and eventually revered by the populace—collapsed in unison, like divine pillars shattered from the heavens.

As the giant structures crumbled into clouds of choking dust, the scene resembled the end of the world. Every soldier who saw it felt a soul-deep chill.

In the same instant, the city’s hovering fleet of sky carriers and patrol aircraft swiveled, locking every weapon on the cause of this catastrophe.

Two blinding figures strode across the battlefield, appearing where the meteor had struck.

Their overwhelming aura dwarfed that of ordinary Nascent Soul cultivators. Bathed in radiant psionic brilliance, they were the two Seraph-class warriors guarding City No. 7.

Their icy gazes fixed on the lone meteor.

One of them—arrogant and refined in both face and bearing—spoke coldly:

“I don’t know what trick you used to bypass the Sky Dome’s surveillance. But this space is now sealed by our engines. You’re not escaping.”

“Surrender your identity and purpose immediately. Offer your soul to the great Soul Paradise, and perhaps I’ll show mercy and grant you eternal life in the virtual world.”

The meteor’s light faded, revealing a middle-aged man in simple Daoist robes, with long silver hair.

He wore a bitter smile, as if surprised by the reception.

He sighed softly. “I thought I could sneak in and pick up a bargain from the closest city. Looks like my luck’s pretty rotten—walked straight into an ambush.”

The bitterness faded. In its place, a mad, regal grin spread across his face.

“But you insects really think this pathetic display is enough to stop me?”

In the next instant, his silver hair bristled like steel needles, transforming into billions of razor-sharp sword beams.

The sky froze.

Sword light rained down like divine judgment, sweeping over the entire army guarding City No. 7.

Steel carriers, patrol fleets, and elite ground troops alike were torn apart as if made of paper.

Energy shields burst like bubbles. Life after life was reaped without mercy beneath the torrent of sword light.

Even the Seraph-class warriors—previously so proud and invincible—stared in terror as they realized the horrifying truth: their power meant nothing.

Despite drawing vast reserves of psionic energy, even tapping into the Psionic Sea itself, they could not block a single strike.

Their heavily modified bodies—reinforced through countless enhancements—were split like rotten wood, their life force draining away.

The entire city’s defenses collapsed in mere moments, devoured by a storm of annihilation.

Blood dyed the earth a haunting crimson.

The surviving Seraph used his last breath to send a desperate call for help to corporate HQ.

But no reply came.

He would never know that, in the same fifteen minutes, over fifteen major megacities across the cyberpunk world—including ones even larger than City No. 7—had been hit.

Every one of their Soul Towers was destroyed.

The damage was so severe that even the Sky Dome tilted, as if about to crash to the ground.

Some cities were luckier—only losing their towers.

But those that dared resist were reduced to ash in a storm of godlike devastation.

It happened too fast. Too brutally.

Even the mighty Reincarnators—those with divine powers and titles—failed to notice.

For while the Heaven-Shielding Talismans crafted by Lu Yan concealed the plan and fooled the AI God, their hidden runes worked another miracle.

Like messengers of the underworld, they guided the anguished souls of the fallen.

Thousands upon thousands of high-quality spirits formed silent rivers of shadow, slipping across space…

…until they reached a mysterious, unknown world.

A virtual world beneath the rebel stronghold of City No. 14—crafted by the Cyber Saint, Anna, with her supercomputer.

(End of Chapter)