Chapter 187: A Desperate Gamble
Throughout the entire night, the intermittent psychic pulses struck both ends of the bastion like heavy hammer blows.
The oscillation pillars of the wasteland blockade array hummed continuously, their load curves repeatedly bouncing just below the warning red line. The engineers on duty rotated in shifts, their eyes locked onto the instrument panels, not daring to lose focus for even a moment. Within the city, the healing cultivators in the isolation pods and high-risk districts had long been pushed to the brink of exhaustion. A steady stream of calming agents was delivered, barely suppressing the此起彼伏 (incessant) auditory hallucinations, headaches, and restlessness. The tolerance thresholds of many sleepers were dropping lower and lower; what used to take only a brief moment of daze after a single pulse now required a long time to calm their Seas of Consciousness.
As dawn broke, the latest set of pulses fell, with the interval compressed to two minutes and forty seconds.
On the screen, the pale pulse spikes exploded, followed synchronously by the city's alarm messages—over twenty more sleepers were experiencing severe visual hallucinations, and some had started muttering, repeating the spiral whispers.
Scholar Su convened the core members of the research institute, the garrison commanders, and Old Zhou and Lin Yan from the Third Squad into a sealed operations meeting room. The curtains were drawn tight, leaving only the cold white light of the control console. Everyone's eyes were bloodshot, the exhaustion of continuous tension written across their faces.
"We can't continue to be passively drained," Scholar Su said, his finger tapping heavily on the projected image of the priest, his gaze fixed on the spiral bone crown. "We can't endure this endless attrition. The barrier's reserves are limited, the healing cultivators are running out of manpower, and the sleepers' anchor points are becoming more sensitive by the day. If we drag this out for another three to five days, even without it ordering a detonation, a single slightly stronger pulse could trigger widespread loss of control."
The projected image was magnified, focusing on the upward-spiraling bone crown atop the priest's head. The surface of the crown was covered in fine grooves. Before each pulse release, a faint, eerie light would flow through these grooves. All the functions of relaying and amplifying psychic signals relied entirely on this structure.
"Its true combat strength is formidable, and it is guarded by six high-tier scaled beasts. A direct, hard kill would come at too great a cost," Scholar Su slowly revealed the plan he had been brewing for a long time. "Our goal is not to kill the priest, but only to destroy this spiral bone crown. Once the bone crown is shattered, it will lose its ability to relay signals and will no longer be able to steadily fire directed pulses. It will be equivalent to crippling this forward chess piece."
The meeting room instantly fell silent, and some people unconsciously furrowed their brows.
Old Zhou spoke first: "The risk is too high. It's hidden in the rock cavity inside the rift, over a hundred meters away from the opening, through narrow terrain where it's easy to be ambushed by scaled beasts. Furthermore, as soon as our squad makes a move, the psychic waves generated by our actions will instantly reach the supreme ruler in the middle of the rift. If it judges this as a full-scale offensive and directly activates all the anchor points in the city..."
No one voiced the second half of the sentence, but everyone understood the consequences. The West Bastion, with a population of hundreds of thousands, would instantly be reduced to a living hell.
"I understand the weight of this gamble," Scholar Su said without evasion, bringing up the timing analysis chart. "We have repeatedly tallied the rhythm of its pulse releases. After each pulse is fired, there is a 10 to 18-second gap. During this gap, the priest's bone crown is in an energy-depleted state. It cannot immediately fire the next pulse, nor can it send an emergency warning signal to the supreme ruler at the first moment. This is the only loophole in its entire cycle."
He continued to explain the details of the plan:
"We will extract a five-man elite assault squad, equipped with lightweight, high-speed armor, short-range oscillation stingers, and silent Sea of Consciousness shielding patches. Under the full guidance of the outer camera platforms, they will initiate their advance at the exact moment the pulse release ends. The sole objective is to concentrate firepower on the spiral bone crown. Once the strike is successful, they will immediately retreat along the same path. Absolutely no lingering, no fighting with the scaled beasts. From the advance to the attack and the withdrawal, the entire operation must be controlled within fifteen seconds.
As long as we complete the action within the gap window and quickly disengage, the signal the supreme ruler receives will be a brief, chaotic impact. It may not judge it as a full-scale war. It is accustomed to patient planning and won't easily wager all its chips to detonate the entire city just because of a sudden raid targeting a relay organ."
"Not necessarily," a garrison officer countered in a deep voice. "We can never guess its thoughts. It might take this raid as a signal of war and flip the chessboard directly."
"That is why this is a desperate gamble, a choice made out of no other options," Scholar Su said, looking at everyone. "Two paths lie before us: either continue to passively endure the pulse attrition, slowly being dragged to the critical point with the initiative entirely handed over to it; or seize this fleeting window, gamble on crippling its relay capability, and win back some breathing room."
All eyes turned to Lin Yan simultaneously.
He was the only person present who could directly distinguish the supreme ruler's original signal and perceive the rhythm of the priest's energy flow. Whether they could accurately judge the gap after the pulse ended, whether they could sense in advance if the priest was abnormally accumulating power, and whether they could perceive a momentary emotional fluctuation from the supreme ruler deep in the rift—all of it relied on him.
"What do you need me to do?" Lin Yan asked calmly.
"You will not join the assault squad," Scholar Su arranged immediately. "You will stay at the rocky hill observation point and maintain high-precision, long-range perception throughout. When the pulse is released, when the gap opens, whether the priest's bone crown energy depletion is genuine, and whether the supreme ruler's original signal in the depths of the rift suddenly surges—you will judge all of it. Your signal is the sole starting gun for the assault squad. Once you perceive an explosive surge in the supreme ruler's signal, you must immediately call a halt. The squad will retreat in place and abandon the operation."
Lin Yan lowered his head and pondered for a moment.
The chain of risks was clear: he was responsible for watching the source signal and pinpointing the time window; the assault team was responsible for the split-second raid. Success or failure hung by a thread. If any single link went wrong, the price would be city-wide chaos.
"I can be responsible for the signal warning," Lin Yan said, raising his head. "But I must state one point: I can only perceive the rise and fall of its signal's strength; I cannot read its thoughts. Even if the signal is stable, it doesn't mean it won't temporarily choose to detonate the anchor points. This layer of risk can never be eliminated."
"We are all aware of that," Scholar Su nodded. "That is why everyone in the squad knows this is a gamble. They have volunteered; no one is being forced."
Old Zhou was silent for a moment, then volunteered: "I will lead the team. I'll select four veterans with the best combat skills and familiarity with the rift's terrain."
The meeting quickly finalized all supporting arrangements:
The assault squad would wear the highest-grade silent Sea of Consciousness shielding patches to suppress their own origin fluctuations, minimizing the probability of being detected in advance.
All oscillation cannons of the blockade array would remain silent, with no pre-heating, to avoid sending a signal of war to the supreme ruler.
All healing cultivators in the city's isolation pods and high-risk districts would enter maximum alert, with all agents fully deployed. Once a detonation warning was received, they would immediately全力 (go all out) to suppress the anchor points.
Lin Yan would be stationed at the rocky hill observation point, establishing an independent encrypted channel with the assault squad. Only two types of commands would be transmitted: [Advance] and [Withdraw]. No other information would be sent to avoid channel interference.
After the meeting adjourned, Old Zhou went to select his team and inspect their equipment. Lin Yan followed Scholar Su to the observation sand table.
"I know this puts immense pressure on you," Scholar Su said, looking at him. "The switch for the entire operation has been placed in your perception. If your judgment is half a beat too slow, or if it captures your perception fluctuations, the consequences are unimaginable."
"It has always been watching me," Lin Yan said, raising his hand to press against his brow as the fissure pulsed gently. "As long as I focus my perception to lock onto the priest and the middle of the rift, it can sense my gaze. Perhaps it already knows what we are planning."
The abyssal supreme ruler was intelligent enough. It was familiar with Lin Yan's unique perception. After such a long standoff, it was impossible for it to ignore these eyes that were constantly staring into the darkness.
"Should we still proceed?" Scholar Su asked.
"There is no way out if we keep draining ourselves," Lin Yan slowly shook his head. "This is our only chance."
In the afternoon, the assault squad departed quietly, circling to hide and wait behind the rocky hill observation point. The five men wore dark, lightweight armor, their weapons secured at their sides, their faces devoid of unnecessary expression. They knew they were about to charge into the shadows of the rift, complete their attack in just over ten seconds, and run back alive.
The gray fog over the wasteland remained thick, and the black fissure of the rift lay silently across the earth. The high-tier priest in the rock cavity was still accumulating and releasing pulses according to its fixed rhythm. Every single knock pulled at the outer barrier and the tens of thousands of anchor points within the city.
Lin Yan sat in front of the observation terminal, wearing a communication headset. He carefully released that slender, unique perception tentacle from his Sea of Consciousness, firmly locking onto two targets: the spiral bone crown accumulating energy in the rock cavity, and the ancient, indifferent original stream of consciousness in the middle of the rift.
On the screen, the pulse waveform slowly rose, and a new round of accumulation had already begun.
Everyone held their breath, quietly waiting for the pulse to fall, waiting for that brief, fleeting window of opportunity to open.
End of Chapter.
The oscillation pillars of the wasteland blockade array hummed continuously, their load curves repeatedly bouncing just below the warning red line. The engineers on duty rotated in shifts, their eyes locked onto the instrument panels, not daring to lose focus for even a moment. Within the city, the healing cultivators in the isolation pods and high-risk districts had long been pushed to the brink of exhaustion. A steady stream of calming agents was delivered, barely suppressing the此起彼伏 (incessant) auditory hallucinations, headaches, and restlessness. The tolerance thresholds of many sleepers were dropping lower and lower; what used to take only a brief moment of daze after a single pulse now required a long time to calm their Seas of Consciousness.
As dawn broke, the latest set of pulses fell, with the interval compressed to two minutes and forty seconds.
On the screen, the pale pulse spikes exploded, followed synchronously by the city's alarm messages—over twenty more sleepers were experiencing severe visual hallucinations, and some had started muttering, repeating the spiral whispers.
Scholar Su convened the core members of the research institute, the garrison commanders, and Old Zhou and Lin Yan from the Third Squad into a sealed operations meeting room. The curtains were drawn tight, leaving only the cold white light of the control console. Everyone's eyes were bloodshot, the exhaustion of continuous tension written across their faces.
"We can't continue to be passively drained," Scholar Su said, his finger tapping heavily on the projected image of the priest, his gaze fixed on the spiral bone crown. "We can't endure this endless attrition. The barrier's reserves are limited, the healing cultivators are running out of manpower, and the sleepers' anchor points are becoming more sensitive by the day. If we drag this out for another three to five days, even without it ordering a detonation, a single slightly stronger pulse could trigger widespread loss of control."
The projected image was magnified, focusing on the upward-spiraling bone crown atop the priest's head. The surface of the crown was covered in fine grooves. Before each pulse release, a faint, eerie light would flow through these grooves. All the functions of relaying and amplifying psychic signals relied entirely on this structure.
"Its true combat strength is formidable, and it is guarded by six high-tier scaled beasts. A direct, hard kill would come at too great a cost," Scholar Su slowly revealed the plan he had been brewing for a long time. "Our goal is not to kill the priest, but only to destroy this spiral bone crown. Once the bone crown is shattered, it will lose its ability to relay signals and will no longer be able to steadily fire directed pulses. It will be equivalent to crippling this forward chess piece."
The meeting room instantly fell silent, and some people unconsciously furrowed their brows.
Old Zhou spoke first: "The risk is too high. It's hidden in the rock cavity inside the rift, over a hundred meters away from the opening, through narrow terrain where it's easy to be ambushed by scaled beasts. Furthermore, as soon as our squad makes a move, the psychic waves generated by our actions will instantly reach the supreme ruler in the middle of the rift. If it judges this as a full-scale offensive and directly activates all the anchor points in the city..."
No one voiced the second half of the sentence, but everyone understood the consequences. The West Bastion, with a population of hundreds of thousands, would instantly be reduced to a living hell.
"I understand the weight of this gamble," Scholar Su said without evasion, bringing up the timing analysis chart. "We have repeatedly tallied the rhythm of its pulse releases. After each pulse is fired, there is a 10 to 18-second gap. During this gap, the priest's bone crown is in an energy-depleted state. It cannot immediately fire the next pulse, nor can it send an emergency warning signal to the supreme ruler at the first moment. This is the only loophole in its entire cycle."
He continued to explain the details of the plan:
"We will extract a five-man elite assault squad, equipped with lightweight, high-speed armor, short-range oscillation stingers, and silent Sea of Consciousness shielding patches. Under the full guidance of the outer camera platforms, they will initiate their advance at the exact moment the pulse release ends. The sole objective is to concentrate firepower on the spiral bone crown. Once the strike is successful, they will immediately retreat along the same path. Absolutely no lingering, no fighting with the scaled beasts. From the advance to the attack and the withdrawal, the entire operation must be controlled within fifteen seconds.
As long as we complete the action within the gap window and quickly disengage, the signal the supreme ruler receives will be a brief, chaotic impact. It may not judge it as a full-scale war. It is accustomed to patient planning and won't easily wager all its chips to detonate the entire city just because of a sudden raid targeting a relay organ."
"Not necessarily," a garrison officer countered in a deep voice. "We can never guess its thoughts. It might take this raid as a signal of war and flip the chessboard directly."
"That is why this is a desperate gamble, a choice made out of no other options," Scholar Su said, looking at everyone. "Two paths lie before us: either continue to passively endure the pulse attrition, slowly being dragged to the critical point with the initiative entirely handed over to it; or seize this fleeting window, gamble on crippling its relay capability, and win back some breathing room."
All eyes turned to Lin Yan simultaneously.
He was the only person present who could directly distinguish the supreme ruler's original signal and perceive the rhythm of the priest's energy flow. Whether they could accurately judge the gap after the pulse ended, whether they could sense in advance if the priest was abnormally accumulating power, and whether they could perceive a momentary emotional fluctuation from the supreme ruler deep in the rift—all of it relied on him.
"What do you need me to do?" Lin Yan asked calmly.
"You will not join the assault squad," Scholar Su arranged immediately. "You will stay at the rocky hill observation point and maintain high-precision, long-range perception throughout. When the pulse is released, when the gap opens, whether the priest's bone crown energy depletion is genuine, and whether the supreme ruler's original signal in the depths of the rift suddenly surges—you will judge all of it. Your signal is the sole starting gun for the assault squad. Once you perceive an explosive surge in the supreme ruler's signal, you must immediately call a halt. The squad will retreat in place and abandon the operation."
Lin Yan lowered his head and pondered for a moment.
The chain of risks was clear: he was responsible for watching the source signal and pinpointing the time window; the assault team was responsible for the split-second raid. Success or failure hung by a thread. If any single link went wrong, the price would be city-wide chaos.
"I can be responsible for the signal warning," Lin Yan said, raising his head. "But I must state one point: I can only perceive the rise and fall of its signal's strength; I cannot read its thoughts. Even if the signal is stable, it doesn't mean it won't temporarily choose to detonate the anchor points. This layer of risk can never be eliminated."
"We are all aware of that," Scholar Su nodded. "That is why everyone in the squad knows this is a gamble. They have volunteered; no one is being forced."
Old Zhou was silent for a moment, then volunteered: "I will lead the team. I'll select four veterans with the best combat skills and familiarity with the rift's terrain."
The meeting quickly finalized all supporting arrangements:
The assault squad would wear the highest-grade silent Sea of Consciousness shielding patches to suppress their own origin fluctuations, minimizing the probability of being detected in advance.
All oscillation cannons of the blockade array would remain silent, with no pre-heating, to avoid sending a signal of war to the supreme ruler.
All healing cultivators in the city's isolation pods and high-risk districts would enter maximum alert, with all agents fully deployed. Once a detonation warning was received, they would immediately全力 (go all out) to suppress the anchor points.
Lin Yan would be stationed at the rocky hill observation point, establishing an independent encrypted channel with the assault squad. Only two types of commands would be transmitted: [Advance] and [Withdraw]. No other information would be sent to avoid channel interference.
After the meeting adjourned, Old Zhou went to select his team and inspect their equipment. Lin Yan followed Scholar Su to the observation sand table.
"I know this puts immense pressure on you," Scholar Su said, looking at him. "The switch for the entire operation has been placed in your perception. If your judgment is half a beat too slow, or if it captures your perception fluctuations, the consequences are unimaginable."
"It has always been watching me," Lin Yan said, raising his hand to press against his brow as the fissure pulsed gently. "As long as I focus my perception to lock onto the priest and the middle of the rift, it can sense my gaze. Perhaps it already knows what we are planning."
The abyssal supreme ruler was intelligent enough. It was familiar with Lin Yan's unique perception. After such a long standoff, it was impossible for it to ignore these eyes that were constantly staring into the darkness.
"Should we still proceed?" Scholar Su asked.
"There is no way out if we keep draining ourselves," Lin Yan slowly shook his head. "This is our only chance."
In the afternoon, the assault squad departed quietly, circling to hide and wait behind the rocky hill observation point. The five men wore dark, lightweight armor, their weapons secured at their sides, their faces devoid of unnecessary expression. They knew they were about to charge into the shadows of the rift, complete their attack in just over ten seconds, and run back alive.
The gray fog over the wasteland remained thick, and the black fissure of the rift lay silently across the earth. The high-tier priest in the rock cavity was still accumulating and releasing pulses according to its fixed rhythm. Every single knock pulled at the outer barrier and the tens of thousands of anchor points within the city.
Lin Yan sat in front of the observation terminal, wearing a communication headset. He carefully released that slender, unique perception tentacle from his Sea of Consciousness, firmly locking onto two targets: the spiral bone crown accumulating energy in the rock cavity, and the ancient, indifferent original stream of consciousness in the middle of the rift.
On the screen, the pulse waveform slowly rose, and a new round of accumulation had already begun.
Everyone held their breath, quietly waiting for the pulse to fall, waiting for that brief, fleeting window of opportunity to open.
End of Chapter.