In the dense, primal heartwood of the Black Forest in Central Africa, a stretch of land ancient and utterly untamed. 1 Novel organized by α..C|//|

The Hell's Angels Mercenary Corps mobilized one-third of their elite forces in just a day and a half, infiltrating Africa. Thousands of seasoned warriors and their requisite war machines were strategically dispersed and hidden within the vast jungle, silently awaiting the signal to strike.

Gu Xiechen sat cross-legged in the densest canopy of a colossal tree, quietly circulating the Hanyuan True Codex.

Foundation Establishment, Nurturing Acupoints, I-Ching Transformation, Marrow Cleansing, Blood Saturation, Solidification, Spirit Gestation, Hanyuan Coalescence, Three Flowers and Five Energies. These were the nine major stages recorded in the nine chapters of the Hanyuan True Codex. Gu Xiechen, having already broken through to the Xiantian realm with a True Qi condensation level of ninety-nine percent, had only just completed the rudimentary work of Foundation Establishment. A skyscraper rests upon its foundation; Gu Xiechen had only just dug the ground for his.

True Qi surged and roared within his meridians, his heart beating ever faster. Pure, ultimate energy erupted from his Dao Embryo. The Xiantian Gang Qi enveloped this energy, scouring his one hundred and eight major acupoints. Driven by Gu Xiechen's will, small vortexes formed within each of these points, continuously absorbing the finest, most minute streams of energy. Viewed through divine sense, the major acupoints across his body subtly glowed. If measured by high-precision instruments, the temperature near his acupoints would register about one degree higher than his core body temperature.

When the Gang Qi inside him swelled to a near-bursting point, granting his body a weightless sensation as if about to ascend into the void, the Gang Qi had perfectly completed eighty-one great cycles throughout his body, and the tiny vortexes within each acupoint had spun three hundred and sixty cycles apiece. Seizing the moment, Gu Xiechen drew a deep breath, his gluteal muscles twitched lightly nine times, and his body floated upward three feet, settling back down onto the branch without a sound. The Gang Qi within him subsided, like a hundred rivers flowing back to the sea, merging into his Dantian. A warm sensation spread across his lower abdomen, his entire frame became supple as cotton, and his limbs and joints moved with absolute fluidity, producing not the slightest click.

As the final wisp of Gang Qi returned to the Dantian, his muscles suddenly contracted, forcing a deluge of sweat from his pores. A thick, viscous moisture, subtly tinged with a murky blackness, seeped out.

The standard-issue 'Stalker III' combat suit of the Federal Regular Army Special Forces promptly wicked the sweat away, releasing a potent, musky scent into the jungle air. A massive python, previously coiled directly above Gu Xiechen's head, was disturbed by the odor. It slowly lowered its vibrantly patterned body, beginning to investigate Gu Xiechen.

Gu Xiechen slid down the tree trunk with practiced grace. In mere breaths, he had traversed hundreds of meters to land silently on another great tree.

As a Xiantian-level fighter, and one engaging in his first combat deployment, Gu Xiechen possessed considerable operational latitude. His primary assignment this time was cooperative engagement, so he operated independently, orbiting the main ambush perimeter.

A voice crackled in his miniature earpiece—the deep tone of Commander Scarred Beard. "Xielong, what’s the situation?"

Gently pressing his finger against his larynx, Gu Xiechen reported clearly in a vocalized tone, "A Jungle Strangler. I evaded it."

Commander Scarred Beard let out a long sigh. "Damn it, rough luck. Be careful. Their exchange window opens in thirty minutes; don't alert them."

"Understood!" Gu Xiechen concluded the transmission. Inside the fully enclosed helmet of his combat suit, streams of data scrolled across the micro-display before his left eye. The Hell's Angels elite forces were poised, transmitting continuous feedback via a proprietary encrypted satellite network to every member of the Corps.

Time bled away. As the moment approached for the trade detailed in Porphyris’s intelligence, an anomaly erupted near a deep, ethereal blue lake in the heart of the Black Forest.

A signal tower, a hundred meters high, shot straight up from the center of the lake. An invisible wave ascended skyward, and as the tower rose, the trees ringing the lake began to fall sequentially. Cracks opened in the earth in precise, uniform fissures, and great trees were swallowed by the ground. Smooth steel plates silently extruded from beneath the soil, quickly forming an airfield spanning a kilometer square amidst the dense woodland.

A tunnel entrance, large enough for heavy armored vehicles, emerged from the underground. First, two heavy-duty cranes lumbered out slowly. Accompanied by dull, resonant roars, specialized flatbed carriers loaded with weighty containers began to emerge one after another, all lining up neatly beside the landing field.

The clouds above churned, and a battleship—similar in design to Porphyris’s small craft but at least three hundred meters long—descended vertically from the high altitude with a heavy, ‘hissing’ sound. A dense, meter-thick screen of ethereal blue light enveloped the entire vessel. This thick luminance was capable of not only withstanding attacks from heavy weaponry but also absorbing every radar wave currently known to the Earth Federation. It was precisely this type of energy shield that allowed the Rm (Roman) ships to move with impunity in and out of Earth's atmosphere, engaging heavily in smuggling and illegal trafficking of prohibited goods.

The vessel hovered a hundred meters above the ground, and powerful scanning beams instantly swept over nearly a hundred square kilometers. After confirming the area was clear, the ship slowly descended.

‘Swish-swish’ sounds emanated from within the ship. The plasma exhausts at the stern gradually died down, and the energy shield coating the hull dissipated with a series of sharp ‘crackling’ discharges. Two jets of white vapor jetted from the ship’s midsection, kicking up a cloud of dust from the ground. A hatch fifty meters wide swung open slowly, and approximately two hundred Rm (Roman) warriors, clad in powered armor with their energy shields fully engaged, marched out gripping poleaxes nearly five meters long. The upper section of each axe was covered in a faint purple aura, with intermittent arcs of electricity spitting from the points of the blades.

Several mercenaries in white uniforms emerged from the tunnel entrance. The middle-aged leader greeted the Rm (Roman) warriors with a wide, welcoming smile.

“Welcome, welcome, esteemed guests of the Holsum family! Look what we’ve prepared for you—the rare-earth metal ingots you desperately need, all top-grade, nine-nines purity!”

Gu Xiechen, perched high on a massive tree limb observing the battleship’s descent, suddenly heard the command crackle from Commander Scarred Beard’s comms.

“Brothers, execute!”

Pulling the man-portable missile launcher from his back, Gu Xiechen did not hesitate, squeezing the trigger.

The twenty-centimeter caliber heavy man-portable anti-ship missile screamed skyward. A military satellite controlled by the Earth Federation Military Command’s African Sector happened to pass overhead, providing the missile with precise targeting guidance.

A total of one hundred missiles of the same specification were launched simultaneously from various points in the jungle. Long trails of flame tore through the air, leaving vivid scars, all converging on a single point.

The Rm (Roman) warship, having just deactivated its energy shield, was instantly engulfed in firelight. The specialized armor-piercing warheads pulverized the ship’s two-meter-thick outer plating, while several missiles loaded with high-explosive payloads bored precisely into the stern. The thick armor protecting the ship’s engines shattered under the violent detonation. The resulting chain reaction of secondary explosions instantly vaporized nearly half the vessel, along with everything on the landing field. The Rm (Roman) warriors, their powered armor shields fully deployed, shrieked as they were hurled away by the shockwave; the other mercenaries were simply pulverized.

A massive mushroom cloud climbed toward the sky, and the remaining larger portion of the warship was violently propelled over three hundred meters forward by the terrifying force of the blast.

Watching the smoke and fire cloud rising twenty kilometers away, Gu Xiechen whistled in exhilaration while loading another missile into the launcher tube. Casually aiming toward the rising smoke, Gu Xiechen fired the missile again. Another long flame tail ripped through the air, and the second volley of one hundred missiles blanketed the entire landing field thirty seconds later.

“Satisfying!” Gu Xiechen yelled joyously toward the sky.

The Hell's Angels elite soldiers hidden in the jungle began their assault toward the secret base of the Sacred Unicorn. Commander Scarred Beard’s voice returned: “All fighters, pay attention! All fighters, attention! You initiate the first wave of attack! You initiate the first wave of attack!”

Just as Gu Xiechen replied, “Understood,” Commander Scarred Beard suddenly shouted, “Xielong, Xielong! An Rm (Roman) is heading your way! Stop him! Reinforcements are arriving immediately!”

Before Gu Xiechen could query what was happening, a blinding blue light shot toward him from the dense forest ahead.

Seemingly charging directly at Gu Xiechen was an Rm (Roman) man of middle age, three meters tall, completely enveloped in a churning, meter-thick mantle of azure flame! He spotted Gu Xiechen instantly, and almost simultaneously with the sighting, unleashed a tempestuous barrage of strikes!

With just a soft snort, hundreds of razor-sharp ice blades, condensed from atmospheric moisture, materialized out of thin air before Gu Xiechen. These two-foot-long, chilling blades shot toward him with lightning speed the instant they formed.

Commander Scarred Beard’s sharp yell echoed in his earpiece. Gu Xiechen swept his claws forward, intercepting the oncoming flurry of ice blades.

Upon initial contact, Gu Xiechen was shocked.

His supposedly unbreakable claws struck these shimmering, frigid, paper-thin blades, producing metallic ‘clang’ sounds. Sparks flew where his fingertips met the ice, and the claws that could effortlessly tear through inch-thick steel plates recoiled from the impact with the thin blades, sending a painful jolt up his arm. The ice blades were incredibly fast; his claws failed to deflect them. A wave of biting cold swept over his face as the hundreds of blades enveloped Gu Xiechen’s lean body from every angle.

“Hmph!”

The charging Rm (Roman) man let out a disdainful, cold laugh. The blue flame surrounding him momentarily contracted, and his speed abruptly increased. In a mere flicker, he surpassed the swiftly moving ice blades, flashing past Gu Xiechen like a phantom.

The capillaries in Gu Xiechen’s eyes simultaneously burst, turning his gaze blood red. His heart rate instantly spiked to over 450 beats per minute—a level of energy activation from his Dao Embryo he had never before attempted. A wave of formless Gang Force erupted from his body, causing the ice blades about to strike him to freeze momentarily in the air.

A stream of pure, tenacious energy, like a celestial river pouring forth, surged from his heart. Wisps of Xiantian Gang Qi swept out from his Dantian. Under Gu Xiechen's mental control, the Gang Qi bound the rampaging energy expelled from the Dao Embryo, acting like a locomotive pulling a long train of carriages along the meridians straight into his arms.

The 'Stalker III' combat suit sleeves, designed to withstand close-range fire from cannons up to 50mm caliber, ripped apart. Beneath the skin of Gu Xiechen’s arms, something resembling roaring, reddish-hot magma churned. The air friction against his skin crackled audibly, as if his arms were wreathed in intense flames. His fingers unnaturally lengthened by about an inch, but their color paradoxically whitened, almost to the point of appearing blue.

Sharp streams of Gang Qi shrieked out from his fingertips, while explosive energy brewed between his digits. Gu Xiechen’s claws spun in a frantic windmill motion, shattering the hundreds of ice blades—which were several times harder than highly compressed alloy steel—into a cloud of icy shrapnel amidst a piercing whine. The scattering cold obscured Gu Xiechen’s form, and as the glittering white shards drifted, two immense claws broke through the enveloping mist and ice fragments, launching dozens of sharp claw strikes that tore through the air toward the Rm (Roman) man’s body.