Although it had been spewed from the "esophagus," it was completely isolated from mucus, plasma, and anything resembling a human body.
What appeared before Gao Gong was a standard interstellar tough guy.
He was enormous, far beyond the stature of an ordinary person. When he stood, he loomed like an iron tower, pressing against the surrounding space. His head was a full circle larger than a normal person's, his forehead high, broad, and slightly slanted backward, while his jaw was broad and thick as an anvil, as though he had been born to issue commands. His skin was the metallic bronze of someone who had weathered countless battlefields, with a cold, hard sheen showing through the dark brown.
His face was composed of a series of rugged straight lines and sharp angles, with almost no soft curves. His brow ridges jutted out unevenly, their shadows obscuring his eye sockets. Only his gaze could be seen within them, like two black flints tempered in fire. His nose had been broken several times, and after healing, it appeared even more jagged, like a rugged mountain ridge stretching across the center of his face.
His black hair had been shaved extremely short, almost flush with his scalp. Only at the crown did he keep a thick lock of long hair, braided into a coarse, resilient plait. Dark metal wire and tiny trophies were wound around its end—perhaps the finger bones of enemies, perhaps fragments of miniature spacecraft. Whenever he turned his head, the braid swept across his shoulder armor like a living thing.
At that moment, that thick braid was connected to the esophagus.
And that galactic esophagus was, without a doubt, the core of the other side's technology tree.
A dense confusion and puzzlement flashed through Black Wuzhu's eyes.
In his memory,