You Think I'm Poor? I'll Pull Out Ten Thousand Origin Flying Swords!

The pressure inside the Abyss Core control room was so low it was suffocating.

Moro's damaged Dodecahedron had completely stopped spinning, and his logic processor was on the verge of burning out.

A third-party force was hiding within the Eternal True God's wound, raising a swarm of insects that could devour even Order-Breaking Realm Laws alive.

It was like someone calmly building a chicken farm inside an active volcano that could erupt with world-ending magma at any moment.

"Master, let's leave." Moro's voice was thick with pleading, even trembling faintly with despair. "No matter who they are, they aren't someone we can afford to provoke. The slightest energy fluctuation could draw their attention, and not even scraps of the Abyss would remain!"

Li Qingcang and Yun Ruoxi also looked toward Yang Yu. Old Li said nothing, merely tightening his grip on the projected Sword of Judgment in his hand. It was not because he was backing down, but because he knew clearly that a contest at this level had surpassed simply risking one's life. Charging in recklessly was not bravery—it was suicide.

"Let's go." Yang Yu straightened up and lightly tapped the Control Console with his fingertip. "If we can't afford to provoke them, we can avoid them. We won't wade into this mess."

Knowing there was a high-dimensional meat grinder ahead and still charging straight into it was brainless.

Having received the command, the God of All Machines made the Space Collapse Engine at the bottom of the Abyss rumble once more, preparing to hide in the darkness again.

Just then.

In the upper-right corner of the Holographic Screen, within the dark-red folds of the True God Barrier, the viscous chaotic space suddenly rippled with an incredibly faint wave.

Yang Yu raised his hand and forcibly stopped the engine's