Song Chi knew nothing of what was happening outside. Under his control, the Sky Ruins Firmament Mirror Battleship moved like a silent stalker, struggling through the viscous, deadly dark-green spore mist.
The absolute purification domain projected by the replicated Xeno-Biological Energy Purification Statue was like a bubble that was constantly being eroded and constantly regenerating, sealing the endless virus spores outside while emitting an unceasing, heart-chilling hiss.
The deeper they went, the density and corrosiveness of the spores increased exponentially, even beginning to evolve into all manner of bizarre forms.
At times, they gathered into twisted ghostly faces that shrieked and pounced. At times, they became resilient biological tendrils that tried to ensnare the hull. At other times, they poured down like a torrential rain of living acid.
Under this frenzied, high-frequency erosion, the purification domain bore an enormous burden. If not for the two colored engines installed on the Mirror Battleship, it certainly could not have sustained such consumption.
There was another piece of bad news: the scanning range of the replicated Eye of Truth had been compressed to its limit, and could only barely outline the vague contours of several hundred billion kilometers ahead.
That might sound like a considerable distance, but within a spore nebula whose diameter was measured in light-years, it was not much different from being blind.
Fortunately, Song Chi had precise coordinates to guide him. The battleship continued slowly sailing toward the core region of the spore nebula, where the energy reactions were most intense and chaotic.
Who knew how much time passed before a soundless roar—more accurately, an intense energy tremor—capable of tearing apart the souls of ordinary lifeforms transmitted through the spore mist.
Immediately afterward, an unimaginably massive shadow lunged out from the forward flank.
It was an indescribable monster. Its outline