Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...
When Tang Chuan killed Pharaoh with a single strike, the sound of ships tearing through the air rose from countless places across the planet.
Looking up, they resembled enormous swords pointed toward the heavens, fleeing into the depths of space.
Trailing scarlet threads, Tang Chuan streaked across the sky and punched straight through the engine of a massive warship.
The warship had no choice but to make an emergency landing.
Tang Chuan did not press the attack. From the sky, he could see more clearly: ships were fleeing desperately toward outer space from densely scattered locations.
Bringing them all down now would take some effort, and it did not seem particularly meaningful.
His victory was inevitable. Up to this point, Tang Chuan had barely used any of his Trump Cards.
What mattered was the process. Though the battle just now had looked like a fight to the death, to Tang Chuan, it had merely been a chance to stretch his limbs and vent some passion.
When victory was inevitable, the process naturally became a game one could play however one liked.
The Fantasy Attribute continued suppressing and infiltrating the planet-level superweapon, so Tang Chuan was not worried that the remaining Associated Bodies would lash out in desperation and blow up the planet.
He landed on the ground, a black trench coat materializing over his body.
He came to a high platform and looked up at the warships shooting into the sky one after another.
Beside him, an Associated Body from Exile Star also looked up at the scene and sighed. "A civilization has fallen."
Tang Chuan turned to glance at him. "Hadn't it fallen long ago? It fell because of you. What gives you the right to mope about it?"
The Associated Body shook his head and